My mouth fell open, then I recalled drakcol did this. They conversed about every relationship and what the person could and could not do. I had no idea why. I mean itwashealthy, though it seemed odd to me.
Carefully, I asked, “You know I can’t fuck, right? Like I can’t even take off these clothes.” I was worse than a Ken doll. There was nothing beneath my shirt, let alone my pants.
“I know, but…” he stopped.
It took me a moment to realize what he meant. He could jerk off while I was there. “Ah. Well, I don’t want to dothat. Yet.” Though that did sound hot as hell. “As for the other things, you can touch me, and even when you do, I can’t feel it.”
“You can’t?” he asked, forehead creasing.
“Nope. Emotionally? Yeah. Physically? No. I don’t have bodily sensations like tears burning or gut dropping or even pressure when I go through things.”
“That must be difficult.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to talk about it. “But if you like touching me, or well trying to, you can. What about you?”
Fyn's gaze flicked over me in a possessive manner. “I desire everything, but I’m willing to wait. I like you, Caleb. You are…” he trailed off, staring out the window for a few moments, and I waited with bated breath. “You’re inevitable.”
“What?” I asked, blinking. That did not sound romantic.
“Like the rising of the sun, the coming of the tide, or the passage of time. You were always my future from the moment I saw you. You are my inevitable, and I would not change that, not for anything. You are mine. You always were and always will be.”
Man, if I could, I would have a raging boner from those words alone. I had a thing for possessive guys. “Fuck, Fyn.” I didn’t know what to say—I had no words that would match up to what he’d said (I mean, who would?), so I asked, “Can I touch you?”
“Yes. I like it. It feels cold.”
I moved until my knees almost met his. “Anytime?”
“Yes.”
“Anywhere?” I asked.
He swallowed, tail flicking. “If you want to start something, yes. My tail is particularly sensitive.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I went up on my knees and ran the tip of my finger down the center of his forehead, down his straight nose, over his full lips, and to his strong chin. Fyn released a gravelly groan that put a smile on my lips. Slowly, I dragged my fingertip over his face, tracing every feature, until I moved to one of his ears and brushed the tip.
He jumped.
Hello, there. “Do you like that?”
“My ears are sensitive.”
“Hmm,” I replied, running my finger up and down the tapered length. “More sensitive than your tail?”
“No. Less,” he said shortly.
With a peek at his groin, I didn’t see anything, but his tail was moving like mad. I continued to stroke his ear, loving the quietnoises he gave to me. I fed on each one, savoring them like a damn meal. I reached his neck, and Fyn hissed, wiggling.
“Another spot?” I asked.
With jagged breath, he answered, “Drakcol have scent glands.”
I paused, wondering if I understood what he’d said correctly. “Like a cat?”
“Lucy has scent glands?”
“If we’re thinking of the same thing, yes.”
“Interesting.”
