by Anthology
He felt surprise flicker through her again.
Before he could make up his mind whether to say more, she turned her body to face his. Moving abruptly, she climbed into his lap, sitting astride him in seconds.
He was instantly hard. His skin flushed in the same set of seconds, even as pain rippled his light, his hand wrapping around her hip.
“Your cake is going to melt,” he said. “It’s ice cream, Cassandra.”
“What’s in the backpack?” she demanded.
He looked up at her. Seeing her watch his face, he sighed, still fighting to control the pain coiling through his light. Shifting under her weight in his lap, conscious that he’d just pressed his erection up against her, he turned enough to open the top of the backpack.
Unzipping it slowly, one-handed, he didn’t look up until he had it open, then he turned, looking up to meet her gaze again.
“I didn’t wrap them,” he confessed. “I thought it might raise too many questions.”
He saw curiosity flicker across her face, right before she shifted deeper into his lap, making him gasp even as he gripped her hip tighter, biting his tongue. She had ahold of the backpack by then, and was opening the top wider, staring inside.
He felt her realize what she was looking at, even as surprise rippled her light again.
“Comic books?” her voice was incredulous. “You brought me comic books?”
“Your friends,” he said, still fighting reactions to having her in his lap. “I asked...they said you liked them. These ones, I mean...”
She turned from the bag, staring at him incredulously.
Seeing the disbelief there, he shrugged.
“I can’t bring you a reader,” he explained. “Or anything to watch the feeds on. But I could bring you this. I thought...” Meeting her gaze, he felt himself flush, suddenly doubting the choice. “I don’t know. I thought you might want to read them.”
He let his words trail as he glanced up, gesturing vaguely when she continued to stare at his face. When she didn’t speak, he gestured vaguely again.
“I bought them off some of the humans on board,” he added. “If they are the wrong kind, tell me. I can perhaps find different ones...”
She had gone back to the backpack though. He watched her face as she flipped through the stack of covers. He felt pleased surprise on her a few times, enough to know at least some of them were things she might have picked for herself. He’d known he might miss with a few of them...but he’d read a number of her old human friends, trying to get some sense of what had been of interest to her back when she lived in San Francisco.
When he glanced up next, she was holding one of the books in her hands, flipping through it as she resettled her butt in his lap. He watched her eyes move across the page.
He glanced at the cake again and then decided fuck it.
If she didn’t want the cake, she didn’t have to eat it.
“I want it,” she told him without looking up. She turned the page on the book she held. “I’m trying to decide if I should fuck you for bringing me these before I eat it.”
She spoke casually, almost indifferently.
Even so, his pain spiked. He shook his head though, clicking.
“I don’t want an exchange, Cass,” he said. “Regardless of what I said...”
His words trailed when she resettled her weight on him, that time with her palm firmly pressed against his cock. She kept her hand there as she continued to read the book, pulling it off only to turn the pages. She rubbed him there slowly in between. When she didn’t stop, he leaned against the wall, his pain worsening until he couldn’t see.
“Fuck, Cass...” He let out a low gasp, gripping her wrist in his hand. “Don’t tease me right now. Please...”
“Who said anything about teasing?” she said, her voice neutral again as her eyes scanned the print.
She glanced up when he didn’t answer.
After studying his face for a few seconds more, she set the book down next to his thigh, leaning into his chest. Lowering her face, she kissed his mouth, pulling on him sensually with her light and tongue––more than she should have been able to, given the collar.
Guilt wormed its way into his brain again, making him think too much about what she’d said, the way she’d insinuated some kind of exchange.
After a few seconds more, he ended the kiss.
He felt her noticing the doubt on him, right before she gave him a small smile.
Climbing off his lap, she sat cross-legged in front of the cake, picking up one of the two forks he’d brought. They were soft, of course, made of plastic.
He couldn’t ignore all of the protocols, even if some part of him wanted to.
“Are you going to eat it with me, at least?” she said without turning.
He looked at her back, then let out a tighter exhale.
“Yes,” he said.
Sitting up from the wall, he slid over to the other side of the tray and picked up the second plastic fork. He only glanced at her briefly before he leaned down, carving a piece out of one side with the utensil and putting it in his mouth. When he’d closed his lips around it, he glanced up and saw her staring at him incredulously.
“Did you really just eat the first piece of my cake?” she said, her voice warring between amusement and annoyance.
“Yes,” he said, surprised. “So?”
“Dude, that’s a party foul.”
“Is it?” he retorted. “You weren’t eating it.”
“I was about to!”
“How the hell am I to know that?”
“I just told you I was!”
Shrugging, he leaned down again, about to dig in another forkful, but she shoved his arm away. “You can’t eat the gold part!” she scolded.
“Why not?”
“Another party foul,” she said, her voice exasperated but holding more humor. “You don’t get to eat the fancy part on the cake when it’s someone else’s cake!”
