by Cerys du Lys
I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "Good morning, Lucent."
It took him a second, but he smiled back and squeezed my hand, too. "Good morning, Miss Tanner."
"How are you?" I asked.
We stood there, no longer moving, just loitering right in the middle of the library parking lot. Not the greatest place to have an early morning conversation, especially considering our circumstances, but I didn't care.
"I must admit I'm slightly stressed at the moment," he said.
"Slightly?" I asked. "That's it? I'm really stressed."
"I may have been understating my stress in order to convince myself it's not that big of a deal."
"Do you think I should overstate mine to even us out?" I asked. "Like a balancing act, I guess?"
He laughed and pulled me close, hugging me tight. "You're wonderful," he said out of the blue.
"I'm still not all that happy with you," I said. "I think you're wonderful, too, though, so as long as you don't do anything else bad, then I'll probably get over it."
"Is that so?" he asked.
I nodded into his chest. "Yes."
"I'm truly sorry that I've put you into this position," he said. "Not just now, or today, but everything. I should have told you more before, but I didn't think it would ever be necessary. I—" He paused for a second. "Occasionally I am secretive and discrete, Miss Tanner. I never wanted to drag you into that. I never wanted to force you into anything that could cause you harm."
"Well, I'm here," I said. "I never left, Lucent. Not even once. Before, or now, or ever. So... just please, alright? Please don't try to protect me like that? You can protect me in other ways. I know you can, and I understand why you would feel the way you do, but I think it's something we need to work on with you."
"Are you my psychiatrist?" he asked, grinning.
"I think I should be," I said. "I'm very good at things, you know? I'm very good at talking to you, and listening, and also making you tell me stuff. I'm going to make you tell me everything eventually, whether you like it or not, so you might as well fess up now."
"We don't have a proper chaise for me to lounge on," he said, then added, "Everyone's good at talking. I'm uncertain if that's an exceptional feat."
"I don't know. Have you ever tried talking to yourself?" I asked. "It's really difficult. Sometimes you're too stuffy. And you use overlarge words. You're not always the most friendly person. You're a little controlling and possessive and obsessive and a lot of other things, too."
"Is this the adamant intervention portion of my psychiatric evaluation?"
"No," I said, smiling and hugging him tight. "I just mean that I feel like maybe sometimes we're perfect together. I think your formality is kind of sexy, and I like your big words. Maybe you're not always friendly, or you try to pretend you aren't, but you're very caring. You aren't irrationally controlling or possessive or obsessive or any of that, either. There's a particular method to the Lucent Storme brand of madness, and I think it's mostly endearing and sweet."
"Are you saying?" he asked. "You find every potentially reprehensible thing about me charming?"
"Possibly," I said. "Yes, I am."
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"I am," I said. "Also, you're not reprehensible. At least not to me."
"I'm glad you feel that way, but I'm unsure if it's true. I want to be a good person, Miss Tanner, but I don't know if I am. I'm not sure if I've ever been one, either."
He frowned and looked towards the street. The morning traffic zipped by us, everyone waking up and driving to their early destinations. School, work, life. The world continued on around us, unbothered by our presence. In a way, I felt timeless because of it. Eternal. This was us, now and always. The rest of the world was definitely important, but it didn't always matter. Lucent mattered, and I mattered, and I thought that we mattered together. He was always going to be important to me, and I wanted to always be important to him, too. I wouldn't pass him by or continue around him, or be unbothered by his presence. I wanted to become timeless and eternal with him. I just wanted to love him as much as I could.
"I want to be," he whispered softly to me. "I want to be a good person, Miss Tanner. For you, I would do anything. I will try."
"Lucent," I said. "I already think you're amazing. I love you."
He smiled and kissed my forehead. "I love you, too."
And with that, everything seemed like maybe it would be alright again. I didn't know if it actually would be or not, but it seemed like we could try to make it that way. It seemed like it was a good step in the right direction.
"Let's go," he said.
I didn't know where we were going. I didn't know if I cared, either.
...
