Chapter 5 Cleavage and Cardigans
Chapter five
Cleavage and Cardigans
Glyma
In preparation for her meeting with Quin, Glyma had a lot of sex.
She wanted to be as full as possible in an attempt to keep herself in check.
She didn’t understand why she wanted the Daemon so badly, or why her Succubus instincts roared to life with a vengeance every time she was within breathing distance of her, but she needed to nip this inadvisable crush in the bud.
Quin was engaged. Or soon to be engaged, at least. She was closeted as all get-out, from a prestigious family full of assholes, and entirely unattainable. She was off limits, and it made Glyma want to break things. Which was highly inconvenient because she was, in most cases, a pacifist.
She, instead, invested that energy in riding Krul’s indigo dick for three hours.
They’d been friends since secondary and fuck buddies almost as long.
Sure, they’d hit pause if either of them started a monogamous relationship, but when they were both single, they were each other’s go-to for a fun time and a good meal.
When they were both sated and spent—and Krul’s knot had finally deflated—she dismounted and slumped onto the bed, gasping up at the ceiling.
Their energies glowed and crackled around them as they both came down, eventually separating and settling back under their skin.
She was full and happy and wanted a nap.
With a contented sigh, Krul curled up on his side and threw an arm over her waist. His mauve hair was wet with sweat, but she still ran her fingers through it, knowing it soothed him. He hummed and snuggled in closer.
“Thanks, I really needed that,” she said, and Krul nuzzled her neck, licking at the sweat there.
“I could tell. You shouldn’t go so long between feeding,” he mumbled into her skin.
“I know. I’ve just been busy.” She watched him draw lazy circles over her tummy, then up between her breasts.
He circled her violet areola absently. “Still, you were practically starving when I walked through the door. Not that I minded.” He glanced up at her, bright blue eyes wide with sincerity. “I was very into you attacking me like that.”
“Of course you were, you little slut,” Glyma said fondly, and Krul flushed beautifully in pleasure. “Now, let me up. I have to shower and go to a business meeting.”
Pouting, he gave her breast a kiss before he rolled off her and sat up.
The muscles of his strong back flexed as he stretched, his powder blue tail stiffening.
As he stood and reached for his pants, she admired his ass because, gods, it was a fine ass—she could bounce a coin off those glutes if she had the inclination.
Since she was heading to the shower, she didn’t bother putting clothes on as she followed him to standing. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”
He mussed his hair, making it stand up in every direction. “Uh, not much. Maybe I’ll go feed the cryries at the park. Or I was thinking of signing up for a candle-making workshop.”
“Well, that sounds nice. Why do you wanna make candles?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Thought it sounded fun.”
“It is fun. I did it once. I made a candle in the shape of a human vulva. The wick was the clit.”
“Nice.” Krul lifted his hand, and Glyma high-fived him. “Clits are the best.”
“Clits are the best,” she agreed as they walked to her front door, tails twining, then untwining playfully. “Oh, thanks for the new puzzle, by the way.”
He glanced at the square table with a mostly finished puzzle on it. “Yeah, no problem. It was too hard for me. Too many pieces.”
“That’s okay. You’re super good at other things, like building things.” She pointed to her kitchen window. “I still have that cryrie house you made, and the family comes back every year to lay their eggs.”
His face brightened. “Really? That’s awesome.”
“I know. I love it.” She opened her front door, then went onto her tiptoes to give him a firm hug. He gave her bare ass a pat, making her giggle. “Sorry to kick you out right after. Next time, we’ll have dinner and watch The Bachelor.”
“I’d like that. I miss hanging out with you.”
Squeezing him extra tight, she kissed his cheek, then released him. “Maybe Sunday?”
“I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.” He kissed her cheek, too, before stepping out into the hall. “Oh, hey, Joe.”
Glyma’s neighbor waved at Krul, muttering a gruff greeting before he looked at her. His eyes widened, and he coughed harshly.
“Hi, Joe,” she said cheerily.
“Glyma,” he wheezed as he struggled with his keys.
“You’re still naked,” Krul said, and Glyma glanced down and laughed.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Sorry, Joe.”
Joe flapped a hand over his shoulder, muttering nonsensically as he scurried into his flat across the hall. Krul and Glyma snickered.
“See you later, Glym.” Krul tucked his hands into his pockets and struck up a jaunty tune, whistling as he meandered down the hall.
