Mooralan presses a kiss to my throat—so close to Ferrok’s bite. “Like a bed thatcouldbe big enough for three.”
Telling them I don’t want to get naked with them again already would be an absolute lie, but, “We can’t…”
I wince when Mooralan pulls back and then I exhale, knowing how what I’m about to say is going to sound. “We can’t have sex outside of Phantom’s.”
They glance at each other and Ferrok asks what I expect, “Is it because of the money?”
“No, of course not, but it’s not safe.”
Their confusion makes me question how short their memories are.
“I have had to go see the doctor after every time with you, and you are are a choking hazard, as wejustfound out.” I poke them each in the chest punctuating my next words. “Not. Safe.”
“Oh…” Mooralan’s face clears and he looks at Ferrok before nodding. “We understand.”
“And we have no intention of putting you in harm’s way.” Ferrok uses his thumb to dig into the sole of my foot, and it melts away some of my tension. “What if we keep all our clothes on and focus onyou?No fluids, no choking hazards…”
I should say no. I could easily imagine myself getting carried away… “Not tonight.”
“Okay.” Ferrok nods, still working on my foot. “Can we still kiss you?”
“Of course. But all our clothes stay on.”
“Clothes stay on,” he agrees, hand running up my leg. “But hands can go under…” he says as he reaches the edge of my shorts.
His beak sweeps over my knee and he pauses, hand sweeping back down, thumb caressing one of the scars there.
“What happened?” Mooralan asks.
“An injury from a different life.”
“What did you do in your different life that would harm you like this?” Ferrok looks… angry and it makes me want to laugh.
“I hurt myself at a gymnastics competition and had to have surgery.”
“Gymnastics.” He looks at Mooralan, puzzled, and asks something in a language I don’t know, but Mooralan shakes his head, and Ferrok asks me, “What are gymnastics?”
“It’s a sport. I did routines on a long straight beam that required a lot of balance and there was a big springy floor for tumbling and cartwheels, and then bars… it’s a lot to explain.”
Again, in a language I don’t understand, he asks a question, this time to the ceiling, and the wall across from us flares to life.
I am still getting used to the station’s version of TVs. It seems like any wall can be a display if you give the station computers the right command.
The screen cycles through something and then footage from various competitions pops up.
“You can do that?” Mooralan asks as the woman does a front layout full step out to double tuck
“I used to. But not anymore.”
“Because of these?” Ferrok’s thumb smooths across the scar.
“Yeah.”
They don’t ask me to do a flip for them, thank god. Instead, Ferrok laughs and looks past me to Mooralan. “That makes me the only one without scars.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I tell him, poking his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about him.” He jerks his head toward Mooralan.
