"I thought so," Sirix said, tossing the knife away.
"What the Hell, Sirix?!" she shouted, backing all the way up to the edge of the bed.
"Sorry, it was just a test. I wanted to see if your abilities would kick in and block the knife."
"And what if I failed it?" She was not calming down.
"I knew your powers wouldn't."
"And if they had?"
Sirix raised his brows. "I would have stopped. It just had to look real."
"You would have stopped when? Before it cut into my heart? It certainly didn't feel like you were stopping when you hit my arm."
He smiled winningly. "I have more control than that. What do you take me for?"
"A man who tried to stab me in the heart while I was cumming!"
"I promise I'll make it up to you."
"And how will you do that, exactly?"
"I have a few ideas." He leaned in to her.
"Oh no! I think you've lost the right to do that!" She scooted further back.
He crawled toward her. "And how do I regain that right?"
"For starters you can tell me what you were testing."
"I thought your abilities might be heightened by your emotional states, when your body's nervous system goes into some form of arousal it stimulates your cognitive abilities."
"You sound like a scientist."
He gestured to the books. "My father was one. He taught me everything he knew before he was killed." He lay down and gestured for Lindsay to lay down. She was hesitant.
"Don't worry, I don't have another one." He held up his hands. "Search me, yourself, if you doubt what I'm saying."
She let her legs slide down, Sirix stroked them. The rest of her body followed. He wrapped his arms around her, though she still had no intention of going easily.
"I'm more concerned where that one came from," she said.
"Under the cot, like always. I don't want to be caught unprepared. Unlike you, I can't anticipate danger."
"So why right when I was about to cum? Why not when I was training or eating? Oh crap! Training! I'm going to be late!" She made to get up but he pulled her back.
"They can go one day without you. Besides, if last night was any indicator, Nol will give them the day off to recover. Now, to answer your question, if it was during training, you'd be expecting it. I needed you to be in a state of high emotion where being stabbed was the last thing you'd expect."
She frowned; her brow furrowed. He had a good point. "Jump out of a tree, Sirix. Into a river and drown in a whirlpool."
"I'd love nothing more. Is that an invitation?"
"You tell me." She parted her legs slightly, turning so her breasts were facing him and giving him a seductive gaze.
"So, I'm forgiven?" He reached out to stroke her thigh.
She caught his hand, holding up two fingers. "On two conditions."
"Name them."
"You never try to stab me again and..."
"And?"
She leaned in close. "You don't stop until I tell you to."
"Done." He leaned in.
"And!"
He stopped.
"I teach you how to kiss."
"That's three things-" Any more of his words, if indeed there had been more, were cut off as Lindsay's mouth covered his. Her lips open, then closing on his, over and over until he began doing the same, almost.
"That's open-mouthed kissing," she said, pulling back. "You take your open mouth and you pull it together, like this."
She put her open mouth on one of his spots and gently pulled her lips together. His body jerked.
"And, then, if you're feeling particularly into it, you might add some tongue."
She moved down to his goncer, lips covering it. She slid her tongue into the slit, running it across the soft internal flesh, and flicking it back into her mouth, she softly closed her lips and then repeated the kiss a few more times, ostensibly to make certain he got it, but more to hear his appreciative moans as her tongue slid in and out.
She slid back up to his ear, placing a small open-mouthed kiss below the lobe and running her tongue in a gentle circle inside of it. "Do you think you have it?" she whispered.
"I'm not sure. I might need another demonstration."
She pushed her fingers into his slit as she kissed him, roughly. Kisses he returned with much more skill than he'd had a minute ago, though still far from perfect. She felt his rough hands sliding down her back, around the curve of her hips, to her butt where they grabbed and pulled her up further. She cried out in pleased shock.
She kissed him harder, slipping her tongue into his mouth, seeking his. She found it and gave it a teasing flick. She brought her lips together and went again, this time her tongue lingered on his, twisting with it, massaging it. He pulled her in harder. She could feel his claw-like nails digging in.
"Slap my butt," she gasped.
"What?"
"You heard me!" She felt a tentative slap on her rear. "Harder Sirix! Like you mean it!"
He slapped her again, much harder. She shot up.
"Too hard?" he said with a glint in his eye.
