Prophylaxis - 4. Chapter 4

The next day was tense, to say the least. I doubted Guy would be popping out from behind a door or under my desk and shout 'boo'. But I really didn't know Guy, it was hard to say what he would do. I could see him laying the labrador eyes on Maricella and her showing him to my personal office with a giggle and a smile.

I made it to five without sighting any amorous werewolves. Although, I think Mrs. Finklestein was checking out my ass when I bent over in front of her to pick up a dropped x-ray envelope, she's seventy and feisty. At least Mrs. Finklestein could keep her hands to herself, unlike some person I could mention whose name rhymes with 'pie'.

He wasn't on my porch when I got home. A quick survey of the house didn't find him inside. Thank god he wasn't hiding under my bed when I peeked, I would have had a fucking heart attack. The whole thing was pretty anticlimactic. I ended up doing what I would do any night. I did my little wind down routine and threw on some pajama pants and a tee. I was feeling a bit insecure so I threw on my wristband too, though I usually didn't wear it to lounge around the house. I wandered into the living room and tried to decide what to watch on TV or if I wanted to play a video game.

I needed some therapy involving eviscerating and decapitating. I got into a nicely bloody quest on my laptop. I wasn't sure I loved the game mechanics in a new dungeon crawling game, but the imps were squishing to my satisfaction so it was acceptable. I'd been playing a little over half an hour when the doorbell rang. I cursed the lack of save points and paused hopefully; like I was going to go to the door, loan the neighbor a cup of sugar, then get back to my game. I knew better. I would be timed out and kicked off the server before I got back to it.

I glanced at the clock. It was 6:30, the time I'd had Guy meet me yesterday. I felt dumb for not expecting it. So, it was no shock when I peeked around the door and saw Guy scuffing the toe of his shoe on my porch. The flowers in his hands surprised me some, though.

I bit my lower lip hard and tried not to laugh. “Give me just a minute and I'll be ready for the school social. My daddy just wants to threaten you about maintaining my virtue and to tell you to have me home by eleven.”

Guy gave me an embarrassed smile. “I'm not very good at this, I think. Men don't like flowers?”

And just like that I couldn't be an asshole and push him away. He was too earnest and sincere, and I was weak.

I pulled the door open and gestured him in. “I don't know if all men like flowers, but I do. Come on and I'll find a vase.” I tried to sound at least a little grouchy.

It took some poking around in my kitchen, but I found a vase of the right size. I washed the dust off and filled it with cool water. I snipped the bottoms of the stems and slipped them in.

“Thanks.” I said awkwardly. “They're nice.”

I took them back to the living room and set them on the coffee table. I bent over them, fluffing the blooms around until they were arranged to my satisfaction. I felt Guy behind me. Without my juju bag to block it, his presence filled the room. His feelings swirled around me and I felt a flush warm my cheeks. I already knew where his eyes would be before I turned my head. When I straightened and faced him he pulled his gaze from my ass with obvious difficulty. Guy stepped into my space. With the coffee table behind my knees I couldn't move back without falling on my ass, so I held my ground. His hand lifted and stroked my cheek as he leaned into me, I swear he was fucking smelling me again. The desire that I had just been aware of before he was touching me smacked me hard when his skin caressed mine. I groaned and leaned into his hand without meaning to. Guy was hell on my self-control. I was surprised when he stepped back. His touch drifted across my cheek then ghosted across my throat before letting me go.

Guy settled down on the couch. It was the same place he'd sat last night. I blew out a breath. After he'd left the night before I'd successfully cleaned semen, lust, and orgasm out of my couch. It was a reason to like the faux-leather, it cleaned easily and the disinfectant didn't cause any discoloration. The finish was such that bare skin didn't adhere to it then rip my flesh off when I tried to stand up. It was a big selling point. I had a feeling I'd be doing some cleaning again tonight. I might as well get on with things, too. We'd already established he could make me want it pretty easily. He was also a little bigger and a whole fuck of a lot stronger than I was. It wasn't worth it to me to see just how pushy he would get trying to get my pants off. Besides, I hadn't eaten supper yet. I could get him off, see him out, and nuke some leftovers. I liked my plan. I just hoped he'd be happy with another blowjob and didn't demand something more time-consuming.

I pushed the coffee table out a little, careful not to knock over the flowers. I dropped to my knees between his legs, enjoying the thud and slight sting as I hit the hardwood floor. I slid my palms up his thick jean-clad thighs up to the waist where I fiddled, trying to free the metal button there.

