Forever After (Post Apocalyptic Romance Boxed Set)

by Rose Francis

Pretty, healthy, and obviously uninfected, these nymphs were members of the uppercrust, though. Likely, the halfling sons of someone on the Advisory Council pressured to keep their blood ties under wraps. The regulations would say little against draping them in luxury, but trotting them out in public just wasn't done.

  They, like many emergences in the burgeoning chaotic world, were open secrets, if not entirely accepted.

  They'd be intent on maintaining the lifestyles they were accustomed to, and that meant doing what they surely did best, spinning dreams for the busy workerbees and uppercrust, throned sorts in need of a little “stress relief.”

  I scoffed internally.

  Drawing another sip of the muskein tea, I lifted a handkerchief from my pocket to pat the oil-residue it left on my lips. The eyes of a pale-haired, and especially gaunt, nymph flicked to me then, an interested flare at their center as he took a seat across from me.

  It was an incredibly telling look, but he wasn't the one who caught my eye. Wasn't even a dedicated male. I could sense the amorphousness of the nymph, the unsettled signature that revealed how he loved to jump into gender-flexible experiences with the abandon of changing a dress.

  Attraction for attraction's sake was his game.

  Running velvet fingertips over his high collar, the nymph turned a knee toward me on the plush cushion of his opposing bench and lifted his own tea cup, eyes slipping closed as he drank from it and widening as they set a penetrating regard upon me when he opened them again.

  A shiver ran through me, despite the steel I'd errantly assumed I possessed after my first run-in with their kind. A run-in that cost me... months of obsession. I was sure I'd learned my lesson, knew now that they were illusions. All of them. But they were formidable tempters...

  My father had kept a nymph for a while, and even he knew a time had to come when he let the tempter go. They were living party favors with agendas. Consummate hosts. Heady, delicious distractions. But the facts of the world were what they were, and using dreams to permanently distract from the rather crucial agenda of survival only invited trouble.

  Nymph enchantments were different than our own, but they'd come to join the practice of sealing the energy they extracted from their clients in trinkets. And like all men, ordinary or no, some of them were greedy enough to take much more than the health of their clientele permitted.

  You had to know your own limits with these sorts.

  It was as simple as that. If you couldn't be trusted to safeguard your own interests, dabbling in nymphs, for however fleeting a time, was ill-advised.

  I had my own trust issues where my personal cut-off was concerned, and I didn't care to have my vulnerabilities spotted by one who could fast become the enemy.

  I couldn't deny the pull of the most unassuming of their bunch, though.

  The quiet, wild-haired one.

  Him I took keen notice of, even as he seemed the least intent to be noticed at all.

  Perhaps, that was the entirety of his appeal.

  Or maybe, it was something more.

  My attention left the searing gaze of the nymph at the jangle of the bell and fell onto the server sweeping past the parlor curtain, returning to ensure our privileged asses had everything our whims might call for.

  “May I take anymore requests?”

  “No, thank you, Sir,” I answered promptly.

  “Berries,” the staring nymph answered with velvet words, his eyes never leaving me, slender fingers toying with an owl-faced ring. “And sugared cashew cream.”

  “A wonderful choice. I'll have a bowl brought right out to you.”

  “Be sure it's large.”

  A grin ticked his mouth.

  “Certainly.”

  Ah, privilege.

  This one had certainly sprung from the loins of it. It reeked from him in waves just this side of pompousness, so clever in its disguise, his arrogance almost came off charming. It was certainly seductive, if nothing else. Powerful, even. Instantly making me distrust him.

  It made me avoid his eyes with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

  That did not escape his notice.

  “Traveling far?” He finally asked, with the aloof inquisitiveness of one making unaimed small talk.

  “Not especially.”

  “Pity, that. I'd hoped we might have some time to get to know one another. You appear to have had quite the time out there in the trenches. I admire the courage your profession requires.”

