Relapse

Lochlann nodded.

"Knock it off is clear," he said. "If you said raspberries, I'm likely to do something dramatic..."

Oh god, could he really go through with this?

Her face was tilted up to hers, it would be so, so easy.

She was telling him he could ask and he narrowed his eyes and gave her the faintest of smirks, the kind that made just the corner of his lip twitch upwards.

He reached over to brush a thin wisp of hair away from her face, then tilted his head and leaned in so his mouth was closer to her ear and his hot breath warmed her skin.

"I could and I will ask to kiss you," he said. "But not for this."

And then he struck.

Fast and brutal like the predator that he was, Lochlann pressed his lips to her soft, exposed neck and.... blew a sloppy raspberry right on it.

Lochlann never had a dog. If he had, he might have been ashamed at enjoying her squealing because his sudden joy might have reminded him of a dog's sudden joy at experiencing a squeaky toy.

The dog likes the toy because the squeaking reminds him of a dying animal.

Lochlann liked her squeaking and giggling because it was cute.

He didn't fall into self-deprecation over enjoying it. He didn't want to eat her any more than he had before, but her hand on his chest and her knees between them made him want to suddenly change the mood now that they were closer.

Unfortunately, he'd spilled her coffee, but luckily, it was away from him.

She said stop and he was back immediately, though still grinning, because he could see the crinkling around her pretty eyes and almost taste the laughter on her lips.

"You had to experience first hand what would happen with a safeword like raspberries," he said. "That's a terrible word! I want to find whoever named that fruit raspberry and punch him right in the balls, or her in the...ladyballs."

He ended his passionate rant about raspberries by passing her his coffee.

"Sorry," he said. "I could not resist."

She'd smelled good when he was close. He analyzed this feeling. Did this warrant telling her something? Did she smell good because she was a girl and her long hair trapped more of the smell of her shampoo than his did? Or did she smell good because he wanted to eat her?

Lochlann had no idea.

He decided to ask.

"Do you want to know all the honest parts," Lochlann said. He looked troubled, but not worried, though never before had he realized that there might be a distinction between the two. "Or just the parts where I might be...um...more horsey."

Lochlann nodded. He could agree to these terms and conditions. It was uncomfortable but also relieving.

She said she was scooting back over and Lochlann gave her a lopsided grin.

"I promise I will not raspberry you again, but I do not promise that I will not find some other excuse to get close to you," he grinned. He enjoyed having her close and sharing her body heat even though he wasn't really that cold himself.

He handed her back the coffee after a moment.

"I don't always know what the difference between a predator thought and, well, just a thought is," Lochlann confessed. "I think they might all be predator thoughts, though."

He drummed his fingers against his leg, smoothing out a wrinkle in the denim for a moment.

Finally, he said, "You smell good. I don't think i want to eat you when I think that. I think I just really want to kiss you."

He tried to comb through his brain for anything else predatory he should tell her. Truthfully, the thing that scared Lochlann more than himself was Guinevere Haze. He flipped the hand he'd been using to drum on his legs and looked at the scar across his palm.

"I have a history of making really, really stupid decisions," he told her.

Actually, 90% of Lochlann's problems could have been solved by not sticking his dick in the situation. He did not fully realize this himself.

"And I think probably a future of making really stupid decisions, too," he said. "But right now I'm really happy that you're not one of them."

He gave her a sudden unexpected grin.

She scooted closer and Lochlann reveled in the nearness and her blush.

This was interesting, he thought. He didn't exactly dislike it, but he was afraid to think that he liked having someone being able to rate his each and every thought. But it was reassuring because, right now, there was little guessing what she was thinking. She was telling him and he was relieved for that.

"Thank you," he said.

He was still worried, though, because he suspected deep down that everything he did was just to fulfill the need to eat someone.

But then, he was thinking about her rubbing lotion, perhaps on her long legs or the smooth expanse of skin beneath her shirt line and Lochlann's predatory thoughts went somewhere else entirely.

Could he kiss her if she said no but wanted him to?

"That's why these rules, the magic ones, they're tricky," he said. "I think I probably could."

He thought this because of Guin, and actually, if he really thought, because of Chloe, too. The rules were weird and loose and he anticipated a headache if he tried to follow the logic in them.

