My jaw dropped. In Vince’s grasp was a Numxisian harpsichord. I’d never played one before, but I’d heard the music and seen the array of colors that it produced.
Something inside of me shattered, then reformed at the sight of Vince holding the instrument. I’d never received such a thoughtful gift from one who wasn’t related to me. It was… I couldn’t even say what it was, but I felt light in a way that I never had before.
“This is for me?” I asked, then swallowed to clear the roughness of my voice.
Vince grinned, pressing closer until he was standing in between my legs. “Of course it is. I said as much.”
And yet, I struggled to believe it. “I have no words.”
A slight divot formed between his eyebrows, and I longed to smooth it away, though I resisted, unsure if my touch would be welcomed.
He bit his full bottom lip and looked down. “Do you dislike it? I can get something better. You don’t have to take it. It doesn’t matter.”
Hurt prodded his mind, telling me how much it did matter to him. I shook my head so quickly it was a miracle my eyes remained in their sockets. “I love it.”
His smile bloomed like a flower under the sun and transformed his features. Never in my entire life had I seen someone as beautiful as Vince. His mind had always drawn me in, but now, I could say with some certainty that his aspect was just as magnetic as his thoughts.
This was dangerous. He was dangerous. I needed to flee, or else, I feared, I wouldn’t be able to. But I couldn’t. No, I refusedto. Vince was something special, and I didn’t want to fight the gravitational pull that I felt toward him.
“Play something,” Vince demanded, pushing the instrument into my lap.
I had no idea how to, but I couldn’t deny Vince anything he desired. I glanced from the new instrument to Vince, who sat on the other side of the couch. He tucked one leg under him and brought the other to his chest, resting his chin on his knee. From his thoughts, I knew he wasn’t expecting perfection; he merely wanted to hear me, to see me, to be with me.
With a slight smile, I settled the harpsichord on my legs and strummed the fragile strings. A pleasing, light noise trickled out and the base of the instrument flared in a rainbow of colors. Carefully, I pressed on some of the gossamer strings, then strummed with my other hand, listening to the noise.
Vince released a long gust of air and closed his eyes.
Nothing I played was proficient or even good, as I was still figuring out the instrument, but Vince was content and so was I. There was something inexplicably wonderful about spending time together in such a mundane way. It was as if us being together was an everyday occurrence—a thought I very much liked and yet refused to inspect.
When silence reigned for several moments, Vince opened his eyes. His voice wavered and his thoughts twisted and churned like the stormy sea. “Don?”
“Yes, Little Warrior.”
He swallowed, shaking as he hugged his leg closer. “I want you to fuck me.”
My cock twitched, firming up, but I remained seated and ignored it. Vince’s discomfort worried me. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am,” he snapped. “I want you to fuck me. But we don’t have to if you don’t want me anymore. I’m not a fucking catch. I know that.”
I moved closer and slowly laid a hand on his shaking arm. “I will always desire you.”
“Then fuck me. I’m ready. I want to get it over with.”
That wasn’t the most enticing sentiment. I wished for us to be something remarkable, not a chore that must be hastened. Though what did I know? I hadn’t pleased most of my past partners. Perhaps I wasn’t good enough to ever be more than a chore. And I’d never been hurt as Vince had. He might need to be fucked to reclaim something he felt he’d lost. I truly didn’t know.
“We need to discuss permissions,” I said, fighting my own unease at his discomfort.
Trembling and very pale, Vince said, “I don’t want to get into too much detail right now. Can I just ride you?”
“Yes.” That was a lie. I needed more, but I didn’t want to be a bother.
Eyes anywhere but me, he said, “You can use acondom. We probably should.”
The word “condom” took me a moment to understand, even with NAID assisting, but in the end, I gathered he meant what we called a sleeve. I myself was disease-free, as I’d always worn one in the past and received regular health checks and tests. Not to mention, I hadn’t had sex in over a cycle. Vince had nothing to fear from me, but if he felt safer with one, I wouldn’t protest.
“I can, but I’m free of disease,” I informed him.
“It’s not you,” he muttered, “who was the whore.”
