by Aaron Crash
Quinn felt a strong attraction to his woman, not only from her smell, but the glow of her face. She knew not all of Steven’s wives enjoyed the touch of another woman. Was this Michaela only for Steven or did she play with others? She hadn’t been there during their orgy on the winter solstice holiday the year before. Skylar Blacke was there, watching, which was her perversion—her kink—that was the word that Tessa had taught Quinn the year before. For example, Abby Free liked to make love with piles of women around, the more flesh the better.
Then Quinn remembered. Michaela was more conservative, and she practiced one of Gaia’s religions. The elf queen would have to restrain herself, though she didn’t want to. She wanted to let go of her control, yet once she did, she was afraid she might not get it back.
The two stood there in silence for a long time. Until Quinn took in a deep breath and let it out. “I want forgiveness for my sins, Michaela. My fear caused so many to die. I hid from the Zothoric when we should’ve faced them, with your world’s heroes. Instead, I hid myself and my people in dreams. Countless were slain in the Great Devourings that spread out across the universe.” This was her worst pain. Yet, she had another. “I was cruel to Steven and his wives on the Battle World at first, until I lost control, and then perhaps I sinned.”
“Do you mean sex?” Michaela asked. “Sex was given to dragons to make them powerful. Would you like to talk, really talk?”
The elf queen had left to be alone, but there was something about this peaceful woman that eased some of Quinn’s worries. She wanted to talk to someone about her many mistakes. And if the elf got too excited, she would excuse herself and go alone to her suite to find release with her own fingers.
“I would like to talk,” Quinn said.
In short order, she and Michaela brought chairs out of the eastern breakfast café and they sat in the eastern field, surrounded by sagebrush. Michaela found a bottle of chilled wine and some glasses. The two drank and gazed up at the stars. Their faces were lit by light fixtures on the outside of the perimeter hotel.
As the cool night wore on, Quinn told Michaela about her time with the Dragonknights, her plans with Vandrus Dree, the long sleep of the Lyra, and the terrible wars of the Ohkreela. Many of Nefrinasia’s troubles could be laid directly at Quinnestri’s feet. Aqualyra had become a haunted, ruined place.
That was changing, however, directed by the sure hand of King Selius Asreyel, who had taken the crown and all the responsibility. It was heavy, the burden of being the single soul at the top of Lyran society.
When she was finished, Quinnestri sighed. “And so, I am here, and the ties to my people’s desires wane. King Selius Asreyel has taken the mantle. He and others will take on the lusts of the people. As for me, I do not know what my role is to be. I could not stay. At first, I thought I could remain queen, but then I saw the ruins, heard stories of the slaughter, and I knew I was to blame. I had to leave. And yet, I will lose power. I will lose memories. In some ways, the consciousnesses of my people are all tied together. It had to be that way, for the sleeping spell and the lust magic to work. I am afraid of who I will become. Or perhaps I will become nothing, nothing at all.”
“I know about fear,” Michaela said. “But before we talk about fear, let’s talk about your mistakes.”
“My sins,” Quinn whispered.
“Your sins have been forgiven. Steven and his wives forgave you. Your people forgave you. And in the end, Vandrus Dree forgave you. He came to that final battle to help you even though it meant his death.” Michaela reached out and touched Quinn’s arm. In a quiet, sure voice, Michaela told the elf queen about her religion. In the end, Quinnestri did feel forgiven.
“And my fear?” the elf queen asked.
“Fear is difficult,” Michaela said. “Fear reminds us we are imperfect, and it can be a sad, sad thing. My mother taught me about fear. She was Brazilian, a Dragonsoul who didn’t want to have a Prime. She wanted to be her own person, and so she married a Russian Warling, the vassal of a powerful Dragonlord. Her husband, my father, left his Prime to move us to the Philippines, where we tried to live as humans. That was when I first started going to church. The Moscow Prime took his vassal’s desertion as an insult, and he came after us. When the Russian dragon saw my mother, he vowed he’d have her. My father died fighting his former lord. We fled the Philippines to Brazil, and there, we lived in fear of being found. If the Moscow Prime found us once, he could find us again. My mother trained me, but she said I never need fear, for in life, there is hope, and in death, there will be perfect peace.”