  He leaned back, his lithe body almost taking into a position of ease, the top button of his suit undone and revealing when his shoulders leaned into the armrest. Gods, he was beautiful. He knew it, of course, but his self-awareness wasn't repulsively self-congratulating, at least.

  He was simply a predator who knew well the use of his tools to gather up prey as with sugar on a serving spoon.

  I left his statement unanswered, and a contemplative smile flecked his cheek. He let a brief moment of silence draw us in close to one another, closer than I was comfortable with.

  “I don't believe I've seen you around. Do you frequent the Favors events often?”

  “Not nearly as much as the Advisory Council would like.”

  I bit back against the intoxicating allure of his scent, curling around my senses like vines close to bursting with fragrant, miniature blooms. Not tonight. I'd had more than my fill of overwhelm to last the week, and only during the small space of a day.

  “A pity. Your work shouldn't keep you from stretching your palate. There are a great many delights to enjoy at those gatherings. Friends... to be made. Were I ever to see you attend one, I would make it my business to see you understand that.”

  I struggled to keep from shifting slightly against the interested tick of my cock and the uncomfortable swell it took the more the nymph spoke. It was a dual sense of disorientation, like I was experiencing his prelude to seduction through two minds: that of intellect and that of body.

  He was powerful. Definitely no half-blood. Where then had his privilege come from? A benefactor, perhaps.

  Yes. That had to be it. A nymph of this caliber would have ensnared several, with a mere flick of the eye, early on in his career.

  His nostrils flared, and my cock grew even more defiant. I grit my teeth and lifted my drink, drawing the tangy, protective tea onto my tongue. It was a poor distraction, but it won me the small bit of solace I needed in that moment.

  Unfortunately, the pale-haired nymph took that as his cue to kick things into a higher gear. At the sound of a zipper descending, I gulped the nerves bursting to life, and though I fought against it, my eyes flicked up almost immediately.

  A smaller, slightly darker haired nymph had slid closer to the pale-haired nymph on the bench, wasting not a moment answering the obvious alpha's beckoning.

  I told myself to look away, but my eyes remain glued to him, to them.

  The pale-haired nymph's eyes drifted wantonly over the image of his lover's swollen cock, and he leaned in and pressed his mouth to it, his soft lips caressing the fevered skin. His eyes drifted closed in relish of the heady musk, and extending his tongue, he drew a slick ring around the base, causing the dark-haired nymph's cock to jump reactively.

  They were highly sensitive creatures, prone to deep growls of delight that spurned on the engines of their lovers and their watchers. My own cock rose in salute, ignorant of how my mind flailed against the temptation steadily unraveling itself before me.

  Funny thing about desire. It has a way of winning out in the end if you're not careful.

  I loathed that I was do disarmed right now, but then what could I truly do? I was a prisoner to their temptations and my own lust. I had nowhere to go but travel this road as my employers required. There was no other rail to return home upon.

  This pampered room of gathering sweat and hot sugar was where fate had placed me this night, either to test or to delight. I fought against the idea that the latter was the intent.

  I eventually succeeded i
n forcing my eyes down, but only for a moment. They rose up as if of their own will as the nymph enjoying the ministrations of his comrade hissed under the wet, spit line the pale-haired nymph drew up the arch of his throbbing cock.

  The deft, searching tongue that followed each ornate vein cording its length, until his sumptuous mouth had claimed him all and wrapped him in the warm, wet of his tongue, drawing his cock to the edge of his throat.

  The dark-haired nymph forced his muscles still, visibly near-bucking against the pressure building and tightening of his balls. Biting his lips, his thighs shook, and he drove himself deep into his throat, a rain of saliva dripping from the beestung nymphish mouth stretched wide around his cock's impressive girth.

  Slurping as his head bobbed, the seducer gripped the base of his cock, pulling the fevered skin into a slow tug. Strings of his spit stretched from his lips as he sucked and lapped the receiver's length.

  My cock strained uncomfortably against my zipper, but I refused it my hands or any of their nympish mouthes.

  They watched me, though, keenly, in snatches.

