In the candlelight. The clear fluid glistening on his skin, thick and warm, stretching between his finger and thumb in a thin, elastic strand.
"It's hot," he said.
His voice was warm. Direct. The tone of a man making an observation about weather.
"I want to feel how it feels inside."
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't do it."
She pushed at him. Her human body shoving against his chest, her spider legs pushing off the wall. He let her. He released her hands. She stumbled, her eight legs scrambling, her human body falling back against the opposite wall.
She looked at him.
Her face was wrecked. Her dark eyes streaming, swollen. Her lips puffed from the kiss, the lower one carrying teeth marks where she had bitten herself. Her tongue, red and wet, hanging slightly from her mouth, gasping. Her silver-white hair stuck to her damp cheeks. Her small chest heaving under the tight black top, the nipples dark and visible through the fabric, hardening against the cool air.
