Page 77 of Berries and Greed

“I want to touch your cock,” Beryl murmured, lifting her head to gaze down at me through lust-hazy eyes.

“Nnngh.” I swallowed thickly, pretending I couldn’t see my dick bucking urgently under the onesie as it cast its enthusiastic vote in the matter. “I—um…”

I didn’t think I had the brain power to explain things right now. I couldn’t just pull my cock out and present it to her. I’d seen those creepy drawings and etchings at the cult’s compound—the ones of a demiurgus standing proudly with a small, smooth dick. A very incorrect dick. If Beryl thought that was what mine looked like, she might be horrified by the reality.

Maybe sensing my sudden spike in anxiety, Beryl gave me an easy smile and slid her hand off my dick to stroke my side.

“Maybe later, huh? Or if and when you want me to.” Settling her head on my chest, she sighed and shifted closer. “You’re so comfy. Even with a giant boner digging into my arm.”

That made me snort out a slightly hysterical laugh, but it also succeeded in relaxing my tense muscles. Hesitantly, I lifted a hand and threaded my fingers through her curls. She immediately grunted and pushed her head into the touch.

“Can you use your claws? I’ve always thought they’d feel good.”

Almost swallowing my tongue, I gently raked my claws over her scalp. Beryl practically purred, sinking deeper into my side.

God, yes. This was sooo much better than shade. But it would be even better with shade, so I stretched out my arm to fumble with my smoking tin on the coffee table. “You mind if I smoke?”

She snorted. “Already? No, go ahead.”

“Just gonna have one.” Fishing out a joint, I stuck it between my lips and carefully lit a match, making sure to avoid Beryl’s hair. At my first deep drag, I melted into the couch.

Grabbing the remote, I fired up Gloom Falls. We watched TV for a while, my eyes getting heavy and all my limbs turning into overcooked noodles. I finished my joint and stubbed it out in the ashtray as my gaze snagged on the remnants of the snacks we’d eaten late last night. Stretching my arm out yet again, I grabbed a handful of chips and stuffed them into my mouth.

“Fuck, this is the best,” I mumbled, abandoning Beryl’s hair to squeeze her tighter to me. She felt so small and delicate against me, but my shade-loose brain started to imagine her pinning me down and overpowering me. Bossing me around. Maybe ordering me to get on my knees and—

“I don’t want to move, but the cramps are getting worse.” Beryl shifted up onto one arm with a grimace. “I’m gonna go take a bath.”

“Oh, okay.” I sat up in a rush and almost headbutted her. Before I could stammer out an apology, Beryl laughed and cupped my face, pressing a sweet kiss to my mouth. My ears went wild.

“Then I’ll go get our coffee,” she added. Unable to resist, hoping it was okay, I kissed her cheek before shaking my head.

“I’ll go. I’ll get us breakfast as well.” Standing up from the couch and stretching, I asked, “Breakfast burritos, right?”

“Huh?”

I turned to see Beryl giving me a confused frown, and suddenly remembered that we hadn’t actually discussed breakfast burritos at any point. Clearing my throat, I said, “Uh, I mean, do you want a breakfast burrito?”

“Sure.” She shrugged as she stood up. “You obviously have them on the brain.”

“Well, I mean… they’re really good,” I mumbled, picking up the remote to turn off the TV.

As Beryl padded out of the living room, I went around and blew out all the candles that had survived through the night. Most were puddles of hardened wax now, adding a new layer to the ones already stuck to the surfaces, but luckily I had about fifty boxes of scented candles in my Room of Shame.

After getting dressed, I shoved on my boots and coat and left the house. I realised I was grinning like a fool as I strode down the street when one of my neighbours walked past and did a double-take, but for once, I didn’t feel self-conscious. I was in too good of a mood. I was in a fucking amazing mood.

When the overly friendly barista at Deep Brew asked how my morning was going after taking my order, I barely managed to stop myself from blurting out, Beryl kissed me! Beryl said she likes me as more than a friend! I had an orgasm last night! WITH BERYL.

Instead, I told him I was fine and shuffled off to wait for our drinks. After fidgeting restlessly with my hands in my coat pockets for a minute, I couldn’t help but yank out my phone and open my texts with Beryl.

Want a blood tart? I sent her, mouth twitching. About five seconds later, she sent back an emoji of the green face about to throw up.

How about something else? I texted back. A pastry? Cinnamon bun?

I thought we were getting breakfast burritos, she replied.

Oh, shit, yeah. My stomach rumbled at the reminder. I probably should’ve got those first.

These would just be breakfast accoutrements, I said. Or dessert.

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