“Why not?” he said again.
“Because I won’t fuck you if you do,” she said, laughing. “How’s that for an answer? Since you seers seem to have no regard for tradition....”
“Not true,” he protested. “Patently not true!”
But she’d already leaned over the cake herself. When he tried to do the same, she pushed his hand with the fork away, right before she dug into the gold sword and sun, pulling off most of it in one giant forkful.
“Why did you invite me to eat with you if you did not mean it?” he grumbled, watching her stuff the whole thing in her mouth.
She laughed, her mouth full of ice cream and frosting. She fought to chew––then to swallow––laughing again as she came up for air.
“There are rules, man. You can eat it, just follow the rules...”
“How can I follow some arbitrary human rules?” he complained, rolling his eyes. “....If I do not know these rules even exist? You will apparently not tell tell them to me until after I’ve already broken them...”
“I didn’t think I’d have to spell out the obvious stuff...sheesh.”
“And now I cannot have any cake at all, apparently?” he grumbled, letting his own humor creep to his voice. “You are very greedy, Cassandra....”
She grinned, right before she slid over, sitting deliberately in his lap, this time facing outward. He let her, shifting his legs to accommodate her, even as she pressed the small of her back deliberately into his crotch again. He sucked in a light breath, then let his voice turn into another grumble.
“A seating arrangement clearly designed to put yourself between me and the cake,” he muttered, reaching around her to stab at one green branch of the frosting-covered tree.
She laughed, looking back at him as he stuffed the forkful into his mouth before she could smack his hand away again. He felt his pain worsen when he saw the smile reach her eyes.
He was still looking at her face when he spoke, impulsively that time.
“You are g
orgeous,” he told her. “Absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
He saw her pale.
She stared at him, looking like he’d slapped her.
He felt fear ripple her light, what might have been panic and wrapped his arms around her, still holding the fork in one hand. He flooded her with his light, closing his eyes as he pressed his face to her shoulder, holding her tightly against his chest.
“Gaos,” he murmured. “....Trust me. Please.”
She didn’t answer.
He felt her confusion worsen.
He fought to speak again, trying to decide what to say.
In the end he remained silent, watching as she wiped her face angrily, right before she leaned forward and dug the fork viciously into the ice cream. He watched, silent, still holding her, as she shoved the whole chunk into her mouth. She took another bite, and another, and he couldn’t even tell if she was chewing at that point.
“Don’t you have brain freeze?” he said finally.
It was almost a real question by then.
She let out an involuntary-sounding laugh, nearly choking on her current mouthful.
He was still holding her around the waist when she turned fluidly in his lap, wrapping her legs around him. She started taking off his shirt and his pain spiked. Yanking his shirt out of his pants, she unhooked his belt and undid the fasteners, freeing his cock. She got off him long enough to shed her pants, then she was back in his lap, maneuvering over him while he groaned.
He was inside her seconds later and cried out.
She shoved his hands off when he tried to help her, then she shoved at his chest, pushing him to his back. He lay there, his knees up, if only to avoid stepping in the cake, and watched her face as her body undulated against his. He let out a groan when she did it again, reaching for her hips, but she slapped his hands away.
She brought him inexorably to an orgasm.
He didn’t even try to slow it down. He let her control everything.
She held him off a few times anyway, and he felt her experimenting with his light, pulling on him and changing angles until he told her which things he liked.
When he finally came, he let out a lower cry, a near yell.
He bucked up against her as she held his wrists, losing touch with the room.
When he could see again, she was looking at him, hair sweated to her neck, her eyes glassy as she gazed down at his face. Seeing the softer look that briefly touched her expression, he leaned up towards her, bringing his mouth to hers, but she turned away before he reached her. He was still fighting to recover when she climbed off him, leaving him lying there, half undressed and in more pain than he had been before they started.
When he finally managed to pull himself back up to a seated position, she was leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest.
She glared at him as he fought to control a second erection, pulling his shirt around to cover it when he couldn’t. Once he was more or less dressed, he slid over next to her again, leaning against the wall. He watched her face, but she wouldn’t look at him.
He watched her clench her jaw and exhaled in a sigh.
“Do you want to work some more tonight?” he said. “On the jumps?”
“Fuck you.”
He felt his own jaw harden, but nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes.”
He flinched but controlled his light. He started to pull himself off the wall when she turned, glaring right into his face.
“What the fuck are you doing, ‘Dori?” she snapped. “What the fuck is this?”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean!” She gestured sharply over at the half-melted cake, taking in the backpack and the comic book on the floor in the same sweep of her arm. “What am I, ‘Dor? Am I your girlfriend now? Is your bed really that empty without Yarli in it?” She paused, staring at him before her voice grew more venomous. “...Or is it Allie you’re still pining over? Am I the closest you can get to her, now that Revik’s got his cock in her again?”
He felt his jaw harden more.
