Phoebe moved a shaking hand down to meet Silver’s. It brushed against his prickly fur and his smooth, bony claws before she dipped one of her own fingers into her midsection.
Inside she was slimy and hot and her finger skimmed some kind of mucousy lining. She’d felt the sensation before—pressure, touch in places that were never intended to experience it—but she hadn’t been allowed to fully take it in. She hadn’t realized that there was so much to take in beyond the simple life-and-death struggle. Now it was rising all around her.
Silver chirped and she responded with a pained groan. His palms pushed into her guts and his claws flexed with each pull back. Stabbing pains came randomly and inaccurately, sometimes acute and other times covering a wide section of gore before fading within seconds. Blood had soaked into her clothes and she hiked the borrowed shirt up further, trying to save it, trying to give him more room. His gaze remained fixed downwards the whole time, entranced by the motions of his own splaying claws.
Then his empty eyes met her own; they fell on her face, her chest, her wrists.
The last spot was the one he found most enticing. He dislodged himself from her torso and grabbed her arm, yanking her up until her guts folded and spilled out over both their laps.
Been listening to a lot of podcasts at work, including The Silt Verses, and wow?? Highly recommend. I caught up yesterday so luckily I don't have to wait too long for season 3.