Page 47 of Eat Me Alive
A fresh vine sneaks in, but it has a hard time slipping in. Giving in, I pull my fingers out, letting my vine explore her. It pines for her, then it will vine her. Tie her to me.
Vining her is unlike any other intimate act. It’s the troughing of the layer underneath the layer. She is aether in disguise. She is all-consuming, a static tension embedded in my bones. I slam my slit against hers, rubbing, chasing a high I know I can never satisfy.
Her sharp gasp is swallowed by my other hand. There’s a reckless longing in me that wants her to rip me apart with her teeth. My thumb snakes into her mouth, and she knows what I need. She clamps down hard as I slide the head of my cock over her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It is a sensation unlike any other. Not even the gods I know can make me feel this way. Like Xiaoyu can. Only Xiaoyu. My sweet dreamer.
My vine splits into several reverent ropes. It will seep into her, scar her with me, only me, for as long as I exist.
There’s a sudden crushing sound, and I stare in fascination as she sinks her teeth into my hand. My joints pop, but I slide through her faster, harder. The pain is damning and exquisite, and when she shouts her release, I am undone.
Unraveled.
Surreal but so real. So fucking real. Arriving, coming, is bittersweet. I don’t want to leave, but I beg for it to end. In this instance, I am not a god. I am a worshipper.
The reality chills me to my bones.
Xiaoyu
After the initial orgasm, I feel used, limp, bare.
I’m not sure what to think, how I should feel. Am I reacting correctly? The moment warrants some sort of ecstasy, but all I feel is exhaustion. Embarrassment. As he slumps down breathlessly next to me, I hold my legs close, hugging myself.
He drapes his arm over me, dragging me to his sweaty chest. He noses the side of my face, clearly still feeling the remnants of that personal rapture. My disappointment is unexpected. Almost uncalled for.
“You stare at me like you think I’m lacking.”
Is my face really that transparent? “I’m not gonna lie…”
His euphoria melts away, replaced by a frown.“You are not satisfied?”
“Not satisfied…I think I came, but…” I’m struggling to find the words to explain it to him without coming off ungrateful. God, gratitude. For fuck’s sake.
“But..?”
“It was…underwhelming..?” Maybe my expectations were too high. I want the earth to just swallow me whole as he blinks. “You were great, but it’s like you were…masturbating. Not pleasuring me.”
His hand covers his mouth in deep consternation.“Tonight, I learn I am not infallible.”He says slowly, wrapping his arms around me until I am coccooned.“This is a humbling moment. Thank you for telling me.”
It’s not my intention to humble him, I’m only telling the truth… But what good is it to hide and lie? To protect someone’s emotions? I realize within myself, too, that I lie to protect my skin. I traipse over the truth too much that it’s taking a toll on me.
“You better return the favor, too.” I mutter.
His hand snakes toward my thighs, and I know what he’s doing. I flick it away and say, “Not like that. I want you to tell me if I’m not…satisfactory.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You are more than satisfactory.”
“Maybe I’m lacking, too, and—”
“Oh, quiet, Xiaoyu. I am hurt that you think so low of yourself.”
My eyes feel like they’re on fire. The conversation has taken another turn. All the things I buried roll in their graves. I hate how those simple words evoke so much anguish from me. An unprompted question comes to mind. “Was I…a virgin?”
He stills, halting the pretense of breathing.“Does it matter?”
Something invisible is strangling, choking me. “It shouldn't, right?” But it does. I don’t want it to, but it does matter too much.