We walked through the city together, hand in hand. Unfortunately, the almost empty library parking lot was an entirely separate world from the busy city streets. Cars drove past us, people walked alongside us, and the world opened up to us. We'd spent time living in a microcosm before, and now we were advancing into a much larger universe. Though even that was just a small part of something bigger. It made me nervous.
What made me even more nervous was this black box tucked beneath my arm. I held Lucent's hand on one side, carrying the hard drive on the other. At any moment, I thought someone would stop us, someone would suspect something, someone would see me for what I was. I was a criminal and a fugitive alongside Lucent. Perhaps I hadn't actually done anything illegal myself, but after learning of his criminality, I was now an accomplice, wasn't I? The idea felt strange to me, odd thoughts stirring through my mind.
I thought someone would recognize us. They would see me or him. And they would know.
The police would show up. They'd surround us. Officers hiding behind open doors with guns pointed our way, and one negotiator screaming at us through a bullhorn, telling us to give up and put our hands above our heads. They'd come for us, arrest us, detain us. And then what? If that happened, I thought my life would be over.
Not only would Lucent and I go to jail, but it wasn't like they'd put us together, you know? They'd place us in separate cells, probably in separate prisons, isolated and alone. I'd be stuck with Martha, some woman who killed her husband in the dead of night, and Lucent would be with Bobby Bubba Jones, the Southern swamp axe murderer.
I didn't know where these people came from. Really, I just made them up in my head. I hoped I'd never meet them, and I'd probably never meet Bobby Bubba Jones anyways because he'd be in a separate prison with Lucent instead of me, but I hoped Lucent never met him, either. They might be nice people for all I knew—just misguided and in need of assisted reform—but I thought I'd rather not be a direct part of that or their lives.
Not while locked up in prison, at least. Maybe I could read to them or send them books? Except that might be weird. I needed to write a good book first. I didn't know how I felt about sending Bobby Bubba Jones a copy of my erotic sex story e-book. That might be kind of creepy.
Weird thoughts shoved out the anxious ones, and before I knew it, we'd arrived at breakfast. Breakfast involved Sam's Delicatessen, which was one of Lucent's favorite breakfast places. I liked it a lot, too.
Coincidentally, or not, Sam also owned one of Lucent's favorite alternative lifestyle clubs where they had BDSM things going on. I didn't know much about that. Or, I mean, I knew about it, but Lucent had his own private room there, with tinted glass protecting the interior from untoward viewers, so when we went there together, we mostly stayed in the room and watched everyone in private. That was fun, though. Kind of. I didn't not enjoy it, at least. I liked being with Lucent, but I didn't understand all of the BDSM stuff that went on. I liked our BDSM stuff, but other people's BDSM things confused me sometimes. They seemed kind of bad or mean, even though Lucent told me they weren't.
Honestly, yes, being spanked with a riding crop seemed not so great in my mind. I guess I didn't actually know, though, because I'd never agreed to let Lucent spank me with a ridi
ng crop. Maybe it was wonderful. I had my doubts.
Sam's wasn't actually a breakfast restaurant, it was a sandwich deli for later on in the day, but he provided a secret service type of deal for people he knew who attended his club at night. Most of the time when Lucent and I went there in the afternoon it was busier, but most of the time earlier in the morning, it was quiet. Plenty of people called in orders and came to get them, but not as many actually sat at the booths and enjoyed their meals inside.
I liked sitting there, though. It was like we owned it almost. Sam was nice, too. I didn't know if he liked BDSM things or not, but he tolerated them, so that was good. That was one thing I learned from Lucent, too. You didn't always have to like something—and you'd never like everything, because that was almost impossible—but you could at least accept that other people liked it. Obviously I knew this before, but he applied the concept to a new perspective for me.
I didn't have to like being spanked by a riding crop, and I didn't have to want to ever try it myself, but if other people wanted to be spanked by riding crops, I should let them. It didn't hurt me, so why not?
