Berries and Greed

“Fuck yes.” I was unable to stop myself from climbing onto his lap, straddling him as I grasped his face and gave him a tongue-thrusting kiss. “God, that is so hot. I want to fuck you, Greid.”

“Nngh.” His cock jerked beneath my ass as he wrapped his arms around me, staring at me with wide, dazed eyes. “Really?” he repeated.

“Yes.” I peppered kisses over his jaw and down his neck, worrying the skin with my teeth. He shuddered, clutching me tighter. “Have you been fucked before?”

“N-not—” He swallowed thickly. “—not by another person. B-but I have… um, you know. Stuff.”

My pussy throbbed at the thought of Greid fucking himself with a dildo. Lifting my head, I stroked his cheekbones with my thumb. “So you’ve never been with someone with a dick?”

He shook his head, then made a face. “Well, I jerked off my roommate in college once. It was pretty hot, but, um, I’m attracted to women. And I’ve never been with a woman with a dick, so…”

“There are other ways, though.” I’d read about strap-ons during my research, which had definitely piqued my interest. “Have you never told any of your former partners you want that?”

He cringed. “I only, um, I only ever had the courage to tell Agma, and she… wasn’t interested. At all.”

And she’d made him feel weird for it. Anger made me grip his face tighter, so I slid my hands back and threaded them through his hair.

“Well, I’m interested,” I purred, nuzzling his cheek and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, right over that smile line. “I’m very interested.”

His cock throbbed beneath me, fully hard. Ridiculously huge. God, I could probably fuck him and suck on the tip of it at the same time. None of the demiurgus in the videos had had barbs on the heads of their dicks. They’d all been smooth and bulbous, with slightly tapered tips. I wanted to suck Greid’s cockhead and feel him spilling into my mouth.

“N-now?” he said, voice cracking. I burst out laughing, lifting my head.

“Not now.” I nodded at his slightly bloodshot eyes. “You’re high.”

He went still, then shot an accusatory look over my shoulder at the ashtray on the coffee table, as if the shade had coerced him into smoking it. “I’m not that high.”

“Still high, though.” I climbed off his lap, gallantly ignoring the thick length straining down the leg of Greid’s pants. “And we can’t go into anything when it’s all brand new without completely clear heads. We still need to talk about your submissive nature as well,” I added brightly. “I did research on that too.”

“Oh god.” Greid slouched back on the couch. “I think I need to go lie down first.”

I chuckled, settling beside him and kissing his shoulder. I knew I’d already overwhelmed him by springing this conversation on him, and I didn’t want to push him too far, so I said, “Why don’t we table that discussion until tomorrow, then? Or whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush. And I’d rather talk to you about that when you’re definitely not high. It’s important.”

“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.