Page 27 of Reflex
Xane patted his knee again.“You would.Of course you would.”
How could he be certain?
“Spook, your totality consists of more than a few repressed sadistic urges.You’d stop because consent matters to you, and because you’re not a psychopath.You wanting to mark her skin isn’t about hurting her.It’s about pleasure and release.Yours and hers.”
“Is it?And that doesn’t strike you as even a little bit weird?”
“What the actual fuck is wrong with weird?What would the band be if we carved out the weird?Or the rest of society?Who the heck wants to remove all the diversity from it?Not me.It’s okay to like what you like.Spook, just because a few fuckers did a number on you in the past—”
He raised his hand for silence, but Xane didn’t stop.
“—doesn’t mean you have to tie yourself in guilty knots for the rest of eternity.She wants you and you want her.That should be the beginning and end of it.Fuck.Enjoy yourselves.To hell with what anyone else thinks.”
Xane wasn’t getting it, but shaking his head set Spook’s brain off sluicing from side to side like he was riding a water slide.He clawed a hand around his forehead to try and still the sensation.
“Drink.”Xane passed him the taller of the two glasses he had lined up on the table.
“I’m guessing this is not vodka, and that pink stuff in the shot glass you’re saving for yourself isn’t raspberry gin.”
“It’s also for you.And correct, not vodka, and not raspberry gin, or in fact any other variety of gin, vodka, tequila or mead.”
“There’s pink mead?Who the fuck makes pink mead?”
“Lindisfarne monks,” Xane responded, as if that was common knowledge.“Well, once upon a time.I don’t think there are actual monks running the distillery these days.”
Spook lowered his head towards his knees.Pink mead.There was something horribly, horribly wrong with that idea.Xane wrapped Spook’s hand around the highball glass.“Maybe just get on with the task at hand and worry about the other stuff later.”
“Drinking?”
Xane nodded.
A quick sip instantly revealed the contents to be nothing but dreary old water.His insides were swilling with enough of that stuff already to want to down any more of it.
“All of it,” Xane insisted, and for some reason, he complied.The water seemed to bypass his stomach and land straight in his bladder.
“Still need to piss,” he mumbled, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.
“Bathroom’s that way.”
“That’s not what the bowl there for?”
Xane threw a scornful look at the ceiling fan.“No it isn’t.Don’t be a savage.Bathroom, and try not to piss on your feet.”
It took a moment or two to stand, but walking wasn’t nearly as tricky.Spook ambled off and returned to find Xane still holding the shot glass of pink stuff, though his gaze was on his phone screen.
“All good?”Spook fell back onto the sofa, which possessed zero give, thus he wacked his head against the backrest.Xane looked up at him with his smoky-grey eyes, his contact lenses no longer in situ, and nodded.He turned off his phone.Then pushed the plastic glass into Spook’s hand.
“Gargle.Don’t drink.”
Yeah, even without the warning, he wouldn’t have swallowed.The overpowering tingle of extra strong mint seared the fuzz from his tongue and the roof of his mouth, leaving him gagging.Luckily, Xane had a bowl already positioned right under his nose.
“Mouthwash?”he protested.
“Mate, we’re sharing a bed.I don’t want to die when you roll over in the night and breathe on me.”
Valid point.“Make sure it’s only air we’re exchanging, not anything more… more… intimate.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re suggesting.”
