8. Gordy
Chapter 8
Gordy
The next day, I pace the bookshop like a man possessed. Or cursed. Or both.
Because last night I kissed Alice like she was the antidote to every venom coursing through my veins—and then I left like a coward. Like some tragic mythological cliché. The gorgon who fell for the girl but couldn’t risk letting her see him burn.
I want to be with Alice, to touch her silky skin, smell her hair, and know every delectable inch of her, but then my snakes freak out. The hissing and wiggling remind me that I’m a danger to her, but… I can’t stop wanting to be near her .
I pull my phone out of my pocket and swipe to her number. “Hey, Alice, would you like to come to my place for dinner tonight?” I ask as soon as she answers, trying to sound casual while my heart practices sprints. “I can make that chicken casserole from the restaurant you like so much.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” Alice says warmly. “Should I bring a couple of bottles of white wine? That cheap one you like?”
I can picture her dazzling smile through the phone. At least she hasn’t decided I’m too much of a risk. If she’s comfortable being alone with me, why shouldn’t I accept that?
I chuckle at her question as I hear the laughter in her voice. “That sounds perfect. If you want to come around six, that would be great.”
We hang up, and I look around the bookshop. It’s after three in the afternoon, sunny and warm outside. I doubt anyone will stop in, so I close the shop, run to the market, and get the ingredients for the casserole I promised her.
Alice arrives five minutes early, always punctual. Her blue eyes are bright, her hair swept up like a sun-kissed goddess of chaos, and I’m the gorgon lucky enough to worship her.
We head up to my apartment above the bookstore, which is more sanctum than snake pit. It's quiet, more like a retreat than a residence—a place designed to keep the world at arm’s length.
The space is neat and intentional, with books lining the walls in floor-to-ceiling shelves, soft golden lamplight spilling over well-worn armchairs, and thick rugs that hush every step. It smells faintly of old paper, cedar, and the tea I drink far too often. The furniture is sturdy and lived-in, like the place has learned how to exhale. A haven carved out of the ordinary—attached to the charming chaos of the shop but worlds away in its stillness.
I’ve sweated over the casserole, something tasty and hearty because I want to impress Alice without sending us into a food coma. The sweet aroma of herbs fills the kitchen, and I hope it’s weaving the same spellbinding effect on her as it has on me.
“Smells amazing, Gordy,” Alice’s compliment is accompanied by a hungry little moan that makes my cock jerk to attention.
“Thanks,” I say gruffly. “Hope it tastes half as good as it smells.” I serve her with a flourish that might be slightly over the top. But hey, who’s judging?
We settle on the couch after dinner, scrolling through Netflix. The “chill” part of “Netflix and chill” is a bit of a misnomer, considering how hot under the collar I am. Every so often, I sneak a whiff of her hair—orange blossoms and vanilla? My hand finds hers, fingers intertwining. I can’t help but marvel at the softness of her skin, the gentle way her fingers stroke mine.
“Find anything interesting?” she asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I mumble, not having read a single title. Who can focus on words when her every touch sends electricity up my arm?
In an unguarded moment, as our laughter subsides from some joke I made about a B-list horror flick, I lean in, and before I know it, our lips meet. It’s a soft collision, hesitant at first, then becomes confident as her response stirs something deep within me. Her lips are everything I imagined: sweet, inviting, perfect.
“Sorry, I…” I pull away, apologizing for the impulsive act.
Alice stops me with a finger to my lips. “Don’t ever be sorry for kissing me,” she whispers. Her blue eyes burn into mine for a second which seems to freeze time. “I need you, Gordy. Please.”
Ah, shit. How can I deny her anything? Especially when I want—no need —her more than my next breath.
My mouth crashes into hers again, this one longer, deeper, obliterating any coherent thought.
This woman has become my everything. I am so fucked.
And when she says, “Are you going to kiss me again, or do I have to knock over another bookshelf to make it happen?”—I do something even more reckless than kissing her.
I take her upstairs.
We’re barely through the bedroom door before she’s on me—her hands caressing my head, snakes be damned, her lips crashing into mine with a hunger that makes my knees buckle.
The snakes hiss, startled, then… settle. Curling, watching. Like even they know this is different.
She looks up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and unguarded. “Are you sure?”
Gods. She’s asking me? Like I wouldn’t tear the moon from the sky if she asked for it?
“I’m sure,” I whisper, voice low and rough. “But I need you to be.”
She nods, tugging me by the hand like she can’t get me to the bed fast enough. “I’ve waited my whole life for the right person. I didn’t think he’d have snakes for hair, but… here we are. And if you stop now, I’ll curse your bookshelves with an unending loop of self-help manifestos and calorie-counting cookbooks.”
“That’s cruel,” I murmur, kissing her again. “You’re cruel and beautiful.”
