The Contract

XVI - Manipulus

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While watching TV, I had fallen asleep. Neither of us had actually watched the TV; Lure had watched me with, most likely, perverted thoughts swimming about his head, and I had watched him from out of the corner of my eye, suspicious of his next actions. What would he try next? He'd probably introduce me to a condom. . . if he knew what a condom was, exactly.

Fifteen minutes after I had dozed off, he had woken me up from a rather interesting dream involving mice running with scissors on a heart-shaped rug. My mind was hazy; I was only half in the real world, but as I continued to feel this soft, tingling sensation on my arm, I began to wake up completely. I opened one eye to peek at Lure as he bit his lower lip in concentration. His eyes were closed, which made me wonder exactly what he was concentrating on.

That was when I saw his hand on my arm. He was creating the tingling feeling.

"What are you—OW!" I jumped up in pain, clutching my arm, while Lure whipped his hand away from me, eyes open at once. For a sheer second, the tingling feeling had morphed into a terrible burning; however, when I looked down at my arm, there was no burn mark.

"You idiot!"

It took a few seconds for me to register what Lure had said. I looked up at him, perplexed.

"Fuck! I almost had it," he snapped, sounding breathless. He looked paler than usual, and also pretty exhausted. Exactly what had he almost had?

Unconsciously rubbing my arm, I timidly asked, "What were you doing?"

"Trying to make you think I was touching you."

"What?"

Lure paused at the question to scoff lightly. "Remember back in the washroom, when Matt was. . ." he hesitated. "Well, anyways. I had made him think I was hurting him."

"Yeah. . . so you were trying to make me think you were touching me with much the same method?"

Lure gave a nod and smirked. "I'm more experienced with making people feel pain. I never want to give them pleasure. I've never tried making someone think my touching them doesn't burn. I could screw up and make you think I'm burning or cutting you or something." He paused to shrug indifferently. "I give pain, not pleasure." He paused to lick his lips. "I had to concentrate really hard not to hurt you, but you startled me."

I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and looked down at the couch. "Couldn't you have waited until I was awake?"

"I didn't want to wake you," Lure stated innocently, "You looked so. . . serene." He leaned away from me and made it quite obvious that he was examining me. "I mean, your hair was nice and flat, not crazy and everywhere."

I frowned. "What?"

Casually, Lure airily said, "When you're mad, your hair tends to attract electricity and static." He gave me an amused smirk. "It's quite comical, actually."

"It. . . it does not!" I uttered out in disbelief.

"You know when you rub a balloon against your head and your hair becomes wild?"

"My hair does not go. . . freaky. . . when I'm mad!" I protested defensively.

"Nah," Lure clicked his tongue, then sent me a playful grin. "But that's the image I get whenever you yell at me." Next, he began mocking me. " 'Lure, you're screwing all my wonderful wishes up!' 'Lure, stop being such a pervert!' 'Lure, go away!' 'Lure, I want you so much but I won't admit it because I'm stubborn and in denial!' "