“Mick,” Guy groaned. “Wait, slow down.”

I shoved his shirt up to his chest and leaned over to lick his belly-button. With the touch, I felt his desire and confusion spike. The fight with his button raged on. It finally slipped open and I went for the zipper. Let's get this party started.

Strong hands closed over my wrists and yanked them away from his crotch. I hadn't put the pin insert in my wristband, so there was no pain as he squeezed it. I looked up at Guy's face for the first time since he'd sat down. He didn't look happy. Well, shit, I guessed he was going to be wanting something a bit more involved than practicing my deep-throating skills. I didn't feel anger in his touch, but he was definitely annoyed. He pulled me up his body until I was sprawled over him, my face close to his.

“I'm not here for a booty-call, Mick.” He grumbled.

I blinked at him. “Okay.”

He sighed when I just looked at him blankly. “Can we just talk or something?” He asked. “I'd like to get to know you further than just what hot little sounds you make when you're turned on.”

I grinned. “So, you like the sounds I make?” I wiggled suggestively in his lap.

He groaned and shifted his hips away from me. “I'm serious.”

I frowned and he let go of my wrists. “You're not here to try to fuck me?” This was quite a turn-around.

He groaned again and reached down to adjust himself more comfortably in his pants. “Christ, you'd tempt a saint.” He muttered. “You talk like this at work?”

I shook my head. “Depends on which work you mean. If you are talking about the dental office, then no. I'm not the same person at the office.” I snorted. “I don't swear at all there. Lori thinks I'm a goody two-shoes.”

“What do you mean you're not the same person?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I don't act the same, don't feel the same. I get nice and numb. I love dentistry.”

“What makes you numb?” He asked in the same calm nonjudgmental tone.

I narrowed my eyes. “I see what you're doing here. Learn this in psychology school?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I told you I wanted to talk, I want to know you.”

I blew out a breath. “Fine.” I could do talking. “But I need to get something to eat. I was just going to nuke some leftovers.” I pulled myself from his tempting lap to stand. “You want some? It's nothing fancy.”

Guy nodded happily. What a weirdo. He refused sex and was beaming about my leftover goulash. So, I fed him leftovers. In his defense, it was delicious goulash. I think some food is better nuked the second or third day, like all the flavors get nicely settled into the meat or pasta. As we ate I answered his questions about my life. He got a quick overview of my family. I grew up in Cedar Falls, Iowa. I had one sister. My dad died in a car wreck when I was ten. Guy was appropriately sympathetic and apologetic, I felt his sincerity but dodged when he reached for my hand. I didn't want to feel it quite that much. My mom had remarried when I was twelve and I'd had a step-father for a while until they'd divorced when I was sixteen.

He seemed interested in my house, so I told him about it. I loved my house. It was built in the late 1800s. It was originally about a mile to the north, but around 1920 or so they'd moved it here and set it onto a new foundation. The woodwork was all original and simple but lovely. I still had the old brass knobs on the doors. They all had big keyholes, but the key was long gone before I'd ever seen the place. It was good I lived alone since none of the doors locked, including the bathroom. I adored the pocket doors and hidey-hole under the stairs. When I'd bought it, the house had needed quite a bit of fixing up. Some I did myself, like taking out the drop ceilings and tearing up the carpet. Putting carpet over those diagonal plank hardwood floors was a damned crime. I left the more complicated things like plumbing and electrical to the professionals. When I'd seen the old electrical box full of ancient-looking buss fuses and dusty spiderwebs I was sure the house was moments from burning down in an electrical fire.

The basement had a concrete floor and several creepy rooms with plenty of spiders. I think one was for cold storage and one was for coal, but that was just wild speculation on my part. There was space in the basement for a laundry where I left a beat-up washer and dryer. They were useful if the ones on the ground floor broke down. On the ground floor there were two bedrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen, full bathroom, and laundry room. The upstairs was actually a separate one-bedroom apartment. There was also a large attic up there that could be another bedroom. I didn't rent out the upstairs and attic. There was no fucking way I wanted to deal with a tenant. I kept it up and functional mostly for when my sister or mom came to visit. They knew I needed my own space and they respected it.

