Normal Is a Made-Up Word
Chapter twenty-two
Cya
Dex’s bedroom was small and cramped. A thin window high on the wall was open to let in the evening breeze, but even with the fresh air, the room smelled like him.
He was everywhere here, in every corner, on every surface.
His musky deodorant and fresh shampoo and something woodsy and wild that was all him.
It was everywhere, and it made Cya feel so inexplicably safe.
Atop his bed, they’d coiled up tightly in the corner after they’d helped themself to one of his shirts, since their own dress was… messy. An unpleasant taste lingered on the back of their tongue, stale and slightly bitter. From the cum—Dex’s cum. Which had been in their mouth and on their face.
Because for the first time in their life, they’d sucked a dick. Dex’s dick! And they’d liked it. A lot. They’d liked it so much that they’d literally lost connection to their brain and acted a complete fool. And now, they couldn’t stop freaking out, which was so stupid and juvenile and immature.
Normal people didn’t have panic attacks because of a blowjob. Why couldn’t they just be normal, for one godsdamned second?
Hugging Dex’s pillow to their chest, they buried their face in it and breathed slowly. They didn’t fully understand the panic ricocheting around in their chest cavity. It was linked to embarrassment, yes. The way they’d thrown themself at him, desperate and pathetic. It was humiliating.
But the fear ran deeper than their insecurities about being an incompetent twenty-one year old virgin who’d just bumbled their way through the sloppiest blowjob known to Hellia.
Because now they had to tell Dex about the rest. He deserved to know, especially if he, for some insane reason, wanted a repeat of what happened in the kitchen.
He had to know everything, and once he did, he might not want them anymore. Kent certainly hadn’t, though they could admit he was a scumbag, so no surprise he’d acted like one. But still, the fear was visceral and so very real.
At least they’d stayed. They’d wanted to run, and it had taken every ounce of courage for them not to. But how could they, when Dex had asked them—no, begged them—to stay?
“I need a minute,” they’d said after deciding not to flee. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, but I just really need a minute first.”
“Okay, that’s fine. You can have all the minutes.” Dex had said as he straightened his shorts and scrubbed a hand between his ears.
The sound of a hairdryer starting reminded them both of the presence of a minor in the house, and Cya’s stomach clenched with nausea. They’d been so irresponsible. Jasmyn could have come out and seen them.
“Oh my gods, Jasmyn.” Cya hid their face in their hands, and it was hard to breathe again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not,” Dex said, and their head jerked up in shock. He looked a little lost and more than a little bamboozled by the events of the past few minutes, but his gaze was steady. “I’m not sorry.”
A sliver of warmth infiltrated their guilt and shame, but it wasn’t enough to win.
Without them having to explain, he seemed to understand, and he pointed them toward his room, promising to keep Jasmyn from bothering them.
Perhaps it was cowardly, leaving him to face his sister alone, but they only had so much bravery, so they went.
Which had brought them to this moment, curled up as tightly as possible in the corner, surrounded by Dex in all but body.
They’d listened to the clink of dishes as he’d cleaned the kitchen up alone.
Jasmyn had returned, but they obviously didn’t know what was said between them.
It had been eerily quiet for a while now.
They swallowed and grimaced at the taste.
They really should have asked for some mouthwash, though that required acknowledging why they needed mouthwash, and they weren’t ready for that humiliation.
Not that they had minded the taste in the moment.
Honestly, they’d been too far gone to care.
Everything had been so hot and wet and exhilarating, and they’d been lost to the euphoria of the whole thing.
His fingers in their hair, and his rumbling moans of pleasure. They way he’d said their name and called them baby. Knowing he was hard because of them, moaning because of them, coming because of them. Yes, they’d liked that a lot. They already yearned to do it again.
A knock sounded at the door, and Cya’s gleeful smile evaporated. They sat up straighter, squeezing Dex’s pillow until they feared it’d pop as the door creaked open. The Lupyn peeked around the wood, scanning the room until he spotted them in the corner.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“It’s your room,” they said, and he rolled his heterochromatic eyes.
“Good to know you’re still a smartass.”
Their mouth twitched with amusement, but it faded quickly as their earlier embarrassment returned tenfold. He shut the door behind him, and the room immediately felt smaller. Or he felt bigger in this tiny space; he’d always been larger than life.
