Stumbling, I cause Rez to trip over my foot. I can’t help but preen a little at the thought that she thinks I’m hot. I mean, of course I am, but having that confirmed is like stroking my cock—I mean ego. Clearing my throat, I try to make a joke to cover up my fumble.
“Sorry about that. You just feel so good against me you made me lose my concentration, which is never a good thing,” I wink.
She laughs and pushes her hair behind her ear and gives me a coy smile, eating up my attention. I grab her hand and pull her over to the bench someone, probably one of Ms. Teal’s lackeys, left behind. Changing the subject so I don’t give away what just happened, I go on to explain the little decor I plan on having in the den so that our room will be the ultimate party pad: Pinup games with some very racy pictures, specialty ice cube trays, and the types of prizes I’ve bought for winners. While I explain, I watch her reactions, eliciting smirks, blushes, and gasps of shock.
It’s all music to my ears as she basks in the glory of me. Look, I had already said I’m part pride demon. Although I enjoy the attention I’m getting, I’m also enjoying getting to know Rez. You can learn a lot about someone by just their reaction. For instance, she smirks and chuckles when I talk about the penis games I’ve played in the past. That means she’s interested in it yet is feeling it out.
The Jell-O shot eating contest with wet T-shirts? That got a blush and a bottom lip nibble. She’s embarrassed to be getting turned on by how we play. We line the girls up and douse them with Pixie berry juice. The juice is a potent aphrodisiac and can be ingested or absorbed. So, once they’re soaked, Jell-O shots are placed on the nipples. Whoever downs the most shots without succumbing to their carnal pleasures wins. When she shifts, I know she’s interested in learning what all those pleasures include.Not yet, ma chérie.
“So, onto the main attraction,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her along with me. I lead her into my bedroom, where I have some decor already on the walls. She spins around, looking at some of the art I have up. The chalk drawing of the gates in the glade, and the inkblots of the fountain in the park are a few she lingers on. When she’s had her fill, I walk over to my bed and take a seat, patting next to me for her to join me.
“I plan on doing my room up in yellow, teal, and grays. This back wall will have a waterfall trickling down a gray rock bed, so it’s easier for me to sleep,” I say, watching her jaw drop.
“How is that possible?” She questions, grabbing a hold of my bicep. I can’t help but preen once again under her gray, penetrating eyes.
“Magic,” I say, wiggling my fingers as I lay down.
“Are you going to tell me what you picked out for me?” she asks as I pull her down to lay beside me.
“Nope,” I say, popping the P and laughing at her. “It would ruin the surprise.”
Leaning up on her elbow, she looks down at me, her hair falling onto my chest. Unable to resist the opportunity, I reach up and push her hair back over her shoulder and behind her ear. An appealing blush forms on her cheeks, and she bites her lower lip while she looks around the room as I rest my hand on my stomach. Her eyes linger on my unorganized paints and easel in the corner and then back to the art pieces hanging. A couple of them are pretty provocative, but they’re some of my favorites, so they come with me everywhere I go. I tend to just decorate around them and they always put others at ease when they visit my room.
“Um… Do you mind if I ask you a really personal question?” She asks, her eyes darting to me and away again.
I hide my smirk as her question already filters into my mind. ‘God, I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous? It’s just a question between friends, right? I mean, yes, I’m attracted to him, but a friend would want to know, right? Why am I overthinking this? Just ask him what kind of wine he drinks and pray he’s seen the first season of Schitt’s Creek.’
“To answer your question. Yes, I do,” I say, lacing my fingers behind my head.
“What?” she squeaks. Her eyes go wide with surprise, and her jaw drops, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Relax, ma chèrie. You’ve seen the pictures, and then you asked to inquire a really personal question. I don’t need to be a mind reader to know you were going to ask about my sexual preference.” I smile, hoping she didn’t pick up my little slip.
“So, um. Do you drink red or white wine, and if so, which is which?” she asks. She glances at me shyly through her lashes but quickly looks away. Avoiding my eyes, she reaches up, pulling out a dark curl, and starts wrapping it around her finger. “I only ask because where I came from, they are still fighting for rights and all that jazz over sexuality,” she explains.
Wanting to put her at ease, I reach out and pull her back down, this time onto my chest. I get the reference and I’m a fan of that show, so why not have fun with it. “I do drink red wine, but I also drink white wine. And I’ve been known to occasionally sample the rosé, I like the wine, not the label,” I profess, laughing. “I might as well explain how things here in Purgatory work, so you’re not blindsided later,” I say.
“What do you mean, blindsided?” She questions while shifting to get comfortable next to me.
“Well, from what I’ve learned about Earth, you guys normally have just one partner, correct?” I ask and feel her nod next to me. “It’s either one male or female. Then like you mentioned, it’s not usually of the same sex. However, it sounds like they are working towards their sexual freedom,” I say. Wanting her attention focused more on me, I reach over and grab the hand that’s not playing with her curls and entwine our fingers together.
“There are a lot of polyamory relationships here. We tend to—”
“Polyamory? What’s that?” She asks as she rubs her thumb along mine.
“Well, Poly means many or several, and amor means love. So, in simple terms, many lovers or partners,” I explain, and I hear a sharp inhale. “Okay, ma chérie. What are you thinking?” I ask.
Without letting go of my hand, she props herself up and rests her chin on our combined hands to look at me. “Isn’t that cheating?”
I love seeing how open her face is, questioning our way instead of flat out denying it. Just the fact she hasn’t run away screaming from me proves there’s a chance she’ll fit right in.
“No, not at all,” I chuckle, and she blushes. Wanting to prop my head up so I can see her better to explain, I pull a pillow down and get comfortable. “There are multiple ways to go about having a poly relationship. It can be a group of people that agree to be together. It can be you with one person at a time with each person in the group, or you can be with more than one at a time. If someone in the group wants to be with someone else, then that’s fine too, but everything stays within that group.”
I watch her as she takes in that information. Her facial features scrunch up, trying to understand the dynamics. While she thinks, a curl falls forward across her shoulder and I reach out and grab some of her hair to play with.
“Most supes have casual relationships. Some have to live off of sex, or the essence of it, so casual sex works best for them so they can feed without draining their partner dry,” I tell her.
“What!” She shrieks and pulls away from me.
