Page 78 of Border Control

And I do.

Because every moment under her touch feels like learning to exist; this time, with a choice in what I do.

With her.

I focus on my breathing, slow and steady, drawing in air through my nose, letting it out in controlled exhales, a rhythm to anchor myself.

There’s only this singular moment between me, Law-rah, and the pain. No past, no present. No future to worry about. Nothing and no one else in the universe, nothing but scattered heartbeats. No locked rooms inside ourselves, just this, open and honest. This is what I am, this is all I am. This.

When she draws away. I keep my head down, breathing ragged. Every nerve stays alert, attuned to what’s next, but I hold steady, waiting for whatever comes next.

“Well?” she says. A challenge. “Open your eyes.”

With my arms still bound, I twist to face her. She looks down into my face, calculating, assessing, seeing how close I am to the edge. If she’d open to me, she’d know, but that’s not the point of this exercise. We’re trying to excise the mind-sync, not rely on it.

Slowly, I reach for her with my upper arms pinned to my sides. My thick fingers fumble the tiny buttons of her pants. Her smile widens as she watches me struggle, and she drags the starshine flogger over my shoulders and the back of my neck. A promise of pleasure only, no need to flinch, only endless openness.

When I finally get her buttons and zips loose, I have to roll her pants down. They're so tight they cling to her skin, and each roll bares more creamy expanse. I run my tongue along the inside seam of her leg, and she lets out a low moan. I keep her shoes on, her weapons. Because while I am open, Law-rah needs her fortifications still.

Even though I wish it wasn’t so.

She lowers herself to the blanket she put on the floor and bucks upward. I need no further invitation, grasping her panties and pulling them down to join her pants at her knees. I roll the collection to her calves, and position myself between her legs to dip down for my first taste.

I run my lips along her lower ones. She's delicious as always, but my chin rubs against her bone structure. It's more prominent than the last time I kissed her pussy.

I stop immediately. "Are you losing condition?"

She raises her head and blinks at me, eyes already hazy with pleasure. "Pardon?"

"You're thinner than before. Is this intentional?"

She flushes. "No, I'm just busy."

"Too busy to fuel yourself?"Drok na. Law-rah should join us at El-len’s breakfast table every morning. "You will find time to eat, or I shall insist on feeding you."

"You wouldn’t." Law-rah’s gaze turns flinty as she sits up.

"Yes, I would." I shuck off the belt and pull her upright easily. She’s so slight in my arms, my stomach flips. “What ails you?”

“Nothing,” she says, but across the mind sync, darkness pulses. Like a boil stuck under scales, sickness builds.

“Law-rah. I can… sense there’s something?—”

“I said it’s nothing.” She does not meet my eyes.

Pressure pushes on the slight female from all directions. Her purpose. Her drive for justice. The disruption from our mental connection. Yet she keeps our arrangement, for my benefit.

She needs relaxation, the way she provides to me.

Who is her mental anchor?

I pull up her pants, securing them at her waist. "Swear you’ll make yourself some food now, and come back to see me only once you’ve eaten."

Her cheeks take on a rosy hue. Under her skin, her aura burns like a sunset. "You’re lucky you’re cute, or you’d be getting a taste of my bad side.”

"Eat, then give me a taste," I say, and her aura melts around the edges again, revealing another of Law-rah’s secrets without me needing to pry. She likes it when I take charge.

But I know she will never consent to me giving her what she gives me. That is not our dynamic.