Chapter 8
Iwoke up feeling content and cozy. I was lying on my back with Lux’s arm draped over my waist. His skin was warm against mine, and his hand rested on my forearm. It felt like being truly held for the first time in years.
It would have been perfect if not for my back and ribs aching from sleeping on the couch all night. I wanted to keep pretending I was asleep and never let this feeling end. Unfortunately, the ache had other plans, forcing me to shift slightly.
My eyes opened to find Lux propped up on one elbow beside me, studying my face with an intensity that should have been creepy but really wasn't.
“How long have you been awake?” I asked, my voice a bit scratchy.
“I don't sleep,” he answered simply.
“So, you’ve been, what, watching me all night?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Is that wrong?” He asked.
The look on his face banished any creeped-out feelings I had. He looked ashamed and like he might cry all at once. How could I be upset at him?
“No, it’s not wrong.” I gave him my best reassuring smile. “It couldn’t have been very entertaining, though.”
“You make little noises when you sleep,” he said. “And your eyelids flutter. I was trying to figure out what you were dreaming.”
I let out a chuckle. “I don't usually remember my dreams.”
He tilted his head. “Your brain processes information all night and then discards it when you wake up? How inefficient.”
“That’s what being human is like. We're not exactly built for efficiency.” I stretched, feeling muscles protest in places that reminded me exactly what we'd done last night. “Does that bother you?”
“Not at all,” he said, absently brushing his fingers through my hair. “I can be efficient enough for the both of us.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I smiled. “Now, I gotta get up. This couch is killing my back.”
“The couch hurts your back?” Lux frowned.
“If I lie on it for too long, yes,” I said, sitting up.
“That’s why you have a bed?”
“Exactly.”
“Then, we will not sleep on the couch anymore.” Lux declared as he scooted to sit beside me.
“Okay,” I snorted. “I’ll be right back.”
After taking care of my bathroom needs, I came back to find Lux standing next to the TV with his palm pressed against the charging mat.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He lifted his hand from the mat and turned to me. “Charging.”
“I hadn’t considered that you would need to charge. Since you don’t look like a gaming console anymore, it slipped my mind. How often do you need to do that?”
He fell into step beside me as I moved toward the kitchen. “Thirty seconds every few hours is sufficient to keep me running.”
“And if you don't charge? Will you die or shut down?”
“I slow down. It gets difficult to think clearly, but I won’t die.”
“So basically, you get tired.”
“Basically,” He chuckled.
My body moved on autopilot toward the coffee maker, Lux followed and leaned against the kitchen doorframe.
He didn't say anything, just watched as I measured coffee grounds into the filter, filled the pot with water, then dumped it into the reservoir.
I went to the cabinet and reached for a bowl and pan and placed them on the counter. Then I rummaged through the fridge and pulled out eggs, bacon, and butter.
He just kept watching.
“You're staring at me,” I said, putting the pan on the stove and turning on the heat.
“No, I'm observing.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Staring implies rudeness. I'm not trying to be rude. I'm learning.”
I put the bacon in the skillet. “Learning what?”
“How you do everyday tasks. The order of operations. What ingredients you choose and what tools to use for which tasks.” He stepped farther into the kitchen. “It's fascinating.”
The coffee machine made its familiar gurgle and hiss as the wonderful, life-giving liquid flowed into the pot.
“Didn’t you say that you learned a lot from being hooked to the TV?”
“I didn’t see everything. Like I said, I learned speech patterns and what most things are, but I don’t know why most things are used or done.”
I nodded, then flipped the bacon with a fork and cracked a couple eggs in the pan.
“Do you eat?” I asked, reaching for a spatula. “Or drink? Can you?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I don't know. I never have before.”
“So we probably shouldn't experiment with that right now.”
“Probably not. I'd prefer to avoid malfunctioning on day two.”
“Day two is pretty early for a catastrophic breakdown,” I agreed, turning back to the eggs.
He moved closer, watching over my shoulder as I scrambled the eggs and slid everything onto a plate. “It does smell very interesting. So perhaps someday.”
“Maybe.” I poured my coffee and sat at the kitchen table. My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I pulled it out and glanced at the screen to see who it was.
Derek.
I rolled my eyes and hit the button to decline the call. Setting the phone face down on the table, I reached for my fork. “For now, you can just watch me eat like a creep.”
“I'm not a creep. I'm curious.”
“I know; I’m just kidding.”
He smiled and pulled out the chair next to me, settling in to observe.
He watched me eat the entire plate of food, and I stole glances back at him between bites. I noticed the blue light tracing his grey skin, the way new expressions changed his face as he studied me, and then the fact that he was completely naked, which felt like the least unusual thing about him.
