Gwendolyn
After cleaning myself up and changing my sheets, which bore the stains of my lost virginity, I returned to my bed with Arthur, my body curled against his, his fingers stroking softly against my bare back.
He’d been gentle with me, but still managed to unleash himself without me freaking out or feeling uncomfortable.
I’d said it before and the words still rang true—he’d awoken something in me, and it was hangry. I’d had only a taste of him and his touch. I was far from done.
He made me wait for a bit before we were at it again. I’d spent the time asking him what positions we could try. Turns out I did not like doggy style one bit. I needed to be able to see his face the whole time. We had to stop for ten minutes while I calmed myself down after that fiasco. But we were teaching each other, and I was figuring out what I liked.
Now we were still in the bed, Arthur fast asleep on the left side of the mattress with pillows between us.
He’d put them there, claiming he needed rest, or I was going to drain the life out of him through his dick.
It made me laugh, and I knew he was kidding. But with dramatic flair, he put the pillows between us, trying to deter me. If anything, it made me more likely to come after him. Once I was obsessed with something, it was all I could think of until my mind found something else to focus on.
He looked so peaceful sleeping next to me, his glasses lying on my nightstand. I would leave him alone, letting him rest easy in my home.
I turned over and looked at my nightstand. The orb of metal I kept there was melted and dripping onto the wooden floors. I could understand the feeling. My body felt like it had melted over and over and was forged anew.
Sleep found me easily, and I didn’t even have to reshape my metal ball more than three times.
Arthur was up before me in the morning, which surprised me. I found him cooking breakfast in my kitchen, chatting it up with Pops. It was nice to see, although it broke from my routine.
“Morning, sleepy.” Arthur grinned and then walked over to give me a morning kiss.
“Morning,” I replied, feeling absurdly shy. He’d literally been inside me many times, and I had the soreness to prove it. Somehow it still didn’t feel real. I watched the muscles flex in his bare back as he walked around the kitchen, finishing the pancakes. He was only wearing his jeans, and his tanned skin and chiseled muscles were a nice contrast to my metal and white apartment. He was color, and I was the blank canvas. Together we made art.
I could try and just enjoy this for what it was.
He deserved nothing less than me trying to make whatever this was work.
“Are you my boyfriend now?” I felt silly asking—we weren’t teenagers in high school—but labeling this felt more secure to me.
He stopped flipping the pancakes and looked me over with that sexy smirk on his face. I knew he wouldn’t think I was silly, but I could see humor dancing on his face.
“I’m yours, and you are mine. Call me whatever you want to call me, whatever makes you feel happiest.” He walked over to my coffee machine and poured some into my favorite mug.
“Pops taught me how to make your coffee. So, I hope it tastes good.” He set the cup on the table and went back to cooking.
Cora came prancing over and rubbed her metal body against my leg.
“Hey, Cora.” I reached down and touched my finger to her nose. She wanted attention, and I would have to give her plenty after breakfast.
“Morning, Pops.” I walked over to my dearest friend, and he had his little hand out for a fist bump.
“Good morning. I checked the news this morning for you and found only one article of interest. More people have been getting sick, and the water toxicity levels are rising. Nothing said about Terratrex being the ones behind it yet.”
Not good news. I was glad he checked and reported, but nothing was being done.
The coffee Arthur made was perfect, and I thanked both him and Pops for making it for me. I was grateful to have them.
“I think I will call you mine. I guess I don’t need a label. You’re more than a boyfriend, but you’re not my husband. So, mine will work for now.”
It made sense to me; I felt so much more than what I would consider someone would feel about a boyfriend—it lingered near the edge of husband, the person you wanted to be with forever. But marriage wasn’t something I could think about right now. There were already so many changes in my life I had to adjust to. Just having someone to call mine was a huge change for me.
“Let’s just take it slow and at your pace. I’ve already mentioned I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me as long as you want me.” His words were sweet as he set the two loaded plates at the table.
Of course, I should have guessed that he was an artist at everything, including pancakes.
