Page 31 of Consumed
“My turn,” Con rasped. “I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even kissed anyone but you.”
No judgment in Isaac’s face. “Do youwantto have sex? At all, I mean. Not necessarily right this exact second.”
“God yes.” That came out almost like a prayer.
“Good. So when you’re ready, if you’d specifically like to have sex withme, I’d be delighted.”
“You’re not going to persuade me to do it now?” Con wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed.
Isaac tapped his own head. “Maybe not advisable. It probably counts as physical exertion. Anyway…. Look, I bet you won’t be shocked to hear that my parents had a pretty liberal approach to sex.It’s perfectly natural, yada yada. But they said it’s like anything else you do with your body. You should make sure you feel comfortable about doing it, and you should make sure you don’t harm anyone else.”
That seemed like much better advice than anything Con’s parents had to say on the matter. “And I’d harm you right now.”
That made Isaac sputter a laugh. “Con, I’d happily risk my brain melting if it meant making love to you. But I think we oughta wait until you’re sure it’s something you’re ready to do.”
Dammit, this was a hell of a time for Isaac to suddenly turn all mature and responsible. But he was right. Concussion aside, Con didn’t want to do anything either of them would regret later. Besides, they were supposed to be working, not… canoodling.
“Thank you,” he said, simply and sincerely. Then he found himself grinning. “But maybe we could kiss again?”
Why yes. It turned out that they could. Quite nicely.
CHAPTER11
It wasn’teasy to sleep next to Isaac that night. Con had to stop himself from tossing and turning—or reaching out. Long after Isaac was breathing slowly and deeply, Con remained awake, considering what Isaac had said during their game. Not just the sex part, although that was interesting indeed. But also the part about Con being his authentic self.
He hadn’tfeltauthentic. Not ever. It was as if he’d been born playing the part of someone else. Instead of the Phantom of the Opera, he was the Uptight Nerd in the Antarctic.
But he’d never quite abandoned the core of himself. That core was what had led him to escape his repressive family, to start supporting himself when he was only eighteen, to survive an orc attack, to continue with his Bureau career despite his disabilities. And look what had happened when he’d allowed some of his real self to go public these past few days. He’d saved Isaac. He’dkissedIsaac.
And he didn’t feel guilty or ugly or anything else negative.
In fact, he felt pretty damned good.
* * *
It occurred to them the next morning that they needed more gifts for the coyotes. “I bet we can find something here in town,” Isaac said.
“Ican find something. You can rest.”
“I’ve slept plenty these past couple of days. I’m going nuts cooped up in here. Besides, I feel fine. No headache, no cognitive deficits, no other symptoms. Want me to recite the alphabet backward?”
Con eyed him appraisingly. “Will you promise to take a nap before our meeting?”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “Fine. Nap. You can tuck me in and read me a bedtime story.”
That was more appealing than it should have been.
It was a short downhill walk to the center of town, and for once Con was glad of his own slow pace because it meant Isaac had to take it easy too. They turned it into a pleasant stroll, stopping to admire the two-room jail that had slid down the mountain decades earlier and now lay in a crumpled but picturesque heap. At Isaac’s insistence, they also stopped for ice cream and, after it was consumed, went into the jewelry store that Trish had mentioned. Again at Isaac’s urging, they each bought a piece that the coyotes had made. Isaac chose another ring, this one silver inlaid with bits of malachite. Con picked a silver necklace with a fang-shaped pendant made of turquoise. As Trish had promised, the shopkeeper gave them a generous discount.
Next Con intended to visit a toy store in search of something for the coyote children. But Isaac grinned and towed him into an antique shop instead, then waited patiently while Con explored.
However, when Con found himself drawn to a pretty little bowl with a blue-green glaze, Isaac went pale. “Con,” he whispered, “pick up that bowl and look at the bottom.”
Bewildered, Con obeyed. “There’s just the potter’s mark. Um, it’s sort of a fancyRM, I think.”
“Yeah. Ruben Molina.”
Con almost dropped the bowl. He set it quickly back on the shelf before disaster struck. “Is that—”
