Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Hades and Persephone.
She finally stretches awake, blinking those soft golden eyes up at me,
giggling when I lean down and cover her mouth with mine. Pushing me
away, she lets out a half groan that makes my cock jolt to life.
“Morning breath,” she says, rolling away from me.
Grabbing her shoulder, I pull her to her back, pinching her chin between
my two fingers. “After every bodily fluid we’ve shared, that’s where you
draw the line?”
Sticking her tongue out, she notices the food from the corner of her eyes,
squealing excitedly. “You made me breakfast?”
I shrug, picking the tray up and settling it over her waist. “It’s nothing
special, and it’s probably cold by now.”
Rolling her eyes, she ignores the bagel and immediately starts in for the
pomegranate, chewing thoughtfully as she studies me. “You know,” she says,
“I didn’t really think about how the downfall of Ricci Inc. might affect you
when I was sending all that evidence to Channel Ten.”
“It won’t,” I say, waving my hand. “I already took care of my official
involvement with your father and his business. As long as my security team
did what they were supposed to, I won’t even exist to the Riccis.”
“Will that affect your medical degree?”
My forehead wrinkles, the reserved, almost shy look on her face creating
a little wave of unease inside me. “My degree, other than the fact that my
work helped fund it, has nothing to do with your father, or anyone else, for
that matter. I earned it, and it can’t just be taken away.”
“But... you don’t practice, and you don’t really ever even talk about being
a doctor.”
Sitting back slightly, I consider this, folding my hands in my lap.
Stripping myself of the last secret I have from her makes me feel like I’m
cracking my heart open and shoving it into her hands, praying she doesn’t
leave again. But it also feels necessary, like the beginning of us.
“I have this… condition. Misophonia. It’s a psychological aversion to
certain sounds. Have you ever heard of it?”
She shakes her head.
“Most of the time, I keep it in check, but other times… it’s a lot.
Sometimes, it’s downright debilitating, and I can’t focus on anything but the
sound or the anxiety it gives me. Even after it dissipates, I’m still reeling
from the episode, and I just… want to work from home, where I can regulate