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“Sorry I’m a little late.” I shrugged off my coat and hung it over the back of the stool before sitting. I was suddenly feeling self-conscious of my boots, so I tried to tuck my feet against the bottom rail of the stool, but they were made for demiurgus—way too tall for me to do that. I felt like a little kid as I sat there with my feet dangling.
“Hardly. I’m usually fashionably late to everything, but I was in the next district over meeting a client before this, so I managed to get here on time.” She beamed at me, reaching over to squeeze my arm. “I’m so glad we’re doing this, darling.”
Her friendliness was allowing me to relax. I smiled back at her. “Me too. I don’t, um, I don’t know that many people around here, so it’s nice to get out and see more of the area.”
Corva waved a hand as the bartender appeared with a bottle of champagne in a bucket and two flutes. “Next time I’ll invite some friends. They don’t live in this district, but I know they’ll be happy to come here. It’s a lovely part of town.”
Instantly, the nerves returned. Relax, it’s just a hypothetical plan. It’s not actually happening for certain. Just try and enjoy tonight without worrying about the future.
“That sounds nice.” I jumped a little when the bartender smoothly popped the champagne cork and began pouring our drinks.
“Thanks, darling,” Corva told him absently, already picking up a flute and handing it to me. “You said before you haven’t drunk much, didn’t you? The best thing about champagne, Beryl, is minimal hangover. Cheers.”
I chuckled and tapped my glass to hers. “That’s lucky. I’m going to this artisan market tomorrow morning with my… my boyfriend.” The word made my belly clench, which felt a little silly.
Corva’s yellow eyes brightened over the rim of her flute as she took a sip. “Ooh yes, that’s what we’re talking about first. Your mysterious second-coffee-cup-drinker. Come on, let’s go grab a table so we can talk about sex without any creeps trying to overhear and wriggle their way into the conversation.”
I choked on my drink, having just been taking my first sip, but slipped off my stool and grabbed my coat to follow Corva as she picked up the champagne bucket and started heading for an empty table in the corner. Several pairs of appreciative eyes trailed over her as she passed, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. Maybe she wasn’t ready to date yet after her divorce—no, not divorce, dissolution of her matehood. That was what demiurgus called it.
“Thank you for the champagne,” I said as we settled at the table. One less thing to worry about—I already knew I liked champagne.
“My pleasure. Now.” Corva pinned me in place with her big yellow eyes. “Boyfriend. Go.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Um, well… He’s called Greid. He’s a jeweller. And he’s a demiurgus,” I added, because I’d seen Corva’s brows twitch when I told her Greid’s name, and I knew she’d probably say something similar to Parin a few nights ago.
Corva’s eyes went wide. She leaned in closer and whispered, “Do you have sex?”
My face flamed bright red. “Yes.”
Intrigue flared in her gaze, which darted quickly down my front and back up. “Does he have a cock?”
Corva, it’s practically a third leg. “Yeah, he does.”
She stared at me in silence for a moment, then sat back and picked up her champagne. “I have so many questions.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I don’t… I’m not going to share anything he wouldn’t want me to—”
“No, of course not.” She waved a hand and leaned back in. “But… how? Is it not… agony for you? Even just…” She made a jerking off motion, which drew the very interested gazes of the four demiurgus men in business suits sitting at the next table over.
I choked out a laugh. “We manage. But um, yeah, obviously that kind of penetrative sex isn’t possible for us.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” Corva let out a relieved breath and clasped my arm. “I was going to say, no dick is worth that, darling. I know a human body isn’t equipped to deal with a demiurgus cock. Although!” Her face lit up, and she rummaged around in her bag for her phone. “There is an amazing sex shop in the city that caters mostly to demiurgus. Surely they stock some things that would allow demiurgus-P-in-human-V sex. You can’t be the only interspecies couple out there, can you?”
“I have no idea.” I watched uncertainly as she tapped on her phone with bright red claws. “But it’s not like we feel like we’re missing out because we can’t do that.”
“Oh no, I’m not insinuating that you do.” Corva set down her phone and picked up her champagne flute. “But I’ve sent you the link to their website just in case. There are plenty of other fun things you could try out.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I was kind of intrigued in a purely hypothetical sense, so I leaned in and asked, “What do you think they’d even sell that would make that possible?”
“Hmm.” Corva tapped the rim of her flute against her lower lip. “Maybe some kind of cocksleeve that’s thick enough to stop the barbs penetrating it?”
I almost went light-headed at the thought of adding girth to Greid’s dick. Vaginas were capable of stretching well beyond the thickness of any penis, including demiurgus ones, but still. If that was a thing—and possible for us—I was pretty sure I still wouldn’t want it.
“Would that feel good though?” I asked curiously. “For the demiurgus, I mean. Like… wouldn’t it completely dull all the sensations?”
“Oh boo-fucking-hoo.” Corva gestured dismissively with her glass. “You mean like the ones who claim condoms make it ‘not feel as good’? They’re still fucking a hole. There’s still friction.”
I snorted, then couldn’t contain my laughter. Corva joined in, grabbing the champagne bottle to top up our glasses just as one of the suited demiurgus from the next table sauntered over.
