Demetri folds one finger down at a time, carving the shape of a fist into the man’s hand, before they spread open again. The promise he's making is dangerous, but it only sends hot lava rushing between my legs. I close my eyes and drop my head back. “I don’t think so, Darkling. Open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you with a dead man’s fist.” I’m a puddle, I’m goo, I don’t know what I am, but I’m a blob of fluid slime and there’s no way to contain all the wet that is me. Splash, splash.