“Just the way you like me.” Her fingers curl around mine, and she grins, radiant and unashamed. “You’re stuck with me, Gordy. ”
I bark out a laugh. “Like that’s an issue.”
I kiss her again, slower this time. Reverent. My hands finally map the curve of her back, the softness of her waist, memorizing every dip and rise.
Her clothes scatter like leaves in a storm—her dress tossed over the desk chair, her bra half-hanging off a bookshelf, panties lost to the void. She gasps when I lift her easily, tossing her onto the bed like she’s made of moonlight and miracles.
The sight of her—naked, flushed, her hair a halo against my pillow—sends something primal through me. My blood hums. My skin buzzes. My snakes begin to shift, restless and excited.
She’s stunning. Lush and soft and made of stardust and wild things. “You are so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, reverence laced into every syllable.
“I was aiming for ‘ravishing sorceress,’ but I’ll take beautiful.”
She’s nervous. I can see it in the fine tremble of her muscles. “We don’t have to?—”
“No,” she says quickly, eyes shining with something fierce and vulnerable. “I want this. I want you. You’ll be my first, Gordy.”
Fuck.
I nod, something primal and terrified and ecstatic sparking in my chest. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was transformed, so it’s like my first time, too. I’m… not sure what to expect, but I swear I’ll make it perfect for you, Al.”
She smiles softly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to us, Gordy.”
Something in my chest loosens at her words, and all my worries melt away, along with my clothes. Finally, I’m naked in all my green-skinned glory before her avid gaze.
When Alice sees me— really sees me, every inch of me, her eyes widen, and not just in appreciation.
Because… yeah.
There’s the snake.
Emerging, curious and almost preening from the tip of my cock like it wants to join the party .
Alice stares. Blinks. Then starts laughing so hard she nearly falls off the bed.
“Is it—does it wave?” she gasps, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Only if it likes you,” I say dryly, trying not to die of embarrassment as the snake flicks its tongue and makes a little chuffing sound.
“Oh, my god, is that approval?”
“I think you’ve been deemed worthy.”
She bites her lip, then reaches out, tentative but brave. “Can I…?”
“You can do anything you want,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
She touches it. Gently. Curiously. The snake wiggles and gives a pleased little sigh before retracting enough to reveal me fully.
“Well. Now that we’ve established he has a personality…” She lies back on the bed, stretching like a satisfied cat. “Are you going to come over here and make me forget my own name or…?”
Yes. Yes, I absolutely am .
I climb onto the bed and hover over her, our bare skin brushing as I kiss her again, slower now. Reverent. My hand skims her ribs, her waist, her hip, and she shivers.
“Tell me what you want. What you like,” I whisper.
She bites her lip, but her voice is steady. “I want you. I lo— like you.”
“Have me,” I say, kissing down her neck. “All of me.”
When she looks at me, her humor has faded into something more serious. More tender. “You said you haven’t done this since?—”
“Since I was human,” I admit.
“Then let’s figure it out together.”
And gods help me, I think I fall in love with her right there.
Her skin against mine is a revelation—warm and flushed and alive. Every brush of her body against mine sends my snakes into twitchy paroxysms of joy or panic or both. One of them flops dramatically over my forehead like it’s fainting again.
“Is that one okay?” Alice asks, breathless with laughter as it gives an exaggerated hiss and drapes itself across my ear.
“She’s fine,” I mutter, trying to bat it away. “She’s just… emotionally fragile.”
“She’s me-coded.”
“Exactly,” I growl, cupping one hand around her breast and thumbing her nipple.
Alice makes a stifled choking noise. I laugh under my breath and lower my head. She arches off the bed as my tongue traces the tight peak.
“Better than ambrosia,” I whisper, desperate for more of her taste.
Without a word, she clasps my head to her breasts. My hands close on her ribs, and I begin to suckle. She whimpers and bucks, but I hold her helpless beneath the pull of my mouth.
Al,” I breathe, catching her nipple between my teeth. “I think I’ve gone mad for you”— my hand moves between her thighs—“and I want to make you mad for me. ”
A buzzing fills my head. I’ve never felt this visceral craving for anyone, like I might die if I’m not inside her soon. When my hand slips up her thigh, she widens her legs without hesitation. And when my fingers brush the curls guarding her sex, her back arches and she presses into my touch.
“So soft,” I murmur, enthralled by her response. “And so wet. You want me, sweet Alice?”
“Yes. You know I do,” she gasps, then gives me a cute glower. “Stop messing around and make me come.”
I chuckle at her demand. My Alice, never shy to state what she needs.
Alice gulps for air as my fingers slowly stir, sliding between the slick folds of her pussy. Back and forth, making her shake with each pass.