"Perfect," she said. "Again!" She buried her tongue inside his mouth as he struck her again, harder. "Mmm, yeah. Just like that. Come on Sirix, you promised you'd ravage me! Stop treating me like a porcelain doll."
No sooner had she said that then she was on her back, on the ground, with Sirix above her, his claws digging into her shoulders. He grinned, showing his broad canines. "Be careful what you ask for; I might eat you alive."
"If you're going to bite me, you'd better do it hard. I want to feel it. Oh!" She cried as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder so hard it risked breaking the skin.
The next one on her bicep did. She dug her nails into his back as he pushed three fingers inside of her, hard. He sucked her nipple with enough force she was sure it would be red the next day, his other hand no longer gently massaging, but groping, pulling. He was all over her, showing no restraint with his strength.
She felt like a rag doll being thrown around from the bed to the floor to his desk to the table. Biting, sucking, scratching, slapping, spanking, teasing. He was pushing her to orgasm, withholding after one, waiting and bringing her there again. And she was loving it! He was doing everything she told him as hard as she told him to. She was almost blinded by the pleasure, numb to the passage of time.
Above her head, she gripped the tent post as she swayed back and forth, her thighs on Sirix's shoulders, held by his hands as he shifted her this way and that, licking furiously at her vagina as she moaned and writhed five feet above the ground in the late afternoon sun.
"Don't you dare stop this time," she moaned, eyes shut. "I want to see if we can get to three."
"If you promise to focus."
"Mmm... I will."
He shifted her down, licking up through her labia. She jolted hard when his tongue struck her clitoris. She cried out. He gripped her butt and pulled her into him, his tongue lashing so fast she couldn't tell where it was, she could only feel the growing ecstasy, then a few long, slow circles.
"Ohhhh!" She moaned, her body twisting, his hands slid to her thighs, running back and forth over them. "Ohhh! Ohhhhhh! Sirix!" She arched backward, head tilted as far as it would go, her long hair flowing down unhindered. She screamed his name again as the flaming rivers of pleasure flooded through her veins. "Sirix!"
Her grip on the pole was no longer voluntary as her body arched and swayed in the throes of orgasm. He pushed in and licked harder, faster, her whole body tensed, her toes curled tight, eyes clenched shut as she screamed. Oh hell yes! She focused on him, on his tongue, on how tight her muscles were.
"Oh God!" she ejaculated.
He took the sensitive little mound of flesh between his teeth and began to nibble and suck. It was too much! Her body jerked about like a flag on a windy day, held up only by the sheer instinctual tension in her hands, no longer by any conscious thought. She couldn't hold onto her mind. It was as though she had been surfing the Jersey winter heavies and now she was staring down the bomb and she could either bail or shoot the barrel. She let go of her mind and let her consciousness soar.
It was the most intense pleasure she'd ever felt, for the moment she felt it, the eternal and yet eternally insufficient moment before she was somewhere else. A dark room made of grey stone. Columns led to arches across the high ceilings, far higher than seemed necessary for what appeared to simply be sleeping quarters. The shape of a bed, a dresser of some sort, a desk, no mirror, oddly enough.
A dark shadow filled the room, it took a step and its body jerked hard. It was the same creature as before! The lights came on, confirming his identity. He limped in. She could see now his skin was mottled grey like the others, his eyes, large and milky white, had a blue cast to them, like a deep-sea predatory fish.
He sighed heavily as he ran a hand over what she could now see was some sort of computer tablet. It lit up. "Confirmed: Flying Phalanx Twenty-six, all lost. Presumed dead," he said. She could see his long, needle like teeth as he spoke.
He walked over to the window, gazing out. "Fifty-three dead," he repeated in a low voice, shaking his head. He turned away, unwrapping his toga-like robe from his shoulders. In the pale reflection of the window, Lindsay could see a massive scar crisscrossing his heavily-muscled back and two bony lumps, like handles, jutting from his upper back where wings had probably once been.
And the world fell away to white. White and long, drawn-out screams of passion filling her ears. Her screams. She could feel the explosion of pleasure and screamed louder as she returned to the tent, Sirix between her legs, his nose nuzzling through her hair, as his tongue whipped her clit mercilessly.
