Chosen Mate Ch. 02

Note: Here is the second chapter of http://www.literotica.com/s/chosen-mate Harry, Sandra and Oldman face a new day. Thank you for the views, votes, comments, and favorites. I hope you like this one as well.

Harry

Sandra watched Harry's drooping eyes as he drove carefully out of the graveyard and back toward town. When she enticed him away from the bar, she became ensnared in her own trap. Her body hummed with an alien intensity after the night's frenzied feelings. She craved more of the sensation of his lips, the taste of his emotions, and the feel of his hands on her. Their connection far outstripped the reactions that she was prepared for. Snuggling closer to him, she pressed her cheek against his chest with a sigh.

Harry echoed her with the weary sound of his own contentment and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close against him. Placing a hasty kiss on the top of her head when they entered town; stopping at a red light, he spoke into sweet smelling hair.

"Second gear please." He requested with a gentle squeeze of his encircling arm. "Where am I taking you?" She shifted gears while directing Harry to her apartment, intending get him in the shower and then bed. She looked into the rear view mirror at his exhausted expression when the truck idled in front of her apartment.

"Come up with me Harry. You need some rest. You can sleep a few hours and then go home." The 'Yes!' that sprang from his heart was interrupted.

--As if you would get any rest with her near. Oldman said with a delighted chuckle. ...You know you want more of her. She's fascinating.

"I would love to." He told her, drawing closer and covering her face with slow gentle kisses. Pulling back, he searched her eyes and spoke again. "I should get home soon to check on my mom. I didn't tell her I would be gone this long, otherwise..." His voice trailed off but the answer was plain in his face, as imperative as the duty that showed in his emotions. Duty held them equally. She gave a whispered curse for both of them.

Sandra became suddenly petulant at the impending separation. The past weeks torturous wait and now the few hours of his presence were ending. It wasn't fair that Harry needed to go home and sleep. She felt like days could pass before sleep came again to her. She remembered to ask a rehearsed question.

"You still live with your mother?" She knew the answer. It was one of the attractive things she found in him. His sense of duty was an uncompromising force. It mirrored her own bound responsibilities to her family. Sandra listened with half an ear while planning her next ploy.

"Yes, she cared for me during the bad times. If I left she would be alone or living somewhere else and not in the home she has known for so many years. I can't imagine living anywhere else myself. I love the land there." He became silent and blinked rapidly in an attempt to get his droopy eyes to open wider. She bounced up from his arms, once more the exciting vibrant creature from the graveyard. A smile hinted at his lips.

"Drive to Mildred's; I'll follow you. Breakfast and coffee will revive you for the trip home." She felt the glow of possession, begun far before the graveyard, flare as she looked into his exhausted features. She would keep him safe whether he wanted it or not. His grunted assent caused her to kiss him quickly and scramble from the cab.

The sound of an engine starting, the bright glow of headlights from an open garage door, and blast of rock and roll, preceded squealing tires as she made for the coffeehouse. Harry sedately followed the rapidly moving vehicle through the sparse early morning traffic.

Sandra leapt from the sleek, black, Escalade when she got to Mildred's, calling to her sister Donna's questioning mind in the easy way of the Fay.

--I did it Donna! It was if some piece of me tasted a good thing, and then gorged on it like river lobster on a feasts day meal. When he touched my skin, I felt a current pass through me.

She was making her way through the door of the place. A quick glance to the street still showed no sign of Harry's truck, although the rumble of the Ford echoed through the early morning. She turned back to the door at her sister's playful comment.

--Slut! Donna sent to her silently in a teasing thought. ...You could have played hard to get. She saw Sandra's face then as she came through the door. It shone with bright emotions. Donna looked quickly to the room. ...Settle down, we're not alone.

Sandra gave a burst of mental embarrassment at forgetting the first rule of the Fay, never be seen. She looked past her sister to where a human family ate breakfast before driving back on the interstate and away. The glow of her beatific face flicked out leaving rosy cheeks and bright smiles spilling from the weakened dam of her lips.

"Hi Donna," she spoke aloud while her mind conveyed the excitement she felt from the long sought coupling. The floundering attempt to describe the satisfaction and hunger she felt for more in its wake took longer.

