by McGill, Brie
She beckoned with her tongue, reaching for him, lurching forward to take him.
Directing her head with his hand, he pulled her away from it.
Ninkasi fought to reach him with her tongue.
He held her firmly at bay. “Do you want it?”
She sighed, sitting back on her heels. “Yes.”
Orion chuckled. “Say it.”
The need between her legs was incredible. “I want it.”
He pushed her head forward, brushing his hardness against her cheek. “You want what?”
She turned her head to lick him.
He whipped it away and pressed a finger against her lips. “Tell me what you want.”
She kissed the tip of his finger. “I want your cock.”
Slinging one arm around her back, he leaned closer, and pinched her nipple. “Where do you want it?”
Ninkasi whimpered. “Between my legs.”
He pinched her other nipple, harder. “What do you want between your legs?” He hovered over her, brushing his nose against hers.
She panted. “I want your cock between my legs.”
Orion probed her mouth with a sultry kiss, sweeping fingers through her hair. “You do?”
Whimpering, she melted in his arms, feeling his tongue, wanting him to take her. Her head was hot and the prolonged torture of delayed pleasure made her dizzy. “I want your cock inside me, right now! I want you to give it to me!”
Guiding her so she sat tall on her knees, Orion supported her with a hand behind her back. Lifting one of her legs off the floor, he hooked it around his waist, his hardness brushing against her wanton sex.
Taking great care to ensure she was steady, he pulled her body against him, lifting her other leg from the floor and locking it around him.
She moaned, praying he would push it all the way inside her.
He carefully lowered her body to the floor, so she lay on her back, legs coiled around him. He knelt above her, poised for penetration. “Are you comfortable?” He gently stroked her arm, inspecting her binds.
She nodded.
He secured his hands at her hips and gently urged himself inside her.
Ninkasi opened her mouth, moaning with delirium. She couldn’t see his face; she couldn’t touch his body. Because he knelt above her, she couldn’t kiss him, taste him; behind the blindfold and her ties, there existed nothing for her mind to focus on, save the molten ecstasy of his iron cock driving deeper into her body.
He lifted one of her legs, increasing in speed and force.
Limited with her hands behind her back, she lifted her hips to meet him. She cried out, mumbling nonsense when he speared her, begging for more when he pulled it away.
Orion lowered himself on top of her, parking an elbow beside her head.
She delighted in the musky smell of his body, the feeling of his silky hair brushing over her.
One hand found her breast, and his lips found her lips. He forced his way into her mouth with his tongue, clamping a hand over her forehead and kissing her, sucking the screams from her mouth.
Coiling her legs around him, she pressed her hips so firmly against him that their bodies interlocked, and the slightest motion sparked an ecstatic pleasure as far inside her as anything could reach. There was nothing to do but to hold on with her legs, bound and made a slave to pleasure.
She wanted to cry out, but Orion’s tongue filled her mouth.
He squeezed her breasts, traced nails down her back, and controlled the angle of her hips to make the deepest thrusts possible.
If he didn’t stop—Ninkasi didn’t want him to stop—she was doomed to explode in a decadent, terrifying, self-incriminating orgasm in which all reason left her, along with strange sounds, muscular contractions, and any hope in the world of ever breaking herself away from this man.
He stopped.
An indignant, pouting protest escaped her lips.
Orion pulled out, his hands found her hips, and he delicately rolled her onto her stomach.
Ninkasi spread her legs and walked her knees into her body, angling herself toward him in hopes he would resume taking her.
Planting a hand on her ass, Orion smacked her once, lightly, and pushed her toward the floor. He crawled over her, and directing her head with a handful of hair, licked around and beside her ear. “Tell me what you want.”
Squirming beneath him, she wiggled side to side and kicked her feet. “I want your cock inside me!”
Orion settled back on his knees, observing with an amused snort.
“I don’t want you to take it out!” She kicked her feet, thrashing in a tantrum. “I want you to fuck me until I come!”