I groan as I slowly press a finger inside her, followed by another. She spreads her legs wider as I torment her. I know she’s ready to explode from the rhythmic clench of her internal muscles and her husky moans and pleas.
I trail kisses across her collarbone, over the swell of her breast, my tongue teasing a tight, rosy nipple until she whimpers and arches into my mouth.
“Gordy…”
The sound of my name on her lips is sinful. I move lower, kissing the soft curve of her stomach, savoring the way her fingers twist in the sheets.
When I nudge her thighs further apart with my shoulders, her breath catches.
“Wait,” she says, blinking down at me. “You don’t have to?—”
“Oh, but I want to.” I grin at her, my snakes tilting curiously as if they want to observe, too. “Let me worship you a little.”
She moans when I press my mouth to her, tongue slow and deliberate, teasing the soft folds of her most sensitive skin. Her fingers clutch my shoulders, her hips moving with me as I draw sweet, desperate sounds from her throat.
When I suck her clit gently, she cries out, one hand flying up to grab the headboard like she might levitate right off the bed.
“Gordy—I—Oh, gods?— ”
“You’re so sweet, Al,” I murmur against her, voice muffled. “Like magic and sunshine and sin.”
“I’m coming! Gordy, I’m—” She pulses against my tongue with a strangled moan, thighs trembling, breath ragged. I don’t stop until she pulls me up and kisses me like she’s trying to brand her soul into mine.
“Now,” she pants. “Please. I want you inside me.”
I brace myself over her, positioning my cock at her entrance. I go slowly, easing in inch by inch, watching her eyes widen and her mouth fall open in a gasp.
“Gods, you’re tight,” I groan, sweat beading on my spine. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”
She clings to me, nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t stop. I need all of you.”
I slide deeper, burying myself inside her until our hips meet. We both gasp—her body arching, mine shaking with the effort to hold still.
“Al,” I whisper, cupping her face. “I’ve never—nothing’s ever felt like this. ”
“Same,” she breathes. “You fit me. Like we were… made for this.”
And then I move. Slow and deep. Every thrust deliberate, designed to make her eyes flutter and her back arch. Her name is a litany on my lips. A prayer. A promise.
Her body rises to meet mine, hungry and unafraid. My snakes writhe above us in lazy ecstasy, lulled into pleased hisses by the rhythm of our bodies and the moans spilling from Alice’s lips.
Alice jerks as the snake slips out from the tip of my cock again. “Oh, my god,” she gasps. “He’s helping?”
“I think he’s offering encouragement,” I mutter, sweat dripping down my back.
“Well… thanks, little guy,” she huffs, her cheeks blooming with color.
I bury my face in her neck. “This is the weirdest, hottest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Same,” she moans, pulling me closer. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop. ”
We fall into a rhythm—sweaty and wild, teeth and tongues, tangled limbs and whispered declarations. She gasps my name when I roll my hips just right. I groan hers when she clenches around me.
Another snake on my head gives an enthusiastic hiss that startles us both.
Alice wheezes mid-thrust. “Did he just cheer us on?”
“It’s a she. Ignore her. She lives for drama.”
“I’m literally having sex with a man who has a peanut gallery on his scalp.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She laughs, breathless and beautiful and wild. “It’s the best thing.”
And moments later, when we both fall apart, her sex pulsing around my cock as I shake with my release, it’s like falling and flying all at once. Like shattering and becoming something new.
I bury a growl in her neck, and Alice muffles her cry against my shoulder. It’s not smooth or cinematic.
It’s better.
It’s raw and messy.
It’s us.
I collapse on top of her, careful not to crush her, our hearts pounding in sync. The room smells like sweat and magic and new beginnings.
Her fingers stroke the back of my neck. One of my snakes nuzzles her hair.
“So,” she murmurs, still breathless, “was that… okay?”
“Al.” I kiss her. “That was everything.”
She grins. “Even with the extra… participant?”
“Even with him,” I say, pulling her against my chest.
Alice lies curled in my arms. “I think she likes me now,” she murmurs, looking at the cheerleading snake from earlier resting lazily on her collarbone. “I think I should name her.”
I groan and squeeze her tighter.
She hums. “I’m calling her Sheila. ”
I raise my head, briefly meeting her eyes. “Sheila?”
“She seems like a Sheila.”
I chuckle, burying my face in her hair. “You are utterly ridiculous.”
“And you love it.”
“I do.”
Gods help me, I really do.
I don’t know if it’s the sex or the way Alice claimed me as much as I claimed her, but I feel like I’ve been knocked clean out of my body.
I'm hovering somewhere above my bed—naked, breathless, blinking down at the absolute cosmic absurdity of my life.
I just had sex. With Alice. My Alice.
While “Sheila” watched.
And it was—gods.
It was everything.