“Bye.” She watched his ass bounce in his jeans for an extra minute before she ducked back inside and skipped to the shower.
After a good meal, she usually preferred a nap, but she didn’t have the time today. She had to be in Greed in an hour, and the trains were never reliable. Her nap would have to wait.
She was strangely nervous as she rode the train to Greed, then jumped on a tram to reach the outskirts. Seeing Quin at the gala over the weekend had been as unexpected as what came after. Quin’s honesty and vulnerability, followed by her obvious desire soured by shame made Glyma ache.
Sure, she was accustomed to being wanted by most everyone. It came with the territory of being an Incubi. But there was something different about the way Quin looked at her. There was an innocence to it, a reverence, a desperation. Like she was dying of thirst, and Glyma was the promise of rain.
Living a life in hiding would do that to a person, and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even her worst enemy.
There was nothing worse than being trapped, than being forced to smother who you were to appease someone else.
Family, society, religion, they forced people into molds so small they had to trim off the edges.
Everything that made them them was swept up and burned away until they were like everybody else.
But that world was cold and dark, and Glyma had decided long ago that she would never trim her edges to be smaller or duller. The world needed bright people, and she refused to dim her light. She wanted that for Quin, too. She wanted to see just how bright Quin would burn when given the chance.
“She has a fiancé,” she reminded herself as she crossed the parking lot of the strip mall. “She is off limits, so you”—she pointed at her crotch—“are gonna keep yourself in line. You too!” She glared at her tail, and it withered, tucking itself around her ankle.
She took several deep breaths, hoping to fill her lungs to capacity before she was trapped in a small room with nothing but the Daemon’s smoky, sweet scent to tempt her.
Technically, she could hold her breath a while, which really came in handy when she was using her mouth for…
things. But she would have to speak eventually, which meant the untainted air in her lungs was a finite resource.
“Okay, let’s do this,” she said, using up some of that air. “Damn it!”
As she pushed the door open, she took one last gulp as the bell overhead dinged.
The front desk was manned by the same receptionist as before, Marci, but Quin was there, too, studying the computer screen over her shoulder.
Both Marci and Quin looked up at the sound of the bell, and Quin’s throat bobbed with a heavy swallow as she straightened.
She was in another business suit, this one a dark green reminiscent of the gown she’d worn to the gala, and her locced hair was down. She tucked several of them behind her sharp ear as she rounded the front desk, red-pupiled gaze stuttering on Glyma’s exposed shoulders before returning to her face.
“Glyma,” she said.
“Quin,” Glyma peeped, using as little air as possible.
Quin’s brows quirked, but she didn’t comment on the strange sound. “I have everything set up in the conference room, if you’re ready?”
Glyma smiled and nodded.
“Can I get you anything?” Marci stood from her desk chair, and pointed vaguely down the hall where—Glyma assumed—the kitchen was. “Coffee or tea? I can go to the cafe down the street if you’re hungry.”
Glyma shook her head.
“Are you sure?” Marci pressed, and Quin’s red eyes flashed.
“I’ll call if we need anything,” she said stiffly, and Marci sat down, looking disappointed. To Glyma, Quin said, “There’s water in the conference room, but if you need anything else—”
“Water’s fine,” Glyma wheezed.
Quin narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but she simply gestured for Glyma to head down the opposite hall as her office. “First door on your right.”
The conference room was bright from the unshuttered windows, and the oblong table was covered in several different piles of paperwork. At Glyma’s panicked look, Quin sent her a reassuring smile.
“I know it looks like a lot, but we will go over it all thoroughly, one by one if we have to.”
Well, shit, Glyma couldn’t hold her breath that long.
“Please, have a seat.”
Glyma took the first chair on the left. Quin sat in the one at the head of the table. Gesturing to the pitcher of water and glasses, she asked, “Would you like some water?”
With a shake of her head, Glyma folded her hands on the table, smile still in place. Quin was frowning now.
“Are you alright?”
She nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Mhm.”
Unconvinced, Quin mirrored her posture, hands twining on the table as she squared her shoulders, like she was fortifying herself. “If this is about the gala, let me apologize again.”
Oh no, this wasn’t what Glyma wanted. She shook her head, but Quin cleared her throat, and soldiered on.
“I wish I could blame it on the champagne, but—”