  The music of his sucking and the fevered breaths of the nymph straining against an inevitable explosion set the surface of my skin aflame. I watched transfixed as the receiver cupped the face of the sucking nymph administering him with his cock.

  Their gazes locked as the pale-haired nymph bathed his cock in wet, his mouth rising and falling over his pulsing shaft, taking his comrade into the deep of his warm mouth.

  I bit my lip as their scents plumed the air around me, enticing and thrilling.

  Gods were they beautiful works of art meant for the sampling of unbridled libidos, Made for sex, for consummate pleasure.

  And they were ever so aware of me, testing my steel against the intense soft of them, knowing fully I how wished to run... anywhere.

  Anywhere else.

  I watched, my cock jerking as the eyes of the dark-haired nymph squeezed tightly shut against the increased intensity of his pleasurer's succor, the pale-haired nymph's mouth intent like one drawing the juice of a dripping fruit from his length.

  Biting his own lip, the dark-haired nymph creased a brow, straining to hold back the flood of come threatening to spill into the supple mouth suckling him, his expression tense and conflicted.

  I thrilled over the strangely carved contours of his modelesque features, drawn and tight under the ministrations of the soft tongue lapping and caressing his length and bulbous cockhead.

  Beautiful.

  My cock throbbed in reaction, especially as I felt the eyes of the silent nymph upon me, the one who seemed most detached from it all, like the pastimes of his comrades bored him.

  His calm made me more curious until soon my mind had defied me completely, imposing his face and mine on the images of the lust almost fully unraveled between the lovers before us.

  And then my mind drew him into the fantasy, keenly answering my cock the best way it knew how as I refused it physical attention. It was his tongue now swirling the tight skin of the cock in his mouth, gripping its base, stroking with a velvet ferocity that resounded the air with his loud suck.

  It was I who hissed, my hips rocking against the ministrations of his deft tongue, my stomach tied in knots with what little might that was left in me. Me trapping a strangled note of desire in the hollow of my throat, thrusting fast into the depths of his sweet mouth, stroking the petal soft of his pink lips.

  In my mind's eye, I cupped his cheeks and thrust deeply into the warmth of his mouth, my cock flirting the sopping edge of his throat, fast and slow in the spiral of ecstasy unwinding my gut.

  His eyes darkened, staring through me, into me, learning the terrain of my depths, letting his head fall away as I pulled my cock from his mouth and took my own glistening length into the furious stroke of my palm.

  My balls clenched as he extended his tongue, his eyes glinting with lustful mischief, ready to receive the salty-sweet of my come, the desire he'd drawn, earned. His gaze deepened as the first surge of tension hardened me impossibly, and my clenched hand stroked more insistently, milking my length until pearlescent streams of my regard throbbed from the crown of my cock, and I shook with thunderous pleasure.

  My seed coated the bed of his lovely tongue, copious strings of come spilling down his throat. Drawing his tongue back to swallow, he extended it again for more, flicking the hyper-sensitive head of my cock until I jerked against him delivering more cream for him to drink down.

  He took every drop of my salty-sweet, my essence pouring down his throat with the last of the torrent stream he'd licked and sucked from me until my rain had all but slowed to a slinking stretching drop and final bead.

  It was me shuddering against him as he lapped and sucked my balls onto his tongue hungrily, taking every drop escaped from the waterfall come I'd delivered to him. He licked like he wanted all of me, wanted to have me in his gut, so I'd linger behind, filling him long after I'd left him.

  My cock strained uncomfortably in my lap, my mind returning me to the reality of the moment, and a blush took my cheek as I realized I was under the nymphs' sure observation.

  Perhaps the images I'd just witnessed had even been implanted into my mind.

  I crossed one leg over the other, praying my stop was drawing near and watched the pale-haired nymph wipe the excess of saliva and come from his mouth.

  “Oh, you are formidable,” he told me, eyes darkening. “But you will crack one day, and I will be watching when you do.”

