Lights, Camera…Monsters

by Lila Dubois

  There could be no doubt that he wanted her. His cock, deep brown and vein roped, was fully erect—and approximately the size of a baseball bat. Lena licked her lower lip and nervously contemplated his massive dick. Conflicting urges to find a chair and a whip, like lion tamers at the circus used, or to lie back and beg him to fuck her with that massive thing, wiggled through her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled, turning from the dominant to sweetly worried in a heartbeat.

  “Just give me a minute.” Lena reached out and stroked him, running her palm up and down him. His cock was hot, and incredibly hard under her palm. The skin here was more like that of human skin, thin and soft as it stretched over his throbbing member.

  She circled her palm over the head of his cock and he shuddered, wings twitching. His eyes were closed, and when she gave him a firm squeeze his chest rose with his sharply indrawn breath. Growing bolder with each touch, Lena toyed with him, fingers and then nails running over his cock. He liked it rough in this form, and Lena did things that would have hurt a human man. Watching him react as she played with his hot flesh melted away Lena’s reservations.

  Holding his cock with one hand she ran the other between her legs, scooping up her body’s moisture. She painted the head of his cock and the beginning of the shaft with the lubrication, preparing him to fuck her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled again, a bit desperately, as Lena used her hold on his cock to draw him towards her.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she said with a growl of her own. His cock head brushed her sex, and Lena ran it between the folds, teasing her clit with it before pressing it down and positioning it at her entrance. She took her hand away.

  They remained still, his cock, long as her forearm and nearly as thick, poised to take her. They might have remained that way forever if she hadn’t cupped his face, stroking the skin over his thick cheekbone.

  The gentle touch prompted him to grip her hips, sliding her almost completely off the counter, and pushing the first inch of his cock into her. He was big, nearly painfully so, but she was loose and ready from the orgasms, and his overwhelming size was exactly what she wanted.

  He slid in another inch and his thick cock head pushed against her inner walls, caressing and stimulating places inside her that rarely received such a definitive touch. Lena tipped her head back again, wrapping her fingers over his biceps as he continued to fill her. Inch after thick inch pushed inside, until Lena whimpered and begged him to stop.

  Four inches of his cock still remained outside her body. Lena traced those inches up to the place where their bodies joined, stroking her stretched flesh. She gave her inner muscles a testing squeeze, and they both shuddered.

  He inched out, slow as he’d entered, until just the head remained. He ordered her to look at him, and when she focused on those black eyes, he slammed back into her. Lena screamed, her body shook with pleasure, or maybe pain, for the line was unbearably blurred. He’s stopped with four inches out, being sure not to go deeper than she could safely take, but he wasn’t gentle about it.

  He pulled out again and started fucking her in earnest, hips rocking forward to drive himself home into her. Lena began to thrash, nails raking his chest and arms, hair whipping around her head as she shook it. She was overwhelmed, consumed, by the feel of his cock in her, continuous low-grade orgasms rocked her body, forcing her into a never-ending loop of pleasure which allowed her no rest, granted her no quarter.

  Luke slid his wide hand up her back, cupping her thrashing head. He pulled her upper body towards his as he continued to brutally fuck her. His pressed their cheeks together, using his hand and head to still her mad thrashing. Talons caressed her scalp as his hot cheek pressed into her flushed one.

  Retreat and surge, withdraw and fill, again and again he filled her. With her cheek pressed to his Lena could feel the shudders that wracked him, hear his panting breath. He turned his head and carefully brushed his mouth over her cheek. The form was not equipped for kissing, but he tried, that tender kiss expressing softness to contrast with the rough fuck. It was that dichotomy that sent her over the edge.

  In his arms she was both the wanton sexpot who wanted nothing more than a rough fuck and the beautiful woman who deserved princess treatment. He touched her, body and mind, and knew her, heart and soul.

  Lena turned her head, to brush her lips against his, kissing mouth and fang, kissing her monster, as her body succumbed to an intense orgasm. She’d been riding a high wave of pleasure from the moment he’d pushed into her, and now, with this orgasm, that pleasure was spiked to a level she’d never known. Lights burst before her eyes, her body clamped down on his cock, and her arms went over his shoulders, hands gripping the base of his wings where they connected to his back.

