Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Genital Smooshing
Glyma
Glyma had just gotten out of the shower when she heard the chime of the doorbell.
Hurriedly donning her bathrobe, she checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t missed a call from someone letting her know they were coming over, but there were no new notifications or missed messages.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock, and she ensured her robe was cinched tight as she padded through her flat.
It wasn’t overly late, but most visitors wouldn’t drop in unannounced at this time of night unless there was an emergency of some kind. Maybe it was Krul? He usually texted first, but it wasn’t entirely unrealistic for him to forget to hit Send, then show up, assuming she was expecting him.
Another knock, and Glyma said, “Oh my gods, I’m coming. Give a girl a second.”
She looked through the peephole—safety first—and startled. What the fuck was Quin doing here? Had something happened? Had the final version of the rental agreement been denied?
Unlocking the door, Glyma yanked it open. “What’s going on? Did someone die?”
“Whoa,” Quin said, palms up in surrender, “you’re coming in hot.”
“You’re the one showing up unannounced in the middle of night,” Glyma said.
With a snort of steam from her nose, Quin stomped a hoof. “I told Waryn it was too late, but he insisted. And then he kept saying genital smooshing, so I ran away. I couldn’t hear him say it again, Glym. It was mentally and emotionally scarring, and I don’t know how I’ll ever recover!”
“Okay, now, you’re coming in hot.”
Quin deflated. “Sorry. May I come in, please?”
Glyma stepped aside, and Quin entered, fingers fidgeting.
She closed the door behind the Daemon and followed her into the small living room.
Quin paced from left to right several times, clenching, then unclenching her hands.
Glyma’s anxiety rose the longer she paced, but she focused on deep breaths, giving Quin time to compose herself.
Well, she tried to give Quin time, but since she had less patience, Glyma eventually blurted out, “Are we going to talk about the genital smooshing?”
Quin made a face. “I’d rather not.”
“Fair enough.”
Glyma crossed her arms over her chest, tail flicking nervously behind her.
Quin looked more disheveled than Glyma had ever seen her.
Her blazer was unbuttoned and her shirt was nearly untucked on one side.
Several locs had fallen out of the knot atop of her head, and her face was flushed unnaturally.
In fact, one side of her face looked more flushed than the other, and it was puffy. The veins in her eyes were prominent and gray, which meant she’d been crying, and even now, she kept sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“You were crying, and your cheek is swollen,” Glyma said, and Quin froze. “Quin, what happened?”
“My mother hit me,” she said, and for a moment Glyma saw red.
Her vision sharpened, and barely contained rage roared through her veins.
Quin’s eyes widened in alarm, which meant Glyma’s pupils were doing that weird diamond-thing that happened when she got upset—or horny.
Not wanting to scare her, Glyma closed her eyes and breathed through the anger, forcing it to settle.
“Are you alright?” she asked when she had her temper under control.
Quin nodded, sniffling again. “Yes. It wasn’t that hard.”
“That’s not the point,” Glyma said.
“I know,” Quin said quietly.
“Why did she hit you?”
She started fidgeting again. “Because I told her I didn’t want to marry Waryn. I told her I didn’t want to marry any man.”
Oh. Oh, oh, oh, Glyma was not prepared for this.
Slowly, cautiously, she closed the distance between them and took Quin’s fidgeting hands in hers. “And she hit you?”
“Not then, no. I… we argued, and I said—it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters—”
“That’s not why I’m here,” Quin insisted, squeezing Glyma’s hands. “I’m not going to marry Waryn. My mother threatened to ruin his reputation unless I did, so I thought I had to. Because he’s my friend, and I do love him. Not that way, of course, but I still do.”
“Of course, you love him,” Glyma said.
“But he said I was being a daft dyke,” Quin said, and Glyma couldn’t stop a bark of laughter. Quin chuckled self-consciously and ducked her head. “I suppose I can be a bit thick sometimes.”
“Quin, I’m not following,” Glyma said apologetically, and the Daemon cringed.
“Sorry, I’m not doing this right. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this. Glyma, Waryn and I won’t be getting married. I’m going to tell my mother that she can take her ultimatums and shove them up her cooch.”
Quin saying the word cooch was not on Glyma’s bingo card, but she was here for it. “She’s not going to take that well, is she?”
“Probably not, but I don’t care,” Quin said, squaring her shoulders like she was fortifying herself.
“I don’t want to do what she says anymore.