I bought the house on a whim after I'd moved to Iowa City. I'd been looking for something small and new that didn't have a bunch of nasty emotional baggage to clean out. The realtor had talked me into looking at this house since it was priced to sell. The little old lady that had owned it was frail and had moved out of state to live with her granddaughter, they wanted it sold right away. When I walked in I knew I would have paid twice what they were asking.

I found out later that the house had been owned by the family for three generations. The old lady had been the only one left in the area. The rest of the family had drifted, most had ended up in Colorado. I don't know what kind of people this family were but I would have given my spleen to have grown up in that house with a family like that. The damn place oozed warm-fuzzies. The gentle love and affection of decades had soaked into the wood and plaster. Even after I'd scoured and bleached it still lingered. It was the most calm and soothing place I'd ever known, even better than the dental office. After the closing I'd called the old woman and thanked her and promised I'd take good care of her home. She was a little taken aback but thanked me. I'd sent them pictures of the renovations as they were completed. She seemed very happy and told me she hoped someday I could raise a family there. I hadn't even laughed at her. She was too fucking sweet. She still sends me cards on Christmas.

I was rinsing our plates as I finished the saga that was my awesome house. Guy was smiling contentedly. “So, the house feels good? So, you're psychic?”

I looked at him stupidly. “They didn't tell you what I was when I came out to work with Chrissy?”

He snorted. “Hell no. I was just there to babysit you.”

“Nice.” I rolled my eyes. “Psychic is a broad and pretty loosely used term. Empath would be more technically correct.”

“Empath.” He seemed to roll the word on his tongue. “So you sense other people's emotions.”

“Yup.” I tugged the fridge open. “Beer or pussy drink?” I asked him.

He grinned. “I'm secure in my masculinity.”

“I just bet you are.” I leered. “Strawberry limeade it is.”

I got him his drink as well as one for myself and wandered back to sit in the living room.

Guy sat across from me on the couch and pulled my feet into his lap. “So what's it like?”

I sighed and let my head fall back. “Truthfully? It fucking sucks.” I immediately felt like a whiny bitch. I tried to sound a little more upbeat as I went on. “Usually, when I'm not home I do what I can to dampen it down. I have a little bag of herbs I carry that mute things. There are some lotions that help too.” I didn't tell him that pain was the quickest way to banish unwelcome vibes. I figured that would go over like a dead pelican. Besides, that shit was private. “The dental office is the best though. Everything is extremely clean, which helps. The gloves, mask, and coat are a very effective barrier. If I'm at work I can't sense much unless the person is a good projector or I'm touching them. Even then things aren't as bad.”

“So that's what you meant about being numb at work.” Guy said thoughtfully. “So what's it like when you don't have any of that stuff. If you're not at work and you don't have your bag of herbs or your lotion?”

I thought a moment about how to explain it. “Imagine you're in a room. There aren't any windows open and the ventilation isn't great.” He nodded and seemed willing to play along, so I continued. “Now imagine there's one of those old ladies from church in there, one of the ones that bathe in perfume. It stinks up the whole room and sticks to everything. Even if you're standing across the room you know she's there and it shoves up your nose. Maybe it gives you a headache or sets off your allergies making your sinuses swell.

“Emotion is like that perfume. If I'm in a room with someone, what they're feeling just kind of wafts off them.” I wiggled my fingers in the air. “The stronger the emotion, the harder it hits me. Some are pleasant.” I wrinkled my nose. “Some are like being trapped in a room with a rank hobo just off a two week bender.”

Guy looked way too fascinated for me to be comfortable. I looked into my drink and swished the ice around. “And it sticks to me too. Like, have you ever had one of those ladies hug you and you smell like their perfume all day until you change your clothes and shower? It doesn't happen with everyone or every emotion, but sometimes they stick to me until I change my clothes and wash up. It sticks to my clothes too, I have to wash them really well to get it blank for the next time I wear it.” I took a sour swig of my drink. “I don't own anything that's dry-clean only.”

Guy rubbed the sole of my foot and I murmured appreciatively. If he gave good foot-rubs I would definitely be tempted to keep him for more than a convenient lay.

“That sounds like a pain in the ass.” He said gently.

I blew a quick raspberry at him. “Of course it is. I'm sure being a werewolf can be a pain in the ass too.” I wiggled my feet, trying to encourage him to keep rubbing.

He shrugged and started on my other foot. Ah, success.