  Luke came, too, she felt the flood of heat inside her and his body shook in her grip. The pleasure lasted for long precious moments. Lena slipped in and out of awareness, shuddering as he slipped his cock from her. She went into his arms with complete trust when he lifted her from the counter. The world swung dizzily before he lay her down on the couch, the fabric cold against sweat-dewed flesh. He abandoned her for a moment, and Lena welcomed the brief respite, needing the time to reattach with her well-used body. When Luke returned to her his human arms slid around her, hands tipped by nothing more dangerous than short nails caressing her back and shoulders.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “I was afraid I would hurt you.”

  “Luke,” Lena opened one eye and cupped his cheek. “That was incredible. That was seriously amazing sex. I might be a bit sore tomorrow, but it was worth it. You are wonderful, amazing, no matter what body you’re in.”

  He traced her face with his fingers, stroking her forehead, following the line of her temple down to her cheek and finally cupping her jaw. “I don’t think you will ever understand how much it means to me that you did that, that you are willing to touch me that way.”

  He swallowed and averted his eyes. Protectiveness welled in Lena. She cupped his cheek in return, pulling him to her for a long, slow, kiss.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “We’ve seen what he looks like as a monster, now we want to see you.”

  “Luke is a fuzzy bunny compared to what I look like.”

  “Ohhh, I see how it is. Do you have a small penis in monster form?”

  Henry sprayed margarita across the patio. Margo, who’d been teasing him, trying to coax or bully him into changing forms, smiled.

  “Are you a dwarf? Gremlin? Troll?” Margo prodded.

  Henry, jaw clenched, started unbuttoning his shirt, stripping so he could change. Lena stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled as the others let out catcalls. Akta, their hostess for the evening, emerged from the house onto the back patio. She glanced at Henry, who was now shirtless, and shook her head.

  “Ignore them,” Akta called out, “don’t give these girls a cheap thrill. Margo’s practically a born-again virgin it’s been such a long time since she’s seen cock.”

  Lena, seated next to Luke, laughed as Margo threw a roll at Akta, who darted inside the French doors. Henry, looking sheepish, pulled his shirt on. Michael, who’d managed to ignore Margo’s teasing and refrain from being provoked into a strip show, clapped his friend on the back.

  Luke squeezed her fingers, and Lena turned to him, smiling still. He traced her cheek with his finger.

  “You’re beautiful when you smile.”

  Lena turned her head and kissed his palm, the world around her fading as she brushed her lips over the secret hollow of his palm.

  “No need to flaunt it,” Margo muttered as she sat down on Lena’s other side, effectively killing the mood. Lena gave Luke’s palm a last teasing brush with the tip of her tongue and sat back.

  It was the perfect Southern California night. The moon hung heavily in the sky, the air was warm and fresh, carried in from the ocean by a steady western breeze. Akta’s house
in the Hollywood Hills boasted a view, a tiny pool and a huge flagstone terrace complete with a twelve-seat outdoor table, made of heavy dark wood to match the house’s Spanish architecture. Tea candles threw their light against the insides of jewel-tone glass cylinders, painting the tabletop and those who sat around it jade, cobalt, crimson and emerald.

  Margo bumped Lena’s knee under the table when she didn’t respond, “Earth to Lena.”

  Shaking herself from the languid stupor the warm night, soft light and man beside her had lulled her into, Lena smirked. “Can’t help myself, it’s the best sex ever, in the history of mankind.”

  Margo rolled her eyes and then reached for the basket of rolls, pulling her hand away at the last minute.

  “One roll won’t kill you,” Lena told her friend. Under the table Luke laced his fingers with hers, and warmth spread up Lena’s arm.

  “Kill me, no. Adhere to my fat ass? Yes.”

