Chapter 16
LYN
The first thing I do is sit down like a good girl.
Not a great way to think about it, but here I am, sitting down with my hands clasped in my lap, my legs crossed because my pussy is already throbbing. I watch as Kaelion picks up a pair of gloves, slides them on to snap into place at his wrists—
He's staring at me.
I meet his eyes.
“Do you want to place the electrodes?” he asks. “I don't want to obscure the results at all by touching you before we're ready to take readings.”
It isn't actually a question; I get to work, picking up the electrodes and fixing them to my temples, my neck, my chest. I notice him watching when I tug the neck of my t-shirt aside to place them on my chest, and my eyes dart to his.
I want him to say something. To admit this isn’t just me.
“Are you cold at all?” he asks. “Experiencing any discomfort?”
“Not other than you know…shame?” I whisper. “And pretty intense frustration.”
He laughs softly, which surprises me. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say. “Although…I guess it kind of is your fault.”
“We’ll note the baseline,” he says. “Just breathe normally.”
“So…what’s the plan?” I ask. “You just—touch me, we see what happens, we read the results?”
“I think we test it just like we would the translator,” he says. “So…we begin with touch through the glove; then touch without it. Then…if that doesn’t intensify the results enough, we keep going.”
“We keep going,” I repeat. “And that means…”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Forgive me for being so honest, but I’d be comfortable with damn near anything given that I haven’t come in almost a week—”
I slap my hand over my mouth.
His brow raises…but otherwise, he doesn’t react.
“I’m glad you said that before I started the log,” he murmurs.
“Right,” I say. “Um. Same.”
He taps the record button on my tablet, then clears his throat.
“Trial #1,” he starts. “Subject is a twenty-nine-year-old female, post-neuroadaptive translation device exposure. Objective is to determine pleasure response irregularities. We will begin with a calibration touch of gloved hand to gloved shoulder…”
I try not to squirm as he touches my shoulder. It’s nothing, really—weight more than anything, and a light weight at that. But I’ve been anticipating him touching me for so long that it gets…
…it feels good.
Too good.
Warm.
My breath hitches and his eyes slide to mine. “Even that?”
“No, I think I just…” I pause. “It doesn’t count. I’m just nervous.”
He lifts his hand and steps back.
“Elevated heartrate, 109 BPM at first contact. Cortisol marginally increased. Subject reports embarrassment and anticipatory arousal.”
“Okay,” I say. “So…what next?”
“Without the glove,” he says. “Touch to bare forearm—”
My pulse spikes again.
Jesus, Lyn.
“Was that another crest?” he asks. “Are you experiencing an arousal reaction…?”
“No, I’m just nervous, okay?” I repeat. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle.
“Trial #2,” he says. “Direct skin to skin contact through clothing. Location: shoulder. I will hold a duration of three seconds.”
He steps back to pull the glove off, and…
I shudder? Like a fucking idiot? I watch the latex peel away from his palm, then from his knuckles, his fingers…
his long, dexterous fingers. It’s like my vision zooms in on his fingertips in HD, finding all the little scars, the lines, the glimmer of turquoise sheen where his hands got warm—
“Are you ready?” he asks.
I snap my eyes up to his.
“Yes,” I say. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Alright,” he says. “Initiating contact…”
He reaches forward and touches my arm.
And I…
It’s better than a vibrator. It’s better than the rabbit, better than Orin going down on me, better than…oh god. Oh god, yes, this is what I needed, this is what I—
He stops.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
“Heart rate one-forty-two,” he says. “Neural activity spiking across somatosensory and limbic regions. Pleasure cascade initiated in under two seconds.”
“Under two seconds?” I rasp. “Holy shit.”
“Language, Walker.”
“Sorry.”
“We need to be very clear about what we’re doing next,” he says. “The data suggests that skin-to-skin contact is the trigger. Duration increases intensity. Location likely matters.”
“So what’s the next variable?” I ask.
He frowns. “...extended contact. Same location?”
I bite my lip. “Can I be honest with you?”
“You should—for scientific rigor.”
I bark out a rough laugh. “Okay,” I say. “I uh…same location is fine, but other location would be more fun.”
He stiffens. “That’s not scientific.”
But…he’s stiff, but not moving away. And his eyes glitter, and his tendrils flick, and I look down and he—
—he’s hard.
At least…getting there.
And he knows I see it.
I reach over to tap the tablet, pausing the recording. Kaelion doesn’t move, doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch.
“Can we just…not record this one?” I ask.
His eyes dart toward the door. No one else is coming to the lab today…not over the summer. We’re completely alone, and he’s the one who monitors the security feeds in here.
“What are you suggesting?” he asks.
“I really need to come,” I breathe, the words coming out all in a rush.
He sucks in a breath. “Lyn…”
“It doesn’t have to be…” I close my eyes, remembering that he’s already aroused. “I know it’s already sexual. I know. But I just…I can’t come, and I’m…it almost hurts. Help me.”
It’s not all that bad. I’m overstating the case.
But I want it so fucking bad. I don’t want to be teased close to the edge again. I want to go over it.
