She talks in her sleep. My sweet little chatterbox. I can understand some of it, but it’s not all English even when it’s above a mumble. “Hij is een dwaas dullard,...and he’s…notmy boss,” she mutters into my shoulder, frowning at someone in her dream. I smile and kiss her eyebrow, feeling warm inside when her frown relaxes.
Everything about today surpassed my wildest expectations. All the fevered imaginings of what having sex would be like have been kicked into the gutter, falling far short of the reality of it all. From the light, fresh smell of her hair as I buried my face in herneck, to the crazy-intense warm ache of sliding my dick into her hot, wet softness…
…and yet, as wild as it got, the urge to just hold her, and keep her safe from all the horror I know this world has to offer, is just as intense. She’s completely untouched by the evil I’ve seen, and I know I’d die to keep her that way without a second thought. This rotten world can’t have her. I won’t let it.
And I want to introduce her to my parents.
They’ll be here in a matter of days for their yearly visit for Mom’s birthday, and the idea of Liaden talking to them, getting to know them, watching them getting to know her and understanding why I’m so crazy about this woman…it’s scary. But a good kind of scary. She’s important to me, and as long as she’s OK with it and doesn’t think it’s too fast…then yeah.
I wanna do this.
Liaden
When I stirthe next morning, there are a few seconds of confusion when I realise I’m not where I normally wake up. The room is spartan, uncluttered. Not very homelike, just like mine, but certainly tidy.
Then I sense I’m being watched.
Turning my head to the right, I beam when I see Dean, his eyes softening as they meet mine.Hey, he mouths.
“Morning.” I stretch, and his smile widens at the display I’m giving him as the duvet slips to my stomach. “Sleep OK?”
He nods, but there are shadows under his eyes.You?
“Mmmmm. A strange dream about the university moving to the first house I ever lived in, and having to organise seminars in my childhood bedroom, but…” I shrug. “Ehh. I’ve had worse.”
One side of his mouth quirks up, and he leans down for a kiss. “Oh, wait - morning breath - ” He frowns and gives an incredulous huff of amusement, as though my protest was absurd, and then kisses me until I can’t remember why I’d ever turn that down.
He rolls over on top of me, his morning wood sliding along my clit, and his kiss takes on a languorous quality, like he’s got all the time in the world to savour me.
Two issues with that: one, I have work in an hour and a half, and two…
“I’m a little sore,” I say against his lips, and he lifts his head. I can read acceptance in his face, and he smiles and understands, but there’s disappointment lingering in his eyes before he conceals it.
His dick moves away from me, rigid and jumping. I reach down and clasp it, surprising him, and I grin. “That’s not to say we can’t doother stuff,” I reassure him, and the smile returns to his eyes. “Would you like to be fellated?”
His eyes dilate, and he breaks into silent laughter. “What?” I ask with a chuckle.
You. You and your proper words.A fond kiss between my eyebrows.
“Well, that’s what it’s actually called,” I say mock-indignantly. I slither down until he’s straddling my face, giving his pulsing shaft a swift lick. His breath catches, and he gulps as he looks down at me. Without meaning to, he thrusts towards my face, but I duck out of the way. “That’ll teach you to make fun of my loquaciousness,” I tease, and laugh when he lets out a whispered growl. Relenting, I lick him slowly, root to tip. “It’scalled,” I say, giving the tip a tight suck, “fellatio.” And then I provide him with the best, juiciest example of the art that I can.
He makesme a cheese omelette for breakfast, with peppers and a little spinach. He’s a deft cook, and I ask who taught him.
My mother, he says.She always made damn sure we all knew our way around a kitchen. Me, my sister, Eli, even Leo.
“Well she did a great job,” I tell him honestly. This is one of the best omelettes I’ve ever had.
He looks like he’s working up the courage to say something, and I try to wait as patiently as I can.
My parents are coming to visit me at the end of the week,he says.
“All the way from New Orleans?”
He nods.I was…wondering if you’d be interested in meeting them. Dean, faking casual indifference, turns back to crack some more eggs into the mug so he can make his own breakfast, but after a few moments he sneaks a look at me to gauge my reaction.
A forkful of egg is frozen halfway between my plate and my open mouth. I’ve never been invited to meet a lover’s parents before. I never allow it to go down that road, sending a clear enough message early on so that they know not to ask.
But the thought of meetingDean’s family… Unnerving, but not in a bad way. My mind is abuzz with the possibilities, ways to hopefully persuade them to like and approve of me, when I realise I’ve left Dean hanging, waiting for me to accept or decline. “Um, yes, absolutely,” I say, melting a little when he breaks out into a relieved grin. “I mean, I’ve…I’ve never donethis before, so you’ll have to…tell me what they’re like, and so forth.”
