31. Zyran
ZYRAN
“You can cook, you can even bake, but toast?” Esperr asks, looking at the piece of, well, I can’t even call it toast. “You can’t make toast?”
I look at it again.
She’s not wrong; it’s burnt on one side and somehow still pale on the other, which I didn’t even think was physically possible.
“The settings on your toaster are wrong,” I say.
She turns and looks at me with an expression that is barely holding itself together, lips pressed together in a thin line to stop herself from laughing. “The settings…”
“They’re inconsistent.”
“Zyran,” she sighs, picking up the piece like it’s evidence. “This… this isn’t toast.”
“I told you, it’s broken.”
“My toaster is fine.” She sets the thing down again and turns to look at me, losing the battle entirely, laughing and dropping her head back. “I can’t believe this; you made me a three-course meal that took all day, prepping, marinating, but you can’t make toast.”
“I maintain that the toaster?—”
“Is fine. The toaster is totally and completely fine,” she giggles.
I glare at the toaster and then at her.
She’s right—just like Cyran, who always gave me shit because I somehow burned the toast. And of course she’s still laughing when I drop the thing into the trash and start over. This time, I stand directly in front of the toaster, bent down, resting my elbows on the counter.
“You don’t have to watch it,” she says.
“I’m not.”
“You’re absolutely watching it, my love.”
“I’m supervising.”
She makes a sound and plops down into the dining room chair, pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping both hands around her coffee, while she watches me supervise the toaster with what I can only describe as delight. Like this is the best thing she’s ever seen before.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“I’m not doing anything.” She presses her lips to a thin line and looks up at the ceiling.
The toaster pops, and when I look down, it’s perfect, even, and golden, just as it should be. Putting it on the plate, I spread some butter on it before sliding it to her without another word.
Esperr looks at me and then down, smiling as she picks it up and takes a bite. I wait while she chews, nodding slowly as she’s judging the piece of toast.
“It’s good,” she hums, taking another bite.
“I know,” I grunt.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird,” I say, stepping towards her.
She swallows and points the toast at me. “That face you’re making is making it weird.”
“Get on the table,” I order her, closing the distance.
She frowns, blinking up at me, while she holds the toast between her teeth. “What?”
“You heard me.” I hold her gaze, not daring to look away. “You’re having your breakfast.” I bend down, placing both hands on either side of her head on the back of the chair. “And now I want mine.”
The kitchen is very quiet; you could probably hear a mouse fart. And she looks at me for a long moment, something moving through her eyes that she no longer tries to hide, and then the corners of her mouth pull up just slightly.
“The table?”
“Now, Esperr.”
She holds my gaze for another beat with that particular look she gets when she’s deciding whether to push back or give in, and then she’s swallowing and pushing herself up onto the table.
“Take it off,” I commanded. “Take all of it off.”
I can visibly see her shudder before she hooks her thumbs beneath the fabric of her shorts and panties, sliding them down her pale legs and onto the floor.
“Still making it weird?” I ask, smirking.
Esperr’s eyes darken, legs already folding inward, but I stop them—hands pressing against her knees and opening her up again. I keep one hand firmly on her, while the other trails down her inner thigh, watching her skin break out in goosebumps.
“Jesus Christ,” I groan. My finger stops just shy of her glistening pussy before I press my thumb against her clit. “So fucking wet.”
Esperr’s mouth drops open, the tiniest moan slipping through. I lean closer, pushing her one knee open wider, before I take my opportunity of her not saying anything and running my tongue along her seam.
She inhales sharply, and I can’t help but moan into her.
I could live between her thighs, live and die right here, and be perfectly okay with it.
Esperr drops back onto her elbows, opening her legs even further for me, and I dive back in, lapping up every single arousal she drips.
My cock was already hard before I even told her to get on the table, and now it’s pressing against the zipper of my pants.
And as I open my mouth and kiss her cunt, I can feel the moment her body becomes alive, like she’s letting herself finally give in and have this pleasure.
And something about that really wets my fucking whistle.
I growl my approval, trading between fucking her with my tongue and sucking her clit between my teeth. At some point she shifted her weight and dives her fingers into my hair, holding me against her.
“Zyran,” she groans, her voice an octave higher than normal. “Please… oh my god, please make me come.”
Her wish is my command.
I press two fingers against her opening, probing her entrances, before I drive them inside her and curl them.
A breath gets stuck inside her lungs as she inhales sharply, her legs growing stiff. I know I hit the spot when her fingers in my hair tighten, and no noise comes out of her. Focusing my mouth on her clit, I bite down, earning a gasp before I curl my tongue around and suck.
“Imma come,” she gasps. “Zyran…fuc?—”
Her pussy strangles my fingers, and then she’s exploding on my tongue, coating my chin in her release. I don't stop fucking her with my fingers or sucking her clit until her hand relaxes in my hair and her pleasure fades into soft waves. Only then do I pull back and kiss her inner thigh.
And I keep moving up, switching between kissing and licking up her stomach, my tongue running over her navel while pushing her shirt over her head.
“Zyran,” she whines.
My gaze snaps to her as she shoves her shirt off the table. I don’t answer her, my mouth hovering over her right nipple. And then I bend my head, licking over her tit before sucking her nipple into my mouth. A whimper escapes my mouth when suddenly her hand presses against the front of my jeans.
Our eyes never leave each other as she leans awkwardly, fumbling with my zipper while I go between her breasts, kissing and licking them.
It takes all of ten seconds before she reaches into my boxers and pulls my cock out.
Her thumb swipes over my leaking tip, and I hiss before biting down on her nipple.
“Fuck,” I growl as she gasps and squeezes my length.
At an awkward angle, she wraps a hand around the base and twists her wrist, pulling even more precum from my tip.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, her soft delicate hand twisting and jacking me off while I go between kissing and licking her tits until there are dark purple spots spreading across her entire chest.