Donna listened while her little sister communicated the events of the night delightedly. She jotted quickly in her ticket book, turning to the kitchen when Sandra said Harry was coming. The Fay cook began cracking eggs and preparing a breakfast at Donna's silent order. Picking up a pot of coffee and an empty mug, she followed Sandra to a window booth.

"Slut!" She said aloud while walking across the floor as more juicy details emerged.

Oldman took over driving almost immediately after Harry began following the speeding S.U.V. He took the long way to Mildred's while Harry slept. The formless intelligence liked driving the truck. It was amazing the things you could do with a body; he wished he had one of his own instead of a loner. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the lot and parked by the front door.

--Harry, wake up! We're here. Let's eat; it's been a long time since those biscuits. Its coffee time now buddy. Harry roused then. Oldman helped him out of the truck.

Sandra was there by the time his feet touched the ground and ushered him to a table where coffee was waiting. She pushed him into the booth and followed, pressing the mug to his hand, smiling at the blink of his eyes as the unaccustomed taste of sugar surprised him.

The clatter of a platter heralded the arrival of a duplicate of the earlier meal at the same table. Donna sat a bottle of hot sauce beside his plate. A brief smile came to her face as Harry grunted thanks and began dousing his eggs. Donna looked at her watch, and then sat across from Sandra and began chatting.

Oldman watched them as they talked. Their facial features were similar. The same energy discovered around Sandra earlier at the graveyard, surrounded Donna also, but not in such abundant concentration. He helped Harry butter a biscuit, fill it with jelly, and then hold it up to Harry's mouth.

--Open up Harry. Here comes the choo choo. Harry made a depreciating internal comment while sleepily biting into it. While he chewed, Oldman inspected the others in the coffeehouse. Not human, how had he missed that? They all had identical energy surrounding them except for the out of town family eating quietly. Interesting, he loved a good puzzle.

Donna kept Harry's mug filled with frequent application of the pot waiting on the table. Sandra stirred in sugar. Their eyes met frequently and seemed to communicate. Yes, Oldman thought, an excellent puzzle.

When Harry waved away more coffee, Sandra took him to the restroom and washed his face with cold water then got him back in the truck for the drive home.

"Drive carefully Harry; I'll make sure you get home." Oldman nodded Harry's head, started the truck, and drove away.

Twenty minutes later, she followed behind him up the long driveway, admiring the stone mailbox as she passed. Fields of bright sunflowers and well-tended flowerbeds were revealed in the early morning light. Sandra drove slowly into the yard and parked beside him at the top of the drive. Getting out of her Caddy, she looked at the large house and grounds that sprawled beside the drive.

Searching for Harry, she found him still in the truck. His eyes were closed; an occasional snore escaped from his mouth when she opened the door. Exhausted, she thought, helping him down from the truck seat and steadying him.

A large white dog, a Great Pyrenees, ambled over wagging his tail; raising his head and sniffing the air, he greeted her warily. He smelt Harry's clothing then pressed his nose in the crotch of Sandra's jeans, snorting and snuffling. He sat then, raising a foot and pawing at her leg. A smile of welcome seemed to be on his massive head.

"Well, you're a beauty aren't you?" She murmured, rubbing the friendly dog's brow. His tail thumped the ground in pleasure and greeting while vocalizing in a concerned greeting. "He's fine, just sleepy; I need to get him to his bed," she explained to him. Harry, hearing Maximilian's voice, spoke in singsong tones.

"Maxi," Harry mumbled, "Max a million." The dog jumped up at his voice, gamboling and bumping against their legs; he threatened to overturn them in his comical exuberance.

Sandra laughed delightedly at Max's antics, and then dragged Harry toward the door, supporting his weight with her deceptive strength and assisted by his fisted hand in the fur of the amicable dog's head walking at his side. The three were escorted by a trio of cats, tails twisting in the fragrant early morning air. Sandra opened the door to help Harry inside and spied a woman by the garden gate with a questioning look on her face.

Sandra waved acknowledging the woman's presence; it was returned cheerily. The woman turned and entered the garden, soon vanishing from view as she moved down the rows of tall vegetables. Sandra would talk to the mother later, for now the son was her priority.

