The pilot presses its body against yours and you can feel the heat through the thin skin of its flight suit. It kisses you, and you can taste the blood-taint—a remnant of Handler's missives written across the inside of its lips. It grabs your hair in its clenched fist and pulls hard, and the question of whether or not you really wanted this in the first place stops mattering. You open your mouth around the sides of the kiss and gasp for air. And then plunge down again, into the abyss.
It kisses you, and you can taste the blood-taint—a remnant of Handler's missives written across the inside of its lips.
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