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Beryl replied, Most people do not have dessert at breakfast, Greid.
Before I could think of a response, another text came through.
GREEDY BOY.
My face prickled as I stared down at the words, heat rushing over my skin. If she called me that while we were… doing stuff, I might shoot myself into the stratosphere from the force of my orgasm.
“Greedy,” a voice said in front of me. I almost dropped my phone as my head snapped up.
I stared in alarm at the barista on the other side of the counter, stuffing my phone guiltily into my pocket. “What?”
He gave me an odd look. “I said Greid. Order for Greid.”
“Oh.” Letting out a squawk of awkward laughter, I reached for the two takeout cups. “That’s me. Greid. I’m Greid. It’s, uh, it’s just Greid.”
He eyed me again. “I know, dude. That’s what I said.”
Cringing, I ducked my head and power-walked out of the coffee shop. Now everyone in there probably thought I referred to myself as ‘Just Greid!’ Fucking fantastic.
Realising I hadn’t responded to Beryl, I stopped by an empty table outside and put down our drinks to fish out my phone. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I stared at her last message.
Come on, Greid. You can flirt back. Or maybe she wasn’t flirting. She might have just been messing around.
Groaning in despair and causing two demiurgus seated at the next table to look over at me, I fired off a message without letting myself think about it.
I AM greedy.
There. That was flirting, right? That counted. Or, I mean, it was kind of just a statement of fact. God, how did people do this? I hadn’t had to flirt with Agma. She’d just sort of decided that we would be a couple, which I’d initially liked. Mainly because it took the decision out of my hands, and I was in my element when I wasn’t having to make decisions.
My phone vibrated in my pocket as I walked down the street, so I carefully cradled the two cups in one arm to pull it out.
I know you are, Beryl had sent back. I stared at the words, almost tripping on the sidewalk as I stopped paying attention to where I was walking.
That told me nothing. Was she flirting, or not? Did we even have to flirt if we’d already orgasmed together? Surely we’d sailed right past the flirting stage. We were already in the sharing-mutual-orgasms stage, which was so much better.
Couldn’t I just keep sending her dumb GIFs and embarrassing selfies when I had my magnifying goggles on? I started sweating at the notion of having to text her things like, wat u wearing with a row of winky faces. Or the dreaded, u up? Beryl wouldn’t like that anyway.
Or maybe she would. I had no idea. I’d never done this with a human before. Shit, were there specific things humans did in, like, new relationship-type situations? I frantically tried to think of all the human romcoms I’d watched. They seemed to like almost splitting up and then for one of them to make a grand, heartfelt declaration of love in the rain, or somewhere in public or in the middle of a big, important meeting. But that usually came at the end of the movie. I had time, right? God, please tell me I had time before Beryl expected me to do something like that. I’d probably spontaneously combust from embarrassment if and when it got to that point.
This was why I needed Beryl to tell me what to do. This was also why I liked getting high. My own brain could not be trusted.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Beryl
I was still in the bath when Greid texted me again telling me he was home with our breakfast. For a moment, I considered asking him to bring it up to me in the bath, but decided against it. Didn’t want to freak him out with too much at once, and he seemed… a little skittish.
I mulled over everything that had happened as I lay back in the tub, the hot water soothing my lower back and period-bloated belly. Greid had got flustered when I’d told him I wanted to touch his cock, his gaze warring between desire and nerves. At the time, I’d thought I was maybe moving too fast, but now I was remembering what he’d told me back at the compound: “Trust me—a human would not want a demiurgus cock inside them.”
Well, I didn’t want any cock inside me, so that wouldn’t be a problem, but Greid didn’t know that, and he hadn’t opened my medical record, so he didn’t know about my vaginismus. Then I remembered something else he’d said—something about how if any of the cult members ever actually saw a demiurgus cock, they wouldn’t be so eager to become a demiurgus mate.
What had he meant? Was that what had made him get anxious? Was he worried I wouldn’t like his dick?
I might not have enjoyed being penetrated, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love dicks. I did. I loved playing with them, sucking them, grinding my pussy against them until I came. Teasing them for as long as I could until the person attached was begging and pleading with me to let them come.
I didn’t care what Greid’s dick looked like. I already knew it was ridiculously huge, having seen the outline under his onesie. Maybe he was worried that if I actually saw it for real, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near me.
I sighed, swishing my hands through the bubbles. I was going to have to explain some things to him, and see if he was still interested in pursuing anything with me once he knew that penetrative sex was off the table. My experience to date had been a mixed bag, though I’d had only a handful of sexual partners. Some of them hadn’t overly cared, especially when faced with the prospect of a blowjob instead. Some of them had whined and tried to convince me that their dick would be the magical healing dick that would somehow feel amazing inside me and cure my vaginismus.