“Your mother refused to let her fear define her,” Quinnestri said. “I was not as strong. My fears defined an entire generation. I should have been stronger.”
Sounds of the party at the pool came to them in the breeze. Those Morta women were there, with Abby Free, and it sounded like Tessa was there as well. Then someone yelled at them to be quiet, and from the accent, that was Sabina.
Michaela smiled at the sounds. She then grew serious. “I was born running. Fear was something I always felt, and we did things out of fear we shouldn’t have, my mother and me. People died. In the end, it wasn’t enough. My mother was killed by the Moscow Prime, since she wouldn’t relent. Do you know what her last wish for me was?” The quiet Brazilian woman’s eyes were shining with tears.
Quinn wasn’t sure she wanted to hear one more tragic tale. Yet, she wanted to ease this woman’s suffering since she’d been kind enough to comfort her. “Tell me.”
“My mother told me to find a strong Prime to protect me from the Moscow Dragonlord. She said that living as a prisoner of a Dragonlord was better than living a life of fear. She was wrong, Quinn, she was very wrong. But I obeyed her. I fell under the protection of Clete Sariah, who was so cruel, his wives eventually murdered him. I felt his cruelty, and it marked me. Even Cassius Pine wasn’t as bad. I was sent to live with him because he knew the truth about Eve Downfyre and Clete’s assassination. With Cassius, it wasn’t all bad. I did meet Skylar, Abby, Nikki Angel, Teegan, and Pretty. May their souls be at rest.” Michaela lowered her head, and Quinn knew she was praying.
For what? For peace? For forgiveness? For clarity?
No, she was praying for her fallen sisters. Quinn had seen the spirits of two of them, Teegan and Pretty, and their souls were at peace indeed.
The woman raised her face to look into Quinn’s eyes. “My mother’s fear defined her life and mine. Yet I’ve forgiven her, and I’ve forgiven myself. That, I think, is what you need to do.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes. Quinn felt the draw to take this brave, strong woman in her arms and kiss her. She would have to settle for something far less passionate. She reached out a hand, and Michaela took it.
Holding hands, Quinn felt more tears come. She let them fall. She might want to be cold and distant with Steven’s other wives but not with this quiet, compassionate woman. Not with Michaela Montes.
The touch, though, raised lust in Quinn. She’d thought maybe when she’d disconnected herself from the Lyra that she would become far less sexual. So far, that hadn’t happened. In some ways, her libido was even more intense. She had the fantasies and memories of millions of minds still inside her. She might forget some of the details of her actual life, but it seemed every single perversion stood out sharply in her mind.
One woman’s fantasy came to her, that of teaching a younger woman the joys of pleasure. Quinn could show Michaela pleasures no one else could. And yet, the quiet woman had to be open to the idea.
“Michaela, can I ask you a question?”
The woman smiled, those teeth, so white and perfect. “Quinnestri, I feel it too. I know about you as well. Abby wouldn’t shut up about you, after that night. Even Skylar was impressed, and she’s watched hundreds if not thousands of people have sex. She loves it like nothing else.”
“Have you been with a woman before?” Quinn asked. Her sex tingled below the heavy feeling of lust in her belly.
&nbs
p; “I haven’t,” Michaela admitted. “It was my way of rebelling. I knew the Dragonlords liked to watch their wives be together, and I wouldn’t give them that pleasure. I know Clete did...he would play vile games with us. Cassius was better, but even then, I only am drawn to certain people. I have to have a strong connection to give myself away like that.”
The Brazilian woman smiled. “Tessa calls me demisexual, but she likes to label everyone.” She paused to chuckle, before continuing, “For a long time, only the magic of a Dragonlord could get me aroused. When I was with Clete, alone with him, it was like I could look past his cruelty. With Cassius, he was an arrogant ass, but again, that mystical connection was enough to make me forget about his darker side and love his better nature.”
Quinn listened, her heart breaking. “So you’ve only been with those two men?”