"Come on Harry, help me." Sandra said, dragging him in the door. They moved through the large comfortable kitchen, up a short flight of stairs, past a dining room and living room to a hall. Harry leaned left so she continued that way and entered a door to find a bedroom.

Stepping to the king sized bed, she let him tumble to lie half across it. She inspected the lair; it was obviously a man's room. There were no frills here except for the dust ruffle on the bed and shammed pillows thrown carelessly on a wooden bench at the foot of the bed. Louvered bi-fold doors concealed a walk in closet. A crossbow hung on the wall with a quiver of quarrels. A dusty half-filled bottle of whiskey shared the top of the dresser with a large squat candle. Window shades, pulled high on the south wall, afforded a view of the yard and garden.

The snores returned. She turned and stood fists on hips for a moment, shaking her head as she looked at his inert form. She removed his shoes and shirt, stopping for a moment to run her hands over his chest and abdomen, tenderly inspecting the scar that marred his body. Kneeling beside the bed, she pulled off his jeans, tossing them to lay with the shirt.

She stopped, looking at his nude body for the first time. The abdomen scar had companions; an ugly scar began in the middle of his left thigh and continued down to his knee. He reminded her of a shark attack victim; another scar crawled from his right knee to his ankle. Warrior, the unspoken word echoed in her head.

Nodding in acceptance and approval, she let her hands slowly caress the damaged portions of his body. She kissed all in reach; hands played over his spread thighs and limp member. She kissed it softly, whispering of her future intentions and turned back inspecting the room.

She often wondered what the inside of the house was like, Harry would never know how long. Sitting on the side of the bed with closed eyes, Sandra let her senses examine the old house around her; it felt safe and secure, waiting as if for the beginning of a new chapter in its existence.

Standing, she swept back the curtains of the front window and looked out over the wide yard. She could not see Backwater, but it was close over the hills to the north that the river ran through. Turning at a snort from Harry, she arranged him on the mattress and pillow, covering him reluctantly. Kissing his forehead, she left, closing the door behind her.

Making her way back to the kitchen, she stopped and looked around. Spotting the coffeemaker with filters and coffee grounds handy, she set up a pot but didn't start it. It'll be ready when he is, she reasoned. She heard the toilet flush. Impossible, she thought, he couldn't be up already!

Harry came awake slowly but with great determination and urgency, forcing himself to rise from coma like unconsciousness. Bathroom, Nowwww, his bladder screamed. Dragging himself to the edge of the bed with a hand grasping the side of the mattress, he slid his legs onto the floor.

Head bowed, he willed his sleep starved body to rise, stumbling from the bed and blundering into the normally open, but now closed door. Fighting past the impediment, he continued down the hall to the toilet. Holding his piss stiff member down with one hand and the wall of the bathroom with the other, he voided forever it seemed to him.

He finished, again shuffling back to his bedroom, falling on the mattress and dragging the sheet over his naked body. I'm too old to stay up all night he thought. It hurt when he was a young man; now it was downright painful. He felt like he was forgetting something too. Why had the door been shut?

Rolling over and hugging the pillow to his chest, he sighed and let sleep take him. Wonderfully erotic dreams lullabied him in his repose filling his heart with joy and lust. He spun and tumbled in the sheets, seemingly grappling with an unseen opponent.

Oldman prepared to slip beneath Harry's subconscious to examine the information acquired that night; there was much to study. Besides, he thought, there was no need to observe when nothing of importance was occurring. Then Sandra came through the door.

Sandra returned to the bedroom, arriving to see his slim backside disappear from the doorway. He was asleep when she entered, twisted in the sheets, grasping a pillow to his chest. Chances are that he never woke when he got up, she thought. She walked to the window and looked out. The woman, Harry's mom she guessed correctly, was far back in the garden bending over a row of vegetables.

Turning back to the bed, indecision furrowed her forehead for a moment. She glanced at her watch, then back out the window. Mind made up, she disrobed swiftly and moved to the bed and under the sheet. Tossing the pillow clasped to his chest on the floor, she pressed her body against his and began to move her hands over his sleeping form while kissing temple, cheeks, and neck. God how I love the sight and feel of skin on skin, she thought as she rested her head on his shoulder looking down his lean form.