I don’t want to live the life she’s dictated for me or exist in her world.
I don’t want to be marble or stone or metal or steel. I don’t want to be plastic.
“I want to be real, Glym. I want to be flesh and bone. I want to live in multicolor, not monochrome. I want to be alive, and I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you.”
The words landed like a kick to the heart, and Glyma literally lost the ability to breathe for several seconds. She stared gob-smacked as Quin rubbed Glyma’s fingers restlessly with her own. Avoiding Glyma’s gaze, she licked her lips and inhaled deeply.
“I want you, however I can have you,” she said, sounding so small and unsure, and Glyma’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. “If that’s just as we are now, that’s okay. Nothing has to change. I just…” Her gaze lifted timidly to Glyma’s. “I just want you. If you still want me, that is.”
“Quin,” Glyma said, and Quin’s face fell.
“I understand if I’m too late. I was so foolish and scared.”
“Quin,” Glyma repeated.
“But I had to come. I had to try.”
“Quin!” Glyma said for the third time, and the Daemon fell silent.
Carefully cupping Quin’s face, Glyma searched her wide, frightened eyes. “It sounds like today has been a lot for you.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m not done,” Glyma cut her off, and Quin pressed her brick-red lips together. “I’m so proud of you for standing up to your mother, for standing up for yourself. And I’m glad you’re not going to marry Waryn. I want you to be happy and free; that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Quin opened her mouth to speak, but Glyma pressed on. “But I don’t want you to act rashly. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret in the morning.”
To her surprise, Quin smiled, and it was wobbly and a little sad. “I would only regret losing you.”
And gods, this woman. This infuriating, incredible woman. Glyma wanted to throttle her and kiss her simultaneously.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and Quin inhaled sharply. “What are you asking me, Quin?”
She wet her lips, and Glyma tracked the movement, her instincts sniffing at the air in interest. “I’m asking,” Quin said, swallowing thickly. “I’m asking you to kiss me.”
Oh, this woman. This ridiculous, amazing, beautiful woman.
“Quin, sweetheart,” Glyma crooned, and Quin swayed toward her, gripping Glyma’s wrists like her life depended on it.
“Please,” Quin said, and Glyma practically purred.
Walking Quin backward several steps, she pressed her gently to the wall, crowding close until they were touching from thigh to breast. Quin trembled as Glyma dragged her nose down the length of hers, inhaling smoke and scorched earth and burning cherry wood.
“Say it again,” Glyma demanded.
“I want you to kiss me,” Quin said, firmer this time, fire flickering to life in her red eyes. “Glyma, kiss me, godsdamnit.”
And how could Glyma deny her? She kissed Quin with all the pent-up longing and need she’d spent the last weeks fighting. She kissed her like something worth cherishing, worth savoring. She kissed her, and gods, it was perfect. Quin was perfect.
Her lips were soft and warm and pliant, and Glyma took her time mapping them for the first time.
Quin whimpered, going almost limp in her hold, and Glyma kissed her harder, deeper.
At the first swipe of her tongue, Quin opened for her, and she dipped inside.
The Daemon tasted like chamomile tea and scotch and something else, something all her own, like smokey, sweet custard and caramelized sugar.
And deities below, Glyma was starving for her.
They kissed, slow and unhurried, Quin’s fingers delving into Glyma’s damp hair and tangling.
Their tongues danced, and Glyma glided a hand down Quin’s side to curl around the small of her back under her blazer.
She pulled her closer, and Quin arched into her body, rising to the tips of her hooves in an attempt to eliminate their height difference.
She was all sharp edges to Glyma’s soft curves, and Glyma wanted to see exactly how perfectly they’d fit together. And it would be perfect, because Quin was her soul singer, and she’d been waiting for her so long.
But first, she had to be sure.
Breaking the kiss, Glyma cradled the back of Quin’s head and pressed their foreheads together. “What do you want, Quin?”
Her answer was immediate. “You.”
“Like this?” Glyma asked, rubbing soothing circles over Quin’s lower back, and Quin nodded. Dropping her hand lower, she played with the base of Quin’s tail, then cupped the back of her thigh and hitched it up around her hip. Quin squeaked in surprise as Glyma grinned. “Like this?”
Again, Quin nodded. “I want you however I can have you.”
“Oh, baby, I’m already yours,” Glyma said, and Quin tightened her grip in Glyma’s hair and hauled her back down.