I force my voice to be steady.
“Yes, be there in a minute.”
But I don’t come out in a minute. I stand at the sink, gripping the edges so hard my knuckles turn white. I want to masturbate so badly it physically hurts. My hand keeps drifting toward the waistband of my pajama pants, fingers itching to slip inside and give myself the relief I’m desperate for.
But I stop myself. When we merge later, he might find out. I have no idea how to keep certain things from him, and don’t know what he can and can’t sense when we’re connected. It’s bad enough that if I think about his cock today, he’ll see the thought in my head. It would be even worse if I masturbate to it. He’d know exactly what I did. He might even feel the echo of it somehow.
I can’t risk that humiliation.
I splash cold water on my face repeatedly, letting it drip down my neck and soak into my T-shirt. I look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes wild, and my hair a mess.
“I’m so fucked,” I say out loud.
Then I correct myself with a bitter laugh.
“Actually, I’m unfucked.”
Unfucked for so long, I’m losing the plot completely.
Chapter Eleven
Zeth
The bathroom door slams shut, and I jolt upright in bed. My mind goes through every worst possibility in seconds: someone’s in the room, she’s hurt, the Kyzers found us.
“Are you okay?” I call out.
Her muffled voice comes through the door.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Relief floods through me, but then I look down at myself and freeze. My cock is fully emerged from my body, hard and pressing up against the sheets. The duvet does nothing to hide it. I feel mortified. Of course this happened. I wake up hard every morning – it’s completely normal for me. But it’s never been a problem before.
With other hosts, I stayed merged with them for days or weeks at a time. I slept inside their bodies, never beside them in a bed like this. With Wren, everything is different. She’s skittish and protective of her personal space. We keep merging and unmerging instead of staying together. Nothing about this job is normal. I can’t treat her like other clients.
I get up quickly and move to the window, opening it just enough to let fresh air in while staying out of sight. No one can know she’s not alone in the room. The cool air hits my face but doesn’t help. I start pacing the small space between the bed and the dresser, trying to think about anything else. The mission, the Kyzers, the club last night… Nothing works. My cock stays stubbornly hard.
I realize that since meeting Wren, I’ve been constantly aroused. Every interaction with her leaves me struggling. The training session where I pinned her down, the merge where I felt her arousal spike through her entire body, then last night…sleeping beside her. It’s driving me insane. Normally, I would take care of it myself, but I can’t risk it with her in the bathroom.
I try to remember the last time I had sex and draw a blank. It has to have been years ago. I’ve been so long without it that I can’t even remember the details. For a long time in my youth, sex was unpleasant. Not something I wanted to do. Back then, my life wasn’t my own. I belonged to people – nasty people – who owned me and did whatever they wanted to me. I push the memories away before they fully surface.
The dark thoughts do their job. My arousal dies, and my cock goes flaccid and retreats into my body. I feel relief and disgust in equal measure. I hate that thinking about my past is the only thing that works, but at least the problem is solved. Just in time, too.
The bathroom door opens and Wren steps out. She looks composed but doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
“Let’s go get some breakfast.”
“Okay.” I’m grateful for something to do.
“We’re going to visit some places, too. I need to put myself out there.”
That makes sense. She needs to make herself visible, available for the Kyzers to find.
Wren closes her eyes and her shoulders tense. Her whole body braces like she’s preparing for impact.
“I’m ready,” she says, rolling her shoulders back.
She always does this. She closes her eyes and steels herself, and I hate that she has to prepare herself to let me in, but I don’t comment. I move to her quickly and place my hands on her shoulders. I pour myself into her body in one smooth motion, and she gasps as I spread through her. It takes her a moment to adjust, and I try to cram my conscience in a corner of her being, hoping I’m less invasive this way.
