The Conquering Hero
A curse is a curse is a curse and you’d think that centuries in Hell would burn “danger” into your brain but even as you tell yourself that wary caution moves like clockwork lockstep within, you still make mistakes.
You chose well enough, or it seemed that way at the time – he was all raw need and hatred and irritation scraping sandpaper against your bones. Hot sex, with eager mouth and hands and fumbling turned to grace under disquieting tutelage and there are no feelings at all except for “tight” and “warm” and sweet release.
You chose Xander – poor, lonely, stupid, horny Xander -- and you congratulate yourself as you smile a smile with teeth and lips you’ll never see. It’s too late – an orgasm blinking into eternity too late – by the time you realize that you were wrong.
The crunch of teeth into bone marks the victory of the worm.