Page 85 of Berries and Greed

“It is?” He eyed me nervously.

“Yes, of course it is. We need to talk about what you’re interested in. What your limits are. You being submissive doesn’t mean I just get to boss you around and make you do whatever I want, Greid.”

His eyes went heavy-lidded, as if that was exactly what he wanted. Licking his lips, he asked, “S-so you want to… You don’t mind it?”

“I prefer being in control,” I told him meaningfully.

He gulped. “Wh-what about what you want, though?”

I leaned in with a wicked smile and kissed his cheek, then murmured, “I want to boss you around, Greid. But I want to make you lose your mind from it, so I need to know exactly what will make that happen.”

“I’m pretty sure—” he wheezed, awkwardly tugging at his pant leg. “I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my mind just from you talking about it.”

Laughing, I gave his cheek one more kiss before sitting back. “Then we’ll talk about it tomorrow so you can cool off first. Or maybe later, when you’re not high anymore. You probably have to get back to work, right?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, staring into space. “I only came down here to ask if you wanted a sandwich.”

I squeezed his arm. “Sorry for springing all that on you.”

“No, it’s okay.” He sat up straighter. “It’s good. I’m glad we… I’m glad. Thanks, Beryl,” he mumbled, hand creeping over to clutch mine.

“Of course.” I raised our linked hands to kiss his knuckles. “Now, sandwiches? You must be starving. It’s been, what, three hours since you last ate?”

He gave me a mock glare. “I have a high metabolism.”

I laughed. “Sure. Well, I could go for a sandwich. Want me to go out and get some?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll order us some.” He fumbled to pull his phone out of his pocket, lifting his hips, which immediately drew my gaze to the thick length still snaking down his pant leg.

My tongue pressed hard to the roof of my mouth. God, I wanted to see his dick now. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to see how the barbs on it swirled down his length—all the demiurgus in the videos had had different patterns. They were kind of beautiful, in a way.

But Greid needed time to process. And he was high. Maybe once we were really comfortable with each other and I knew his reactions well in a sexual situation, I’d be comfortable doing stuff with him after he’d smoked a little. It wasn’t like shade was mind-altering, it just made him loose and relaxed. And hungry. But then again, Greid was always hungry.

Tomorrow, I decided. Maybe once we’d discussed the rest, he’d be comfortable enough for me to play with his dick. Make him come.

Well, I thought slyly, watching as he tapped on his phone. Make him come eventually.

I was definitely going to be bringing up edging tomorrow.

Chapter Thirty

Beryl

Greid ended up working until gone 10 p.m., and when he finally emerged from his workshop and shuffled into the living room, he looked so tired that I knew we wouldn’t be having any more intense discussions today.

I heated up the dinner I’d ordered for him—I’d actually gotten a bit worried when he didn’t even emerge for food at any point—and curled up beside him as he started wolfing down the enormous portion of lasagne.

“Did you manage to get it finished?” I asked him, firing up Gloom Falls on the TV.

“All the metalwork, yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “My vision’s gone blurry from those fucking goggles.”

I squeezed his thigh in sympathy, then sat back to let him eat in peace. When he finished, he reached for his smoking tin and started rolling a joint, then froze.

“Oh, wait.” His tired eyes darted to me. “Did you, um, want to talk about—”

“Not tonight.” I grabbed another blanket and tucked it over his lap. “You’re tired. There’s no rush.”

“Yeah, I… guess not,” he said in a hoarse voice, which made my mouth twitch as I glanced at him.

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