Chapter 8 Mating and Procreation of Dragons #3
Ouch. I’d forgotten to let my roommate know I wasn’t coming home today.
In my defense, I’d been dealing with a supernatural creature claiming I had to live with him now, so…
And I knew I couldn’t tell Josh that. Shit.
I could never tell anyone anything about this.
I didn’t even want to. First, they’d have me committed to a psychiatric facility, and second, I couldn’t betray Ernest like that.
Me: I’m with a guy I met at the party last night.
While I typed, the words “last night” echoed around in my head. It had been twenty-four hours since Ernest and I kissed in the restrooms of Sullivan and Burnes Inc.
Josh: What guy???
Me: Name’s Ernest Bracknell. An engineer. Fabulous in the sack.
Josh: You lucky shit. You could have messaged. I was worried.
Me: Sorry. It’s been kinda overwhelming. I’m staying the weekend.
Josh: Be careful.
Me: No worries. He’s safe.
Josh: Pictures, or it didn’t happen.
I grinned. Looking at the exchange of messages, I wondered why I didn’t feel like I had to lie to Josh when I wrote Ernest was safe. I’d felt like that with him from the beginning.
Me: I’ll see what I can do.
A headache blooming, I scrambled off the sofa and looked around. Ernest sat in his study, the door open, and he lifted his head when I turned to him.
“Do you feel better?”
“A little bit of a headache. I think I need a cold drink, and I’ll be fine.”
He shot out of his chair and strode toward me purposefully, frowning. Pausing in front of me, he scrutinized my face and put a palm on my forehead.
“No fever,” he murmured. “I got some painkillers. Paracetamol?”
“I’m not sick. Just sluggish. I’m not used to napping in the afternoons. Honestly, I only need some water.”
Putting an arm around my shoulders, he led me to the kitchen as if I were about to pass out.
“Ernest, I’m fine. Don’t go all nurse on me.”
He dropped his arm and pulled a glass out of the cupboard above the sink.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He filled the glass and handed it to me. I chugged it, feeling almost instantly better.
“How about I make dinner?” he asked.
When he said it, I was a little hungry already. “Thank you. That would be great.”
He grinned and rubbed his hands. “What would you like?”
“Um. Could I borrow a charger before we do anything else? My phone is about to die.”
“Oh. Absolutely.”
Within a minute, my phone was plugged and charging on a shelf in the kitchen, and Ernest was sorting through his fridge.
So I sat down by the kitchen table and opened the book on dragon mating.
While Hobbes (1982) says physical bonding lasts twenty-one days and emotional bonding continues until the birth of the first child, Collins (1979) claims bonding lasts a month from the initial coitus and doesn’t make any distinction between the physical and emotional levels.
After the first month, the couple would have developed a solid bond and tolerate short episodes of solitude well.
A month? I’d be out of work by then. “Ernest,” I began.
“Yes?”
“The book says it’ll take a month.”
“What?”
“The bonding phase.”
“Well, yes. A few weeks or a month.”
“You said I could go to work after a week.”
“Sure. The bonding is…um… It’s like the first part of a relationship, except more intense.
” Ernest spoke in a casual tone, cutting the carrots with the skill of a seasoned chef.
But I could see the tension in him. “For the upcoming week or so, we won’t be able to be separated at all.
After that, we’ll still need each other every day, but not all the time.
I’ll miss you during the day, but I’ll manage. ”
“I can’t be away longer than a week. I’d lose my job.”
He put the knife away, turned, and looked me straight in the eyes. “I’ll take care of it, Lawrie. I promise. You don’t have to worry about your job at all.”
A part of me wanted to argue, but the calm determination in Ernest’s gaze soothed me. He would take care of it, I knew. Strange, but there it was.
“Thank you,” I mumbled. For some reason, my cheeks heated, so I broke the eye contact and continued reading.
Hobbes (1982) argues that on an emotional level, the alphas in his study experienced profound distress when separated from their mates for longer than a day, even after the omegas had been impregnated.
Aside from that, Hobbes doesn’t offer any definition or description of emotional bonding.
He dwells on physical bonding instead, speaking mostly from the alpha’s perspective and providing detailed information on various sexual activities known to particularly enhance the bond, such as consuming pheromone-saturated bodily fluids, and of course, stimulating the mouth to the womb during deep penetrative intercourse.
Okay, that didn’t help with my blushing at all.
Physical bonding has fascinated generations of dragon researchers, while other aspects of the mating process have received significantly less attention.
Other aspects of the mating process. It didn’t require a doctorate in dragon studies to figure out what that meant; mutual respect, trust, genuine interest in the other person’s thoughts and opinions, care, affection…
Love. Fated mates and eternal bonds aside, in the end, all relationships required work, didn’t they?
I looked up at Ernest flitting around in his kitchen as if choreographed. He was making veggie risotto with mushrooms and cheese. Tilting my head to the side, I appraised his back in the tight white T-shirt. That infuriatingly perfect body.
The magnetic attraction and sizzling lust were unrelenting, right at the top of my mind.
Even as I was freaking out about my surreal New Year’s in regular intervals, I was still annoyingly horny.
When Ernest fucked me, when he spilled his cum in me, my brain didn’t seem to work as usual.
If I lost myself in all the pleasure, I would forget one important thing; I needed to get to know him.
A thought hit me like a blow in the middle of my forehead, and the realness of it sharpened my senses as if I were readying for a fight.
Whether I chose it consciously or subconsciously, I was about to enter a serious, long-term, deeply committed relationship with this man.
I didn’t see an alternative. The thought of leaving him caused me almost physical pain.
But I needed to know more about him than that he was an amazing lover and a decent cook.
Closing the book, I set a goal—to get to know Ernest as much as possible before I let him fuck me stupid. No more sex until I could see myself being in a real relationship with him.
Of course, it was much easier said than done.