Page 253 of Dante
His hands pause. For exactly one second.
Then they keep moving.
"Take your hands away." I grab his wrists. "We're not doing this."
He looks at me. Water streaming down his face. Eyes dark.
"Nothing can keep me away from fucking your pussy."
I burst out laughing.
The sound echoes off the tile. Loud. Unexpected.
"I'm serious." I push at his chest. "I'm in a lot of pain during my period. Your dick won't help."
He raises an eyebrow. "You don't know that."
"I absolutely know that."
"Maybe my dick has healing properties."
I snort. Actually snort. "Your dick does not have healing properties."
"You haven't tested it."
"I don't need to test it." I'm laughing harder now. "I've had periods for ten years. I know what helps. Your dick is not on the list."
"Maybe it should be."
"It shouldn't."
"You're being closed-minded."
"I'm being realistic."
He grins. Actually grins.
"What about my tongue?"
I shove him. Hard.
He stumbles back. Catches himself on the tile.
And then we're both laughing.
Not normal laughter. Not the kind that comes from something funny.
This is different.
This is tension breaking. Pain releasing. Everything we've been holding crashing out of us at once.
I double over. My stomach hurts. My face hurts.
Dante braces himself against the wall, shoulders shaking.
We laugh until we can't breathe.
Until tears mix with the water on my face and I can't tell if I'm crying or laughing or both.
