Lyria had not paid much attention to where she was going and she had winded her way down many long passageways, realizing she would have some difficulty now finding her way back. She heard a door open and to her amazement, Pierait had stepped out, still wearing his loose white silk pants (that hung dangerously low on his hips) but no shirt, his hair messy. He looked startled to see her and neither moved a muscle as they stared at each other in disbelief.
Pierait took a step forward and it was all Lyria had needed for her heart to slam up in her chest as she wheeled around and ran away from him. As hard as her heart hammered, she realized that she heard his bare feet hitting the hard marble floors behind her. She was turning at nearly every corner, hoping to lose him and she flung open doors that sometimes led to closets, sometimes to balconies she had been close to falling over in her wild haste to get away. She would turn, sure that she had lost him but he would come running in and she would startle into motion again. It had been a wonder but she somehow managed to find her own suites and ran in towards her bedroom. She heard the rush of his feet closing in as he grabbed her waist and tumbled on to the bed, pinning her beneath him, her wrists held by his hands above her. They both struggled to catch their breath.
“Why did you run?” Pierait gasped out in a rush between quick chest-heaving breaths.
“Why did you chase me?” Lyria shot back.
Pierait’s mouth used no more words as he lowered his body onto hers and demanded her mouth with his own. His lips were punishing and searing with heat, sealing to hers ravenously. When he growled deeply into her mouth, she whimpered and bucked her hips, feeling his swollen excited member throbbing in between them. She struggled to have her hands to touch him but he held her fast and used his mouth to wet the silk around her straining nipples. She had whimpered his name and it anchored him to his task. He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand now and used his free hand to rend the silk and free her breasts to his mouth and touch.
He stopped and looked at her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths and her half-lidded eyes found his pleadingly. His dark gold eyes were molten pools of lust and cruel amusement and he did not look away as he flicked at one nipple with one of the fingers that cupped her breast in his hand, holding her eyes still as he flicked at the other with his tongue. She arched her back and moaned softly. He continued to tongue flick but used his other hand to press down on her belly and stop her arch. All at once he released her and drew away just enough on the bed that she couldn’t grab him. Her eyes looked painfully needy as he fled from her reach. He unhooked the belt and threw it aside then tore off the remainder of her clothes to see her naked, but did not yet remove his pants.
Lyria had trembled in the bright moonlight and tried to cover herself.
“Don’t cover yourself or I’ll detain your hands again,” Pierait had ordered, husky with lust but entirely serious.
Lyria reluctantly moved her hands away. Pierait lightly touched her ankles with his fingertips and drew lazy light circles there. He slowly dragged his fingers in light lazy patterns up her leg and she started to tremble as he reached her knee, where she pressed her thighs together shyly. He looked up at her and she was biting her bottom lip anxiously.
“Relax, love; let me touch you,” Pierait coaxed and she relaxed her muscles but did not open them. In a swift movement, he pushed her legs apart and slid his body between her knees so she could not close them. He watched her and saw her discomfort at her vulnerability.
“Pierait, please, I can’t…” Lyria struggled for the words to express her failing resolve, but he watched her and used both hands to trace soft scrolls on both of her inner thighs. She marveled at the feeling of skin and the silence most of all. It felt as if she knew what skin was finally supposed to feel like.
Her discomfort was still there but he could see the sheen reappearing on her forehead, the heat of need recoloring her cheeks as her shyly curled fists loosened and her breaths quickened with need the higher his strokes climbed. So close he had come to touching the swollen bud of her sex, but before he did he stopped and slid his body down. Lyria had started to protest but when his tongue had made the connection she had thought his fingers would, her protest was a high yelp and moan of pleasure and her head thrashed from side to side as her hands shot down to grab his hair.
His tongue had kissed her as thoroughly there as he had done with her mouth, with delightful switches from light flicks to thorough lingering licks and when his tongue had parted her labia slowly, her legs had strained apart as well. He wound his arms under her legs and rested his hands on the top of her thighs dragging her towards his mouth.
