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Which had made the relationship very one-sided. When I’d asked for things, she’d flat-out refused, because she said those things weren’t normal. Ultimately, she’d liked some aspects of my submissive nature, but she’d wanted me to fight her for dominance. She’d craved the conflict, the constant push-pull of power—like most demiurgus, I supposed—and I just didn’t have it in me. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want that at all.
Even though I was still a little wounded from the harsh words she’d said before her departure and bitter about the shit she’d told her friends after we split up, I didn’t wish we were still together. I didn’t pine for her. I religiously avoided conflict, so I hadn’t ever brought up how terribly things were going between us even though I hadn’t been happy. I hadn’t really been getting anything out of the relationship.
Agma wasn’t an overly affectionate person, whereas I’d wanted to wrap myself around her and cuddle up on the sofa in the evenings. She’d been sociable and outgoing and always wanting to go for dinner or drinks or to see friends, whereas I liked staying at home. She chastised me for what she called my “terrible diet”, even though I always dutifully ate the salads she made for dinner. But then she’d get annoyed when she found me hunched over the fridge later that night stuffing leftover pizza into my mouth. It wasn’t my fault salad didn’t fill me up.
And that wasn’t even touching on our wildly different preferences in bed.
But I’d put up with it, partly because she’d made me feel like a bit of a freak for what I wanted, and I’d worried that if we split up and I met someone else, I’d be too scared to ever voice my desires, or I’d hear all the same things again if I actually did.
Agma wasn’t a bad person, we just weren’t right for each other. We hadn’t understood each other. We’d clashed, but not in the ways she wanted. She’d wanted me to push back when she got bossy, trying to goad me into heated confrontations that would turn into wild and rough sex where we were both fighting for the upper hand. Which—no. No, thank you.
Beryl seemed kinda bossy too, but… not in the same way as Agma. Not at all. Humiliatingly, I’d already given her plenty of opportunities to take advantage of my submissive nature, and she hadn’t been swayed by any of them.
She was bossy, yeah, but she’d only told me to tie up my shoelaces so I didn’t hurt myself, and refused to back down when I tried to give her jewellery worth thousands of dollars for free.
God, I was such a loser.
My head popped out of my towel cocoon when I heard her coming down the stairs, stomach jolting with nerves. Oh god, what if she knocked on my door? My eyes darted frantically over my bed, in case I’d missed any of the sex toys that had still been carelessly left out in the open while she was in my freaking house. I’d woken up hideously late in a puddle of my own drool, splayed naked on my belly after a shameful night of draining myself dry, and when I’d seen the time I’d jumped up and shoved on the first clothes I could find without cleaning any of it up.
Thank fuck I’d remembered before showing her my room on the house tour earlier. I couldn’t bear to imagine the humiliation of thrusting open my bedroom door for her to see the collection strewn over my bed. Yeah, so, you’ve known me about a day, but here are some of the things I like to shove up my ass. I cringed, almost tripping as I scrambled off the bed, still clutching the giant towel around me like a hooded cloak.
I couldn’t just leave her out there alone. It wasn’t fair. She was probably feeling a little uncomfortable being in someone else’s house. And she might be hungry. I glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was technically still too early for dinner, but I could eat at any time. I’d see if she wanted anything.
Usually in the evenings I just wore my big blanket onesie with nothing underneath, but nope. No fucking way. I also usually stayed in my true form when I was home, but I didn’t want to startle Beryl by suddenly appearing a foot taller with a beastly face, a long tail and big, clawed demiurgus feet. I spent a lot less time than some other demiurgus in my humanoid skin, but I knew it was like breaking in a new pair of boots. The more you wore it, the more comfortable it got. So I didn’t mind.
Sighing miserably at the thought of spending the evening in proper clothes—and underwear—I got dressed in some jeans and a much nicer sweater than the one I’d had on earlier. As I pulled on some thick socks, I gazed longingly at my fluffy bootie slippers. I’d wait a little longer before showing Beryl all the embarrassing parts of myself. The parts Agma had huffed and rolled her eyes over and judged me for.
I stared at myself in the mirror as I combed my wet hair. Did Beryl think demiurgus were ugly? She’d spent so long around people who fawned over my kind and acted like we were god’s gift that maybe she’d gone the other way in defiance. Maybe her time with the cult had completely soured her on demiurgus as a whole. She didn’t seem that way, but that didn’t mean she liked the way I—we, I meant we—looked.
I didn’t think she was ugly. Not at all.
Scowling at my reflection when the spikes around my hairline twitched, I turned from the mirror and stared anxiously at the door. What was she doing out there? I couldn’t hear the TV or any sounds from the kitchen.
Fuck, had she left?
Panic streaked through me, making me jerk toward the door. At the last second, I veered back around the bed to grab my smoking tin. One way or another, I was going to need it.
I held my breath as I inched open the door. The house was completely silent. A sharp pain went through my chest at the thought of Beryl sneaking out in secret. Maybe she hated the house. Maybe she thought I was a total weirdo.
A faint rustling from the living room doorway opposite made me freeze, my pulse leaping. When I heard it again, I took a fortifying breath and shuffled out of my room, closing the door behind me. Then, trying to walk normally, I stepped across the hall and into the living room.
Beryl looked up from the couch, a fat book open on her lap. She gave me a big smile that made me sigh in relief.
“Hey. I found this down the side of the couch.” She lifted the book to show me the cover. It was a hardboiled detective novel that I hadn’t read in years. “I started reading it just to pass the time, but I’m already addicted.”
The tips of my ears fluttered wildly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long—”
“Oh, it’s fine. It’s been nice sitting here without people constantly coming and going. We had one big communal living room at the compound, so it was always busy.”
I took a step back. “Oh. Uh, I didn’t mean to… I can go—”
She huffed and set the book down on the coffee table. “I didn’t mean I don’t want you in here. It’s your house.” Patting the seat beside her, she said, “Come and sit.”
With a gulp, I slowly walked over, but stopped on the way to pick up the box of matches and light all the candles. Humans had weak eyesight, right? It was already getting dim in here, and she’d been sitting there reading in the dark while I had a minor existential crisis in my room.
“I’ll just go and get some lamps—”
“It’s fine, Greid. Just sit down.” She looked around as I lit the final few candles. “I like it. It makes the room even cosier.”