“I guess.” He said. “I don't really think about it. It's how it's always been.” He seemed to think of something. “What you did with Christina wasn't just sensing her emotions. I talked to a guardian that had worked with her, trying to get her to speak. Christina was locked up tight in her own head and her nonverbal reactions suggested she was really ripped up inside.” Guy winced. “Now it's clear why. God, what a terrible thing to happen to a kid.”

I stiffened and he looked at me questioningly. I ignored his look and spoke. “Yeah, I can do a few more complicated things with my empathy. People can get stuck in their own emotions and experiences. Usually it's unpleasant stuff, sometimes it's good things. Most people deal with their inner struggles fine. Sometimes, there's too much going on and things get all tangled up inside them. Then it's like all the bad shit rubs on each other and just makes a fricking mess. It makes it difficult, sometimes impossible, for people to work through their problems or deal with new ones. How bad it is depends on the tangle. Everyone I've ever touched has had a tangle of some kind, it seems to be a price of living.” I shrugged. “My sister had some bad shit go down when she was thirteen. She was kind of a mess.” I blinked hard, pushing back the memory of hearing Rosalind crying and begging to sleep in my bed with me because she was afraid to be alone at night, afraid of her dreams or something worse than dreams. “I figured out I could untangle her. Her nightmares stopped and she started getting better.”

Guy burned with the desire to understand what had happened to my sister, but he bit it back, which was good. That shit was private and he might have been a psychologist, but he wasn't my psychologist so he could eat it. I generally did my best to stay as far as I possibly could from anyone in the field of psychology, I had a history with them I didn't much appreciate or trust. What the hell was I doing within a mile of this guy? Christ, I was a doofus.

I shifted into a more comfortable position and poked him in the tummy with a toe. “Your turn. Tell me about being a werewolf and a guardian.” Might as well see what kind of trouble I could expect.

He looked surprised. “Oh, well. There's not a lot to tell. What don't you know?”

“Pretend I hardly know anything.” It was pretty close to the truth. I didn't know much beyond the obvious that they turned into wolves and were organized into packs. Oh, and that they thought I smelled fabulous, which was fucking creepy.

“Oh, okay.” He smirked. “Werewolf 101, then?”

It was my turn to give the encouraging nods, and he started talking. Guy was good at explaining things simply and clearly. I already knew that silver didn't agree with them from talking to Guy at the office for his consult. I found out that werewolves are born, not made. It didn't matter how much a werewolf bit someone, they wouldn't turn furry. Packs were a tightly controlled hierarchy with the alpha at the top. In the US, packs usually weren't competitive, although sometimes there were a few southern packs that would stir up shit with each other. Movement between packs was common, especially when looking for a mate.

“You have to be accepted by the beta or alpha to move into a new pack's region. It's almost always set up in advance by the pack you're moving from. If you move permanently to a new pack you have to take loyalty oaths, they're very serious. You still have loyalty to your last pack, but the new pack comes first.”

“Have you done that here?” I asked.

“Not yet.” He shook his head. “I haven't been here long enough” He smirked at me. “Although, there's this guy I met who's making me think I'll want to stick around permanently.”

I looked away from him and felt my cheeks burn. I fucking hated blushing. Guy just grinned and kept talking about wolfy stuff. He talked a little about his job. It sounded like being an overactive social worker or therapist crossed with a cop. They also sometimes carried out punishments when required. The guardians were important to keep a pack happy and under control. Guy was assigned cases or responded to calls received by their special dispatcher. His eyes were lively as he spoke and I felt his dedication and love for his work.

He told me more about life as a werewolf. I have a feeling my mouth was hanging open when he explained a lot of their women chose to give birth as a wolf with a pack midwife since labor and delivery were much easier that way. Pack kids were homeschooled until they were ten. Guy explained that it took that long to learn to control their changes and to hide what they were.

“Why hide, though?” I asked him. “You're stronger than humans, so why worry about hiding it?”

“We're not that much stronger.” Guy scowled. “I can't pick up a truck and throw it or leap tall buildings. We're stronger and faster, yeah. Our eyesight is a little better, but not by a lot. Our sense of smell and hearing is much better. But we still can die pretty easily. Even a non-silver bullet in our head or heart will kill us before we can heal it, and how long do you think it would take for them to put two and two together and start using silver? Humans don't have fangs and claws, they have guns.”