“I have wanted to taste you like this all day. I had been so tempted to lay you out on that table for dessert,” Pierait admitted in between intimate kisses.
After such a confession, the only answer she could manage was the fluttering of her first orgasm, reverberating against his mouth. He tickled her bud with his nose and she was wracked and moaning. Her eyes were closed, lips softly parted as she struggled to catch her breath. He used that time to break away, long enough to remove the pants and reclaim his place between her thighs. Her eyes shot open as she felt his throbbing shaft slide against her slippery opening and her unfocused eyes tried to find his. He hovered there, rocking his hips over her as her hands found the muscled skin of his chest and fanned out over his shoulders and behind his neck. She touched his face with trembling wonder and he let her explore, if only briefly.
“Do you want this, Lyria?” Pierait asked her, his voice hoarse but struggling to maintain control. Her hips were already starting to match his rhythm and her breasts swayed exquisitely with the movement.
Lyria pulled at his neck and he complied and gave her the kiss she seemed to ache for now. When he pulled back, she watched him rocking over her and her eyes hooded again with need. She managed a smile and nodded and he pulled back enough to find her passage and slipped easily into the tight but slick passage. He knew when her barrier tore as her legs tightened against him and her face flinched. He slowly slid in and out to coax the muscles to open for him and Lyria gasped as the pain subsided in waves of pleasure.
It wasn’t just the sensation that gripped her, but watching the muscles in his body move so precisely in the pleasure of this intimate dance. The way her breasts bounced as his tempo sped up and she was both attuned to it all and numbed to all else in a way that shattered thought was building up her need to draw him further into her. In and out, and not just directly; she saw his hips dip and swirl and each different movement found a new sensation bursting inside her but at some point, when a small cry escaped her lips, he met the movement exactly and her cries betrayed her. He quickened over that spot and she felt the powerful build-up inside of her, both light and expansive and when she cried out in orgasm, she felt him buck and find his own pleasure inside her.
Before he rolled away, he gently nipped at her ear with his teeth and she weakly only thought of how much of this act they had not even touched yet. Exhausted yet satiated, she wondered even what it would be like to be the one to pleasure him, to demand of him while she had her way. They lay on their backs catching their breath silently. Her head fell sideways towards him and he watched her sleepily. He lifted a leg and crossed it over hers, his face tender and amused. She looked more closely at his nudity and was in awe as she noticed the silvery blue otherworldliness of his soft body hairs. Even completely exhausted, she still ached with need as she looked at him. His cock stirred a bit as her eyes observed there openly and her eyes shot up to see he was pleased to be watched.
“I’m going to need time to pleasure you again, Lyria,” he told her by way of apology.
She smiled and shook her head.
“I am not unpleased now,” she assured him, finding her voice was raspy from its wanton abuse.
He laced his fingers through hers and a slow wicked smile spread over his face.
“I like the toe ring. Northern girls don’t wear those,” Pi
erait told her.
Lyria shrugged with a smirk. “It was Mot’s gift. Pointless to remove it, it just ends up back on if I do,” she admitted.
Pierait lazily rolled over, removing his left leg from over hers and replacing it with his right leg as if he wanted to keep that physical link with her. He cradled his head on his hand and let his eyes take in her nudity. She felt shy, but she rolled to face him, twisting the leg that was under his and placing her other leg over his to playfully mock the connection and sandwich his leg in. He watched her breasts unabashedly and she arched her back ever so slightly to tease him.
He laughed and groaned and pushed her onto her back, spinning her around to press her back against him and spoon her, his hand resting on her belly.
“We should get some sleep,” Pierait admitted unhappily, lightly biting her shoulder.
Lyria closed her eyes contentedly and wiggled closer to him, her rear rubbing against his growing erection.
“I’m not convinced,” Lyria joked and then yelped. In a quick movement, he had slid his hand between her knees and lifted her leg and slid his cock into her still slick passage.