Like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, Dex spun in a slow circle before he planted himself against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, tail flicking anxiously behind him.
He watched them, studying them closely like they were one of his math equations, and if only he knew the right variables, he could solve them.
If only it was that easy.
“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really understand what’s happening,” he admitted, almost apologetically, “but I want to. Can you explain it to me?”
Deities, Cya could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve this boy. Which only doubled their guilt.
“I know I’m being ridiculous. I’m sorry.”
“Can we maybe agree that, for the duration of this conversation, you stop apologizing?” he interjected, and they ducked their head. “Unless you actually did something wrong that requires an apology, that is. But in my mind, there’s nothing to apologize for.”
They nodded and picked at the sharp points of the hunlet feathers poking through the pillowcase. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“Is there anything I need to apologize for?” he asked, and they shook their head.
They couldn’t bear the guilt on his face, and their eyes burned with fresh tears. “No. You did nothing wrong, I promise. I’m just really embarrassed.”
His molars ground together, but Cya didn’t have the guts to lift their gaze from the pillow to gauge his reaction. Eventually, he said, “Why?”
They couldn’t stop their scoff. “Oh, please. That was utterly humiliating!”
When he spoke again, he sounded hurt. “Being with me was humiliating?”
This time, they did look up, already shaking their head. “No, that’s not—”
“Because you’re a Vysov and I’m… me?” There was a bite to his tone, his mismatched eyes guarded.
“No,” they repeated, holding his gaze. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m ashamed of myself, of how I acted.”
He didn’t look like he believed them, so they swallowed their pride and laid it all on the table. What did they have to lose at this point that wouldn’t also be lost by their silence?
“I practically threw myself at you. I was desperate and pathetic, and I choked a lot because I’ve never actually done that before, which I know isn’t very appealing.
But at the same time, I kind of liked the choking-part and the you-coming-on-my-face-part, which adds a whole other layer of shame, because maybe I’m a sexual deviant or something! ”
With a mortified squeak, they slapped a hand over their mouth. Okay, maybe they still had some dignity left to lose, after all.
Shifting his weight, Dex uncrossed his arms and clasped his hands in front of his hips as he cleared his throat noisily.
“Uh, okay. Well, from my perspective, I thought it was really… hot. So, like, no judgment from me on the whole deviancy-thing. Or the virgin-thing, either. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. ”
They straightened and dropped their hand. “Really?”
He nodded. “Mhm.”
“So you don’t care that I’m a virgin?”
He rolled his eyes. “I know virginity can mean something to some people, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s mostly a sexist social construct.”
“Right. And you don’t think I’m pathetic?” they asked, and he shook his head. “Or, like, desperate?”
He barked a strained laugh. “Trust me, enthusiasm is always appreciated.”
“And the… messy choking?”
“Oh my gods, you’re killing me,” he whimpered as he slid down the dresser until his ass met the carpet, legs pressed tightly together.
“Let’s just agree that everything that happened out there before you got sad was hot.
Okay? The kneeling and the moaning and the choking, it was all just very nice. ”
Oddly enough, that helped.
“Oh, that makes me feel better,” they said honestly, and Dex offered them a thumbs-up. They returned it, then they twisted the corner of the pillowcase to give their hands something to do.
“Was that the reason for the freak-out? Because you thought you gave me the ick?”
“It was a very big worry, yes,” they admitted, and he laughed. “Don’t laugh at me!”
He shook his head, even as he continued laughing. “I’m not laughing at you. I just—Cya, you’re just—how could I ever get the ick from you? I’m crazy about you.”
The words wrapped around them like a warm blanket, and they gaped at him. “You are?”
“Yeah, you spoiled, little lunatic,” he said, still snickering. “I’m so into you, it’s unreal. You’re smart and you’re funny and you’re gorgeous, and I like you. So much.”
A fresh wave of tears stung their eyes. “You do?”
Dex nodded, smile so gentle and indulgent.
“Well, that’s… that’s perfectly lovely. Thank you.”
His smile glitched. “Uh, you’re welcome, I guess.”
Too late, they realized their blunder, and they hurried to correct it. “Oh shit, that’s not—I didn’t mean to insinuate that I didn’t—that I don’t also… I mean, Dex, you have to know that I…”
When they drifted off, he shrugged. “I thought I did, but now, I’m not so sure.”