Guy shook his head sadly. “When we're kids learning about hiding our abilities, they tell us about a pack in Europe a long time ago that was part of a tight-knit community. The son of a human leader in the village was best friends with the alpha's son. The human kid got himself in trouble on a hunting trip and the pack boy changed and saved his life in front of several other humans. At first everything was fine. The humans seemed to accept the pack boy. The rest of the wolves decided to out themselves.

“It was a terrible mistake. Slowly distrust and paranoia grew. After a year the humans turned on the pack. There were so many more humans than pack. The stronger wolves were bound in silver chains then decapitated. The young and weak were stabbed to death with silver knives. Only a few escaped and survived.”

Guy blinked and sighed softly, pulling himself out of the story and turning to me. His eyes were sad. “That's not the only time something like that's happened. So, we teach our pups to never ever show themselves, not even if it's life or death for a human. They find another way to help, or they let that human die.”

“Jesus.” I muttered. “You guys are fucking serious about your 'don't ask, don't tell' policy.”

“The punishments for doing things that could reveal us are pretty severe and strictly enforced.” He commented gravely.

“Enforced by guardians?” I asked.

He nodded. “Sometimes. It depends on how bad it is.”

I sat up a little. “Wait, if it's such a big no-no to let humans know about you then why are they letting you blab to me? Are you going to get in trouble for this?” Guy might be a bit of a pain, but I didn't want anybody stringing him up by his toes or some crazy shit.

He looked at me blankly for a minute, then his eyebrows went up. “Uh, no. It's not a problem for me to tell you.”

I was getting more confused by the moment. “And if it's so taboo, then why was I ever approached for empath work by werewolves? I've done jobs for three separate packs maybe a dozen times. They always contacted me and clearly identified that they were werewolves and what pack they represented. It surprised the fuck out of me to find out you guys were even real.” I shook my head. “No one ever even threatened me in dramatic mafioso fashion that I should keep my trap shut about your existence.”

Guy looked distinctly uncomfortable. I gave him serious eyes. “What?” I demanded.

He rubbed his neck with one hand. “Well, it's ok for you to know about us.”

“And that's because?” I spoke slowly and clearly, like one would with the stupid or insane.

“Because,” his eyes slid to the side, “they don't consider you human.”

I stared at him for a moment. He looked so serious, he seemed worried I was going to take this tidbit badly. His shock was palpable when I couldn't hold back an embarrassingly unmanly giggle.

“Well, I guess now I don't have to worry about you being shocked by my secret nipple tentacles. So, um, do I get a non-human membership card?” I fought a snicker. “Are there dues? Will I get a decal for my car?” I snorted in an undignified manner and then tried to settle myself down. “Seriously, though, if I'm not human then what am I?”

Guy cocked his head to the side. “What do your parents identify as?”

I rolled my eyes. Well, shit, this complicated things. I bounced up off the couch and snagged a framed photo off the dining room wall. I plopped next to Guy and handed it to him.

“This is my family.” I pointed to a petite dark-haired ebony-eyed woman with big eyes and a bigger smile. “That's my mom. She identifies as Mexican-American but calls herself Mexican or Hispanic.” I pointed to a broad-shouldered man with his arm around my mom. He had toffee-colored skin and close-clipped hair. His eyes were a striking grayish-green. “This is my dad. He identified as Czech and African-American but he usually just called himself black.” I pointed to a little girl with long curly black pigtails. Her grin was so wide her eyes were squinting, showing a large gap where her upper front teeth were missing. “This is my sister, Rosalind.” I looked closer. “I think she was about six in this picture. Anyway, she identifies as queen of all she surveys. I call her my bossy little sister.” I pointed to the boy that was holding Rosalind in his lap while my parents stood happily behind him. He had skin that was conspicuously pale next to the other three and sandy brown hair. “And that's me.”

“So, you're...” Guy seemed to stumble over what to say.

“That's right, I'm Black-Mexican.” I told him seriously. “I doubt you'll ever introduce me to your parents, but if you do, I hope they aren't racist.” I couldn't help but grin at his dumb-founded expression. It was kinda cute, really. “And, I'm adopted.”

