“Yeah, okay,”I agree.“I need a shower.”
The moment I say it, I become aware of how drenched in sweat I am. My shirt clings to my skin, my hair is plastered to my neck, and I can smell myself. Ew.
“You need to unmerge,”I tell him.“I’m hitting the shower.”
Zeth hesitates.
“Actually,”he says carefully,“it would be better if we stayed merged.”
I stop moving and cross my arms.
“What? Why?”
“When the mission really starts, we’ll be merged constantly. Days at a time, maybe weeks. We need to get used to it.”
Logically, I know he’s right. But the thought of showering with him in my head makes panic grip my chest.
“No,”I say firmly.“I’m not showering with you inside me.”
“I won’t look through your eyes,”he offers.“I’ll just–”
“I can’t shower with my eyes closed, Zeth. I’ll slip and crack my skull open.”
Silence stretches between us. I can feel him considering, weighing his options.
“All right,”he finally says.“But we should try to stay merged as much as possible moving forward.”
“Fine. Tomorrow we can try longer. But right now, I need privacy.”
He pours out of me in that strange sliding sensation that’s becoming familiar. The moment he’s gone, I feel empty and like my body is small and weak. I shake off the feeling, grab clean clothes, and head into the bathroom.
I close the door behind me and turn on the shower, waiting for the water to heat up while I strip off my soaked clothes. They’re damp and heavy, clinging to my skin as I peel them away.
When I step under the hot spray, I close my eyes and tip my head back, letting the water run through my hair and down my face. I run my hands over my body to soap up, and something’s different. My skin feels sensitized and hyper-aware. Every touch of my hands sends little sparks of sensation through me. I trail my fingers down my arms, cup my breasts and hum when I discover my nipples are hard and aching. I slide my hands over my stomach and down my thighs. Good God, everywhere tingles.
It’s like the hours Zeth spent inside me woke up every nerve ending in my body and made me more aware and responsive. When he’s merged with me, I’m so conscious of him living inside me that now that he’s separated, it’s like my body is searching for him, craving him back and missing that fullness.
My hand drifts between my legs almost without conscious decision. I tell myself I’m just washing there, being thorough. But the second my fingers brush over my clit, I gasp out loud. I’m so sensitive, so ready, and I can’t fight this anymore. It’s been building for days.
I let my fingers slip lower and find how wet I am. I circle my clit slowly, my other hand braced against the shower wall for support. My eyes fall closed, my head tips back, and water cascades over me while I touch myself.
I slide two fingers inside my pussy, and it feels good but it’s not enough. I need more. I need to be filled, stretched, and taken by something bigger and harder than my own hand. I think about this morning, when I woke up to find Zeth in bed beside me with that massive erection tenting the sheets. I’d wondered then what it would look like fully exposed. Is it charcoal gray like the rest of him? Do those silver markings run through his cock too, raised like veins?
How big is it? Big enough to make me feel full, stretched, and claimed the way I need to be claimed?
I pump my fingers faster, grinding the heel of my palm against my clit. I imagine him behind me in the shower, his massive body crowding mine against the tiles, those strong hands gripping my hips and holding me in place while he positions himself. That huge cock pushing inside me, filling me completely, spreading me open around his thickness. I’d feel the silver markings inside me, raised veins dragging against my walls with every thrust.
I add a third finger, panting now, getting close to the edge. I imagine him pounding into me with no hesitation, no holding back, using all that supernatural strength to take what he wants, taking me the way I need to be taken.
The wave builds inside me, pressure mounting low in my belly. My fingers work frantically, my pussy clenching around them, my clit throbbing against my palm. I push myself over the edge with a choked gasp, my body convulsing as the orgasm rolls through me, hard and satisfying but still not enough. I want the real thing.
I want him.
I come down slowly, breathing hard, my legs shaky. I pull my fingers out and rinse my hand, and as my mind clears, it’s starting to dawn on me that this is wrong. What the hell did I just do? I masturbated to my bodyguard, to my FBI-contracted protection, but more importantly, to the symbiote I have to merge with and work with professionally for weeks.
I grab the soap with shaking hands and wash myself properly this time, trying to scrub away the evidence. But I can’t scrub away the knowledge of what I just imagined and what I just came to. I finish the shower quickly and turn off the water.
I stand dripping on the bath mat, staring at the fogged mirror. I can’t see my reflection, but that’s probably for the best. I don’twant to look myself in the eye right now. How am I going to merge with him again? How will I keep him from sensing these thoughts and feelings? When we’re connected, he might know. He might know I fantasized about him and gave myself an orgasm thinking about his cock inside me.
