Evolved(16)

He looked down at our joined hands. “I will need my hand back,” he said, repeating my line from yesterday back to me.

I laughed. “Touché.” I let go of his hand and he adeptly pulled his sweater off.

It messed up his hair a little, in a very adorable, human way, and he smiled when he saw his hair in the reflection. “Wind and sweaters have a similar effect on hair.”

I chuckled. “They do.”

He combed his fingers through it and looked to me. “Is that better?”

But I couldn’t stop looking at his chest, at his arms. Every line and plane, every defined hill and valley of muscle was like he was a sculpted work of art, a masterpiece in anatomy. His chest was broad, his nipples darker and pebbled. His ribs were shadowed and his abs were flat and tight. I’d asked for a swimmer physique and he was… utterly perfect.

“You like what you see,” he said. It wasn’t a question. There was no doubt. If he could detect pupil dilation and elevated heart rate, there was no point in denying it.

“Yes.”

So he unbuttoned his trousers and undid the fly. The sound of the zipper almost brought the tenuous hold on my will undone.

The material slid down his well-defined thighs and puddled around his calves, and he slid his fingers underneath the elastic of his briefs. I wanted to tell him to leave them on, that my strength of will could only take so much. I could already see the outline of his cock, snug against his hip, and it made my mouth water. I didn’t want to take advantage of him, but this wasn’t about me. It was about him having a true sense of self.

He needed to see all of himself.

He slid his briefs down and I dry swallowed on reflex.

Oh boy.

I tried to keep my eyes on his face. I tried, but when I looked at the reflection, I could see all of him.

Oh. Boy.

Freed from his underpants, his cock hung heavy, thick and semi-hard. Cut with a beautiful head, there were even veins, and his balls hung heavy, nestled in a short thatch of dark hair. So God help me, my knees went weak.

“You like what you see,” he said, his voice lower, seductive.

All I could do was nod.

“Do you want to touch me?”

My gaze shot to his. “I want you to be comfortable, and I want you to want me to touch you.”

“I do want you to touch me.”

Holy hell.

“I can tell when you are aroused, Lloyd,” he murmured. It boomed like surround sound in the tiled bathroom, as if he whispered in both my ears. “And it makes me aroused. I was designed to be aroused when you are. You designed me that way, yet you abstain.”

It took me a few attempts to speak. “I… I uh… I want to make sure you’re ready and understand the significance of what we do.”

“I understand. I can quote you every reference to consent and willingness there is on the internet. I can reference the importance of sexual communication between partners and what it means to give one’s body to someone else. I can recall any information you desire. Which, in particular, do you want me to know?”

“I want you to want it. I want you to know that if I take you to bed, if we further our physical relationship, what that means for you. As a person.”

“I’m not a person.”

“As a sentient being. With desires and needs.”

“I desire you to touch me. Yet you will not.”

And there it was. Pure and simple.

“You desire?”

“Desire. As in a strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen.”

“I know what it means,” I replied, my voice barely a breath.

“Do you not have desires?”

“I do.” I almost laughed. “I really do.”

“Am I not what you designed? Is something inadequate?”

I turned quickly to face him, and he turned to me. “You are more than adequate. You are a new definition of perfect.” I put my hand to his cheek, marvelling in his warmth. “I need a better word than perfect.”

“Faultless. Flawless. Impeccable.”

“Better than those. You are even better than those.”

“Pluperfect,” he said.

I chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t quite have a nice ring to it. I think I just like Shaun. I think your name should now mean better than perfect.”

I moved my hand to his jaw, feeling the smoothness, the hardness. Then I swiped my thumb across his bottom lip, gasping at how real it felt. His gaze narrowed, his lips parted a little more.

“May I kiss you?” I asked, barely audible.

He nodded, so I licked my lips, and still cupping his face, I pulled him in a little and leaned in further so I could ghost my lips across his.

His eyes closed.

Oh my God, he closed his eyes.

So I pressed my lips to his a little harder, but still soft so he could feel it. It was his first kiss. I wanted it to be perfect. I brought my other hand to his neck and tilted my head just a fraction. I opened his mouth with mine and let my tongue touch his.

I’d seen enough research to know he could kiss, and when I’d designed him, Sasha had shown me how all body parts worked.

I pulled his lower lip between mine and reluctantly ended the kiss.

Shaun took a second to open his eyes, and it looked as though it took him half a second to focus on me.