He drew a deep breath through his nostrils. “Oh my.”
She rested her head on the floor, voice breaking like she might cry. “I need it.”
Hooking his hands beneath her hips, he pulled her body toward him. “If you insist.” He teased her for a moment, sliding his cock up and down and everywhere except inside her, where she wanted it.
Ninkasi groaned, lifting her head from the floor.
He slammed into her, meeting no resistance. Digging his fingers into her hips, he kept a rough hold on her body, pistoning into her with overpowering force.
Toes curling, she turned her face and rested her cheek on the floor, unable to do anything beyond vocalize her delight, enjoy everything that was done to her, and try to imagine the glory that was Orion’s nude body.
He slowed his pace, lowering her hips to the floor, and positioned himself above her. His hands found the knots at her wrists and he untied her in a fluid motion.
She gasped with surprise.
Unraveling the last of her bonds, Orion directed her hands in front of her body, positioning her like a sphinx. He wrapped his arms around her middle, rested his head on her shoulder, and resumed pumping her from behind.
Ninkasi clasped his hand in her hand, feeling his bare chest pressed against her back, and threw her head back in rapture.
Caressing her breasts, Orion turned his head, planting a trail of hot kisses down her neck.
Turning to kiss him, her tongue met his tongue. The motion of Orion’s body above her, his sensuous touch, and the shattering force of his cock rocketed her into a blissful state of oblivion.
He broke away from the kiss and forced her head into the ground with his chin, grunting and increasing in pace. He squeezed her shoulders, flattening her against the floor.
The shift in tempo and sharp breathing indicated to Ninkasi he was about to climax.
Orion abruptly pulled out, vocalizing disapproval at the back of his throat, and flipped Ninkasi onto her stomach. He grunted; seconds later, a rain of hot seed splashed below her navel.
Ninkasi yelped with surprise.
Groaning, he stroked himself; another spurt landed beside her hip, another splattering near the entrance to her body. Orion leaned over her, slowly drawing his wet cock down her stomach, drizzling the last of his delight on her body.
He sighed regretfully. “How terribly incompetent of me.”
She grabbed his wrist, shaking her head to refute him. Pressing the length of his index finger between her breasts, she pushed his hand down along her belly until it came into contact with his fluids.
Orion gasped, surprised or amazed, she wasn’t sure.
Ninkasi directed his finger, scraping and gathering until she could push all that had been spent over her sex into a pool at the entrance of her body. Using two of his fingers to push the wet mess inside her, she commanded, “Make me come.”
He stroked her calmly, steadily.
On the brink of orgasm, and with the added pleasure of what she wanted finally inside her, Ninkasi lifted her hips rhythmically and moaned, tilting her head to one side.
Her response urged Orion to caress faster, to push his fingers further inside her.
She bucked against him, angling her hips to meet his fingers at just the right spot.
With his other hand he str
oked the edge of her sex, pushing her toward release.
The extra stimulation was too much: hips gyrating, clawing at the floor, Ninkasi exploded with a rolling wave of orgasmic contractions. Consumed with release, she forgot where she was, who she was, what she was; she knew only this incredible feeling, this liberation of which she had been long too starved, and the incredible man that gave it to her.
The incredible, mysterious man that. . .
Orion withdrew his fingers only after all of her contractions ceased.
This mysterious man that. . .
A drunken wave of glory washed over her.
This mysterious man whose face she had never seen!
Ninkasi pushed the blindfold away from her face, through sweaty hair, and stared at him, amazed, for the very first time. He had the radiant face of an angel and shifting, kaleidoscopic eyes, the kind of eyes so steeped with depth and emotion she could stare for an eternity and never truly know any of the million things that motivated their beauty. Slight creases at the corners of his eyes marked the decade between them.
He was every bit as beautiful as she fantasized.
More beautiful.
So beautiful that she couldn’t believe he was real.