“Only those two dragons,” Michaela said. “And Steven.” The Brazilian woman’s eyes brightened, her smile went on for days, and she laughed out loud. “With Steven, the connection is a hundred percent better. He loves me, I love him, and we do such naughty things together. You see, I have something that I like.”
“And what’s that?” Quinn was entranced with this woman.
The quiet woman gripped Quinn’s hand tighter. “I’m shy to tell you.”
That made Quinn laugh. “My friend, for thousands of years I carried around the lusts of Aqualyra. I know about every perversion, and not just know about them, I have felt them, and I have reveled in them. There is nothing you can say that would shock me.”
Michaela winced. “Abby said something about that. So you carried the lust so your people didn’t have to?”
“So they could work, yes, and be more focused. Having a sex drive makes things difficult, especially for some people.” Quinn squeezed the hand of her new, unexpected friend. “Tell me.”
“I like to talk dirty,” Michaela said.
“How dirty?” Quinn asked.
“Really dirty.” The woman’s impish smile was adorable. “For example...I...I want to show you my tits.”
The elf queen wasn’t exactly impressed, but she wasn’t going to chide this girl. “I would love to see your tits. And your ass, you should show me your ass. But what I really want to see is your...what word do you like?”
“Pussy.” Michaela stood up, trembling. “But, Quinn, I’m not sure I’m ready to have sex with you. But I want to be sexual with you. Maybe we can touch ourselves, and you can, you know, talk dirty to me. I would love that.”
“And I would love to watch you rub yourself until you come, you dirty little slut.”
Michaela peeled off her top and a tight piece of cloth binding her breasts to her chest. Once freed, her nipples hardened in the breeze. They were so nice, so sexy, and Quinn pulled her tunic up. She cast aside her underwear. The night felt so good on her sex when she spread her legs.
Michaela cupped her breasts before twisting on her nipples. “I want to see your tits, Quinn. And more. Will you show me your pussy?”
Quinn pulled her lips open. “I am showing you. Look at how wet I am for you.”
Michaela pulled her chair around. She was naked in seconds, and the two faced each other.
Quinn cast away her top and she too sat naked. Both women talked about how good it felt to rub themselves, staring at the other as the words flowed. Quinn listened closely. For a moment she felt connected to the memories of her people again, their couplings, real and imagined. She painted vivid pictures for Michaela, words fit to make an elf noble blush—promises and acts this simple planet had never seen. And as Quinnestri found her own joy in the moment, she brought Michaela to climax with her stories. It was a kind of magic, though it was neither Animus or Morta, nor the Soul, Flesh, Spark, or Tide magic of the Lyra.
And Michaela came, over and over, fingers inside of herself, rubbing her special spot, sweating, groaning when an orgasm was especially strong. The elf queen felt the energy radiating out of the Dragonsoul even as the Animus filled Michaela. The elves were different when it came to recharging. They got some Animus from sex, but mostly it came from resting, eating, and meditating. However, they could provide the dragons with a huge amount of power with their pleasure. That was probably why the Alpheros and the Lyra had been so close for so many generations.
Quinn took her turn, letting the other woman know how excited she was, describing every little detail about her masturbation because, if anything, Michaela Montes loved detail.
It was late when they finally stopped.
Before dressing, Quinn took hold of the Dragonsoul’s hand. “Thank you, Michaela. I needed forgiveness, and I needed sex. You gave me both, and I thank you for it.”
“Can I kiss you?” the quiet woman asked suddenly.
“Yes, I would like that,” Quinn whispered. And the pair came together, their sweat cooling on their skin. Their kiss was more sweet than sexy, but just the closeness of this new woman made Quinn feel better.
“Your dragon scent is strong,” Quinn murmured.
“Is it too much?” Michaela asked uncertainly.
“No, I love it. I love you.” Quinn brushed her lips against the other woman’s.
“Maybe next time you won’t just smell me,” Michaela said. “Maybe next time you can taste me. And I can taste you.”
“Again, that would be something I would like.” Quinnestri gave Michaela a real kiss, until both were breathing hard again. Which made them want one more orgasm, and another after that.
The elf queen knew she had a long way to go in her healing, but she was so happy to find someone who was willing to walk the path with her. However, now that she’d broken the seal of her sexuality, would she ever be able to stop?