  “Okay everyone, burgers are ready.” Jane, the grill master for the night, heaped the last of the turkey and veggie burger patties onto a platter held by Michael, who’d been her shadow at the BBQ. The kebabs of chicken and pineapple were already on the table

  Akta brought out a tray of condiments to add to the already full table and everyone sat. As they passed dishes, loading up thick ceramic plates with salads, burgers and veggies, conversation rose and fell in a natural rhythm. The guys had integrated into their circle of friendship faster than anyone else ever had.

  Lena tipped red wine into Luke’s glass and then passed the bottle to Margo. Luke was busy constructing a double-decker burger. It was a sign of how far gone she was that it made Lena feel good to feed him.

  A brief lull fell as everyone started munching. Cali wiped her mouth and looked up.

  “I have a question for the monsters.”

  “Cali,” Jane hissed.

  “What? That’s what they are.”

  “Yes, but there is no need to call them that.”

  “Why not? If we’re going to change the way America sees monsters we’re going to have to make it a good word. Starting now.”

  “Hmm,” Jane said, “she has a point.”

  “Anyway,” Cali carried on, with the singular focus of an artist, “here’s my question. What are your real names?”

  Luke, Michael and Henry all went still. Luke’s munching slowed to long chews as he looked at his friends. A knot of dread solidified in Lena’s stomach. This was it, this was the proverbial other shoe, the thing that was going to make her perfect guy a nightmare.

  “What makes you think that we have other names?” Henry asked.

  “Oh please,” Cali said, popping a grape in her mouth and munching, forcing everyone to wait.

  Lena curled her hands into fists and contemplated extreme bodily harm to Cali unless she started talking.

  Cali swallowed and picked up a breadstick, jabbing it in the air to emphasize her words. “You said that you watched a lot of movies, right? That’s how you learned about human, well, realistically, western culture?”

  “Yes,” Henry admitted. He was seated across from Cali and so bore the brunt of her questions.

  “You’ll never convince me that monsters, mythical creatures with a hidden society, have boring names like Michael.”

  “Hey,” Michael protested.

  Cali jabbed the breadstick in his direction. “If I were to guess, and I think I’ll have to since you three want to pretend these are your names, I’m guessing you chose human names from your favorites movies.”

  Luke picked up his wine and gulped it down.

  “If I were to further my hypothesis,” Cali continued, “I would guess that you had the most exposure to blockbuster classics. I doubt you picked names from Citizen Kane or Hedwig and the Angry Inch.”

  Luke squirmed in his seat and the knot of dread in Lena’s stomach loosened. She saw where Cali was going with this, and it wasn’t something bad. If she was right, it was the cutest thing ever.

  Cali jabbed at Michael with the breadstick. “Michael isn’t all that distinctive. But you don’t go by Mike, always Michael. So, who is the most famous Michael in modern-classic blockbusters?” Cali opened the question up to the table.

  There was a beat of silence before Jane cleared her throat. When she spoke her voice had dropped and her eyebrows lowered. “‘My father is no different than any powerful man, any man with power, like a president or senator.’”

  Lena burst out laughing at Jane’s mangled impression of Michael Corleone from The Godfather. Michael shifted in his seat, but did not smile until Jane laid a hand on his forearm and said, “I love that movie.”

  Chaos descended as everyone at the table quoted The Godfather trilogy in terrible Italian accents and Akta hummed the theme song. Michael relaxed, but Henry and Luke were still tense.

  Lena settled her palm on his leg under the table and rubbed. Luke turned to her, eyes veiled by his lashes. Lena smiled slightly and patted him.

  Luke. Was it from…?

  “You’re next.” Cali pointed her breadstick at Henry, who leaned away, as if she’d tried to stab him. “This one is a bit harder. It could be something obvious, like Henry VIII, but I don’t think so. Something esoteric like Henry Van Cleve from Heaven Can Wait? No, not enough exposure. So where is there a Henry in modern-classic blockbusters?”

  “Henry Thompson from Seven Angry Men.”

  “The little boy from E.T. His name was Henry.”

  “No, I know it!” Akta jumped out of her chair she was so excited. Henry, seated next to her, leaned away, pushed into the corner of his chair by Cali’s breadstick and Akta’s enthusiasm.

