It was all going so well, until her Dexcom started going off. We were in the haze of sex when I started to see the signs her blood sugar was dropping, but she was so close and ensured me she was fine. Spoiler alert, she was not fine. She pushes faintly at my shoulder, looking sweaty and paler than usual. Shit.

Cursing quite loudly, I ran to my kitchen, still bare-ass naked. I start raiding my fridge and pantry for something high in sugar to get her before she passes out. Usually, she has something on her, but she must’ve forgot it today. I come up with some honey, and grab a spoon. I run it back to her, and feed her a spoonful. She winces- it’s gross, I know- and we wait.

God. If she’ll be filling the Thursday spot on my roster, then I’ll need to start keeping more sugary things on hand. From the look on her face, she hates honey. I can’t say I blame her, eating it straight must be pretty revolting. She grabs her phone, and we watch her blood sugar climb to its normal level. Well, what it’s supposed to be, considering she doesn’t usually have a ‘normal.’

When it’s at a satisfactory point, we resume. I kiss her again, deeply, the sickly-sweet stickiness that coats her tongue coating mine. It truly is awful, I honestly couldn’t think of a more revolting taste. But I push past it, because I can’t say tell I’m working her up again. That’s the goal, and I’m trying to get myself back into the headspace.

I sink between her thighs again, determined to finish the job. Flushed and sweaty, she shudders as my younger flattens against her. Her back bows, and she releases a noise I know is not born of pleasure. I pull back instantly, hands on her knees. I tilt my head at her; I had assumed we’d continue.

“Sorry, Noa. I’m just too sensitive right now, and that whole blood sugar thing kinda killed the mood.” She apologizes, and I nod. I swallow thickly, and flash a smile. I’d been building her up for at least an hour, and I was looking forward to seeing her reach the peak of her pleasure, but her health is more important.

I move away from her, and rock back onto my ass. I hug my legs to my chest, chin resting on my knee. I watch as she stands, and begins to gather her clothes. “You don’t have to go yet, y’know, if you don’t want to.” I blurt, instantly kicking myself mentally. “You’re still kinda shaky,” I finish lamely, a bad attempt at playing it off. I never invite girls to stay over; from my roster or otherwise.