“Neither am I,” he retorted. They had tried to start slow, but they tortured each other’s control with sounds of pleasure and it had sped into a shattering climax rather quickly. By the end of it, Pierait had been too exhausted to even pull out and he let it slip out as it softened and he fluttered into sleep. Lyria had been asleep slightly before that, luxuriating in the feel of him still inside her.
One of the things that She wanted most was the most elusive. She watched the humans making love, rough or gentle, quick or lengthy. Sometimes they took by force and She wished She could tear those types in two but most of it was captivating. Even if they were clumsy or unsatisfied, it was a joy to witness; it wouldn’t really deter them from trying to set it right. She wondered at it when the inexperienced turned out to be prodigal lovers and she was baffled when the experienced could botch it so badly, but all in all, it was a thing that she could not truly understand. She could feel great joy and pleasure inside but it was not a thing she could physically feel.
Lyria and her Pierait should not have stayed that night, but if they hadn’t they wouldn’t be human. Their friends were only now marching on Myceum, having waiting longer than they had originally planned to strengthen their forces. They foolishly went towards Myceum when they should have taken down the barrier and waited for Myceum to come to them. Yet there are some things humans think they have figured out but realized too late was a stubborn impulse rather than a smart decision.
She wondered if Pierait would make it in time to save his friends and she wept as she thought of the hopeful armies that would be mowed down by the ridiculous power of the machine army. Chevalle’s madness had gone too far and she did not trust men. Even the most trusted, she had taken their willpower, made many of them more machine than man, and fucked her machinelegged madman just as mechanically. To either of them it was a weakness, the need to fuck, but neither was willing to give it up either. It was only a matter of time before it was all moot anyway. Viper had no idea Chevalle couldn’t care less if the world vanished anyway; it was all so boring and unchallenging.
What they did was some odd form of consensual rape that She detested as well. The words didn’t fit quite right, but it was hard to define a thing that was neither wanted nor reciprocated; it was about taking and She even had the sense that if they let any emotion into it, it would be hate and they would shred each other’s flesh fatally and their blood would be the lubrication sealing the throes of orgasm and death. She hated the machines and She hated the inhuman creatures that built their existence around them. She hated the madness and She hated the hate. She wanted peace in her heart again.
No matter the urgency, She was glad that the humans still found ways to use their hearts. She was not sure if it weakened them or helped them find strength but She knew that She was glad for it anyway. She deeply hoped that someday, even if it all had to end, She would know that simple pleasure of touch, not even for pleasure or pain, but to understand how such a simple thing could amplify emotion and intent, just to know what really mattered about… matter.
Chapter 14: First March
Rienna found herself wishing she had been able to find a time to speak with Ashe again. Over the weeks, she found more often than not she was running into the ‘wrong’ brother, although she never would have used those direct words aloud; sometimes she knew she was too hard on Melchior but she didn’t intend to be completely cruel either. Although Ashe did not seem particularly troubled by his discoveries, she wanted to hold him as they lay naked, and run her fingers over that thick silvery scar on his head that he always kept exposed, his head cradled on her breasts as his breaths tickled her. Ashe had assured her that the old adage of touching a scar didn’t make the memories come back (Rienna remembered the first awkward time she had joked about that) but she wasn’t so sure if that were 100% true and did not attempt it when they had been intimate for fear that she might be the one to awaken the memories. Sometimes he poked at unconsciously and always winced when he did, but he told her it was because his skull had not just fused back together where it split and the unhealed gap under the scar tissue was sharp. Rienna had tried to heal it with magic but it was an old wound that had long since stopped its healing processes and magic did nothing to improve it.
