Chapter 8 Laura #2
Finally chimes ring out for one o’clock. Perfect. I put my ‘out to lunch’ notification on Teams before sliding my laptop closed and into its bag. My hands shake: will he want in?
Keep it cool, Laura. Calm and collected.
I leave the farmhouse and crunch across the gravel in my heels as if I’m off to a work meeting. Even though Ellen and Arabella know I have no business in the machine shed, if I act confident, I’ll be able to play it off if I’m challenged later.
March is a weird month in Britain, either boiling hot or snowy, but the weather today is smack in the middle, tending toward sunny with a crisp edge and plunging several degrees colder when clouds skip across the sun.
The shed lies dark and shadowed, rich gasoline and oils coating the air inside and the click of my heels ring against the silent machinery.
I turn in place, looking for the big purple alien, but it doesn't seem he's here yet. Or maybe he's not going to turn up. Perhaps he's had second thoughts.
Disappointment drops into my stomach, as if I just got a last minute memo to draft. Oh, well. It kinda stings a bit, but I can always go back to BristolMeet and its familiar hashtags. When I’m less busy, of course.
It just seems a bit… bland right now.
I turn on my heels to leave when the doorway fills with broad-shouldered purple scales, blocking the sunlight.
“Law-rah.” Dom takes a few steps inside, towering over me. He is huge, pure muscle in utterly alien colors, and he could easily fold me in half.
He gets down on his knees and, while I'm trying to suss him out and keep my distance, it does make my heart skip a little.
He glances up at me. “Am I late? I did not know what time it was, so I’ve been coming back and forth.”
Aw, cute. “You're not very late. I did wonder if you were going to show up, whether you were interested.”
“I…” He swallows hard, but he doesn't say more.
I help him out. “I want to talk to you because it seemed like you really got something out of the whipping yesterday. Is that… something you need?”
He stares at me, scales turning a shocked pale pink.
I squat down to his level, balancing on my heels the same careful way I choose my words.
The conversation with Nicole really helped me lean into what to say next.
“I want you to be honest with me. If it's part of your training or internal drive, I'd be interested to know.”
“It's…” His scales go hot pink on his cheeks, flushing all the way down his chest. It's adorable.
“It’s partly a Parthiastock trait, partly…
mine. We must be punished if we transgress, but…
I need punishment, I crave it. When the veralash hits, when I'm struggling or think I cannot endure something, I feel…” His hands open and flex again, like he's groping for an answer.
“Peace,” I offer. “Complete. Like the world’s gone still or you're utterly centered.”
“Yes!” His eager grin pings at my heart. “Is this a human thing also?”
I think of the S and M side of BDSM. “Not for all humans, and not for me. But I want to understand what’s driving you to do that, and help you find another way.
Meanwhile, I'm grown enough to ask for what I want. Here’s how I see it: we can explore, together, how you respond to a little control play.
We'll explore each other’s bodies and what makes us feel good. ”
My heart’s beating hard as I lay out so much in front of him, the most personal briefing notes I’ve ever presented. It’s not everything, of course, but enough of my raw underbelly to make me cringe and, at the same time, soar.
This must be what it’s like to go tightrope walking or sky diving or some other high adrenaline stuff. Yet all I'm asking for is what I want in bed, so to speak. We're both consenting adults. Shouldn't be this hard.
But I still have to derisk it. As I stand up, I hold up a finger. “I don’t mix friends and relationships. Ever. So before we talk more, I want your solemn promise you won't tell anyone.”
Dom slams both fists into his chest with a solid smack. “I swear on my life, Law-rah, I will never tell, not even under pain of death.”
The alien is utterly sincere. “A promise is enough. We don’t need a countersigned contract.” Although I’m setting this out like I’m about to draft a memorandum of understanding. It’s like adding a set of safety lines to that tightrope.
Purple eyes don't look away from mine. Basking in his attention makes a thrill race through my core at how he’s attuned to every word, soaking it into his skin.