  3

  Relief came quick in the comfort of my bunk when I finally reached the repository, but sleep was fitful. We were on medium-alert, and it would call for a fair-degree of strenuous work if we were to contain the threat of being overrun by the creature that had come to my bunker to eat me.

  The center board would surely be assigning re-instruction that would no doubt stretch on for hours. That meant less time on border service and much more interaction with the hub-bubs of the restrained-magical community.

  It was a necessary thing, for defense reasons, if not a happy one.

  We were all targets with high potential. Stealing our essence could sustain a small citadel, even if it outright killed us. It's vital to know what one's up against when the risks are ones of a mortal nature. Once that was tackled, we could move onto whomever was tugging the strings now.

  Even I didn't believe the creature's appearance was coincidental.

  I sighed, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

  It was stunning how bleak things had become.

  There was a time I could retreat to the world beneath my blankets, and get a better sense of security and comfort. Now the dark brought back images of the thing that might have killed me if I'd been assigned a malfunctioning bio-rover.

  Swallowing my reaction to the thought, I let my eyes slip closed, waiting for my considerations to coalesce and melt into the obscurity of half-sleep. Hoping it would bring me closer to actual sleep.

  At some point, it did, thankfully.

  But it was short-lived.

  I woke rudely at the sound of the tinny announcement bells, forcing the sleep-leaden drag of my movements into some form of tangible direction. I dressed in reasonable time, but my mind didn't follow me down the ramps to the center.

  Taking a seat at the small tables, I retrieved my scanserv from my pocket and groggily flipped through the updates on its screen.

  The growling image of the... thing met my eyes, and I frowned reactively, quickly drawing up my expression. Apparently, the first prototypes were snatched from the archive as bottled, in embryonic state a year before. They'd obviously grown. There were spells for that, of course, growing a thing. Aging it. However cruel, they were unfortunately effective.

  Anger was part of what made those things so powerful, all thanks to particularly unhappy childhoods.

  The council would have known it might rear its head at some point, but our data on the make was theoretical. All based on early experimentation, but still... n
ot based on actual fact.

  It was a fury, though. We knew that much. They were calling it a noxic. They had yet to explain that, the meaning, the name's etymology, but the flaming dark of its eyes made the rage bubbling in its belly unequivocally clear. It had been synthesized by a spell-sick necromancer. I don't know which asshole on the early Advisory Council thought adding it to the defense menu a particularly intelligent notion, but it was now a part of someone else's offensive line-up, and we had no way of knowing what size said mystery villian's army might presently be.

  Or what was planned?

  A sizable portion amongst the powers of the land fancied the idea of an apocalyptic throne. It was anyone's guess who among them might have the power to install one and usurp the current powers wielding iron scepters over the tethered, magical world.

  My eyes flicked up at the sound of a scraping chair, and my heart stuttered at the sight of the quiet nymph from the train. My mouth just parting to gasp, I quickly withdrew any trace of recognition from my face.

  His eyes were steady, a storm brewing at their center. He had the look of someone with a very active, very private mind. I could see it in the way he searched my initial reaction to his appearance at my table.

  Extraordinary.

  I couldn't shake the thought of how extraordinary he was from my mind.

  But why was he here? Was he... a magician, as well? A halfling of some sort? Must be. The child of someone very privileged and influential. Most nymphs, even the halfies didn't deal in our circles where formal matters were concerned.

  They usually assumed the part of “the entertainment.”

  Something about this wild-haired mystery told me he was anything but a passing amusement. He quite literally took my breath away, and we settled into a brief staring match before he finally spoke.

  “Do not tell them what I am.”

  He raised a brow.

  There was a quiet, understated malevolence about it, wrapped in the layers of velvet and ribbon in his tones, and then his energy withdrew from me, taking every snatch of his essence with him. I felt a piece of me leave with him in that moment, though I knew well he hadn't taken even a snatch of my light with intention. He'd almost seemed opposed to, like he might be at odds with himself or something like that.