The Night Before

"Nysa," says Cara, "What if we don't come back?" Nysa is spooning her and now his strong arms pull her closer. "Not everybody does. And no one can talk about what happens in the catacombs. That's what frightens me, more than anything."

"I'll bring you back," he says. "No matter what. And everyone says it's wonderful; the deepest experience of their lives. That's what everybody says. Look how many go back to the catacombs! Father's been four times, to serve in the Rites." He strokes her arm, her waist, and she purrs and presses against him. The backs of her legs hug his knees.

"I know. But those who don't come back, those the Cat Abasis keeps -- Mother Ekata says they stay with her, forever in her womb." She rolls over on the straw mattress, studies his face in the moonlight. "She's been teaching me, you know. Not just the herbs and the little magic, and how to lead the rituals. She's been teaching me the deep magic."

"The deep -- the magic inside? I thought that was dangerous. I thought you couldn't do that without the Mystery--"

"You can. A little. She can't tell me everything, can't break her own oath. But you have to, to learn the catsong. You use the deep magic." She bites her lip. Nysa finds this very distracting. "I've seen--not her face, not before I've, you know, Seen--but, I suppose, her silhouette. The shape of the Queen of the Earth, and how she fills the soil and breathes within the roots of all the plants and opens up to receive the dead and -- it's so beautiful, Nysa. But it scares the shit out of me."

"That sounds -- I dunno. Wow. And you're scared the Rites will be like that? That you won't be able to get away from that place? Baby, I swear, I will bring--"

"No." She says it sharp. "The goddess decides. Not you. Not me. But that's not it." She looks at him, and her voice lowers. "I'm scared that I won't want to come back. I've only seen her shape, just her shadow, and..." Suddenly Cara pushes Nysa hard onto his back and swings her leg over his hips. "Make me want it," she says. One hand curls in the hair on Nysa's chest, and the other strokes at his cock. It's already half hard, from the scent of her and her soft skin against him, but at her touch it doubles in size and he moans softly. "Make me want to live. Make me -- ah -- ahh!"

Nysa has grabbed her hips and thrust into her. Her cunt grips him, tight, greedy. Cara's tits hang down, dark nipples against his, as she leans to kiss him. Her mouth meets his in a fury of lust and he returns it. They moan together now, and Cara shifts forward, then back down hard onto his prick, taking him deeper. Nysa runs his hands up and down her sides, then up her spine and scratches with his nails and she sounds a muffled howl into his mouth. He wants to feel her, to touch every part of her. She works her hips forward and back, wetting his cock, and finally takes his full length into her pussy.

Their mouths are still joined and their tongues dance. Nysa rises to meet her, again, again, again, and she shifts into each thrust. Sweat begins to prick his lean torso. They fuck with practiced motion. Nysa's legs, hard with muscle from long days training with a spear; Cara's lithe figure and the smooth curves that drive him mad. She rides him with a desperate intensity. He uses her cunt, holds her hips and throws her onto his cock, and she breaks their kiss to rest her head on his shoulder and take it. She whimpers with each short, husky breath and it makes him want her more. He wants to fuck her forever. He wants to fuck her so she stays fucked, so tomorrow and next week and next year she'll feel him inside her.

Cara sits up, crying loudly, "Mmm -- mmmm -- ah -- aaah!" She grinds her clit into Nysa's hips, grinds her cervix on the head of his cock. Nysa has seen rivers less wet than her cunt. He smiles as he feels her squeeze tight, feels the walls of her cunt engorge. "Fuuu -- ah -- aahck!" She cums, and she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He loves the sight of her like this, straddling him, little tits proud, leaning back to put his cock just where she needs it. Her eyes are closed and she's lost to the world, lost to him. He's an object to her now, a hard cock to get her off -- "Fuck yes fuck!" and she cums again -- and he can't get enough of it. Her cervix pulses; he can feel it mouthing at his bell-end like the little fish that nibble on his toes when he swims. She cums. She cums.

But he can feel it building now. The warmth, the sweet tension in his loins. He moans and he moves faster and her eyes fly open. "Fill me," she begs. "Please. Please, your cum, fill me. I want it. Fill me."

"Oh fuck," he says, and a growl comes from his throat and grows stronger as the pleasure builds. More, he needs more, and he grabs her throat and pulls her down to kiss him, pumps his hips and drives his cock into her.

Cara cries out and cums again. That squeeze of her cunt finally takes him. Nysa drives his cock as deep into her as he can, and grabs her hips again to hold her there, fills her with cum.

They stay there for a while, breath ragged. "Thank you," she whispers, and he says, "Any time, my love."

The moon has moved away from the window, and shadow drowns their faces. A cat rises from the corner where it has sat. It stretches, and it slips silently out. It has watched, and it has listened.

Tomorrow, it knows, Nysa and Cara will go into the tombs.

The cat has better things to do.