"There was this girl," he said, and he was surprised that he said was. it implied some sense of past to the relationship and Lochlann wondered why he chose that word. It was too late to go back, so he continued. "I was on the beach and she found me. It started to storm, and bad, and we ended up having to find shelter in one of those little beach shacks that are scattered around the island."

Her fingers traced the scar and he shivered with pleasure.

"I kissed her," he said. "And she's made it remarkably obvious that she didn't want me to kiss her, but I did it more than once after that. A whole lot of times. But our whole history together is complicated and messy. Assuming you're not going to black mail me, hold my property hostage, or threaten and attempt to kill me, I can assure you, I have no intention of kissing you if you tell me not to."

This was his attempt at being honest there, too. He did not think she'd be at risk for the wrath of Guinevere Haze. Dani was only a fatality because Guinevere mistook her for a threat. He still didn't understand.

She asked him about the second rule and Lochlann knew this one automatically.

"You are not allowed to be afraid of hurting me," he told her. "Especially if you think it will keep you safe. I think it goes without saying that I'd rather avoid a situation where you'd feel like you have to hurt me, but please, don't ever hesitate to."

He licked his lips.

"Rule number three," he said. "If you wear that lotion again I'm totally going to be kissing you."

"You ask a lot of deep questions," Lochlann laughed. "Shit, I wish I would have had you as a therapist. Although maybe not, because I don't think I would have been allowed to try and flirt with my therapist."

He considered both of her questions, although he was surprised how calmly she took the kissing part.

Did Guin want to kiss him?

For the first time, Lochlann had a realization about Guin. The surprise was evident on his face--his eyebrows shot up and then his eyes narrowed.

"I don't think she knows what she wants," he said. "I thinks she's used to someone else telling her."

He didn't know how that made him feel. He was surprised he even had a feeling about it. Was it regret? Loneliness? It certainly wasn't pity, but it skittered the edge of it.

He shook his head to push the thought away and try to focus on the one that he really didn't want to focus on. Would he have looked at her if he was something else?

"I don't know," Lochlann confessed. "I've never been anything but this. I'd like to think I would."

He thought about the way to explain it.

"It's not physical appearances that attract me to someone, but they don't hurt," Lochlann said. "I can look at you and see the things I find beautiful, and the longer I spend with you, the more beautiful things I can find."

He shifted uncomfortably and brought up a subject he was even more reluctant to discuss.

"It's like poetry," he dropped his voice, low and secretive, as though he was telling her about the most intimate sexual details of himself. "I can read a poem without looking for something beautiful in it, but I'll find it, and the more I read it, the more things I can find."

He liked that she wanted to kiss him, too, or at least that she wasn't opposed to it.

"It's okay to hurt me," he told her. His voice was still low, and it still had that husky tone he'd picked up. He was glad she'd run. He wanted her to run.

When she asked about the third rule he'd picked up, Lochlann gave her a sheepish grin. He reached out and lifted a strand of her hair from her ponytail, bringing it to his face unabashed and giving it a light sniff. His grin was still sheepish when he let it go.

"No," he said. "It's not too much. It's just that it's..."

He realized he could tell her this. He could tell her this because she already knew.

"I spent more time than not under the water," he said. He was whispering now, just like he had with the poetry, telling her his secrets. He reached an arm around her shoulder--super smooth- and placed one hand over her ear.

"Everything is muffled,' he said, his voice low and close to her other ear. Just like it had been before he'd blown the raspberry on her, only now his voice was serious. "Everything is quiet, so you...feel more, I guess, and there's...the sounds...they're more like this."

He covered her other ear and made a low, clicking noise deep in the back of his throat.

He'd never, ever attempted to do this as a human and the effect was eerie. it made his own hair stand on edge, and he wondered how it sounded over her muffled ears. It was something like a dolphin might make, but to Lochlann, it sounded...

It sounded like his mom.

He dropped his hands and said, "So when I'm here, with you, not in the water, everything is sharper. Everything is more intense. The smells? They're brighter, they're....they tell me more."

He licked his lips again. He was so, so close to her.

"It makes you very vibrant," he said.