"Give it to me, please—and show Bruce to our cabin." As the sailor guided Bruce from the room, Mandy turned her attention to their hero. "Fili, drink this." "Thank you, señora. I will sleep soon anyway, but this will help." "It's señorita, Fili." "But...I thought...surely…" Fili looked into Mandy's eyes, then nodded. "No, it is señora—or, at least, it may as well be. He is a very lucky man. Go to him. He needs you. I will be fine."
Mandy gently hugged the injured man. "Thank you, Fili, for everything. We'd never have survived without your help! I'm leaving this with you." She gestured with the bottle of pisco as she placed it on the table. "I have a better balm in mind for Bruce." She rose, picked up the bag containing the statues and, with a glance over her shoulder, blew him a kiss.
The crew member squeezed past her as he left the captain's quarters carrying Bruce's wet clothes. "There are towels in the lavatory," he said in passing. "Set your clothes outside the door, and I'll hang them on deck to dry." Mandy nodded her thanks and ducked inside.
Bruce sat on the edge of the bunk with his head in his hands. Undressing quickly, she slid one leg around his back and settled in behind him. Her hands slowly massaged the knotted muscles of his neck and shoulders. "They're in here," he murmured after a few moments. "Aren't they?"
"I wasn't sure you'd react to them in your present mood, but I didn't want them out of my sight. Do you want me to move them?"
"That depends," he twisted himself around and kissed her, "on whether or not you mind being the sexual diversion of a seriously morose attorney. Man, I...I killed another human being."
"Yes, you did—and I helped you do it. I can't think of anything we could've done differently to prevent it, either. Besides, there's nothing we can do to change the past. It's done. We have to...Oh, mmm...We have to..."
Bruce ran his tongue along her jaw line. "We have to," he finished for her, "find out if those statues fit together—and, if so, if their aphrodisi-magic is even stronger when joined."
"That's not exactly what I was going to say but," Mandy rose and crossed the small cabin, pulling both carvings from their carrier, "I've no objection." She studied the male statue's exaggerated member and the ring-like legs and vaginal opening of the female. Easing Amichu over the head of her mate, Mandy slid her onto his erection—a perfect fit. "Well, they certainly don't need any lube. For that matter, neither do I." "Damn!" "Bruce, what's wrong?" Mandy looked up at her partner. "Well, I don't know if wrong is the right word, but…I haven't been this hard since I was fourteen and watching my first porn flick. This," he gestured at his crotch, "is not normal. This even kinda hurts."
Carefully placing the joined statues on the floor, Mandy stood before Bruce and bent forward to take his cock in both her hands. "You weren't like this a second ago. I mean, yeah, you were hard but…"
"But in a regular way, I know. All of a sudden...I mean, it even feels like it grew or something. So, apparently our friends here are not only prehistoric Spanish fly, but also prehistoric Viagra." "The Incan civilization is hardly prehistoric, Bruce." "Can we talk history later, Man? The present is so much more," he planted
his face between her breasts and growled, "appetizing." Rather than answer with words, Mandy twisted her torso to bring a nipple to his lips. Bruce opened his mouth to accept her offering and pulled at it lightly with his teeth as his tongue flicked its hard nub. Between her legs, she felt another surge of anticipatory warmth. Mandy released Bruce's cock and wove her fingers through his hair as her head dropped back.
Every sensation seemed magnified—vivid yet surreal—and when Bruce moved to the other breast, she groaned. Mandy knew she would eventually come from the nipple stimulation alone, but the overwhelming need for his cock eclipsed her patience. She tried to drop to her knees, but Bruce's arms wrapped around her ass, holding her in place, and his hands slid between her legs from behind. He groaned to find her so wet. Wrenching himself away from Mandy's breasts, Bruce looked up at her—the fire in his eyes every bit as searing as that of his cock pressed against her leg. She ached to slide her mouth over its length and bury her nose in the coarse hair at its base, to inhale his musk and hear his pleasure as he thrust into her throat.