My balls begin to seize up, and I barely get a second’s notice before my cum is shooting out into her hand and onto the kitchen floor.
“Esperr,” I hiss, as my head falls onto her chest.
Her thumbs swiped against my tip again, sending a shiver down my spine.
With all my strength, I straighten up slowly, bracing both hands on the table on either side of her, catching my breath.
Esperr looks up at me with flushed cheeks and that satisfied expression she gets when she knows exactly what she’s done.
I drag a hand through my hair, and she watches me try to pull myself together with entirely too much amusement for someone who has just?—
“You okay?” she asks, with a knowing smirk plastered to her face.
“Fine,” I croak.
“You don’t look fine.”
I swallow, my eyes darkening. “I’m fine, Esperr.”
She bites her lip, looks down at her toast, and I notice her shoulder shaking slightly.
I point at her, not bothering to take a step back from between her legs. “Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything.” She tries to act innocent, but she’s absolutely laughing at me. And to make matters worse, the little shit reaches over and picks up her toast, taking a bite from it.
“Best breakfast I’ve ever had,” she mutters around her food.
I look at her, and she smiles, swallowing.
Shaking my head, I fall back into the chair with a small smile spreading across my face.
Esperr lies across the couch with her legs thrown across my lap and a book open on her lap. I have both hands wrapped around her calf, working the tension out while the news is on low in the background. I’m not really watching it, just sort of have it on for background noise.
She turns a page, and then so quietly, I almost don’t hear her, “what are we?”
My gaze snaps to her, but she’s still looking at her book. Her eyes aren’t moving across the page like they were a minute ago. And it’s almost like she’s surprised she asked as well, because her lips form into a thin line, like she had blurted it out without fully thinking about it.
My hands keep moving against her calf, and I look back at the TV. A reporter stands in front of a mostly cleared road, talking about how conditions are improving.
“If you’re going to ask me a question, an important one, you’re going to look at me when you ask.”
She goes still while I keep my hand moving against her calf, peering over at her and waiting. The book stays against her chest for a second, blocking most of her face, and it’s like she’s deciding whether to fight me on it or not.
And then she slowly lowers the book.
She tilts her head and looks at me properly, and I can see the slight lift of her chin, that particular set of her jaw that means she’s deciding exactly how she wants to do this.
“What are we?”
“What do you want us to be?” I ask, going back to rubbing circles into her calf.
“That’s not an answer.”
“You’re right it wasn’t. It’s a question.”
She shifts her legs on my lap, and I tighten my grip on her calf, keeping her there. Esperr frowns and rolls her eyes before blowing out a breath.
“Well, give me an answer.”
“I did. And I think I already made my position pretty clear.” My hand moves down to her ankle and then her foot, rubbing circles into her soles. “So, I’m going to need you to be the one that answers that.”
She stares at me, blinking before it suddenly dawns on her what I’m talking about. I told her four or five days, enough to show her who I am. And now it’s time to decide.
“That’s not fair,” she mutters.
“It’s completely fair.”
Esperr is quiet for a long moment, and I feel the moment the air in the room changes from what she’s about to say.
She sits up slowly, pulling her legs off my lap, and this time I let her.
It takes her a second before she turns to face me properly, her book sliding off the couch onto the floor, and she doesn’t bother to reach for it.
“Fine… listen, you’ve only seen a glimpse of me,” she starts, her voice even in a way that tells me she’s thrown almost all her emotions out the window. “You don’t actually know what you’re signing up for.”
I raise a brow and cross my arms, waiting for her to continue.
“Don’t give me that look Zyran… I mean come on, I grew up knowing what the world was actually made of underneath everything.
And sure, yeah, you’re a killer, I know that, and I’m on the other side of that.
I mean, I’ve cleaned after people like you my entire life.
” She sighs and then pauses. “That’s not the problem. ”
“Then what is?” My voice comes out snappier than I intended, and her gaze drops to her hands.
“I’m an emotional wreck,” she whispers. “I mean that genuinely, not the way people say it when they want to sound interesting. I literally overthink everything. Every conversation, every look, every single word someone didn’t say or fuck, did say for that matter.
I’ll replay something you said three days ago at two in the morning, trying to figure out what you actually meant by it.
You said give you four or five days, but did you actually mean that, and if I say let’s take this slow, does that mean you’re going to be okay with that, or does that mean you’re going to give up because I’m being too difficult?
And I cry at animal commercials. Like fully, completely lose it, and it’s embarrassing, but it’s true. ”
I don’t say anything.
“I already told you… but that boy, Daniel. I tried telling him; I thought I could trust him. But he panicked, and we had to pack up and leave everything we’d built in two days. I didn’t—I know what happens when someone gets the full picture.”
“Esperr—”
“I’m not done,” she hisses, cutting me off.
“Because the overthinking and the crying at commercials, that’s the easy part.
The harder part—” She stops, pressing her lips together, choking on her words, and then tries again.
“Sometimes everything just shuts off… it’s like a damn switch.
I can still be there, still in the room, but it’s like there’s nothing inside me.
There’s no sadness, no happiness, nothing.
I’m just empty, like someone hollowed me out and forgot to put anything back.
And I never know when it’s coming. I’ll be fine one moment, and then in the blink of an eye, I’m no longer me. ”
The TV murmurs something in the background, and I reach over, turning it off.
Suddenly the apartment becomes deadly silent while she sits across the couch from me, hands in her lap, looking at me like she’s bracing for something—like she’s already decided I was going to throw her away like everyone before me obviously did.
“You done?” I ask.
She blinks, confused for a moment before her chin tilts up. “What?”
“Are you done?”
“I just told you I’m severely?—”
“I heard every word you said,” I tell her.