That was slightly dangerous thinking, because you sort of needed to recognize when someone was accepting it or when they weren't. BDSM was weird like that. Sometimes people liked to struggle, you know? I liked to struggle sometimes, too. I liked when Lucent held my wrists and pinned me to the bed and forced himself on me. It wasn't actually forcing himself onto me, because I liked it and I wanted him to do it, but I didn't exactly want to tell him that. I suspected he knew it anyways, and I suspected it was like that for a lot of BDSM couples, but it obviously wasn't always like that with everyone, so you needed to be able to try and recognize the bad situations from the good.
Lucent was good at it. I... wasn't as good at it. I usually deferred to his judgment there.
Lucent opened the door to Sam's and gestured for me to go in first. I smiled at him and offered a silly curtsey before stepping into the darkened deli. Lucent followed behind me and the door closed, the bell above it tinkling our arrival.
Sam stood behind the counter reading a newspaper. It wasn't extremely spacious in here, but decent sized. All the booths were empty, though; no one else was here.
Lucent smiled and approached the counter. Sam peeked over the top of his paper, then smiled, too.
"Good morning, you two," Sam said. He put the paper down, then offered Lucent his hand. Lucent took it, firm, and shook Sam's hand. "Good morning, Elise," Sam said, offering me his hand, too.
I took his hand, but we didn't shake. Instead, I stepped forward and he put his other hand around my back and we hugged like good friends. I didn't know if we could actually consider ourselves good friends, but I liked Sam and he was very friendly and I liked hugs. Also, he made amazing breakfast.
"Good morning, Sam," I said.
Lucent smiled and nodded. "Good morning."
"What can I get for you both?" he asked. "Anything special?"
"I'll have the usual," Lucent said.
"Sure thing. Elise?"
I took a deep breath. "I'll have a pancake sandwich with that mascarpone sweet cream cheese dip you make, plus kiwi—diced, please—sliced banana, mango chunks, apple slivers, and blueberries. Oh, and a side of yogurt? Do you have Greek yogurt with honey?"
Lucent and Sam both looked at me funny.
"I'm hungry!" I whined. "Can I get an orange juice, too? Oh, wait! Can I get a mimosa? Lucent, is that alright? Can I get one? Can you order that? You're good at it."
"One," Lucent said, stern and holding up his finger. "Alright?"
I nodded fast. "Yes. Just one is fine."
To Sam, Lucent said, "Billecart-Salmon Brut Reserve with a dash of Grand Marnier if you have it. Bring Miss Tanner an extra glass of orange juice and another glass of water if you would, as well."
Sam nodded. "Anything else."
Lucent started to shake his head, no, but I stopped him. "You need something to drink, Lucent."
"The usual," he said. "A glass of water and grapefruit juice."
Yes, he'd ordered the usual, but I was having a mimosa, so...
Before he could stop me, I said, "Sam, I think Lucent would really like a grapefruit juice mimosa, too. With that same champagne and the Grand Marnier stuff he just said."
"Miss Tanner," Lucent said, half indignant and half amused. "Billecart-Salmon Brut Reserve is an exceptional champagne and Grand Marnier is a high quality cognac. To refer to either as 'that champagne' or 'the Grand Marnier stuff' is indecent and a travesty. Also, I hardly think it's—"
I interrupted him. "Lucent will have that, though," I said to Sam. Taking Lucent's hand, I dragged him away from the counter and towards one of the private booths near the back.
"I believe I'm outraged," Lucent said. He tried to sit across from me, but I wouldn't let him. Instead, I got up from my seat and then sat next to him, scooting to the side and pressing him to the end of the booth bench. He smiled, laughing.
"You're not outraged," I said. "You're happy to have a mimosa. It's a happy drink."
"I hope you realize that mimosas are almost definitely the least masculine drink in existence," he said.
"I think you're masculine still," I countered. "I think you're more masculine because of the mimosa, actually."
"I think you're lying."
"I know they have alcohol and maybe we shouldn't be having that now, but maybe we should? Maybe it'll help?"
"Help what?" he asked, curious.
"I don't know?"
