Something that needed to be rectified very soon.
Not that I felt too guilty. Throughout my life there had been lots of times where I left the encounter unsatisfied or had to fake reaching an orgasm to get it over with, so the fact that I came multiple times last night while my partner didn’t was not the end of the world. Though my mouth watered at the thought of what his massive erection would cause down my throat.
“There’s pancakes and chocolate syrup waiting for you in the other room,” he smirked again, proud of his achievement. I took another moment to gaze at his lips and spot traces of chocolate down his chin. His stubble had grown a little from the night before, not enough to need a shave yet, but enough to cover his chin and the sides of his face and hide those melted drips of goodness.
“I…” the thought sprang to mind. “You said they gave you the day off today, right?” I vaguely remembered him shouting across the door about cooperating with some sort of guests.
He nodded, blinking at me with awareness, so I immediately clarified, not wanting to scare him.
“The living room…” I paused, needing to correct myself. “The gym and kitchen are under twenty-four-hour supervision. There are cameras in the ceiling and mics planted all across the walls.” I expected him to make some sort of expression, to show anger and shout at me, to curse humankind and storm out. But he remained immobile, as if he already knew or expected all of this, so I continued. “The bedroom and bathroom are off limits, for my privacy.”
That raised a proud smirk, no doubt, content with the fact that our activity remained just between the two of us. I also realised just then that I had told him where he could freely do whatever he wanted. To me…
“Seeing how you were promised a day off, it makes sense for them to let you spend the day in the bedroom.” I waited for him to confirm, but he did no such thing, only looked at me as if I had the final say in this.
With a burst of energy, I grabbed the long t-shirt I generally used to sleep in, threw it on and stepped out of the room to tilt my head to the ceiling.
“Good morning,” I greeted whoever was observing.
“Good morning, Captain Harrow,” the voice responded.
“Galen…” I stopped, not wanting to show closeness. Unwilling to reveal his full name to them and give them power over the fae male. “The subject advised contracting a day off from the assignment due to collaboration on facts related to his origin.”
“That is correct,” they immediately confirmed.
Pressing my lips together to fill my lungs with bravado, I spoke with determination. “Permission to offer the subject a day of reprieve without supervision within the unrecorded rooms.”
One second, two, three…
My heart almost stopped beating by the time the buzzing voice started again.
“Permission granted, Captain. See you tomorrow.”
I almost skipped with joy at the confirmation of what this meant for Galenor. If they were willing to give him a full day, just for telling them his traditions, what else could he get from the unit? Could he collaborate on something else to ask for more stable living quarters?
For the end of torture?
For freedom?
There was no better moment to obtain information than sitting down with the involved party and sharing food in a friendly situation. Considering what had happened between the two of us only hours before, I would say he already reached that point.
I grabbed the two plates with pancakes and Galenor helped me carry the tray containing drinks, more sauce and two dozen other pancakes, which I assumed would barely be enough for his breakfast. Then, we both sat in bed, on opposing sides of the mattress, watching each other eat.
I realised, just then, that Galenor and I never enjoyed a meal together, even if we sat down to eat several times. Something always happened. He was rude and shoved me away, he made snarky comments that made me swear at him and leave or he was the one dragged away by soldiers.
My stomach twisted at the sight of his passionate chewing, at the way his tongue glazed over his fingers, dirty with chocolate, how the syrup dripped down his chin, but he remained focused on his task, engulfing his food with dedication.
He must have spotted my gaze on him because he lifted his eyes to me and stopped chewing, leaving half a pancake unsatisfied in between his fingers.
“What?” he asked with his mouth full.
“Nothing,” I giggled. “You eat like a savage,” I laughed.
His brows knotted, suddenly pinned on me. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”
“Can’t it be both?” I grinned and took a small bite from my own plate, using a fork and knife like a sane person and chewed slowly.
“You like it, muffin,” he lifted his chin to me, eyes scanning me all over again as if to confirm his assessment. A second later, he nodded. “You like it,” he said again, setting the record straight.
