Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [65]
I was naked in the middle of sex with one man, maybe two, depending on how you counted things, yet, suddenly, I had the moral high ground. Weird.
18
GREGORY CRAWLED TO us on all fours, sniffing just above our bodies. He said in that growling voice, “Me next.”
I had to look up and back over my shoulder to give him the look he deserved, but looking back with him on all fours gave me a sight line down his body, and suddenly I was more embarrassed than I had been. Shapeshifters look sort of like they do in the movies in half-man form, but there is one big difference. They have genitalia, and right at that moment Gregory was very, very happy to be here. I think what bothered me more than the erection was that he’d gotten it from watching me have sex with Damian. For some reason, unfair probably, it bothered me that Gregory had enjoyed the show.
“Back off, Gregory,” I said, and my voice sounded harsh and like I meant it, even while I blushed.
He did his kitty-cat impression of a smile and backed off, literally. He put his head down, and crawled backward, abasing himself. It was a gesture closer to a real wolf than a real leopard, but wereanimals are people at heart, and some gestures just translate better to our human brains. Abasing yourself by going low is one of those gestures.
Damian was looking down at me, and the look was not one that I’d ever seen on a man’s face just after finishing sex. He looked sad, and I remembered the burst of emotion at the end. Sorrow covering the pleasure like evil chocolate ruining your ice cream.
But it was more than the look on his face. I realized that I could feel his sadness. Feel it, not like it was my own, but like it was a coat that clung to my skin. I was still hooked up to him emotionally, well, not just emotionally. I could feel him plunged deep inside me, his weight still pinning my lower body. Touching made any sort of metaphysical intermingling worse. I needed to stop touching him. And not just him.
Nathaniel lay beside us, his fingers still tangled in mine. The side of his body pressed up against me, so that our bodies touched from shoulder to hip. He must have scooted closer when Damian finished. I think I would have remembered if Nathaniel’s body had been touching mine during the act. Wouldn’t I?
His lavender eyes were unfocused, almost sleepy. What came through his skin was contentment. Contentment like a great warm ocean that filled him, floated him, held him, rocked him. Maybe I stared at him too long, or maybe he sensed my own growing unease, because his eyes focused, sharpened, and the look in them wasn’t the least bit sleepy. It was almost an anticipatory look, as if he were already thinking about next time. Since I didn’t think he’d had a first time yet, it helped clear my head. Anger always did.
“Everybody off, out of the pool,” I said.
Damian’s sorrow was almost like rain on my skin. Nathaniel wasn’t sad. He went straight to panic, afraid he’d done something wrong. “It’s alright, Nathaniel, you’re alright. We’re all alright.” I wasn’t sure I actually believed that down to my toes, but the panic subsided, and everybody got off of me. Yeah. Though Damian’s sadness clung to me like I’d walked through some metaphysical cobweb.
While we were getting untangled, Micah came through the splintered door. I’d been found in compromising positions by