18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Permissions and their past.

I sat across from Zoltilvoxfyn while he brushed his hair on the canopy bed in the center of his bedroom. Wind blew through the three windows, stirring the sheer curtains and flowering vines that wrapped around the bedposts. From one of the windows on the back wall, I saw the roof of his greenhouse, which made me oddly happy.

Fyn ran a comb through his long, perfectly white hair as he watched me.

“You’re gorgeous.”

He coughed, comb stalling.

Unfortunately, drakcol didn’t blush, but I was certain he would be right now if he could. I said, “It’s true.”

“Thank you,” he said in a tight voice, staring hard at the purple blanket beneath us. “I find you quite attractive as well.”

“That’s good. I’m sure my round ears and pupils are weird. That’s not even talking about my lack of scales or how short I am or my small muscles.”

“No,” he replied, setting the comb down. “I like them all. You are you, Caleb, and I like you.”

“Good.” Now, I’d be blushing if I could.

“I would like permissions.”

“What permissions?”

“What I can and cannot do? What do you like and dislike? How far do you wish to go at the moment?” he asked calmly, tail swishing.

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 it was healthy, 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 do that . 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 quiet noises 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.”

“You have scent glands,” I said, trying to continue the conversation. I was far more interested in him than Lucy. I ran my finger over the side of his neck, and he trembled.

“On my forehead, neck, and sides. I like you touching me there.” His eyes were wide as his breath rushed out. I couldn’t be giving him much feeling, but he was enjoying whatever I did to him.

“Me? Or anyone?”

“Just you.”

Fuck me. Fyn knew exactly what to say. “Why?” I asked, sliding down his side. When I hit the right place, I knew it from his sharp inhale.

“Instinct demands I scent mark you.”

I paused. He couldn’t, though. Not really. I bit my lip, staring down at the blanket. “Are you sure?”

“About what?”

“Me.”

“Look at me, Caleb Smith,” he ordered. I did and Fyn bent toward me, leaving almost no space between us. “I am sure. I have never been more sure about anything in my life. You make complete and utter sense to me. We make sense.”

“You are so romantic.”

He grunted. “Only with you.”

“Well, that’s good because if you were like this with someone else, I would haunt them until I figured out how to do bad things to them. Like mess up their hair, or delete important information.” I told him one hundred percent serious, “I would make their life a living nightmare if they tried to take you from me.”

“That will never come to pass.”

I glanced out the window at the moons. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“I can’t fall asleep, but if you don’t care about me staring at you all night, then sure.” I had zero problems watching him. With Fyn, it didn’t feel voyeuristic. Well, it did, a tiny bit, but I liked him enough to ignore it.

“I don’t in the slightest. I don’t like the thought of you wandering around all night alone.”

I laughed. “You know nothing can happen to me, right?”

“You can leave, obviously, but I’d like it if you stayed with me. Though that might be boring. You don’t have to stay. I cannot make you.”

His voice was so hesitant like he expected me to leave. I rested my hand on his thigh, sinking through his scales. I wished his body pressed back against me, but it didn’t work that way.

“I won’t be bored.”

Fyn climbed under the silky white sheets and purple blanket, stiff and his expression distant. It didn’t bother me. I knew he was embarrassed. I lay next to him on my side.

“Sleep,” I whispered.

“I’m oddly excited.”

“You mean you’re horny.”

“I don’t have a horn.”

Sometimes when I tried to say the same word in Drakconese in English, they didn’t have the same meaning. “Aroused,” I reiterated.

“Yes.”

“It’s not gonna happen tonight.”

He grinned at me, canines gleaming in the low light, and I fought the urge to fan myself. Damn, he should smile like that more. Only at me, though. A gentle, sultry tickle down my spine at his softening smile. A brush of something on my palms while a rhythmic thrum sounded in my ears. I swallowed a groan, unwilling to look away from him for even a second. My Sunshine. My Fyn.

“Sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Then tell me why you drakcol have permissions.”

“Humans don’t do that?”

“Not really.”

Fyn wiggled until we were sharing the same air. Well, we would be if I breathed. Still, I liked him being so close. Fyn said, “I told you we used to be a warring species.”

“Yep.”

“Before our people were unified, it was common to take.”

“Take?” I repeated.

“We would steal mates, people, possessions, or rather, anything we coveted.”

“Ah.” That… sucked, but it’s not like Earth didn’t have the same history.

“We took lives, freedom, spoils, people.” He shook his head. “We took and took and took, hurting each other. When we unified, that was one of the first struggles to overcome—our innate fear and distrust of each other. Permissions became the first thing that helped. We try not to touch people without their agreement, but we do not always succeed. The instinct to claim and possess is still strong within us, especially when it comes to our mates.”

“So you ask?”

“We ask. It has been a part of our culture for so long it’s near instinct now. It’s difficult for us when we don’t have permissions. We can feel lost without them.”

“Which is why you asked for mine,” I said.

“Yes.”

I ran a finger over him, and he groaned. I smoothed my thumb over his cheek, trying to imagine the scrape of his scales. “Go to sleep.”

“Don’t leave. Please.”

“I won’t.” And I wouldn’t. I never wanted to leave him.

It didn’t take long for him to fall into a deep sleep. I traced his face. God, I was so happy. I didn’t know if I’d ever been this happy; if I had, I didn’t remember it. Zoltilvoxfyn liked me. He wanted this.

I should long to go home. I should miss my family, and a part of me did, but a bigger part wanted to stay with him. There was something about Zoltilvoxfyn. From the moment I saw him, I was attracted to him.

This wouldn’t end well. I was dead. Even by his own admission, there was nothing he could do to change that. We couldn’t ever be together, and it wasn’t about sex. A relationship without sex was as valid as one with it.

It was about what separated us.

Zoltilvoxfyn would age and change. He was alive. And I… wasn’t. This would never be more than a half relationship.

A light snore came out of his lips and his tail moved to drape over his thigh. I ran a finger down the length and paused. I saw his scales through the tip of my finger. That was not good, probably. I mean, it might be fine. What did I know? My finger solidified, but the tip was gray, without a hint of color.

My gaze moved to Fyn, and I smiled. Everything was alright, and we would be together. For now. That was enough.