Excellent, so that's good!

“That was phone sex,” she tells you slowly as she heaves. “And it was also. The best sex I’ve ever had.”

“That’s got to say more about your past partners than me,” you joke, still grinning a little proudly hearing it.

“I’m serious, you jackass!” she chides you, the clear presence of joy in her voice taking any bite out of it. “That was the hardest I’ve ever cum, flat. Maybe not the most times in a row, but the hardest, and I’d trade it for most-in-a-row, it was that intense.”

“Yeah, and it’s practically Old Faithful over here,” you let her know as you use a pocketful of napkins (what? come prepared!) to clean your hands and cock first, then lean down to where the ground is splattered with your inhumanly massive load. “You DID say to give it to you, though.”

“Glad you did,” she says, voice returning to normal as you see her pull the phone back to her head and turn off speaker. “I’m not moving too fast, am I?”

“Not for me,” you answer quickly, trying to make sure she stays feeling confident and sexy throughout this, not doubting herself. “If I wasn’t so paralyzed about people seeing me … I’d be worried I’d push too far, too. But I really like talking to you, in person or on the phone. You’re the brightest spot in my life right now. I’m not sure you could suggest something I wouldn’t do. It just feels that good.”

“So, if I said you needed to come over here, right now, and fuck me through this mattress?” she asks with a husky tone.

“I’d do it.” You’d be horribly afraid to right now. God, this would be easier if you were a normal guy. Not … this.

“I’m not going to, don’t worry,” she sighs. Her irritation is clearly at herself for remaining any tiny bit restrained with you, but you appreciate her respecting your stance. Even if she doesn’t understand it. “I’m going to think about it, though. You can’t stop me.”

“What do you think I look like?” A loaded question, but you have to wonder.

“I know you’re tall,” she begins. “Which is good. I like a tall man, someone who can lift me off my feet. I know you’re fit, no other way you got up on that roof.”

“Right so far.”

“Skinny, whenever I see you,” she reasons, “but powerful. Basketball-esque. Narrow, tall profile, very strong, but not immediately muscly. How am I doing?”

“Almost uncomfortably well,” you have to admit.

“Well, I could tell that by holding your hands earlier …” she confesses. “I can’t see your face, not really, but I think … gaunt. Most people think it’s scary, I’d bet.” That stings a little, but she’s absolutely right. “I think you’re kind of a spooky boy. Sneaky. Sticking to the shadows. All massive and looming there.”

“I’d have a hell of a time denying it,” you have to concede as you put your dick away and zip up your pants again.

“I like it, honestly,” Alex says, a little bit of a purr in her voice. “I like things that scare me, Adam. And you scare me. Yeah, because I think you’re a powerful, tall, deep-voiced thing from the dark … but also because you’re sweet and sexy and you make me happy. They’re both things I’m afraid of. Not the same way. Both exciting.”

“Do you think this might have something to do with your rocky history with men?” you can’t help but tease. Still, it’s nice to hear. The second half you understand entirely, far more afraid of doing something wrong with her than you’ve been of any actual mortal danger. The first was reassuring, because if there was one thing your look was pretty much locked into being, scary was IT.

“Oh, I know it does!” she laughs. “You don’t feel like them, though. Sure, a lot of the good stuff is the same, but I’m not tuning out any danger vibes. I mean, I just told you stalk to me and did a public sex act to seduce you. That’s not something I’m doing for anyone I don’t trust.”

“I trust you, too.” You’re not sure if you ever said it and meant it before, your human life is unclear at times. Still, it feels almost new to say to her.

“Now, you want to hear about warning signs- ah, shit, it’s probably freezing out there, isn’t it?” she realizes suddenly, worry in her voice. “God, I’m going to give you frostbite. You should get inside.”

“I bundled plenty,” you reassure her. The cold slides off you anyway. So does the heat, but that’s less of a concern in this area. “I want to hear about warning signs.”

“If you’re sure …” She continues on about some of her most disastrous failed relationships. Biker. **** dealer. Serial cheater. Combinations of the three, and more. You commiserate with what you remember of your unsuccessful love life, both you teasing and laughing as the moon hangs overhead. The darkness makes it easy to pretend there’s no one else in the world.