I took the picture from his hands and touched the glass. “I got dumped at a hospital when I was around two.” I was a little shocked I was telling him this. But, I'd started so I'd finish. “Someone buckled me up right and tight in one of those little umbrella strollers and left me near the ER entrance. I guess I wasn't in great shape. My mom was working in the pediatric unit and she helped take care of me. Apparently, she was the only one I would calm down for.” I glanced at Guy. He looked horrified. I chuckled. “I was always crying or freaking out unless she was nearby. They eventually just let me follow her around as long as she wasn't seeing contagious patients. There are pictures somewhere of me wandering around behind her holding onto the back of her scrub shirt.” Guy still looked horrified. I poked him gently with the tip of a finger. “This is where you say 'Awwww, how cute.' At least that's what the Aunts say when Mom cracks out the photo-albums every holiday and shows that picture.”

My attempts at levity seemed to be lost on Guy. I sighed and continued. “Anyway, Mom even stayed with me on her days off. The state finally designated me as abandoned or somesuch bullshit, like I was a lost dog or something,” I scowled and set the picture in my lap, “and decided to send me to foster care. I was all healed up and not dehydrated or malnourished or anything anymore.” From the grimace on Guy's face I should have left my need for food and fluids out of the story. I was bad at this. His pity was suffocating, I scooted a little away from him. “Mom and Dad were told a few years before then they couldn't have kids anyway so they tried to adopt me. I don't know if it was because Mom had been my nurse or because they were racist bastards, but the state said no and I went off to foster care.”

Guy looked suspiciously like he was going to tear up or something. I ignored it and forged ahead. “It was only a month or two until I was back in pediatrics at the hospital again. They called it 'failure to thrive'.” I made little quotes with my fingers. “After that, Mom and Dad lawyered-up and ended up adopting me. A year after that they made liars out of the doctors that told them they couldn't conceive and had my sister.” I made a 'Ta-Dah' motion with my hands. “And that is the very long answer. The short answer would have been, I have no fucking clue.”

I jumped when Guy suddenly swallowed me in a hug. Christ, he was a glomper. There was a fierce protectiveness swirled in with the pity, I bit the inside of my cheek hard. The sharp pain let me push Guy's emotions back so it was easier to breathe.

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

I patted him awkwardly. “It's ok, Guy. I don't even remember, and I got really great parents out of it. You don't have to look like I shot your puppy.” I was relieved when he relaxed a little. “So, if I'm really not human what am I?” I wondered.

Guy sat back and shrugged. “I'm not sure. There's not really a set nomenclature.” He seemed to think for a moment. “Most groups identify themselves, like my people identify as werewolves. Usually, others go along with what a group identifies themselves as, but not always. Sometimes we're called shifters and lumped together with others that have more than one form like selkies or encantado.” At my puzzled look he elaborated. “Selkies have a human form and a seal form. They are cute as hell. Encantado shift from human to dolphins or snakes.

“There are a few names that are pretty commonly accepted though. Groups who look just like humans but have abilities or other things that are very different than human are usually generally defined as 'paranormal'. This is where most would put you, Nate. Groups that are further from human are 'supernatural'. That's me. Groups that are more rare or legendary are 'mythical', think unicorns and dragons. The mythicals are usually pretty powerful, too. I've met a few working for the pack and some are very intimidating. I met a Naga that was very nice, though. The griffin she was with was less friendly.” Guy grimaced dramatically, making me laugh. “A lot of paranormals call humans 'mundanes'. Maybe because the para's always look human so they feel weird dissociating themselves completely from being human.” Guy shrugged. “That's a theory, anyway.”

I mulled it over. “So, I'm not human. I'm a paranormal. Specifically empath, if I were to define myself.” I thought this should be more distressing but it wasn't. I always felt separate from the other people around me, which is ridiculous considering how much of others I always sucked inside myself. “Okay. Thanks for the info.”

“That's it?” Guy choked.

“What?”

“I tell you you're not human and your response is 'Okay, thanks for the info'?”

“Would you like me to freak out?” I asked him archly.

“God, no.” He answered quickly. “I'm just worried that you are freaking out inside your own head or that you are repressing your feelings and will freak out later when I'm not here.”

I would really have liked Guy better if he weren't such a fucking shrink. “I'm fine.” I said, a little more coldly than I'd intended. I tried to lighten the blow. “I'm sure my sister will be totally unsurprised. She's been telling me for years that I'm a weirdo.”

That pulled a smile out of Guy. Good, I didn't like him all serious and pitying.

He leaned into me. “I like you weird.”

I laughed. “Oh, yeah. I bet you like it weird. You're probably a kinky toe-sucker or something.”