Chapter Seven
STEVEN SLEPT WITH SABINA in her bed, though to call it sleeping was funny. He was wide awake, waiting for Reggie to stir and start to cry. The baby’s sharp wail, as yet unrealized but inevitable, hung over his rest like a sword. That was the terrible irony... he’d faced humans, Dragonskins, Dragonlords, and demons, but nothing compared to the casual, tired terror of fatherhood.
Sabina’s room felt like a hotel near an Acapulco beach. Bright art covered the walls, there were palms she kept watered, and the floor was made from blue tiles. Everything was colorful and cheery, down to the red curtains and chile pepper lights. They called it a bungalow, though it wasn’t that small—big bedroom, big bathroom, a little kitchen, with lots of windows and sliding glass doors. One led to the north garden. The other door opened onto a little patio on the north side protected by a stylized windbreak, a concrete wave about to crash. There was a little sofa there and a firepit.
Steven loved how many comfortable places there were at the Infinity Ranch, so many little nooks and crannies for relaxing. Finally, they had the time to really enjoy them. The work, for the most part, was over, but then, this Reggie thing, that was a task all by itself.
Steven listened closely, but his daughter slept in her little basinet on the other side of the room. He knew she was out because he didn’t have her song in his head. He’d asked Sabina if this was normal, for a baby’s song to be so loud and constant, and she’d bitten his head off. “Reggie is fine! She’s perfectly normal! Cállate!” Spanish cursing followed, flowing like tequila in Tijuana.
So, Reggie’s start was unusual. Steven wasn’t all that surprised. He’d gone from being nobody to the Dragonlord Prime of the entire planet in less than three years. Reggie was bound to have powers no one had ever seen before.
Steven wasn’t so much worried about his daughter... he was more worried about Sabina, who normally was so at peace with herself, so wise, living with her strange vision that showed her the past, the present, and the future. They’d talked about fixing her sight; he’d seen a vision of Rahaab repairing the eyes of one of his wives. Who had that been? Shamhat? Hwedo? He wasn’t sure. In theory, they could do it using FleshForge, but Sabina wasn’t sure it was possible for her. Gideon Scaramanga had been ham-fisted in turning
her eyes from rock back into flesh. In the end, the psychotic Magician hadn’t cared whether it worked or not. Neither had Rhaegen Mulk. Both had left her for dead.
Sabina had gone through so much, had even passed the Dragonskin rituals, and yet, this mothering thing had taken everything out of her. She was both edgy and weepy, so she could go from screaming to crying in seconds. And yet, she loved Reggie fiercely, giving her every minute of her every day.
With the baby around, Sabina’s sex drive had gone from a million miles an hour to zero, though she did like Steven to hold her and the baby. Sometimes he’d change into his True Form so he could wrap both his wife and his baby in his warm scales. Reggie loved that. She’d stare up at him with those storm-blue eyes without fear. She knew this was her destiny. She knew she had a grand future ahead of her.
Then she’d yawn, like a dragon wasn’t that exciting, and curl up into her mother’s lap and fall asleep. Which was miracle. Reggie wasn’t much of a napper.
Lying with Sabina, Steven stared up at the ceiling, thinking about all his wives. Tessa was the best at welcoming new women into the fold. Sabina, though, had a definite magic when it came to sex, or at least she’d used to. She’d seduced Pru, she’d won over Uchiko, and so many of Steven’s wives loved being with the Latina Magician. That made him think of their newest arrival, Quinnestri. The elf queen was struggling, clearly.
Steven wondered about her sex drive. Had it gone off the rails like Sabina’s?
When Reggie finally did wake up and cry out, it was a relief. Steven had grown tired of lying there. He scooped his daughter up before she roused Sabina.
He checked, and Reggie’s diaper was dry, so she was just hungry. He went in and grabbed a bottle and some breast milk from the kitchen, freshly pumped that day from the Latina Magician. He left through the back door.
Warming up the bottle was easy. Holding Reggie, he transformed into a Homo Draconis and snorted flames around the glass container. Then, back human, he poured the milk into the bottle and settled down on the couch.