Bruce read the obvious desire in her expression—tongue darting to wet her slightly parted lips, eyes glazed and lids heavy with hunger, cheeks burning. It spoke to him on a subconscious level, and the intensity of the message prompted him to release his grip. Mandy immediately knelt, driven by that hunger, and—with something approaching reverence—took him fully into her mouth, groaning as if she were savoring the most succulent flavors of pachamanca.
The boat pitched as they got underway, and the Amichu slid across the floor, wedging itself between Bruce's foot and Mandy's knee. "Micay," he breathed. "Añau!"
The Andean snow fell on her bare back and instantly melted, but she did not notice the chill. Its water dripped from her skin onto the frozen ground as she swallowed Vicaquirao's cock. Her lover would sail at dawn on an expedition for her father—Pachacuti, the Qhapaq Inka—and he would be gone for many months, perhaps years. Thus, they would allow nothing or no one to interfere with their last night together, even if it meant a surreptitious rendezvous in the mountain snow.
"Come up here, my rupaq siki." Bruce tucked his hands under Mandy's arms and lifted her from her knees. "Mount me, Micay. I want to fill you just as my gift is filling his mate."
She glanced at the stone figures partially buried in the snow at their feet—lovers locked in a passionate embrace, secretly commissioned of the master stonemason. Vica risked his life to give her such a gift—half of which would travel with him while the other half remained with her. The huaca at Písac had even blessed the statues, promising that their owners would be forever as one—amichu—and that even death could not keep them apart.
Mandy straddled Bruce's legs and lowered herself onto his cock as he held it away from his body, wrapping one leg, then the other, around his waist and hooking her ankles behind his back. Joined in precisely the same fashion as their stone counterparts, they clung to one another—desperate to commit every sensation to memory, for it would be a very long time before their physical bodies would again be so entwined.
His hands grabbed her ass, pulling her closer, and as one they forgot about the political forces that made their union so dangerous. Their love pushed all other considerations aside, and they focused only on the gifts they gave to one another: the gifts of skin, of self, and of soul. Nothing could touch the purity of their passion—neither stigma nor shame—and, although the odds were stacked against them, their determination overcame the obstacles life placed in their way.
" Sunqullay!" Mandy cried as Bruce pumped into her, his cock hotter and harder than she'd ever felt it.
They clung to one another—savoring taste and touch, sound and scent—knowing they'd only have the night's memories to warm them in the lonely months ahead. In spite of the frigid temperatures, their bodies were bathed in the sweat of exertion.
Bruce roared with the force of his orgasm, jumping to his feet with Mandy still wrapped around him. He backed her against the wall and continued to thrust, punctuating each with a guttural moan. His seed mingled with her juices and ran down his legs.
"Yes, lover!" Mandy cried as her own climax overtook her. They collapsed together onto the floor. The mountains and the snow disappeared as soon as they lost contact with the Amichu, but the emotions lingered. A single tear escaped Mandy's eye. "Please don't ever let me go," she whispered once her voice returned.
Bruce pulled her into his arms. "Not a chance, Man. All of our adventures will be together, and we'll have many. We are—Amichu."
* * *
Fili stood at the bow as they eased into their berth at the Valparaíso seaport. The man would probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life, but five days of pisco-induced rest had his wounds healing nicely. He smiled at Mandy and Bruce as they joined him, and each scanned the pier for Eduardo.
"Man," Bruce w
hispered in her ear, "if we end up taking both Amichu back to Erotique, we gotta pack 'em in separate bags—even though we have nothing else to carry. Much as I love sexin' you up, I'm damned near raw."
