A beat.
Her eyes widen. She’s trying to figure out if I’m joking.
I’m not.
The need to literally eat her gets me hard and pisses me off at the same time.
“That’s really fucking weird,” she says finally.
A slow grin pulls at my mouth.
Dark. Certain.
“Yeah,” I say. “But you like that, don’t you?”
She takes a breath and shrugs, like she genuinely considering it. “I mean the clit licking and tongue holing maybe,” she stabs a potato, “but I draw the line at vore.”
I bark out a laugh before I can stop it.
It’s short. Rough. The kind that punches out of my chest like it’s been waiting there too long.
“Good,” I say. “Boundaries.”
She snorts, finally finishing the bite she’s been chewing for the last century. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to appreciate boundaries.”
“I’m not,” I admit, the humor fading before I can stop it. “But I know what I don’t want.”
She raises a brow. “And that is?”
I push my chair back and stand, needing the movement. Needing distance before I do something stupid. Something reckless.
“You leaving pieces of yourself behind.”
That makes her go quiet.
I turn away first. Grab my plate, set it by the sink, then hesitate when I notice she’s still eating.
“Finish,” I say, softer than I mean to. “We’re done for the night.”
Her eyes flick up. “Done how?”
I don’t look at her when I answer. “Bed.”
She stiffens. Just a fraction. I catch it anyway.
“To sleep,” I add. “You’re not healed. And I’m not interested in breaking you worse.”
She chuckles like I was joking then asks, “Pillow barrier?”
I glance over my shoulder.
“No.”
She grunts annoyed, finishes the last bite, and wipes her mouth with her shirt like she doesn’t care who’s watching.
I wait for her.
When we reach the bedroom, I kill the lights without ceremony. The darkness settles heavy and welcome, like a lid closing over the day.