His hands slid up my arms and pulled me closer. “I'd like to suck something.” His hazel eyes swirled and burned as his lust washed over me. “But it's not your toes.” And just that fast, we quickly moved from pitying-Guy to horny-Guy.

His mouth caught mine, rough and hot. I groaned as his lust hit mine and I stiffened in my pajama pants. The loose cotton didn't hide much. I felt Guy grin against my lips as my erection poked him in the side. He shifted, flicking the button of his jeans open and tugging down the zipper to expose his own cloth-covered hard-on. It was fucking unfair he could do that so easily, when earlier I was thinking about taking a crowbar to that button. His body covered mine, his hips dropping to grind his crotch against my own. I grabbed his hips to keep him tight against me, thrusting myself against him. His hard cock slipped through the slit in his boxers and I gasped as I felt it rub against my covered hard-on then under my shirt to touch my stomach. I felt a slick trail of precum left behind as he pulled back then pushed against me again.

Guy grabbed the waistband of my PJ pants and tugged. “Off.” He growled.

I lifted my hips, but he didn't back off, rubbing himself against me as he fought my pants to my knees where I was able to kick them off the rest of the way myself. His hot hard length slid against mine. I gasped and arched against him. Even though I have one of my own to play with, I'm always amazed at how velvety soft the skin of a penis can be. Guy's was no exception, that velvet-smooth skin rubbed against mine, hotter than me but just as flint-hard underneath. I smiled wide as Guy pushed up on his hands so we could look down our bodies to watch our friendly sword fight. Damn, looking made me harder, our two rods stiff and sliding against each other. We both were leaking precum, our lengths sliding, rubbing. I glanced up into Guy's face. He was looking down, eyes rapt. His lips were parted slightly as he panted. His eyes were dilated and his face flushed. Christ, he was beautiful. My balls tightened and I couldn't hold back a moan. Guy's eyes flicked to mine, one side of his mouth lifted in a knowing smirk. He balanced on one hand lifted the other to my mouth.

He put two fingers to my lips. “Suck.”

I opened for him and laved and nipped his fingertips before sucking them into my mouth. I teased my tongue against his skin and sucked like it was another part of his anatomy. His eyes burned green and he thrust harder against my cock. I did the same for two more fingers and his thumb, then gave his palm a long wet lick.

He dropped his slicked hand between us and caught our hard lengths.

“Fuck!” I bucked under him.

His hands were big, his long fingers were able to wrap around us most of the way. He had no trouble holding us together as we slid through the half-circle of his hand. He started to jack up and down our thrusting lengths. My head lolled and my eyes rolled up.

“Fuck, Guy!” Muscles low in my abdomen tightened. “If you want to get a chance to suck anything, you'd better fucking stop that or I'm gonna shoot.”

“Don't wanna.” He panted and nipped my neck. “Wanna make you come like this. I want you to come with my cock fucking against yours.” His voice was rough and strained as he jacked us harder and faster. “Want to come all over you and mix your cum with mine.”

I gripped his shoulders, my fingers digging in. I think I was breathing too shallow and too fast, my vision was graying out at the edges.

“Guy!” I shouted as my balls drew up tight and my back arched violently. I shot hard, first across my chest then my stomach and over Guy's jerking fist. His movements stuttered then resumed rougher than before, making me cry out. Guy's fist squeezed us tight and his load joined mine as Guy grunted and gasped above me. I lay boneless beneath him, with barely enough energy to force my eyes to blink open. Guy's head was down, his hair hanging shaggy around his face as he breathed hard. I released my grip on his shoulders to tug his mouth down to mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, even with our hot breaths still trying to catch up. I tugged again, pulling him down to lay on top of me. He was big, I couldn't breathe. Breathing is overrated, fuck breathing. I needed to feel his weight on me. I was smearing our come all over our clothes. I gave a rat's ass about that too. I just wrapped my arms around Guy and let him squish me. I don't know if I was turning blue or if Guy wasn't comfortable in that position, but eventually he pulled back. He took me with him, and we ended up with Guy on his back and me tucked up against him.

Once I was capable of speech I laughed. “Jesus, Guy, we never even got any of your clothes off.”

He lifted his head then let it drop back again. “Tomorrow.” He said, pulling me closer and nuzzling my hair. “We can get some clothes off when I come back tomorrow.”

Fuck.

Guy was not my fucking boyfriend. We were not fucking dating.

Godammit.