She dug her elbow into his ribs. "My chambers—um, both of them," she grinned, "could also use a rest, but this discussion is premature. We don't know what Eddie intends to do with the lovers now that they're reunited. Circumstances have changed." "There he is," Fili interrupted, gesturing. "You two go ahead. I'll be along
shortly." Bruce's mood turned somber. "I'm dreading this, Man. We keep bringing the
old man bad news." "Believe me, I've thought of little else over the past few days. I mean, when we weren't...well, y'know. We know our first message got through before the radio died, though, 'cause otherwise he wouldn't be here to meet us."
"True, but it only gave our location and estimated arrival. No names. No details. He might not even know about Olga's..." he stopped speaking when Eduardo caught sight of them.
His apparent relief at seeing them eased their apprehension. "Finally, some good news! I thought you'd both perished in that horrible hotel fire. The reports listed you as missing, but the details were so sketchy. Thank God the two of you are safe!" "I'm sorry, sir," Bruce blurted. "I...I...let you down." Eduardo looked at Mandy, puzzled. She put her hand on his arm and simply
said, "Olga." "Son, you did no such thing. From what I learned on the news alone, I've no doubt that 'accident' would have happened whether you were on the island or not. And, although it won't bring her back, I believe I have you to thank for the justice served." Bruce nodded somberly, and Eduardo turned to Mandy. "Tell me, did you at least get to meet my daughter—your cousin?" "We did!" Mandy wiped a tear from the old man's cheek and threw her arms around his neck. "And we knew instantly that we were related. It came as no surprise to Olga, either. She might not've known all the details, Tío Eduardo, but she certainly suspected."
"I wanted to tell her, but the time never seemed right. Now it's too late." His shoulders sagged and he sighed. "Neither Vivian nor I wanted a child, so adoption seemed like the perfect solution. But I couldn't stop thinking about our daughter. Vivian was adamant that I not search for her, though—and it eventually tore us apart. I found her, Olga, several years ago—a beautiful and brash young woman, just like her mother! Ironically, she was already studying archaeology." He stared across the harbor, lost in his bittersweet memories.
Mandy looked at Bruce with a questioning expression, and he nodded. Although they'd not discussed it, he understood. Their extraordinary shared experiences forged a connection that was eerie at times. "Eddie," she said softly, "we'd like you to come back to Philadelphia with us—to help us with the antiquities at Erotique and give us some flexibility to search for more. Please say yes." "There is nothing left for me here, Amanda. I would be honored." "Good," said Bruce. "I hope you won't mind sitting between us on the return
flight." Eddie once again turned to Mandy, puzzled, and she winked. "About those statues…"
# # #
Look for these other great Phaze titles by Alessia Brio and Will Belegon
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About the Authors
Will Belegon began writing erotica as an exploration of his more primal side. He found the combination of his overactive imagination with his love of poetry and prose to be a good fit for the genre. Throw in his love of moonlit beaches and first kisses, and words began to flow.
The validation came when other people liked what he wrote. So he wrote more, and found that he enjoyed the attention. When someone suggested he might actually get paid to write, the notion seemed too wild to consider. Yet fortune is said to favor the bold.
Will has also contributed both stories and poetry to the Coming Together anthology series,
the proceeds of which are donated to charitable and free speech organizations.
Amichu is Will's fifth collaboration with Phaze author Alessia Brio, and the second to be
published professionally.
Readers can visit him online at willbelegon.blogspot.com
Alessia Brio spends most of her time crusading for the disadvantaged, ranting about injustice, or performing her domestic duties as a work-from-home mom. When she slows down, however, her imagination takes over. After years of painting delicious images in her mind, she finally decided to capture them with words. Much to her delight, they've been well-received.
Everyone, Alessia believes, possesses an exquisitely vivid and varied imagination when it comes to sex. A few are blessed with the time and the talent and the desire to convert their "mind movies" into words on paper – or on a screen – for others to enjoy. Alessia is thrilled (and more than a little awed) to have the opportunity to share her works with Phaze readers and hopes it's the beginning of a very long, very satisfying affair.
Readers can visit her online at www.alessiabrio.com
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