“Do you want to stop? We can just kiss or maybe just cuddle?”
I shake my head. I’m nervous, but I’mcuriousas much as I am turned on. I’m fucking turned on! How does this fit into my damn life as I know it?
Voss adjusts on top of me, and his thigh presses between my legs. I shift under him, letting my leg fall off the side of the couch. His thigh presses against my cock, and I groan. Igroan!
“Mm,” he hums, his mouth covering mine again.
I can’t decide whether I’m drowning in his kisses or from the heat gathering in my groin. My dick is getting hard with every rub of his thigh against it.
Something in my head feels panicky. This isn’t supposed to happen. I just accepted that I’m completely normal being asexual, and that’s okay.
But the louder part of me is succumbing to the way my body responds to Voss. It feels good. It feels startling and hot and shaky and urgent all at the same time. I feelsquirmy, needing more, and overwhelmed by every bit of more I get.
Voss’ hand tangles in my hair, and I moan into his mouth. He tastes so good. I love the way he kisses me. Now, I love the way he touches me, too. He isn’t pushy, and he’s not trying to do more than this. As if he knows that this might be the limit I can handle before my brain explodes.
I grip him tightly, kissing him hungrily, and lose myself in the feeling that Voss alone has been able to stir in me. This means something new, but I don’t know what right now.
5
VOSS
Sqush,sqush, sqush. The sound of the large exercise ball as it moves on the ground under me is as rhythmic as thewsggggof the spinner between my fingers. In a way, they make music all their own. I could probably convince my computer to add vocals to the sound.
The sound isn’t from rolling a few inches back and forth as I move. It’s from the bounce. Like I’m riding something fun.
I’m not sure I’m ready to ride something. I’m hoping Brek will be up for bottoming first.
Sighing, I look away from the computer and rub my eye with the palm of my hand. It pushes my glasses up, and for some reason, that unleashes a whole bunch of yawns. Like a freight train, they just keep coming. Car after car.
I get to my feet and stretch. The ball rolls away. The spinner in my hand stops whirring since it’s no longer in balance.
My computer continues to stare at me with the article open. The same article that’s been on my screen for the past hour. The timereads past ten, which is probably why I’m not finding anything of interest. Or it could be that the article is ninety-two pages long. Scientific articles for you.
The job I told Brek I do flits through my head. It wasn’t a complete lie. I do both of those things, but they’re mostly interpretations of my job. My PI work is actually verifying the target of the contracts for my brothers. I work with facts. Not feelings.
The cybersecurity stuff? Well, Idoperform what I said for companies, but I mostly flex my muscles and break in through back doors when I need to. Nothing and no one is safe when I need information. Especially when someone in my family needs whatever is behind that virtual wall.
I’ve found a new issue, though. AI is getting a little too good. There’s now such a video quality that’s AI-generated called a deepfake, and that’s when an AI-generated video is so damn real that you can’t find the typical tells that it’s fake.
I came across my very first one the other day, and it’s still plaguing me. There was something about it that nagged at the back of my mind, but no matter how many of my programs I ran it through, they came back stating that they couldn’t detect any AI generation.
YeteventuallyI found the evidence that it was indeed fake. Not just because the subjects in the video made public statements proclaiming as much, but because the skyline in the back was wrong. That’s what the nagging voice in my head was trying to identify as being off.
The scary part is that the skyline wasn’t wrong enough that people would necessarily notice. It was recognizable as L.A. Ithad all the identifiable buildings, but unless you were looking at them specifically, you wouldn’t realize they were out of order! As if we were looking at a building-blocks model and someone picked up three of the skyscrapers and moved them to new locations.
It’s freaky. Concerning.
I tell myself that deepfake videos aren’t my job, nor do I need to continue thinking about them tonight. AI has been allowed to run rampant, with most governments not caring what’s going on. It’s going to take these deepfake videos with prominent government officials in them before something is actually done to restrict AI usage.
Not my problem. Now that I’ve learned skylines are like building blocks, I know to look for that. It’s going to become more problematic when we’re looking at videos inside personal homes and shit, though.
“Not my problem,” I insist out loud and lock my computer down for the night.
The office is dark and silent when I step into the hall. I’ve been here far too long. When I’m handed something intriguing, I tend to get lost in research validation. That was the case today. It had nothing to do with the deepfake video, but it’s been bothering me, which is probably part of the reason I haven’t been able to focus on the article.
Whatever.
I’m alone in the elevator. Alone in the parking garage. Alone driving through the roads on Van Doren Estate. And alone as I walk the halls of the big house.