It had been a hard thing to concede but she missed the physical intimacy with him just as much. She didn’t stubbornly fight with her subconscious over the purpose of having such feelings and she had come to the conclusion that she even deserved to enjoy being a woman. In some ways, she had missed even the shy stolen touches she had once had with Belias; it didn’t always have to come with the shattering force of lust. It was enough to just have someone near. Melchior had always been rubbing her the wrong way about how hard she tried to prove that she wasn’t a woman at all, just a warrior, which was just as stupid as a male warrior pretending he was not a man. If anything he had said were right, that would have been it, but she hardly about to admit it. Two days until they would start their march for Myceum and the urgency to have Ashe in her bed again was increasing. The anxiety of knowing they might be marching to their deaths made the gentleness of intimacy a poor substitute for a last moment. Or maybe it was simply that she had gone too long unfulfilled and just wanted him to fuck her hard and proper.
She had spent the bulk of the day with Melchior; he had been seeing to all of his friends’ work diligently as the time came and they had come no closer to finding what Viper knew about the old gods. Rienna had even secretly called Sea Star to ask; surely the elemental of gossip and intuition would be the best to know, but Sea Star was not confident her brooks were true, after what it had wrought Freesia (where their idea of a “test” turned out to be the Lumina deciding to kill her simply for having a dark soul). In any case, there was nothing Sea Star could tell her; she even detected fear from the elemental, the kind of fear you might find from a child secretly abused by those close to them. It made her wonder if Viper knew anything at all or if the sick bastard just created it all in his head. Without anything to go by, they kept up their plans to march and Melchior had been a great help in practices that day. Again, not something she would ever admit. He was plenty good enough at tooting his own horn.
By evening, they had been glad to break away and rest and Rienna had hurried back to her room to bathe in rosewater and find Ashe. She did not wear her armor, as much as it sufficed to be sexy, but opted for a strapless wrap dress in a soft dusty rose color, a dress that fell only a couple inches past her womanhood. She wore nothing else and left her hair brushed but undone. She shuffled down a way she knew she would run into few, if any, people and had pushed his door open. She noticed he was there but he was not alone and a pretty young warrior that she had been training herself that day was riding him, soft whimpers escaping her lips and Ashe’s eyes caught hers and his face was distraught.
He tried
to get up but Rienna took off, not caring if she was seen any longer, she ran down the corridor and heard Ashe catching up behind her. Melchior appeared around the turn and Rienna suddenly reacted with intent and threw herself against him, correctly guessing he would instinctively catch her and she threw her arms around his neck and invaded his mouth with her tongue.
He hadn’t had time to see Ashe, but he growled lustily and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He grabbed her butt possessively, delighted as the real fingers of his left hand found her intimate folds were uncovered. She slid her leg up along his to allow him better access, whimpering because it was her favorite spot to be touched. He broke the kiss to grab that leg and lift her to straddle against him and noticed Ashe stood there in shock and unhappiness. Melchior shot a reproachful look but did not hesitate to carry Rienna into his room and kick the door closed behind him. He did not bother to lock the door, not caring if Ashe had the balls to try and stop them.
Rienna had been kissing and nipping at Melchior’s rough neck and jaw and he laughed, deep and throaty, at her fervor. He set her down near the bed and made to find out what was going on, but she shoved him back on his bed and climbed on top of him, pulling off the wrap dress and fumbling with his belt.
“Not quite the way I pictured fucking you, my dear, but then you’re not exactly doing it for the same reasons either. I always pictured you were just tired of pretending you weren’t woman or human. Although, the fact that I was really just the first thing you saw when you came to that conclusion was still sadly part of the fantasy. I never it expected it to be ‘Oh, Melchior, you are the only one I think about’, but certainly not revenge fucking for having your heart broken,” Melchior mused, having put his hands behind his head to watch the angry, horny woman assault him.
“Shut-up, Melchior,” she barked at him as she grew frustrated with the armor, not hearing much of what he said at all. Lighting quick, he grabbed her wrists and pushed them behind her, trapping her from going any further and being sure she wasn’t close enough to his face to head-butt him. He had watched her practice enough to know she could shatter a man’s nose that way. It was admittedly sexy to see though.
The Truth about Heroes: Complete Trilogy (Heroes Trilogy) Page 49