She watches me closely, saying nothing.
After crossing the room, I motion for her to stand, then pull back the covers. “Come. It’s time we finally rested.”
She moves carefully as if unsure of sharing her space. Again, I don’t give her time to start doubting what’s here between us. I follow her into bed and settle in beside her. As she turns to face me, I draw the cover up and over us.
Her tension eases, if only a little.
I prop my head on my hand, watching her in the low light, close enough now to feel the warmth of her skin through the linen.
“What I take isn’t breath or blood,” I continue. “It’s essence. The life that moves through things. Growth. Yield. The quiet abundance the world offers when it’s treated as endless.” I soften my tone, hoping that she will come to understand why I must do so. “I draw it back not simply to destroy it—but so it may be used in other ways. To create new life from life that has had its chance to flourish.”
I pick up her small hand and study the shape of it against my own. “And nothing can follow if nothing is ever allowed to end.”
She remains silent, attentive, her gaze fixed on my face.
“What’s been given to this world was never meant to be owned,” I say. “It was borrowed. A gift. Gifts demand care. Respect. Reciprocity.” I pause. “When that is forgotten, there are consequences.”
Her mouth tightens at the corner. She looks away. I cup her cheek and bring her face back to mine.
“Desperation reveals truth,” I go on quietly. “It shows what people value. What they protect. Whether they hoard or share. Whether they give back to the land what they’ve taken from it or strip it bare and call it survival.” My gaze holds hers. “In times like these, scarcity isn’t only a correction. It allows for accountability, for judgment.”
She releases a slow, measured breath. I still see the defiance in her eyes, and I ache to quell it. For her to understand me and this truth.
“God cannot walk this world as He once did,” I say. “Not in these last days. But His creations are still a part of Him, and answer to Him… through me.”
I don’t soften that truth.
“I do not act blindly,” I continue. “Nor without measure. I weigh. I choose. I take only what must be returned, and only where it will serve a higher purpose and to aid in what comes next.” My voice lowers. “This isn’t cruelty. It’s stewardship.”
She studies me, searching for something. Mercy. Doubt. Regret.
“I know what it costs them, and I’m not without a conscience,” I add, and the bitterness edges in now. “I see the fear. The desperation. The violence that hunger can breed. But I also see what happens when life is taken for granted, when greed rules man, and when abundance becomes entitlement. When growth is treated as a right instead of a gift.”
I rub her cheekbone and memorize the hue of her gorgeous freckles. “My purpose is not to punish,” I say. “It’s to test. To bring balance. The needs of humanity. The will of God. And the space required for what follows this world.” A sigh. “Those things cannot all be served at once without sacrifice.”
She exhales slowly. “So you believe what you’re doing is right?”
“I believe it’s necessary.” I nod. “And necessity has never been kind.”
Another quiet moment passes.
“I don’t enjoy taking life,” I say at last. “But I accept that it must be done. Because if I don’t, no soul in our current existence will be able to prove themselves worthy of returning to Him and the afterlife that promises even greater gifts.”
She doesn’t look away. There is something there in her eyes. My hope is that she's beginning to understand it better or at least taking the time to think about what I shared.
My hand shifts to the back of her neck, just under her hairline, and a curious thing happens. Her eyes flash with divine light, and a tremor runs down her entire body. Her mouth parts on a gasp. Intrigued, I softly pet the spot again. Her reaction is instant. Another flash, another deep breath, her lungs expanding and pushing out her chest.
I lift her and let the cover fall to reveal more of her. Grabbing her thigh, I roll and pull her on top of me. Her body softens, and her eyes fall closed, her head kicking back as I watch desire take hold of her.
The back of her neck must be an erogenous zone for her. I take full advantage and keep delicately touching the spot that seems to be sending her into a frenzy.
My cock hardens to her body’s call. I adjust her so she sits forward to ride me. Her wet center slides over me, and though she tenses the moment she feels my erection beneath her, she also presses down as if her need overrules all thought.
Yes, little one. Take what you need from me.
Then she’s water in motion, rocking those hips of hers. I meet each thrust with one of my own. Palming her breasts, I test the weight of each, and begin to play with her nipples until they ripen under my ministrations.
She doesn’t just respond to my intimate touch. She seems starved for it.
