JК
Narcissus in Chains :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 40 из 461Comforting, I guess.
Jason crawled in between their legs, head hanging down, as if he were almost too tired to move. He raised his blue eyes to me, and the look was almost as unfocused as I felt.
He gave a pale version of his usual grin and said, "Was it good for you?"
I was feeling better enough to try and sit up, but failed. Jean-Claude said, "Lie a little longer, ma petite ."
Since I had no choice, I did what he suggested. I lay staring up at the dark, distant ceiling with its rows of lights. They'd turned off most of them, so that the club was nearly dark. Like the soft gloom that comes when you close the drapes during the day.
I felt Jason lay down on the other side of me, head resting on my thigh. Not long ago I'd have made him move, but I'd spent my time away learning how to be comfortable being close with the wereleopards. It had made me more tolerant of everyone, apparently. "Why are you tired?"
He rolled his head up to look at me without raising it from my leg, one hand curving over my calf as if to keep his balance. "You spill sex and magic through the whole club and you ask why I'm tired? You are such a tease."
I frowned at him. "One more comment like that and you'll have to move."
He snuggled his head on my hose. "I can see that your underwear matches."
"Get off of me, Jason."
He slid to the floor without being told twice. He could never leave well enough alone, our Jason. He always had to get the last joke, the last comment, that one bit too many. I worried that someday with someone else that little quirk might get him hurt, or worse.
Richard propped himself up on one elbow, moving slowly as if he wasn't sure everything was working. "I don't know if that felt better than anything else we've ever done, or worse."
"It feels like a combination of a hangover and mild flu to me," I said.
"And yet it feels good," Jean-Claude said.
I finally got upright and found that they both had a hand at my back to support me, as if their movements had been simultaneous.
I actually leaned in against their hands, rather than telling them to move. One, I was still shaky; two, I just didn't find the physical contact unpleasant. All these months of trying to forge the wereleopards into a cohesive, friendly unit, and it was me that had learned to be cohesive and friendly. Me that had learned that not every helping hand is a threat to my independence. Me that had learned that not every offer of physical closeness is a trap or a lie.
Richard sat up first, slowly, keeping his hand on my back.
Jason crawled in between their legs, head hanging down, as if he were almost too tired to move. He raised his blue eyes to me, and the look was almost as unfocused as I felt.
He gave a pale version of his usual grin and said, "Was it good for you?"
I was feeling better enough to try and sit up, but failed. Jean-Claude said, "Lie a little longer, ma petite ."
Since I had no choice, I did what he suggested. I lay staring up at the dark, distant ceiling with its rows of lights. They'd turned off most of them, so that the club was nearly dark. Like the soft gloom that comes when you close the drapes during the day.
I felt Jason lay down on the other side of me, head resting on my thigh. Not long ago I'd have made him move, but I'd spent my time away learning how to be comfortable being close with the wereleopards. It had made me more tolerant of everyone, apparently. "Why are you tired?"
He rolled his head up to look at me without raising it from my leg, one hand curving over my calf as if to keep his balance. "You spill sex and magic through the whole club and you ask why I'm tired? You are such a tease."
I frowned at him. "One more comment like that and you'll have to move."
He snuggled his head on my hose. "I can see that your underwear matches."
"Get off of me, Jason."
He slid to the floor without being told twice. He could never leave well enough alone, our Jason. He always had to get the last joke, the last comment, that one bit too many. I worried that someday with someone else that little quirk might get him hurt, or worse.
Richard propped himself up on one elbow, moving slowly as if he wasn't sure everything was working. "I don't know if that felt better than anything else we've ever done, or worse."
"It feels like a combination of a hangover and mild flu to me," I said.
"And yet it feels good," Jean-Claude said.
I finally got upright and found that they both had a hand at my back to support me, as if their movements had been simultaneous.
I actually leaned in against their hands, rather than telling them to move. One, I was still shaky; two, I just didn't find the physical contact unpleasant. All these months of trying to forge the wereleopards into a cohesive, friendly unit, and it was me that had learned to be cohesive and friendly. Me that had learned that not every helping hand is a threat to my independence. Me that had learned that not every offer of physical closeness is a trap or a lie.
Richard sat up first, slowly, keeping his hand on my back.