Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

the stimuli I’m encountering. Not because I’m trying to avoid it, but if I can
make my life easier, then I’m going to.”
Nodding, she shrugs. “That makes sense.”
“My decision to retire from medicine was made separate from my
decision to retire from Ricci business. I just... aside from the sound stuff, I
don’t have the same passion for being a doctor that I once did, and I’d begun
to suspect that I was trying to complete the fantasy for a kid who only ever
wanted to help his mom get better.”
She chews on a pomegranate seed as she listens, pursing her lips. “What
would you say if I wanted to go back to school?”
“I’d say that’s great—”
“But I want to learn the craft.” Her gaze dips to my chest, running over
the Band-Aid covering the shallow wound she made last night, then back up.
“I don’t want to teach writing, I want to do it.”
My heartbeat speeds up, swelling to the point where it’s knocking
painfully against my ribs. “Then I say I can’t wait to have a library full of
your books.”
Later, after she’s finished eating and I’ve finished my breakfast, I drag
myself from between her thighs and slump onto the bed beside her, hooking
an arm behind my head as she lays hers on my chest.
“You know what brought me back to you?” she asks after a comfortable
silence, raising her chin to look up at me.
“What?”
“It was the pomegranate syrup on the jet.” She smirks, shaking her head.
“One taste, and I knew... that was the syrup for me. Too good to live the rest
of my life without.”
And as she leans up on her elbow, capturing my lips with hers and
shifting so she’s straddling my hips, sliding down my cock before I even
have much of a chance to process what’s going on, I chuckle to myself at the
fucking irony.
Persephone eating the seed, tying her to the Underworld indefinitely.
My version is a little different, a little skewed and bloody and downright
agonizing at times, but the result remains the same.
She’s here to stay, and the darkness inside me starts to feel a little less
heavy.