  “Indy!”

  “Huh?” Margo asked, as Cali sat back in her chair and grinned.

  “Indiana Jones,” Akta explained. “Remember, his real name was Henry.” She dropped her voice and added a lilt for her best Sean Connery impression, which was worse than Jane’s Michael Corleone. “Henry Jones, Jr. We named the dog Indiana.”

  Henry relaxed when the girls all smiled and laughed. He and Akta managed to do ten minutes of dialogue from the movie, much to the amusement of everyone else. When the laughter quieted all eyes turned to Luke.

  He slid his hands from the tabletop to the arms of the chair, and Lena could see his fingers trembling. Remembering the way he’d almost passed out last time he was faced with their collective attention, Lena took pity on him.

  “If we’re talking modern classics, there’s only one Luke,” she touched Luke’s arm, drawing his attention to her, and smiled. He calmed, shoulders lowering as he looked at her. “Star Wars?”

  Luke nodded, and Lena could see the faintest tint of red coloring his cheekbones. Margo groaned while Cali laughed and Akta and Jane put their hands over their mouths for the Vader-helmet breath noise and droned out, “Luuuuuuuke, I am your father.”

  Luke leaned in and breathed a gentle kiss across Lena’s cheek. “You’re not angry with me?”

  “No, but will you tell me your real name?”

  “It’s Chevo.”

  “Hmm, Luke is slightly easier to pronounce.”

  “And I like the way you say my name when I have my mouth on your sex.”

  It was delicious and naughty that he would speak of such things while their friends sat so close, laughing and joking. She loved it.

  “How would you feel about an Indian-brave-kidnapped-settler fantasy?”

  “Indian brave?”

  “Oh yeah. You, in a loin cloth—hot.”

  “And I would kidnap you?” His tone was non-committal, so Lena backpedaled, a touch hurt that he hadn’t immediately agreed.

  “I know it’s not P.C. but it would just be for fun…”

  “I would kidnap you and do whatever I want with you? Touch you wherever I want?” His voice dripped with promise and Lena shivered in anticipation.

  “Oh yeah.”

  Luke’s hand slid along the top of her thigh and Lena’s sex flooded with arousal.

  “And w
hat does that have to do with my name?” He asked as his breath against the fine hairs of her neck distracted her.

  “You, ah, look sort-of Native American, and the name…”

  “I understand.”

  “Remind me to ask why that is. I mean, why you look like this and Michael and Henry are white bread.”

  “Later, ask later,” he whispered as his mouth covered hers.

  There, in front of all her friends, the family she’d chosen for herself, Luke kissed her, and she kissed him back. It wasn’t until Margo bounced a roll off the back of Luke’s head that they broke apart, lips clinging until the last moment. Sound returned in a rush, her friend’s catcalls and cries of “get a room” barely penetrating the sweet haze of pleasure his kiss instilled in her.

  Luke leaned back in his chair, tangling their fingers and lifting their joined hands to kiss hers.

  Lena felt like a medieval princess receiving the pledge of a noble knight. She, the consummate young, urban professional woman, reveled in the devotion and protection Luke offered her. Though years of breaking glass ceilings and dating men threatened by her success had convinced Lena she should not want what he offered, her heart would not be denied.

  With Luke she could be herself.

  Stunned by this revelation Lena sank into a brown study as dinner wound down and the diners ferried everything inside, relocating the party to Akta’s plush living room to watch the Indiana Jones trilogy.

  When the only people on the terrace were Luke and Lena, he touched a hand to her face.

  “Are you all right?”

  Blinking, Lena turned to him, “I’m more than all right.”

  Coming out of her seat, Lena climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of his. She slid her hand down his chest and stomach to the fastening of his jeans. Beneath the denim and zipper he was already hard.

  “You’re hard. Have you been sitting here with that thing in your pants?” Lena reached both arms up and freed the clip that held her hair. The position lifted her breasts, the thin tank top and bra she wore emphasizing their soft, full weight rather than masking it.