Between Heaven and Hell (PA #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Galileo (Courage)

"I haven't had my period in three months."

What a strange way to redirect a conversation. "Is this the human version of pillow talk? Letting your partner know about your bloodletting?"

Willow snorts. "I wouldn't call it bloodletting. And I'm surprised you even know what pillow talk is. You seem like the type to bolt as soon as the sex-having is done."

Sex-having? What are we, five?

Sending a pointed glance to the lack of space between us, I ask, "Does it appear as though I'm attempting to run from you?"

She presses down on those swollen lips in consideration. I'd very much enjoy tasting them again. "Well, no. But, technically, we didn't have sex. So no need to immediately vacate the premises."

My eyes roll. "Your cum is still coating my mouth, baby."

"Not sex."

"Close enough."

Shaking her head, her exasperation is clear. Obviously, I didn't do my job well enough. She should be singing my praises, begging me to touch her some more. Not whatever the Hell this is.

"Remember how I asked about going back to my dorm? And paid your teleportation fee with my tongue?"

I'm indignant. "Now I don't feel like catering to your whims," I huff, holding her body tighter against mine. My dick screams at me in frustration, wanting nothing more than to bury into her warm pussy.

Her eyebrows raise. "Are you seriously pouting right now?"

"I'm a Michaelson," I declare proudly. "Michaelson's don't pout."

She sighs as she rests her head against the desk with a quiet thunk. I can't see her eyes anymore, and I'm not sure I like it. Fuck, am I pouting? Is this considered a pout?

"Please don't remind me of your unfortunate paternity so quickly after sexual activities. You ruined my post-orgasm high."

My definitely-not-pouting lips find the pulse in her neck. "We could always go for another round. I wouldn't want to keep my woman unsatisfied."

I can feel her laughter through every part of me. It fills me up, inflating my lungs with something much sweeter than oxygen.

There's a smile in her voice. "You're impossible. And it's not gonna happen, buddy. I've got classes to attend and papers that won't write themselves. Unfortunately. I also have to take a shower and get some new clothes since a certain someone doesn't understand the concept of pulling underwear off in a non-destructive manner. I only have so many pairs, you know?"

There's a thought niggling in my brain, a flash of some forgotten memory. I can't place it, so it gets pushed aside. It also doesn't escape my notice that she didn't acknowledge my verbal claim on her. I would push the issue, but I'm still grappling with the concept myself. It's bad enough that I have this...infatuation with someone, let alone a human. A human I'm sworn to destroy, yet the best I can do is annihilate her underwear? It's pathetic, really.

"I can get you more," I promise because apparently pathetic is my new middle name.

"I seriously don't want to see what kind of stuff you'd pick out," she vehemently states, a shudder going through her.

My cock hardens until I'm sure my balls will be permanently blue. "Crotchless, definitely crotchless."

"What's the point of those, anyway? Seems counterintuitive," she muses.

"Ease of access, baby."

Her laughter follows me through the rest of the day.

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