"Our inhibitions will be lowered," he offered.
"We'll be less nervous," I added. "We can think better."
"Just one," he said. "Regardless of the fact that we won't be working in Landseer Tower today, I believe it's far more prudent not to begin the day with inarticulate inebriation."
"Why don't you just say we shouldn't get drunk?" I asked.
"Inarticulate inebriation is a much more satisfying expression," he said, frowning slightly. "What's wrong with it? Drunkenness seems more crass, and I have a difficult time thinking of you as crass, Miss Tanner."
"There's nothing wrong with it, I suppose. I think you're wrong about me, though. I can be crass, and I think you'd like it."
"Oh?" he asked.
I pressed against him and lifted myself from the bench so I could whisper into his ear. "Do you remember yesterday when I sucked your cock in your office? I want to do it again. I want to feel you in my mouth while I wrap my fingers around your shaft and pump you hard. I want to squeeze your balls when you cum so I can feel them tight against your body while you spurt into my mouth. I want to lick the head of your cock clean with my tongue while some of your thick cream drips down my lips and onto my shirt, then I want to swallow everything in my mouth and zip up your pants like nothing happened, except I won't clean my shirt, Lucent. I'll walk around like that the rest of the day, and everyone will see the stain on my breast, right here." I pointed to show him, and his eyes followed my finger. "They won't know, though, but I will."
"You're wearing a dress, Miss Tanner," Lucent said once I finished. "Not a shirt, nor a blouse."
"Are you being serious right now? I just said all of that and that's what you have to say?"
He grinned, wicked, then grabbed my side and pulled me close to him, jamming our bodies together.
"I wouldn't let you suck my cock," he whispered to me, some harsh and rugged growl, quiet and yet somehow not. "I may let you put my cock in your mouth and allow you to pump my shaft for starters, but then I'd pull you up and throw you across this very table, belly down. I'd pull up the skirt of your dress and rip off your underwear, then slam into you. I'd fill you, Miss Tanner, with my potent seed, but not before I felt you clench in climax whether you liked it or not. I'd make you do it. You're mine; all of you. And then I'd have you sit back on the bench as if nothing happened, while my cum acted as a constant reminder of who you belong to all throughout our meal. Then, once we finished? I'd pay for the meal and o
ffer your panties as a tip, Miss Tanner. You'd never seen them again."
I sat there, tight against Lucent's side, mouth agape. "Um... you can't give Sam my panties! That's not alright!"
I forgot to be quiet. Lucent laughed at me. I turned fast to look towards the deli counter and the kitchen area, trying to see if Sam had heard me. If he did, he didn't show any signs of it. Granted, I couldn't really see him well from here, so who knew?
"Lucent, that's not a thing, is it? A BDSM thing? Do those dominants or masters or whatever really give their submissive's panties away? I don't like that."
He smirked. "It's possible they might do it, I suppose. I've never considered doing it, if that makes you feel better."
"So you wouldn't, right? You won't?" I asked. I didn't think he would, but better sure than sorry.
"Miss Tanner," Lucent said, breathing in deep and puffing up his chest. "I would never give anyone your panties. I'd keep them to myself. If I must, I'd stuff them in my pocket, but you can be sure of my continued protection of your undergarments."
"So you're saying that if you did all those things you just said and we had sex on this table in Sam's deli, you'd just keep my panties in your pocket and not give them back to me? Because I think I'd kind of want you to give them back to me."
"I'd consider giving them back to you after a time," he said.
"I don't know how I feel about not being able to clean up afterwards, either."
"An unfortunate consequence of having sex in a deli," Lucent said with an apologetic shrug. "There are no showers."
"I could at least go to the bathroom, don't you think?"
"I thought we were attempting to be as crass as possible," Lucent countered. "Wasn't that your intention from the start?"
"Oh," I said. Yes, yes it was, wasn't it? "Oops. I forgot."
He bent low and whispered to me again. "I really would love to fuck you, Miss Tanner. This morning was exquisite. Tu me manques. Tu m'excites."