Orion bit his lower lip, a pained expression twisting his face. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, staring at the floor.
Ninkasi sat up, tossing the blindfold aside, sensing that, in some way, she hurt him.
Lifting a hand to his forehead, he closed his eyes and sighed.
“What!” She squeezed his wrist and pulled his hand away.
He met her stare; then, he glanced away and laughed in spite of himself.
Ninkasi concealed her sense of victory with a half-smile. “You can’t stay mad at a naked lady, can you?” She crossed her arms.
Stealing the blindfold from the floor, Orion straightened the fabric, and used it to lightly slap her across the face. “That was the one naughty thing you didn’t have my permission to do.” He wadded the blindfold into a ball and threw it at her head.
She blinked.
Grabbing her by the hair, Orion straddled her and knelt above her. “That’s why I tied you up in the first place.” Licking his thumb, he rubbed all the makeup away from her freckle. “So you wouldn’t do that.” He pushed her down onto the carpet and kissed her authoritatively.
Ninkasi’s eyes fluttered open, detecting the dim grey of early morning light through her window. She basked in the sizzle of Orion’s body snuggled against her.
Footsteps echoed in the hall—but there was no way any of the servants would come for her this early. She figured Orion would have ordered his servants away if he planned to spend the night with her.
She admired his peaceful sleeping face. He didn’t notice her stirring, or the ruckus in the hallway.
The doorknob turned.
She quickly shut her eyes and feigned sleep, curling against Orion.
The door opened, and there was silence: whoever stood in the door didn’t move. There was neither advance nor retreat, only stillness, silence.
Ninkasi opened one eye just enough to steal a quick, undetectable glimpse of whoever lurked at the door: a man her age, maybe younger, with a shiny mane of strawberry blonde hair stood in the doorway, his mouth a gaping O of shock and disgust.
She shut her eyes. She had no idea who it was.
Orion had no idea the boy was here. He sensed nothing.
The door closed, and the footsteps left more quickly than they came.
Ninkasi lay wide awake, feeling unsettled. Had Orion really come to her all this time in secret?
She observed him in his blissful reverie, wondering if it really did take three bottles of wine to coax him into the normal state of sleep she took for granted.
She didn’t want to wreck it for him.
Ninkasi burrowed under the blanket and cuddled him tightly.
Pillow Flight :: Nightmare 3/4
X.
The boy shoved his hand into the black box, frantically glancing over his shoulders.
The doors rumbled and retracted into the wall, revealing the lab.
He shuddered. He hated the lab, hated the sight of beakers and vials, hated the evisceration, and hated the nightmares it spawned in his sleep. He refused to look at the megalithic glass cylinder he had come to know so well.
The boy closed his eyes and listened: nothing. He sensed no one.
This was his moment.
He powered on the nearest desk lamp, spilling an eerie violet light into the forbidden room. Dragging a desk chair toward the back wall, he climbed up, jiggling an unwound hairpin inside the lock of a grey metal cabinet. The boy narrowed his eyes and bit his lip, concentrating, twisting.
The door popped open.
Rearing up on his toes, his hands frisked the highest shelf, searching for a rack of vials. He pulled down the jangling rack and leapt to the floor, slamming the vials against the desk. Bending the blazing lamp head over the rack, he perused the vials with his fingers.
He knew which drugs to choose. He had seen them used on him a thousand times before. Always the same drugs.
The boy trembled with rage, heart knocking, and selected the first vial. He grabbed a spare glass vessel, small enough to fit into his pocket, and dumped a splash of the contents inside.
They would notice if whole vials went missing; he doubted they would suspect a thing if he siphoned only what he needed.
The boy clutched his spare container, and selected the second appropriate vial from the rack. Wracked with adrenaline, his hands shook, pouring the liquid contents unsteadily. He spilled green liquid all over the desk.
Cursing, he rubbed at the puddle with his sleeve. He regretted his general ignorance of chemistry; if he understood more about all the compounds in the vials, perhaps he could have concocted a potent, deadly poison.
