I will not share.
I stare down at the vial in my hand and scrunch up my nose.
I do not want to drink it, but it is a gift. So, I uncork it and swallow it down. It tastes stale and cold and full of chemicals. Not at all like what Dante has been feeding me.
It takes me a moment to understand why, but before I can voice it, Quilliyn touches my arm. “Cielo?”
I stare at him and then look at the vial. “From the factory? They all taste like this?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s not great. They have to treat it so it doesn’t go rancid. Why?”
Why? Because what Dante has been feeding me is not like this. No. It was exactly like the cum I lapped from his cock. I’m shaking as I look back up at Quilliyn.
“I think Dante has been lying to me. He said he had given me cum from the factory, but it did not taste the same as this. It was fresh. It was…of him.” Now that I say it, I know it’s the truth. There’s no denying what he’s been leaving me on the nightstand every morning.
He sighs, and something flickers in his gaze. Does he know? “Don’t be angry at him. He was only trying to help.”
Angry? Am I even allowed to be angry with the human who has taken me in and cared for me? Betrayal burns heavy in my gut.
He has been tricking me. The vials of cum I have been consuming have been his, but he assured me it was safe. That it was not breaking the rules the way taking from him would have been.
The anger in my gut burns hotter. I know why he did it, but I do not like the lies. I do not want him to keep things from me.
I toss the vial in a garbage can and swallow, wanting to rid myself of the taste lingering in my mouth. I want to erase it from me.
“What do I do?” I ask Quilliyn.
He flicks his ears. “Speak to him about it. Let him know how this makes you feel.”
I don’t know if I can do that. What if he tosses me out? What if he is angry at me for being upset and turns me in for all the rules I’ve broken? I cannot imagine my Dante doing that to me, but the fear is real, and it follows me as I leave the gym.
My fingers tremble, and I fight the urge to run somewhere no one can find me.
Instead of doing that, I walk in the direction of home, coming to a stop in the street between Dante’s shop and the apartment. I know he’s in there. I can feel a flicker of him in my head. There are a couple of cars in the parking lot, which means there are customers inside.
I do not wish to be angry at him in front of others, but I also can’t bring myself to go home and sit with this discomfort.
Despite my reservations, I cross the street and reach for the door, listening to the soft bells chime as I enter. I see him at the counter, two humans in front of him with a pile of sex things they wish to purchase. His eyes immediately lock on mine, and I feel a pulse of relief and affection rush from him into me.
I want to kiss him, but I also want to tell him that I know. That I know what he did for me. And what he did to me. I know the lies he told.
“I’ll be right with you,” he says. The humans flick nervous gazes toward me, but I ignore them. It is easy to do when I am upset. “Feel free to look around.”
I have not been inside Dante’s shop so freely before. The only time was when Everest brought me here, and I was overwhelmed by everything going on, by meeting a human so beautiful, I didn’t have time to properly look.
Now, I wander down a few aisles, staring at the strange items that smell of chemicals, animal hides, and metal. These things are strangely shaped, strangely sized, strangely colored.
I like them, I think. They interest me. And I can’t help but wonder if any of them are things Dante likes to use on himself. I might ask, once I get this weight off my chest.
Once I get an answer out of him.
Turning the corner, I find myself staring at rows and rows of fabric. They are not like the place I bought my coat. The items are sheer, like the robes they wear in the capital, only much smaller.
My fingers can’t help but touch an odd, patterned item that looks like it would fit over a round human ass. It’s the same color as my coat—pink, as the humans call it. Like the edge of an Eretharian afternoon sky.
The fabric itself is rough, and peering closer, I can see the pattern is a lot like small flowers. It is very, very pretty. I feel an urge to take it off the rack and press it against my skin.
“You like that? Those are panties,” comes Dante’s voice from behind me.
