Once I feel safer, I sift through other pleasant memories, ones I know are safe and untainted.
Blowing candles out at our eleventh birthday party. We leant forward at the same time and knocked our heads together. We laughed so hard.
Racing from home to the harbour to see the fishing boats come back.
Sitting on the swings, trying to put the world to rights.
Every memory includes Rory. Each one makes my chest less tight and my heart lighter.
I exhale slowly. “I’m okay.”
“No restraints,” Rory says.
“No. But I could try the blindfold.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I can take it off or safe-word, right?”
“Whenever you want to.”
I blow my breath out. “Then let’s try it.”
“Take off as much or as little as you like and then make yourself comfortable on the bed,” Rory instructs.
“On my back or stomach?”
“Whichever you prefer.”
I stare at the bed, unsure what state of undress I want to be in. On the one hand, he’s seen me naked. He’s had his mouth and hand around my cock, for fuck’s sake. But on the other, lying there, blindfolded, while he runs feathers over my skin, seems like it might be more intimate than a blow job. It feels stupid, even as I think it, but I can’t shake the feeling.
“I’ll leave you to think about it. I need to fetch some things.” He kisses me and then leaves the room, closing the door.
I clench and unclench my fists as I stare at the bed. Do I want to be naked? Do I only want to remove my shirt? The trouble is, I don’t know. In the end, I settle for stripping down to my boxer shorts.
I’ve just settled on my back on the bed when Rory returns with a cup of juice and a plate of biscuits. I frown but don’t question it as he sets them on the bedside table.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod. “As I’ll ever be.”
“You can safe-word.” He picks up the blindfold.
I lift my head so it’s easier for him to fasten it over my eyes. He ties the knot on the side so I’m not lying on it and then uses his fingers to check it’s not too tight. My world has become fuzzy and dark, so I close my eyes. I’m not panicking, which is good. If anything, the darkness helps me to relax.
I’m not sure where to put my arms and hands. I clench them over my stomach, but that doesn’t feel right. I end up putting my arms by my sides. I take deep breaths and try to relax some more, but my heart is pattering like crazy. I’m alert, wondering what I’ll feel, when, and where. All I can hear is the thud of my heart and our breathing. Mine is sharp and harsh. Rory’s is slow and relaxed. He presses his lips to mine. The kiss takes me by surprise.
“You’re okay,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of you.”
My heart slows a little. “I know. I trust you.”
I take a deep breath. My heart slows a little more.
The room is warm. Rory’s bed is comfortable. I’m tired from several nights of broken sleep. Nothing happens, and I realise I’m starting to drift off. I’m in that hazy place where I’m not quite awake but not asleep either.
Something soft tickles my cheek and jaw. It makes me jump at first, but then I relax and chuckle as it wriggles back and forth, tracing the outline of my face. A different sensation floats over my arm, running from my fingertips to my shoulder. It’s soft but strangely firmer than the fluffy feather. The two different feelings confuse my brain. The downy feather moves to my chest, circling over my nipples. I gasp as they become hard and start to ache. The stiff feather grazes along my collarbone, chest, and stomach. It sweeps up and then brushes back and forth over my right nipple while the fluffy feather caresses my left one. My heart is still pattering but with excitement rather than fear. I try to keep my breathing calm, but each touch and caress steals the air from my lungs. My muscles are like jelly, but all my senses are heightened. It’s a strange mix of feeling relaxed and alert.
The touch of both feathers vanishes. I whimper. Are we done already?