His member was moving under the thin sheet. She sat up to see, bending over and pulling the sheet away to closely view this phenomenon. It was rolling slowly up the side of his leg then retreating again between his legs. Her hair brushed his leg. It rolled up again. She lowered her head moving side to side, stroking him with her hair. Soon it lay firm on his belly, pointing up slightly. Sandra glanced at the window and the garden behind. His mom was still busy out there.

She smiled delightedly and straddled him, arranging her chalice to either side of his blade; she looked down where they met. The sight reminded her of a hot dog and bun, turned upside down. Sliding the bun back and forth along its length, she spoke to him softly.

"Give us some mustard, Harry." Their junction became hotter, wetter, and slicker as Sandra's mayonnaise of juices became the first condiment added.

He moved his body in his sleep, grinding against her and voicing unintelligible words. As her limit neared she slid higher, allowing him to slip inside her. Then, after pushing back and burying him in her, she lay on his chest to grind against him while she anointed his neck with nips and kisses. She cried out, smothering her face against his chest, muffling more cries of pleasure.

Waves of energy washed over Oldman, threatening to disrupt the accumulation of data with sensation.

Harry continued to sleep and move in her, belly rippling and back arching, chest heaving with his deep breaths. She sat up placing her hands on his shoulders riding his bucking body, trying to bury more of him inside. She voiced her pleasure again, whipping her hips from side to side as she tried to take him with her, but was not successful. She looked at him, pissed that she was still losing the 'o' race; or was she winning? No matter, it was time to regain ground.

Oldman was becoming disorientated as the repeated sensations of energy striking his awareness came again.

She began rising and falling on him, internal muscles tight on the up stroke and loose on the way back down. Pulling steadily and smoothly, she was soon rewarded by a moan.

Now to finish it, she grinned, speaking to herself, then reversed the order of her actions to loose going up and tight going down, forcing him into her. It was too much for even an unconscious man. She sighed happily as he shuddered and became still. Then one more unintelligible string of words escaped him as he slipped unmoving into a deep sleep.

Oldman's presence fell below Harry's subconscious in a ball of wonder, drawing tightly into a kernel of introspection.

Sandra rolled from him, resting a moment, one hand on her breast the other on his stilling chest; she relived the hour just past in quick giggles of amusement and delight.

Jumping up, she ran to the bathroom to clean then returned to dress quickly. Finished, she bent and kissed him, then pinched him lightly saying fiercely.

"Remember not the night until you see my face again, and then know that I am your love found once more. You are mine now; and I am yours, thou most blessed and cursed of men." She watched him sleep for a moment, and then added. "Clean the bathroom, Harry!" A bright smile graced her face as she strode from the room.

Sandra made her way back through the house, stopping at the landing that overlooked the kitchen. She loved this room and could imagine baking cookies for a horde of children sitting around the large table, centered between the refrigerator, sink, and stove. U shaped counters encircled all on this half of the room; the rest of the kitchen area was glassed and contained an overstuffed chair, couch, and a cedar chest that doubled as a small table.

A thermometer fixed to the outside of the glass read ninety-one degrees; Sandra gazed at it for a moment then turned to the sink.

Sandra carried a tall glass of ice water out the kitchen door, into the backyard, and down the bricked walk to enter the garden gate where she had seen the woman earlier; it was the same garden where she had first encountered Harry. She looked at it, so different now than from her startled glimpse in February.

She had been a Lesser Fay then, one of the countless young ones that wandered the countryside until maturity came to them. Their ability to mimic nature let them fly, crawl, run, swim, and burrow with the wild creatures that shared field, stream, and sky. Fay lived in close co-dependency with nature; it was the reason she had noticed him.

The 'twitch' in the harmony of life alerted her to the change in the energy that joined all. She went to ground swiftly, fearing the nearness of the evil that destroyed the Fay when found. She looked apprehensively from her hide and prepared to flee. The 'Black Ones' were not swift, but they were deadly. Unwary Fay that stumbled upon the emotionless, calculated killers did not last long. She peeked out of the bushes.