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Who did they belong to before me? Has Eissa ever had a companion before?

I don’t think I want to know. Not with how it makes my stomach churn and my skin grow hot. Imagining him with another human sets a raging fire inside my gut because that means he’s wanted someone else before. And maybe he didn’t resist his last human the way he resists me.

Hell, maybe his last human is the reason he keeps turning me away. That has to be the reason. It would be foolish to think that I was the first one Eissa had ever chosen, and I know I have zero right to feel any type of way about it, but I can’t help the ache it causes in the pit of my stomach.

God, what was his other human like?

Was he more attractive than me? More intelligent? Could he hear? Was he closer to the Vyastil definition of perfect?

I don’t like the way my mind is spiraling, so I turn to the wardrobe and wrench the doors open. I let my fingers trail over the tunics hanging there. Did these belong to the one who came before me too?

Is the reason he keeps turning me away that he liked the other person better than me?

There’s no point in dwelling on what was—or what might have been. I close the doors and decide to stay naked. I’d rather wear nothing than dress up in someone else’s clothes.

I’m irritated to realize my cock is still half hard in spite of everything. My mind keeps reliving the kiss Eissa gave me against that cool countertop in the kitchen, and I know if I stay in this room any longer, I’m going to touch myself. And that feels too much like letting Eissa win. So I turn away, slamming the bedroom door behind me, and make my way through his oddly shaped house.

I hit the living room, stepping around furniture that the kradun has moved once again, and I can’t help but smile because I know that pisses Eissa off. It’s like a special kind of karma for someone who seems to like order and control.

But I’ve also seen what happens when he snaps. He’s done it each time he’s seen me, almost like I’m the one person who can test the impossible strength he has over his emotions.

If only it lasted. If only wanting me also made him want to stay.

I hope he’s fucking miserable right now.

I eventually find Eissa outside, on his knees, bent over as he tends to some kind of vine-like plant that keeps trying to curl up his arm as he works. It has little tentacles that stick to him like an octopus and bright orange flowers that open and close, almost like it’s speaking to him.

He flicks his tongue at it in disapproval, but it does nothing to stop the plant from continuing its journey up Eissa’s arm.

I can’t help but watch, happy to find that nothing in this house listens to him, not even the wild plants.

I must make a sound at some point, though. He startles, then tries to peel the vine from his arm as his eyes flash up to meet mine. His gaze lingers as he takes me in, his mouth parting as he tries to stand, but he can’t quite manage it without ripping the vine up from the roots.

In the end, he gives up and stays hunched over, his tail wrapped tightly around his waist. The tense moment between us stretches for what feels like an eternity, then he pushes into my mind, and I feel the desperation there.

Put on clothes, Luca. When I don’t move, he adds, please.

It’s quiet and begging, but I’m not going to give in. I fold my arms across my chest and widen my stance, my cock hardening at the sight of him. Part of me hates that I have this reaction to him. It would make this moment so much better if I could pretend like I don’t want him just as much, but I can’t quite seem to help it.

The vine has now made it up to his shoulder, and those tentacles are sucking on the skin of his neck.

I stare at the plant and feel jealous at the way it’s attached itself to him. A low point to be sure, but then again, my life has been a long series of low points in the last year.

I tilt my head and watch as Eissa carefully tries to pluck the plant from him. It’s not easy, and I don’t offer him any help. Why should I bother? But as I watch his frustration grow and watch the care he’s taking not to hurt this possibly sentient vine, something in me starts to break.

‘Do you need help?’ I ask when another vine starts crawling up his leg.

‘I’m fine.’ His signs are small, like a murmur, his eyes raking over my body once more. I make sure to run a hand down my abdomen, and I see his chest heave.

The plant is near his ears now, and I can only imagine the irritated noise he’s making, though it’s obvious he’s trying to hide it.

I watch a bit longer as the vine slowly starts to consume him, but considering I don’t know the flora of Erethar, I think I should probably do something. It won’t help keep me safe if he gets eaten by a carnivorous plant.

I step toward him and hold out a hand as an offer of help. He jerks as I get closer, and when my hands skim across his skin, I see him shudder.

‘If I don’t help you, this plant is going to murder you,’ I sign when he finally looks at me properly.

‘It won’t,’ he answers back, but he also makes no move to stop me as I begin to unwind him from the crawling stalks.