LYRE
My mouth tastes like shit and disappointment.
Not literal shit—though after what just happened, I'd need to think about it. Arcana transfer through sexual contact always leaves a distinct flavor of shame, regret, and something unpleasant. Like… licking a subway pole after a rush hour commute.
Never a fun time.
Who the hell set the metaphysical laws of arcana transfer to porn logic, anyway? Probably Chaos. It's always Chaos. Some bored cosmic entity sitting on their multidimensional ass, thinking: "You know what would make power exchange more interesting? If they had to suck dick for it."
I resist the urge to spit again as Aaron's forehead presses against mine, his breath hot on my face. His bare chest radiates heat, and his hands still grip my shoulders from slamming me against the door. The wood presses into my back.