He started to get up again, but she grabbed his arm.
“Are you going to answer me?” she demanded.
He clicked at her, removing his arm from her grasp. “No,” he said, cold. “What would be the point? You have me all figured out, don’t you?”
She stared at him. He saw the disbelief in her eyes turn into anger.
Right before they filled with tears.
Shock paralyzed him as he stared at her.
He felt pain coil off her light, even as images flickered behind his eyes. Night after night of jumps, of his being in her light...for hours sometimes, sometimes for the entire night. He felt her mind tilt as some part of her opened under his stare. Briefly, he was lost there, feeling so much of her for those few seconds he couldn’t see past it. He felt that pit that Shadow found in her light. He felt it, and without thought, he opened his light more––as much as he could––gearing into that dark place in her aleimi.
She let out a low cry, gasping a sob.
Then she was gripping her head in her hands, crying as he wrapped himself around her. He ignored it that time when she tried to fight her way free. He gripped her arms, pulling her up against him, putting more of his light into hers.
“No!” she cried out, shoving at his hands. “No! No! Leave me alone...please...leave me alone, Balidor. Please, ‘Dori...please...”
She burst into tears, shocking him again.
He didn’t release her. He gripped her tighter instead, his light still geared into that dark spot in her aleimi, that fissure Shadow used to break open her mind. In a matter of seconds he’d flipped almost completely into infiltrator mode once more, even though the shocks of emotion coming off him hurt him just as much as they might have if he hadn’t.
He held her, and before he knew it....
He was there again.
He was with her, inside that other place.
7
Sold
It is dark here.
Dark...he barely glimpses the outline of a windowless room.
Dank, musty smells. It reaches him in glimpses but he’s confused as to why, tries to decide if it’s because of a swinging light or if something else cuts his vision in and out. He feels like he’s tilting, coiling into smaller and smaller shapes...like he is inside a nightmare, like his body is being torn apart, manipulated, locked in place like quicksand or cement. He feels things...enough that he smells alcohol, bad breath...hears laughter.
He hears her whimpering.
The sound stabs at him. It cuts him so that he can’t breathe, can’t think.
It hurts him. He can’t get past that hurt.
But some part of him needs to see. He glimpses more in that slanting dark and light...not a coherent narrative, still nothing close to that...but longer broken pieces of light and dark, whimpering...more whimpering...
Gods. He can’t stand it. He can’t fucking stand it....
The sound brings panic to his chest, even as he fights harder to hold onto that light....
The film flickers. In his mind...in hers...
Understanding reaches him. She wants him with her for this. Not watching, but actually with her, inside of her light. She doesn’t want to do it alone, so they share the same mind in this nightmarish place...he relives it with her, every piece of it.
In this hell, they are one.
Once he understands that, he pulls back his own reactions. He makes his own mind solid, calm, stable for her. He tries to make it safe, in any way safe...
Briefly, it is stable. A slow-moving, linear progression.
It is the beginning again. Before. She is trying to understand. To retrace the steps.
He hears a man talking.
Balidor looks down, sees small, sun-kissed bare feet. The feet are so small. She just woke up. It is the middle of the night and she wears a flowered nightdress.
He struggles with human ages, trying to decide. It seems important to know. It seems important to know exactly how old she is...
Money exchanges hands.
Money, and suddenly Balidor understands.
The girl doesn’t. She doesn’t understand. Dad is talking funny like when he drinks too much and falls down and uncle is there and he is drunk too but she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand who the other men are but Balidor does...
Even here, inside of her, he understands.
More images flicker behind his eyes.
It is there. It is happening. He fights to hold on to that stability for her, to make her feel safe as she looks at this...
It is interminable. It feels like it will never end.
He sees her running then.
Running in the dark, crying.
She is away from them. Away from that dark room. She is on the street.
She doesn’t think about where she is going, but her feet don’t hesitate. She still wears the flowered nightdress. Everything hurts when she climbs the tree to a higher window and knocks on the glass of a window and then...and then...
Allie is there.
Allie opens the window, smiling at her. She is clean. She wears a nightgown too but hers has a cartoon dog on it and she is clean and smiles at Cass and thinks it is all a big game.
In those few seconds, Balidor wants to punch Allie in the face.
He knows it is irrational. He knows it makes no sense to feel this way.
But rage fills him anyway. The sheer injustice of it. Her obliviousness...
But of course Allie is a child, too.
She is a child and it isn’t her fault that she is loved and Cass is not. She loves Cass and he understands that with his adult mind too, even under his blinding rage.
He also feels that Allie is all Cass has...the only thing.
Cass tells her they need to run away. She begs her to run away and Allie agrees and says they will make sandwiches and get puppies and live on an island where they are surrounded by waves...and Cass nods to all of it but her mind can only say go now we have to go now we have to go now please hurry hurry hurry please hear me on this allie and hurry please...