Neanderthal Seeks Human(71)

Quinn fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake him so we stayed until the end of the last set. I watched him, mesmerized by the lines and angles of his face, by the shape of his lips. They were parted slightly and I successfully fought the urge to kiss them.

The applause woke him from his slumber. He frowned, visibly muddled by his surroundings, and blinked into my face. His eyes, their color and immediate intensity upon recognizing my own, made my chest hurt in a really nice way. I smiled at him.

On impulse I leaned down and brushed my lips against his, intending to give my sleepy beauty a small peck. However, before I could withdraw, Quinn’s hands held me in place; his giant palms on my cheeks, his long fingers stroking my neck.

He deepened the kiss even as he sat upright and leaned over me so that I was slightly reclined, the back of my head against his knee; my fingers curled around his forearms to steady myself. His tongue was warm and soft and worshipful as it gently, maddeningly gently, caressed my own. I was being tasted and savored like one licks ice cream or a fancy dessert. The effect was inebriating.

Some passerby whistled, presumably at us, and I dipped my chin to my chest as I straightened, breaking the kiss and finding I had difficulty breathing. His hands fell away; I peeked at him from beneath my lashes and the protection that my black rimmed glasses afforded. He was in profile, glaring in the direction of the whistler, his stern expression just made him look resolute which made him look powerful which made him look sexy.

I licked my lips, tasting him there, and sought to draw his attention back to me; “Did you sleep well?” My voice was slightly breathless when I spoke.

He met my gaze and I had the sudden sensation of being paralyzed. My limbs felt heavy and useless. He ignored my question and asked one of his own, “Why do you wear glasses instead of your contacts?”

I must have been kiss-tipsy because I answered with sincerity, “Because they make me feel safe.”

His mouth hooked to the side and he blinked once, “Is that why you wear your hair like that?” He indicated to where my hair rested on the crown of my head in a severe bun; “Do you feel safer if your hair is pulled back?”

“No. I wear my hair in a bun because, if I don’t, then it looks like Medusa snakes.”

Quinn’s trademark slow easy smile eclipsed his features, “It doesn’t look like Medusa snakes.”

“It does. Did you know Medusa also had two sisters? She was a middle child, like me. But Medusa was the only mortal of the three. Most myths have her killed by Perseus. He used a mirrored shield so he wouldn’t have to look at her directly. When she died Pegasus- the winged horse- as well as a sword wielding giant sprang from her body.”

Quinn twisted his mouth to the side and he gently took off my glasses then lay them on the blanket beside us, “That seems unlikely.”

I shrugged, feeling lethargic and somewhat giddy to be sitting on a blanket with him, in the park, at twilight; I also felt a bit exposed now that my glasses had been removed. “Some think she was pregnant by Poseidon at the time. Maybe his sperm was magical, of the horse and giant variety instead of carrying an x or y chromosome.”

I reached for my discarded water, took a long swallow, and considered Quinn over the rim of the plastic bottle. The early evening light was giving way to the darkness of night but I could tell he was still smiling. I was still Quinn-kiss-tipsy enough to feel no mortification when I asked, “If you could have magic sperm, what kind of creatures would you want to create?”

His smile widened; he shook his head looking around at the people packing up, “I don’t know how much good magic sperm would do me without a snake haired girl to put it in.”

Quinn reached for his own water and took a gulp but he choked when I said, “You could use me!”

He abruptly set his drink down, sat back on his heels, and picked up a napkin; his eyes were wide as he coughed. I reached over and patted his back soothingly.

“You should have more water.”

He croaked out, “Thanks.” and watched me wearily as he drank from the bottle.

I sat unabashedly and waited for Quinn to compose himself. At length I asked, “Are you ok? Did it go down the wrong pipe?”

He nodded, his eyes following my movements as he gripped the napkin a little too tight, and prompted, “You were saying something about how I could use you?”

“Oh yes. In this hypothetical situation, you have magic sperm which can make creatures.” I screwed the lid back on my bottle of water, deposited it to the blanket, and began taking my hair down, “and it has already been established that I have Medusa-esque hair.” I shook out the crazy curls and let them fall over my shoulders, back and breasts, “So, now you have your snake-haired-magic-sperm repository. What creatures do we create?”