night out
Like, maybe you’ve gone out and wound up getting a bit drunk, having a good time meeting people. Problems happened when a couple who were interested in you went past flirting into heavy suggestion. Maybe you were interested, but they didn’t know that your appetites are linked.
By the time I pull up the man has long since been crushed into submission, his meat sloughing from his bones into the pit inside you. The woman has still got the strength to scream, which actually comes out louder when you open the car door and greet me with an awesome burp.
I’ve already ratcheted the passenger seat back, but it’s still an absurd fit, two bodies wedging between your spine and the dashboard. I fret about disabling the airbags and you sigh and remind me about the vampire thing.
As I’m driving I keep stealing glances and you know it. The pleading from inside you stops after a few minutes and you let out a long, satisfied sigh.
You’re getting sleepy and warm by the time we pull up at your house. Everyone inside is asleep already, and you’re relaxed enough to be dopey and giggly, more drunk now than in the bar. Three people’s blood alcohol content? Regardless, I guide you upstairs, shushing you to keep you from waking everyone by trying to burp the alphabet.
You insist on me turning my back as you undress, but then sprawl naked and immense on the bed without apparent shyness. I, rapt, reach for the prodigious dome of your belly and rub, like I’m trying to mould away the remaining harsh angles of limbs that seem to be giving you a little discomfort.
Acid-weak, they one by one crack into pieces, drawing low, pleased-sounding moans from you. Your gut softens. You’re drifting off, lulled by my skillful, patient hands, and the patter of quiet conversation. I don’t know if you are rubbing your thighs together consciously, but the peek-a-boo show of your tangled diamond keeps making me lose my train of thought.
Finally a snore signals that you have gone down to rest and digest. I pull the duvet over you and lean in to kiss your cheek. I nearly laugh into your ear when sleep-relaxed sphincters allow your prey another shout for release. Thankfully I don’t wake you.
“Sleep well, Rey.”