He holds the piece in midair.
“Dude, I’m not a giant doll. I can feed myself.”
He puts a morsel nearer to my lips. “Open.”
I hesitate, then I open. He puts it in.
I chew. It’s delicious. And suddenly I want to cry. It’s crazy, but I just do. Nobody ever cared for me like this. Not for years, anyway.
“What is it?” he asks softly.
“I don’t know,” I sniffle. “I guess I always did want to try the paleo diet.”
“You joke when you’re upset. Another.”
He feeds me another.
“Aren’t you eating?”
“I will.”
I open my mouth. He feeds me.
It’s most delicious fish I’ve ever tasted, and suddenly I’m starving. I want more, and he feeds me more, his arm an iron band around my torso. “Is it good?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
He eats some himself. Grunts. He doesn’t give a fuck about the food.
He feeds me more. “Nothing will hurt you as long as I’m alive.”
I’m about to say he can’t make that promise, but he can. He almost died saving me today. Because I belong to him, a savage in the woods.
The word “surreal” comes from French, meaning “beyond real.” I never understood the full weight of the word until now. With Kiro. So surreal.
I’m a captive wrapped in a sleeping bag on the lap of a naked, half-wild man who’s covered in mud. He won’t let me go. He says I belong to him. He risked his life saving me today. He hunted for me, and now he’s feeding me. His cock is a stone at my ass crack. It feels good. I’m thinking about the French derivation of the wordsurreal.
Fuck. Where am I even going with that?
He brings his lips close to my hair. His voice is deep and rumbly. “Open,” he commands.
I open my mouth, and he feeds me another morsel. He watches me chew, arranging my hair around my shoulder. Because he wants to watch me eat the food he made for me. Because I belong to him.
The next piece is done. We eat it. Or more, he feeds it to me and himself. Eventually I feel full. “No more,” I say when he tries to feed me another.
He continues to eat. “Are you making yourself ready for me under there?”
“Excuse me? No.”
“Why not?” He sounds annoyed. “I told you I would fuck you, didn’t I?”
“That’s not how it works.”
“You know nothing of how it works.” He puts down the fish and presses a finger to my lips. I turn my head.
He grabs my hair and forces my head to turn back to him. “Suck it,” he says. “Make it clean.”
“I’m not your finger cleaning crew,” I say.