I think I know where I'm going from here. In addition to continuing
Eternal
, I'll branch out into more genres, ranging from Incest to Gay Male. When I've gotten enough practice, I'll continue
Cold Steel
as an e-book. (I think I wrote it badly the first time around, but the setting still has potential.)
This story is a standalone in the
Cold Steel
universe, and true to form, the sex will be really, really kinky. Reader discretion is advised.
*
Ellen had expected Dan to crack three days after they moved in together. She was disappointed that it took six.
It was evening when it finally happened, and both were almost ready to rest after the day's work. Lying in bed, she played with a chunk of coal, using her magic to call light from it and cast patterns on the wall. For ten minutes, he watched her intently and silently from the bed by the opposite wall, and then--"Ellen, I have something to tell you."
"You've been afraid to admit it to anyone," Ellen said, still playing with the coal. "The question of whether or not to tell me weighed on you constantly. But we'll be married in a year, and now is the time to reveal our secrets and learn to understand each other. You respect soulcrafter traditions, and you want to follow them, despite your secret--that you're not a soulcrafter at all."
Dan stared at her in disbelief. "You already knew?"
"I don't have to be a thoughtcrafter to read you like a book, Dan. You never say a word about where you lived before you came here. I've never seen you soulcraft, not even to light a coal. And sometimes, when you're really surprised, you say that word--'nichira.' It's a brute word, isn't it?"
Dan was starting to look scared. "Please tell me you haven't mentioned this to anyone else."
"Not a peep. But I think I can fill in the rest for you. 'I was just another brute in the Tyrant's army. Then I angered the Tyrant, and he cursed me into this form. Now I'm hiding here, because this is the only town south of the capital that's big enough to have indoor plumbing.' Did I miss anything?" She set the coal aside to blow a kiss at him, and was surprised when he turned away from it. "Don't worry about it! They say brutes don't have souls, but I've been around you long enough to know you must have one. You're the nicest guy I've ever met, even if we're different races."
She couldn't tell what he was feeling now--she'd never seen this expression before--but he definitely wasn't scared anymore. "Ellen, I'd like to ask you to close your eyes and lie back on the bed. I promise what I'm going to do won't hurt you, and if you want to forget about it, in an hour, it'll be like it never happened."
Rather than respond, she did as he asked. She was unsurprised to feel him pulling up the bottom of her shirt--
What a pervert
, she thought--but he gave no attention to her breasts. Instead, his finger played with her belly button, tracing the rim, then sinking inside, just a little deeper than normal.
"Dan, what are you doing?"
"Please don't open your eyes. If you want me to stop, tell me, and I'll stop at any time."
She felt the first knuckle of his finger sink into her belly button. Once he'd pulled it out, he made his way onto the bed, and something much bigger than a finger pressed into her navel.
A thoughtcrafter
, she thought, woozy at the possibility.
Then this is all an illusion--
Her belly button stretched wide, not at all pained by the intruding organ. Actually, it was starting to feel quite pleasant.
--A very good illusion.
Ellen considered herself a loyal follower of the Water, and she knew its Word as well as any soulcrafter.
Keep your numbers low, and you will always have enough water for all. Do not produce offspring outside the confines of marriage.
She and Dan had messed around more than a few times, but they'd never done more than idly talk of penetration. If she'd been asked, she'd have said she wasn't interested in it anyways.
And yet . . . She couldn't stop herself from moaning. She could feel every inch of Dan's cock as he lowered himself onto her (and it was becoming increasingly apparent that there were a lot of inches to it), but the tightness of the fit only magnified her pleasure. She was rapidly becoming wet, and had she not been certain this wasn't real, she would have wondered why that wetness was echoed in her navel, guiding Dan deeper and deeper.
She was almost as tall as he was, but their position was awkward--from this angle, her lips couldn't meet his. Still, she felt that he heard her when she whispered "Keep going." He lifted and lowered in the famous rhythm, and she moaned in time to his movements.
He's fucking my belly button
, she thought, the incomprehensible idea suddenly clear in her mind.
He's really fucking my belly button
. She laughed and moaned together, the two sounds merging into one.
Their bodies shuddered in unison, and his wetness joined hers. When it was over, she opened her eyes, just in time to see Dan inexpertly attempt to roll off of her. He overestimated it and landed on the floor with a thump. "So much for being suave," he said.
She turned to the side to meet his eyes, eyes she knew as brown, eyes that were now blood-red. "I never knew my father, but I know who he must have been. He gave me a gift, and though I often wish I didn't have it, I've never found a way to trade it in. It's not a major part of who I am--I usually just use it for gardening--but it's the sort of thing we need to tell each other about."
Her silence stretched on, and they both lay still while he turned informative. "Soulcrafters are pretty resilient against fleshcrafting. That spell should wear off in an hour. But if you're embarrassed, I can undo it now."
It stretched on further. "Don't tell me you're scared of me. I'm the same Dan you've been dating all this time."
As her newest sexual organ leaked fluids onto the bedsheets, she finally found her voice. "Yes. You are." He was the man she was engaged to marry.
And he bore a magic that had reduced hundreds of innocent men and women to screaming mounds of flesh.
---- ---- ----
They slept without discussing it further, and she woke to find her navel almost back to normal, though it stretched ever so slightly at the prodding of her finger. He'd gone to work early, tending the garden at a rich man's mansion, and she tried to cast her thoughts aside as she left for her own job. But as she compared ledgers and analyzed data, all she could think was,
What if he gets bored?
She had never seen the Tyrant''s famous throne, made from the still-living flesh of traitors and criminals, and she had only heard the faintest rumors of his secret experiments. But every soulcrafter knew the stories of what he'd done to those who'd displeased him, or sometimes simply walked by at the wrong time. The luckiest were simply violated, their navel or nipples or even nostrils used for his personal pleasure. The rest were buried in mass graves. Had anyone desired to claim the bodies, no one would have been able to recognize them.
It was madness to expect constancy from a fleshcrafter. Dan loved her now, but the Tyrant had also claimed more than once to love some unfortunate girl, only to discard her as the seasons changed. If Dan ever decided he no longer wanted her, there were a thousand ways he could make her vanish--
"Hey, have you heard?" the new hire asked her.
"Heard what?" she tentatively replied.
"The Tyrant's dead! Someone finally managed to kill him! The brutes are trying to take control, but we outnumber them . . ." She shut out his words as she tried to think.
All it would take was a single accusation. "Dan is a fleshcrafter." Tensions would grow high in the coming days--she might not even need to prove it. He might be able to kill her, but he couldn't stop an entire mob. One accusation, and Dan would no longer be a problem.
And yet . . .
The desert is harsh, and one cannot survive without companions. Do not betray those who trust in you, lest you find yourself alone.
Many generations had passed since the soulcrafters left the desert, but the Word remained true, and she could not forsake it for her doubts and fears. Dan loved her now, and so long as he loved her, she would hide his secret deep in her heart.
For the moment, all she could do was to try and keep him entertained. When that failed, she'd think of another solution. Somehow.
---- ---- ----
When Dan returned that night, she was already bent over the stove. "Good evening," she called over her shoulder, trying to keep her voice calm.
"It's not your turn to cook tonight, is it?" he asked. "And while I'm asking, why are you wearing a dress?"
"I felt like doing this," she told him. "But I'd like to ask you to help me. Cooking takes skill and passion. I'll provide the skill, and . . ." She lifted the back of her dress. She wasn't wearing underwear. "You can provide the passion," she told him, praying to the Water that she sounded seductive rather than ridiculous.