Page 94 of Grave Matter

My head rolls to the side and I notice the mushrooms surrounding us.

Some tiny, some large. All a near translucent white with orange gills.

“Excandesco,” I breathe just as Kincaid’s tongue plunges inside me, making me choke on the word. My eyes pinch shut, riding out the wave of pleasure, and when I open them again, the mushrooms seem closer somehow.

What is happening?I think, but at the same time, I don’t care. My head is too heavy to keep up and I sink further back into the moss, letting the sensations swirl around me.

Kincaid continues to lap at me, ravishing me until I sink so deep, it’s as if I’m starting to become one with the moss. My mind is shooting through the stars, and I feel like my soul is starting to disintegrate.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper. I open my eyes to see the tree branches reaching for me, wanting me, craving me. The air is filled with orange dust that sparkles in the sunlight and I breathe it in, deep as I can, feeling it fill my lungs, infuse the blood in my veins.

I am one, I think.We are one.

I raise my head and glance at Kincaid, the orange dust collecting on his hair, his shoulders as he continues to eat me out, each stroke of his tongue making my body writhe. But when I try to move, I can’t.

I glance down and see thin strands of mycelia coming out of the moss, wrapping delicately around my wrists and ankles. It holds my legs apart for Kincaid as he devours me, and the pink flowers of the alpine azalea press against my bare skin, as if they’re kissing me. When I look around, the mushrooms are even closer now.

They move when I’m not looking.

Slowly coming for me.

This isn’t real, the faint thought pushes through the murkiness of my mind.This isn’t happening. You’re hallucinating.

But if I feel any fear, it vanishes as Kincaid brings me to a climax. I come hard, the mycelia tightening like the very ropes Kincaid used last night, strapping me down in place.

I am the forest’s captive, it’s possession, I think as my body keeps convulsing and bucking up against his mouth. The myceliadig into my skin, tighter, tighter, while inside I feel as if I’m being split into atoms. I am one with the earth, souls joined to souls, a network ever reaching. My vision is of pulses of light traveling through space and time and?—

“Sydney!?”

I open my eyes.

Lift up my head.

See Kincaid staring at me between my legs, looking concerned.

I blink and then look down at my wrists and ankles.

No mycelia.

I look around the forest.

The trees are back in their place, and there are no mushrooms at all.

Like they never existed.

“Are you alright?” he asks, sounding slightly panicked. There’s no sight of orange dust anywhere.

I give him a lopsided smile, feeling so strange. “I just…”

But I don’t know how to finish the sentence.

AmI alright?

“You seemed like you were in another world,” he says, slowly straightening up and sitting back on his knees. “I kept calling your name but you wouldn’t respond. Scared the shit out of me.”

“I guess the orgasm was just that good,” I manage to say, pushing myself up so that I’m on my elbows. I’m not about to tell him that I hallucinated the forest pinning me down so he could have his way with me. I mean there’s weird—like seeing Amani and snow in June—and then there’sweird. As much as Kincaid rolls with my mental health punches, I think that would stretch his compassion, even for him.

He helps me to my feet, giving me a quick kiss, then takes me by hand to the stream to wash off.

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