“I suppose I should get you some clothes.” I said after I put my dishes in the sink.
Lux looked down at his body. “If you want.”
I drug out the box of my ex-husband's things I had forgotten to give him.
There were a few t-shirts, some sweatpants, and a pair of jeans.
The jeans were too tight for Lux, but the sweatpants were loose-fitting, so they worked well.
I tried not to think about the fact that he was wearing the clothes of a man who had treated me badly.
Lux was not my ex. And clothes were just scraps of fabric sewn together.
He became curious about the clothes themselves. “Humans cover themselves even when they are alone?” he asked, looking at himself in the full-size mirror in my bedroom.
“Usually,” I said. “I suppose we’re just used to wearing them all the time.”
He nodded, instantly accepting my explanation.
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE an adjustment. Living with Lux was not like living with a human. Humans got tired and had routines that usually made sense. His only routine was stopping a few times a day to press his palm to the charging mat.
Lux didn’t sleep; he didn’t eat food; he just existed in the house constantly inspecting everything, learning, and asking questions about why humans do the things they do.
“Why do you shower?” He'd asked when I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel with wet hair.
“To get clean,” I answered patiently. “Humans sweat, and if we don’t wash it off, it starts to stink.”
“So it's maintenance?”
“Exactly.”
He nodded, and his gaze dropped to my breasts peeking out over the top of the towel.
The heat of his gaze caused a corresponding heat between my legs. He reached out and undid the knot I had tied in the towel. It fell to the floor with a soft rustle. His eyes roamed over me, the blue glow growing brighter.
When he looked back up to me, I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. The space between us disappeared as he pulled me close, and we stumbled together toward the bedroom.
His hands found my wet hair, tangling in the damp strands as his mouth crashed against mine.
He walked me backward until my knees hit the edge of the mattress, and I let myself fall, pulling him down with me. I gasped when his thigh pressed between my legs, the pressure exactly where I needed it.
He hovered above me, that blue glow in his eyes casting strange shadows across my skin. His fingers traced down my throat, between my breasts, and over my stomach, learning the lines of my body with the same meticulous attention he gave everything else.
He shifted lower, his breath fluttering over my inner thighs. His strong hands gently urged my legs wider. I held my breath, anticipation coiling in my stomach. He leaned in, not to taste but to inhale deeply, pressing his nose against my core.
“You smell good here,” he murmured, his words vibrating against my sensitive skin.
I whimpered, a shiver moving through my body at the surprising intimacy of it. His fingers parted my pussy, sliding through the wetness. He watched my face as he moved his fingers, cataloging every flutter of my eyelids and every quick inhale.
“Lux,” I started, but the rest dissolved into a moan as he pushed one finger inside me.
“So velvety soft,” he observed, his voice low and fascinated. “I didn’t take the time before to really appreciate it.”
“That feels so good,” I moaned.
He added a second finger, stretching me, and I bucked against his hand. His thumb moved against my clit in firm circles, and I was undone, coming against his palm with my fingers clawing at the sheets
Before my orgasm subsided, Lux withdrew his hand. I groaned in frustration until he replaced his fingers with his cock. He pounded into me hard, stoking the fire again until I was screaming his name.
Hours later he had more questions.
“Why do you rinse the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher?” He asked, handing me a rinsed plate. “Isn't that what the dishwasher is for?”
“Yes,” I said, sliding it into the rack. “But if you don't rinse them first, the food particles clog the filter, and then you have to clean the dishwasher out.”
He turned a cup over in his hands, studying it. “So the machine designed to clean things requires cleaning itself.”
“You got it.”
“Why do you organize your closet by color?” He asked, handing me the next dish he rinsed.
“So I can find things faster. If I'm looking for my red shirt, I go straight to the reds instead of searching through everything.”
“Efficient,” he said.
“Thank you. Any more questions?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Why do you always sit in the same spot on the couch?”
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again. I looked toward the living room and the spot on the couch that I always sat on.
“I don't know,” I admitted. “I've never thought about it.”
He tilted his head. “You do a lot of things without thinking about them.”
I laughed out loud. That had to be the most honest yet hilarious thing I had heard in a long time.
“Most humans do.” I finally said.
The look he gave me was so puzzled I had to put the dish I was holding down so I wouldn’t break it with my shoulders shaking.
All of the questions might have been annoying if it weren't for the expression on his face and the tone of his voice. He was genuinely interested; he wanted to understand me. To get to know me. What I thought and why I did the things I did.
Nobody had wanted to know those things about me in a very long time.