The boy poured off a third vial. A sedative would have to do. Besides, he didn’t really trust the drugs: the only way to ensure Andrealphus died was to kill the monster himself.
Plus, he wanted the satisfaction. He wanted to kneel on Andrealphus’s chest and watch the life drain from his eyes. He wouldn’t know peace until the last breath escaped his lips, until the final beat of his heart faded into the hungry blackness he hoped would devour his soul and transport him to a pit of eternal torment.
Drugs could help him, but no, drugs weren’t good enough. The boy wanted to make it clear that when he killed Andrealphus, he killed him for the atrocity he committed. He wanted to make it known the transgression was not forgiven, it was not forgotten, and never, so long as the sun rose and fell in the sky, would anything ever make it okay.
The damage was done. She was stained indelibly.
He preyed upon the weak: it was the boy’s duty to stamp his vicious inhumanity from the earth.
The boy emptied what he needed from the fourth bottle and tightly closed the lid of the vial. He popped the cork into his own vessel, and shook the chemicals together, creating a dark, brown, syrupy liquid. He climbed the desk chair, returning the rack of vials to its rightful place in the cabinet, and locked the door. Peering at the desk, he swept his fingers across its surface, verifying once more he left no mess, no trace of clandestine activity. He tucked the chair into the desk, switched off the light, and bolted the hell out of the lab.
The boy knew which servants prepared Andrealphus’s dining tray. He found their sequestered alcove behind the kitchen in a dimly lit golden hallway, and waited until he was alone.
Reaching into his pocket, the boy vigorously shook the hellish mixture he created. He popped the cork on his bottle and dumped a liberal splash of drugs into the demon’s cup, disguised by neat ounces of a dark liquor.
❧ ❧ ❧
“Hold the tip in your mouth and blow when I give the signal.” Aleister knelt in the grass and tilted his head back, squinting against the marvelous afternoon sun.
Orion grudgingly adjusted the ceremoniously engraved bamboo rod
between his lips, and planted the other end at the tip of Aleister’s nostril. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”
Aleister wore a teal silk robe stitched with The Brotherhood’s golden emblems. He raised a harried finger. “I have an obligation!”
Orion lowered the stick into the grass, hanging his head, and shut his eyes. “What. . . obligations could you possibly have?”
“To the universe!” Aleister swiped the rod and jabbed Orion in the forehead with it.
Orion knit his brow.
“To my immortal soul!” He gripped the tube in a fist and beat his chest. “To purge the sins of my lineage!”
Orion snorted.
Aleister pointed the stick at the sky. “To learn!”
Orion pilfered the rod and beat it against an open palm, inches from Aleister’s face. “What will this teach you?” He wagged the stick. “Some crushed-up seeds, blown up the inside of your head to make your nose pour jets of snot?” He shook his head. “You haven’t learned that your sinuses have limits.”
“Hold it at my nose!” Aleister grabbed the stick and pointed it at his face. “We begin now!” He lowered his voice, poking the rod into his snout. “This teaches me to live without making decisions based on fear!”
“I’d personally be terrified” —Orion crouched in the grass before him— “if I were blowing this shit into my head as often as you do.”
“Come on, do it now! Now!” Aleister sharply poked the other end of the tube into Orion’s cheek. “It teaches me—”
With a disapproving headshake, Orion clasped the stick with gloved fingers, inhaled a deep breath, and blew the contents of the stick deep into Aleister’s nasal passage.
“Mercy—” Aleister muttered in a hoarse voice, collapsing on his back into the grass, and squinted his eyes. His face turned red, and he sniffled, streams of clear snot pouring from his nose.
“For fuck’s sake.” Orion stood up, and turned his back to his friend. “I don’t think you’ve grasped the concept of mercy for yourself.”
“I know why you’re too terrified to take it.” He limply tossed the empty tube at his friend’s back.