Chapter 13 Tacita #2
What the fuck is happening? I’m clearly spending way too much time around humans.
First, Wyatt has crawled beneath my skin, and now Milo is certainly triggering some feelings I am not going to decipher.
He’s so far from my usual type but an emotion I refuse to name is fluttering through my blood stream when it comes to the shy nerd.
Clearing my throat, I step around him and flop back down on my bed, crossing my legs as I sit facing him, my earlier idea coming back to me. “I guess we’re waiting to see if anyone comes looking for us then. How about I start teaching you some sign language whilst we wait?”
Milo’s head snaps back up at my suggestion. He looks confused.
“Do you not want to learn?” I ask, thinking he’d jump on the opportunity.
He nods eagerly at my question and then scribbles something before showing me his notepad again, You want to teach me?
“Yeah,” I tell him, letting the honesty shine in my eyes so he can see my sincerity. “It would be great to talk to you properly. Not that I mind the paper, but at least with signing you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying it around everywhere.”
Milo hesitates for a second, still seemingly unsure that I’m not pulling some sort of trick on him, before he moves. He puts his bag down before moving to his bed and mirroring my position.
“Alright then, let's start with the letters and then we can build on it from there.”
We spend an hour or so practicing some of the fundamentals of signing and Milo is a quick learner. We are far from having a conversation but I don’t think it’ll take him long before we can start talking this way.
It’s a knock at the door and it immediately swinging open that disrupts our lesson. A female guard stands, holding the handle. “Come on, time for breakfast.”
“Were we all locked in?” I immediately start questioning her.
“Yes, sorry about that. It was required.”
“Required? Why?” I push, standing from the bed and moving towards her.
“I’m sorry, do we need to justify our every action to you?” She squares up to me but I see the tiredness in her eyes, no doubt she’s been up all night either dealing with the murder or searching for me–not that they know it was me, hopefully.
“Just seems odd. We’ve not been locked in before,” I comment, acting like I couldn’t care less even though I want her to admit something so I can question her further.
“Go to breakfast, you’ve only got fifteen minutes before classes start.” She makes a sweeping motion with the arm not holding the door, ushering us to get a move on.
Accepting that this is futile, I grab my bag once more and head out, Milo trailing behind.
“What’s your name? I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure yet,” I say over my shoulder to the guard who follows us to the stairs and starts descending them behind us.
I spot a couple of others from our floor ahead of us and can hear multiple other humans further down. They must’ve let us out room by room.
“Officer Derran.” Her bored reply comes as we hit the second floor.
“How long have you worked here, Officer Derran?” I ask the follow up question as I rack my brain.
I genuinely think I haven’t met her before.
She could well be one of the Guards on Tartarus, or an officer that works in Elysium.
I know the heads of the main policing force but there are many working in the lower ranks to ensure the city runs smoothly.
“None of your business Ninety-Eight.”
I try one last attempt at getting some information as we reach the ground floor. “Can we expect to be locked in from now on?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” she says as we exit the building.
Great. That was useless. It seems the guards have been told to be even less friendly than they have been so far.
The extent of the lockdown we seem to be under gets made apparent as we step into the dining hall.
The tables are far from occupied and we’ve been given allocated seating.
Up in the far corner looks to be the residents of the second floor from our building.
On the table immediately inside the doorway are those from our floor.
Instead of going up to the food hatch to collect food, there are now plates lining the centre of the long tables. Officers stand down the central aisle and it’s clear we’ve been separated. Kept in the groups according to our accommodation. They don’t want us mingling like we have been.
“Morning, Mo Stór,” Wyatt reaches for me and I allow him to pull me into the seat next to him as I continue to survey the hall. The one Officer I need isn't here. Hades should’ve told him by now. Even with the distraction of the murder, I was expecting him to seek me out early this morning.
Maybe he’ll be waiting for me in the first lesson we have today.
“Are you okay?” Wyatt asks as I don’t acknowledge him.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” I turn in my seat to face the table and gently remove his hand which is still on my arm.
“Did you manage to sleep after last night? I know I couldn’t stop replaying the images of you in my mind for several hours. In fact, I’m not sure they’re ever leaving the forefront of my brain.” He sweeps my hair off my shoulder, his fingertips brushing against my neck and making me shiver.
I catch Milo’s gaze as he sits opposite. He clearly heard what Wyatt just said. The crimson comes back in his cheeks as he pretends to not listen, instead reaching for some of the toast and spreads on offer.
“I slept perfectly after,” I reply. I hadn’t thought about how Wyatt was going to act after I gave in to him. I guess I thought he might lose interest now he’d had me, like he seemed to with everyone he’d slept with so far.
However, I cannot deny that him confirming my alibi this morning isn’t appreciated. Even if there is a slick feeling in my stomach. Is that guilt? No, surely not. But as Milo catches my eye again I’m suddenly not as hungry.
When I don’t reach for any of the food, Wyatt places a blueberry muffin beside my plate and stacks the plate itself with eggs, bacon and toast. It’s my usual breakfast and I side eye him, unaware of when he took notice of what I eat.
Milo then further adds to my confusion by pouring me a coffee from the jug on the table before serving himself.
“Thanks,” I mumble to them both, completely taken aback by their actions.
“What?” Wyatt asks when he registers the look on my face. “Did you expect me to ignore you this morning?”
“Yes. That is your MO,” I tell him bluntly.
He places a hand over his chest like I’ve shot him, hurt marring his beautiful face.
He recovers as his eyes sparkle, like he’s just seen a challenge.
“Oh, Mo Stór. You’re still going to play hard to get aren’t you?
I’ll admit, I don’t usually allow repeats but that’s usually because I’m moving onto the next city, the next country, or they were just a mediocre lay. ”
He has me chuckling at his dismissal of his previous conquests, I’ve had the same thoughts about mine.
“But you?” he continues. “If I left you in any doubt, let me spell it out. For as long as we’re here, I plan on repeating what we did last night as often as possible.”
This time it's me blushing. Stupid freaking human, how is he doing this?
“What if I don’t want to?” I internally cringe at the way I sound about as convincing as a thief caught in the act of stealing, trying to deny it.
Wyatt leans in close this time so his breath caresses my skin as he speaks, “Tell me without biting your lip that you don’t want to feel my cock pounding into you again, my piercings playing that sweet pussy until you shatter and I’ll leave you alone.”
His thumb comes up to my lip to indeed free it from between my teeth. I didn’t even realise I was doing it. Or that he’d noticed I do it when I get turned on.
I swallow thickly as words, any words, fail to form. I simply grab my coffee and down the entire mug.
Wyatt looks entirely too pleased with himself as he leans back, a grin plastered on his face, already knowing that indeed we probably are going to fuck again.
Before I get a chance to recover some semblance of control over my body, the guards interrupt and end our breakfast. I haven’t even had a chance to pick up my cutlery, let alone eat anything but they won’t hear any of my complaining, or that of the several others that haven’t finished eating either.
I grab the muffin as I stand, needing some food after my flight last night. Wyatt also quickly shoves some of the bacon between two slices of toast.
We’re pulled up and herded out of the dining room towards the classrooms, escorted like prisoners once more.
We have a lecture first, and it's much the same as the dining hall. We are seated in separate groups according to our living arrangements. As the Officer at the lectern demands silence, Wyatt hands me the bacon sandwich he grabbed.
And it’s that tiny act that informs me that I’m in real danger of being truly screwed when it comes to this guy.