Chapter fifteen
Drew
My vessel is incredibly beautiful. Sitting across the table from him is quite the experience. I’m so glad he trusts me enough to come to dinner dressed as his true self.
I like the long-sleeved white cotton top he is wearing. The fluffy kitten drawing on it is adorable, but I can’t help hoping to see more crop tops in the future.
His hair is so cute in bunches. I wonder why he doesn’t wear makeup? Or nail polish.
An image flashes across my mind of his petrified expression when I had inadvertently walked in on him. My heart sinks. Of course. It has been far too dangerous for Luci to be his true self. Makeup takes too long to remove.
How awful. I hate that while high society is accepting of homosexuality, it is outraged by any deviation from prescribed gender roles. It’s fine for vessels to have long hair, but that’s about it. I don’t understand it, never have. Though, thinking about it, magic transference requires sex, therefore excluding same-sex pairings would cause all sorts of problems. It is a depressing thought, but the absence of homophobia could simply be nothing more than a practicality.
I grind my teeth and force a gulp of water down my throat. I cannot change society, that is beyond my power. But I can take Luci shopping. For makeup. And more lingerie.
The glimpse of red lace I saw the other day, when he twisted his hands anxiously in his skirt, is haunting my every thought. I can’t get the image out of my head. Which probably makes me an awful person.
And now I’m picturing all sorts of terrible things. Such as bending Luci over this table, pulling those lacy panties to the side and railing him while he cries out in pleasure.
Or sitting here, freeing my cock, then linking my hands behind my chair and getting Luci to ride me.
I gulp down more water. What the hell is wrong with me? Luci is a long, long way from being confident enough for either of those scenarios. He might not ever be brave enough. It might never be his thing at all.
Show me a pretty boy in a skirt and I completely lose my mind. Luci needs my help, not my lust.
“What do you think of dinner?” I ask in an attempt to be normal.
Luci nods enthusiastically, finishes his mouthful and then says, “It’s quite delicious.”
Then he freezes and a dark look comes over his face. “Though the chicken is slightly overcooked.”
My heart sinks. “Why do you do that?” I ask. “Why criticize everything?”
He flushes and carefully puts down his knife and fork. “A good consort can detect the tiniest of flaws and always seeks to eliminate them, to continuously strive to create a perfect home for their husband.”
I raise an eyebrow. It sounds like he is repeating something he has learned verbatim. Are there books with this drivel in? It seems ludicrous, yet depressingly unsurprising.
“It’s what my mother does,” Luci adds weakly before looking down at his lap.
His honesty is endearing. Refreshing. Heartening. It feels like there is hope for us.
“My mother is a bitch too,” I say.
His gaze snaps back up to mine. Wide green eyes and an utterly scandalized expression.
I chuckle. He lets out a nervous giggle and then clamps his hand over his mouth as his eyes go even wider.
Oh gods, he is melting my heart. How did I ever think he was a pompous little prat? He is so clearly a damaged little thing trying so desperately to be perfect and to be all the things that are expected of him.
“Finish your dinner,” I say gently, but sternly.
He nods his eager acceptance of my order and picks up his knife and fork. I watch him eat and it makes me feel ridiculously delighted.
I make him eat all of his dessert too. He is clearly so happy to receive direct instructions, and apparently, I’m very happy to give them. This is bewildering, uncharted territory. I hope I can muddle through it.
The gentle clink of cutlery against crockery pulls me to my senses. Luci has finished his dessert and placed his spoon on the empty plate. I finished mine a while ago. Dinner is officially over.
But I don’t want Luci to go to his rooms, and me to mine. That seems lonely. I don’t want to spend the rest of the evening in my own company, while knowing that Luci is just next door.
“Would you like to watch a film in my sitting room?” I ask.
Luci flashes me a quick glance, full of surprise. Then he nods. A gorgeous pink tinge colors his pale cheeks.
My heart thumps and a grin spreads across my face. I can’t stop smiling as I lead Luci to my rooms.
The awful events with Gregory occurred in my drawing room. So thankfully, my sitting room remains untarnished by unpleasant memories. Thank heavens for small mercies.
Luci hesitates briefly in the doorway and then steps in. The large comfy sofa and flatscreen TV are very untraditional. Some would even say they are distasteful and common. But I don’t care. This is my private space and I can do what the hell I like with it.
Luci says nothing, but I can sense him taking it all in. My sitting room looks like a common person’s living room. It’s bound to be surprising. I don’t think he is going to say anything. Even if he was in full jerk mode, criticizing your husband’s interior design preferences is probably a huge no-no.
A few heartbeats pass in silence. Relief tingles through me. He truly is not going to say a word.
I flop ungracefully down onto the sofa and pick up the remote. I open my mouth to ask Luci what he wants to watch, when suddenly he is standing right in front of me. My legs are spread because I’m an oaf like that. Luci steps between them and drops gracefully to his knees.
My cock springs to life. Pushing against my fly insistently. My heart stops beating. It feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room.
My mind is floundering. Oh gods, I want this. But Luci is such a shy little thing? What is going on?
