“Ollie,” Lora says, rattling at the same time, which sounds like he’s growling my name.
Goosebumps. I defy anyone to hear their name said like that and not get goosebumps.
“I’m here,” I respond, because I’m stupid and obviously haven’t been entrusted with the brain today.
Dr. Randy pushes his chair at Lora. “Sit, and I suggest not touching,” he says mildly.
Lora does as he’s told and slides the chair well out of arm’s reach while I decide to sit crisscross applesauce on the exam table with my box of sex toys on my lap.
“So, I got an injection of nanites to enable me to safely take your dick in twenty days,” I start because we’re supposed to be negotiating sex.
Lora’s sharp teeth make an appearance as he grins. “It will be difficult to wait for twenty days, but it is a relief to know you want to engage in sexual intimacy with me beyond the influence of my pheromones and your alcohol induced concupiscence.”
I’m a little surprised that he thinks I wouldn’t be into him when I’m in my right mind. “Alcohol doesn’t change who a person is, it just makes them more of what they already are. At least that’s true for humans. I want to get naked with you and share some orgasms and see where this attraction leads. I’m pretty vanilla about sex. I don’t need power plays or roleplaying or anything really out of normal parameters. I have dildos if you want to play…”
Annnnnddd, I accidentally pat the box of toys in my lap.
Outing my own fucking self stops me dead in my tracks, and I lose the thread of whatever the fuck I was trying to say as Lora’s entire focus changes from my face to the box. He grabs the arms of his chair in a white knuckle grip as if to keep himself from launching at the box, and I don’t know what is going on behind those black eyes, but it looks violent and terrifying, and why the fuck am I getting hard right now?
Fuck, I need friction.
Dr. Randy speaks gently in their native language, reminding us that he is still in the room with us and pulling us both out of the lust-craze. He ups the rotation of the fan, which creates more noise in the room, but actually helps with the haze of lust. Those pheromones pack a punch. Goddamn.
Lora pushes his chair all the way across the room as far from me as he can get, speaking to Dr. Randy in their language, sounding gravelly but maybe a little apologetic. I don’t know. It's hard to tell from the tone what they’re talking about.
Lora returns his attention to my face. “I will enjoy using your artificial sexual aids with you until your body adapts to the modifications the nanites will induce.”
“Me too,” I agree. “Uh, limits, right? We need limits.” I speak in a rush because honestly, if I don’t get these words out, I might forget I need to speak them. “I think as long as we’re not doing anything extreme and we both get to orgasm, I will be happy. I like giving and receiving oral pleasure, but don’t bite my dick or balls. They’re too sensitive for that shit, and I am not into CBT. I am on board with anal penetration both giving and receiving, but I understand you’re a top, and I’m happy to bottom for you as long as we both get to come. Mutual pleasure is really important to me. I don’t want to be left hanging high and dry. I’m not into neglecting your partner.”
“I will never neglect your pleasure,” Lora assures me in that rattling growly tone he keeps reverting to.
Who knew I would be into that kind of thing in real life? It’s fine in books. Hot even. But I always thought it would be kinda cringe in real life. I’m happy to report I was wrong.
“I won’t neglect yours either. Do you have limits?” I ask, swallowing hard to redistribute some moisture to my suddenly dry mouth.
“I do not have the right structures for reception, and I do not want to receive. I want you to bite me. Hard enough to draw blood to the surface, please. I cannot orgasm without it. Your blunt teeth will not be able to penetrate my skin, so you don’t have to worry about injury.” He stops and glances at Dr. Randy, who is monitoring the nanite activity rather than watching us. “I also cannot abide sharing my partners, which is unusual for parents of my species. My sex tends to need variety, but I am vehemently opposed to sharing.”
“That works for me, I don’t have other sexual partners, and I seriously doubt I would want them even if I had a plethora of men beating down my door, but I think we should establish the, uh, goal.” Embarrassment stains my cheeks pink, but I push on because I’m a grownass man who needs to manage my own expectations. “Are we starting a romantic relationship or are we adding lust to our platonic friendship?”
Please be romantic, please be romantic…
Lora rattles in approval. “My intentions toward you are romantic, Ollie. We should be friends and romantic sexual partners.”
Fireworks, thunderous applause, and my internal voice screaming “YIPPEE HIP HIP HOORAY” all happen inside my head as I nod in moderate agreement, trying not to show how fucking happy that makes me. The heart monitor on the wall going absolutely bananas betrays me, but my voice is steady and firm when I speak. “Good. That’s what I want, too. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”
“Do you consent to sex when my pheromone secretions overwhelm you?” he asks, which was the whole point of this conversation to begin with. Preconsent.
“Unless I am injured, if I tell you I want sex, I want you to take that as consent. If I am injured, please don’t hurt me further even if I’m out of my mind, crazy with lust.” Blanket consent is weird, but if I want this guy to fuck me, I have to make sure he will.
Lora dips his chin, rattling with approval before turning his gaze to Dr. Randy. “Did we miss anything?”
Dr. Randy turns toward us, rattling negatively. “I don’t believe so.”
“Then I will take my human back to his domicile. Thank you for your help.” Lora stands, striding over to me and picking me and my box up before teleporting us back to my house.
Yay.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