And over it and over it…
He draws in a measured breath, then—
His hand raises up…up to my cheek, hovering over my skin.
Touches me.
And I’m already getting there, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb on my cheekbone…tender and soft and gentle. My hips rock forward without my meaning to, grinding down on the stool until I almost slide off—
His other hand catches my hip.
“Easy,” he soothes. “Easy…”
“I can’t,” I gasp. “Oh fuck—”
“Come for me, Lyn. I’ve got you.”
That’s all I need.
I come…I finally fucking come, and as I come, I turn and take his thumb into my mouth. I suck hard, moaning around him, my hands flying up to grip his forearms.
Never felt like this. Never felt so good.
I don’t want it to stop.
And he doesn’t stop me.
No…I realize with a start that he’s moving with me, his thumb thrusting into my mouth. I suck on it like I’m dying to suck on his cock, hanging onto him, clinging to his forearms as he holds my hips steady.
“That’s right,” he says. “Take what you need, Lyn. Ride it out.”
This isn’t going to be enough, but right now it’s everything. I allow myself the pleasure of tasting him, the salt on his skin, a slight sweetness that’s both familiar and entirely alien all at once.
And I come again.
My pussy clenches, begging to be filled, and I jerk uncontrollably. “Fuck,” I curse. “Fuck, fuck…”
“Hang onto me,” he urges me. “Let it happen.”
I’m so wet. I’m soaked through my underwear, my sweats…I’m dying to have him inside me, even though I’m not sure I would even survive it. I’ve never felt pleasure like this.
“Please fuck me,” I’m whispering, not even sure when I started talking. “Please, Kaelion. Please fuck me, I need you to fuck me—”
That’s when he pulls away.
And the real world comes plummeting down on top of me.
Because even though I’m having some serious afterglow, even though my brain is pumped full of dopamine, I know something between us has changed forever.
His thumb comes out of my mouth with a wet pop, and for a second I sway forward, instinctively chasing him—but then I see his face. Tension radiates off him. His jaw is locked. His tendrils rest tight against his neck and collar, and his eyes…
His eyes are wide like he’s seen something that frightens him.
Meanwhile, my body hasn’t gotten the memo yet.
It’s still humming…every nerve lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, oversensitive, buzzing. Heat pools low in my stomach, my pussy clenching repeatedly. My eyes stray to his crotch just to be sure, and the sight of his hard-on makes me feel just a touch better.
Not completely though.
Not at all.
“It’s okay,” I say, desperate to fill the silence. “We’re just doing science.”
Fuck, what a stupid thing to say.
What a stupid, stupid thing to say.
Kaelion huffs out a laugh, turning away from me to brace his hands on a nearby desk. It angles his body so I can’t see him, and it makes me want to go to him, turn him toward me…
…do more science.
“You are far too brilliant to believe we’re just doing science at this point, Lyn,” he mutters.
“Then what are we doing?” I ask. Beg. Plead.
He turns back to me slowly, trying to look composed and failing utterly. His pupils remain dilated, tendrils flicking.
“You are under the influence of biotechnology that has impaired your judgment,” he says. “And I am…behaving entirely inappropriately. Taking advantage of you—”
“I think I asked you to give me a fucking orgasm,” I say, sliding off the stool.
He steps back like he thinks I’m going to jump him.
…he’s not totally wrong.
“Lyn,” he warns, voice tight, “I need you to understand that none of this should be happening.”
I take a step forward. He takes another back.
“You just said I’m brilliant,” I remind him. “So believe me when I say I understand exactly what’s happening.”
“You’re affected—”
“I know.”
“You’re compromised—”
“I know, Kaelion.”
We both go silent. He studies my features, my expression…like he can figure out where the artificial attraction begins and ends.
I wish I knew myself.
But I don’t. All I know is that I want him to keep touching me.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I offer. “I’m not…it’s not like that. I just need to get off and—”
He frowns. I’m making this worse.
“Unfortunately, this already means something,” he starts. “Lyn, I—”
His comm chimes, and he looks down at his wrist. He closes his eyes and his lips press into a thin line.
“I have to go,” he says. “I’m due to pick up Solvi.”
Right. His daughter, who should be his priority right now.
“I’m sorry,” I say as he rolls his shoulders. “This isn’t…I feel like I said all the wrong things—”
“You did, but only because I’ve done the wrong thing,” he says. He makes for his office, glancing back at me only once. “Take the electrodes off and spend the afternoon reviewing the data. We can learn something from this, at the very least.”
I nod, stunned silent.
The door to his office hisses open. He disappears inside just long enough to grab his satchel. When he emerges, he doesn’t look at me—not fully—but he pauses at the door.
“I will…be in touch,” he says, voice tight. “After dinner, maybe.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “Yeah. Sure.”
And then he’s gone.
I stay frozen in place for a moment, staring at the space where he was standing—like if I look long enough, he’ll reappear. Like I can rewind this whole sequence back to the part where I was still making stupid jokes and he was pretending not to be hard.
But we can’t go back. Not now. Not after that fucking obscene display…and not now that I know he’s into it too.
Something is happening between us. Something irreversible.
And at this point…I’m not sure I want to erase it all, even if I could.