“Everything about your body is my fault now.” His finger traces through the wetness on my thigh. Brings it to his mouth. Tastes. “You taste different. Sweeter. The tonic is completing its work.”
“What work?”
“Making you perfect for breeding. Your body chemistry is changing to match mine. To need mine.”
His hand finally moves between my legs. Just one finger, tracing my folds but not entering. I try to press against him but he pulls back.
“Stand still.”
“I can't.”
“You will.”
He continues that maddening touch. Barely there. Just enough to make me aware of how swollen I am, how wet, how empty. When his finger brushes my clit, I nearly collapse.
“Responsive.”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Touch me properly.”
“I am touching you.”
“Inside. I need something inside.”
He slides one finger in, and my body clenches around it desperately. So empty for so long that even this small invasion feels enormous.
“You're tighter. The emptiness has made you desperate to hold onto anything.”
He moves that finger slowly. In. Out. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
“More.”
“No.”
“Please. Please, I need more.”
“You need to learn patience.”
“I've been patient for days.”
“You've been performing patience. Now learn to actually feel it.”
A second finger joins the first. The stretch is perfect and insufficient simultaneously. He curls them, finds that spot inside that makes me see stars. Then stops.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to focus. Tell me about Earth. Why you really came here.”
“Now? You're fingering me and you want to talk about Earth?”
“I want you to think through the desperation. Form words while your body screams. Show me your mind is still present even when your cunt is dripping down my hand.”
He moves his fingers again. Slow. Deliberate. Just enough to keep me on edge but not enough to push me over.
“I... Earth is dying. You know that.”