I tell him and myself, “First things first, if you want—and it’s a hundred percent your choice—I'm up for exploring this with you. I think we'd both enjoy it. I have some rules, but mostly, we'd have fun together and just play. What do you think?”
He lifts his head, eyes wide, like he can't believe what he just heard. “I will do anything you order me to, Law-rah.”
Heart jumping, I rein myself in. This might be a lost in translation moment. “I'm not ordering you right now, I'm asking you. There's a difference, and it's important. I want your willing consent, not you thinking you don’t have a choice.”
The big alien blinks at me slowly. “Just so I understand, I can tell you… no?” He winces as he voices the last word, as if it pains him to say it.
“Of course. I have boundaries too, and we'll talk about all that before we… play.” A thousand less-than-innocent shames make my cheeks heat. Come on, Laura, you’re a grown adult.
“We both have to be comfortable each and every time we meet up, but first, I want us to be happy with the overall arrangement.”
“I… I want to. I… truly do.” He bows his head.
I wait for him to form his thoughts into words, but his tone doesn’t sound great. Kind of a “It’s not you, it’s me,” vibe.
“In the end, I have my duty, and what I want doesn't matter.” He lifts his head to meet my gaze with his intense amethyst eyes. “I cannot form a mate bond with you, Law-rah,” he pronounces, like it’s my sentence from the judge at the bench.
Hm. At least he's able to tell me no, so he feels free. He says he’s interested, but he looks disappointed. Perhaps some semantics are needed here.
I cock my head. “I accept that, but I just want to check something. Define mate bond.”
His eyes never leave mine. “A deep connection to another person, your mate. You live only for them and separation is unfathomable.”
“Ah, you mean something like going steady? Possibly even marriage.” I pace behind him, breathing slowly, inhaling a mixture of his grassy scents and something deeper.
Darker.
I come back in front of him and tell him, “That's actually one of my limits too. This would be just for play, nothing serious. I don't do long-term relationships where two people entwine their lives with one another. I don't have time for it. My career is very demanding and it comes first.”
The hope that leaps in his eyes is adorable. “So… you do not require a mate bond with me to do this?”
“Not at all, absolutely not.”
His delight gets overtaken by feral hunger, his jaw tight and eyes burning. “That… changes the equation.”
Yes! “So, do you still want to do this?” The million-dollar question.
“To define what I mean by ‘this’… we'll meet regularly, discreetly, at times convenient to us both. We’ll talk about and agree what we would like to do together. If we want, we’ll even install safe phrases, so if you or I say it, we know to stop immediately. ”
He blinks slowly. “That means we will both be in control,” he observes.
“Yes, but I'll lead.” I pitch my voice to be husky at the end, and it clearly hits the mark, making his lips part and his breathing deepen.
My stomach pitches in that excited-danger way. I’m not going to take advantage of him, he’s safe with me, and I can really help him; but at the same time, it’s impossible to deny how this feels.
But as my chest heats, it tightens. Kink is not something to discuss at the weekly movie nights. I’m only exploring this new side of me; I don’t want it exposed to my friends, and certainly not mixed with my career. “This has to be a secret, okay? That's my non-negotiable number one.”
“I will adhere to that. You have my sworn word,” he reiterates.
“We’ll tell each other what we do and don't want. I want open communication between us at all times, that's my number two stipulation.”
He's quiet, perhaps struggling for where to start.
“I'll go first.” Alright, time to confess. The one thing my friends absolutely do not know, and potential partners are always shocked about. My mouth goes dry as dust. My pulse jumps, hammering in my throat. Heat rises up my neck in a wave, making my ears buzz.
I look him square in his eyes, inky indigo in the light. “My hard limit is no penetration.”
My voice is steadier than I feel; my stomach is twisting itself into knots, my skin prickling like static.
There. Out. It’s out. But my chest tightens anyway, just as if I’ve stepped off a ledge. My breath comes faster, shallower. I’m exposed, small, waiting for the flash of judgment or pity.
“Yep,” I manage, swallowing hard, “I’m a virgin.”