Strange Days Ch. 83-86

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redskyes
redskyes
1,111 Followers

But no, it wasn't Trevor. It wasn't Lucas either. I'd never seen him before, the bluest eyes imaginable, almost glowing, every inch of him perfect. My anger bled away. I didn't know who he was, except that it washim, the one who had been watching me, the one who wanted me, and he was literally so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him.

"Lucas did," he told me, his voice lower, silkier, and the sound of it didn't send a tremor of arousal through me. It was a shockwave that clenched my insides so hard that it tore a groan out of my throat and took me to my knees. He circled closer and I struggled to get back up. "He's a bit of a simpering little twat, but a good lackey, devoted. He's been quite a busy bee."

I got to my feet and shuffled closer to the kitchen, trying to move faster than him, but nearly fell over. I was painfully aware of my body, how hot my skin was, how swollen my breasts were, how tight my nipples, and I was so fucking wet, so aching inside with need that it was frightening.

This wasnothing like what had happened to me before, obscene lust mixed with seething anger. This was the man, person, thing - or whatever! - that had been watching me, fucking with me, screwing with my friends, that had gotten Paula hurt, and me. He was coming closer, and Iwanted him closer. I wanted him so close that I could smell him, touch him, taste him, feel him, more than I had ever wanted Trevor, more than I had ever wanted Sarah. But the anger was there too, unreasonable, hot and savage.

"Whoare you?" I growled.

He stopped and crooked an eyebrow. "You haven't figured it out yet? I'm surprised, Amy." He sounded genuinely disappointed. He shrugged and took another step.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" I backed away quickly, my back slamming into the pillar beside the kitchen counter.

He shrugged. "I assumed the wine would give me away."

I felt along the counter with my hand, finding my way without looking, refusing to take my eyes off him. "What about the wine?"

He smiled arrogantly, and as much as I hated it, it was a lovely smile, the kind that makes a girl want to do anything to see it more often. "Wine. Celebration. Fucking."

That last word came out as almost a whisper. He breathed it and I felt it in my skin, deep in my bones, his potential, his raw sensuality, like he was to men what Freyja was to women. Wait, was that it?

He twirled his hand in a circle. "Come on, Amy. Dots. Connect them."

I wracked my brain, but it was foggy, messy, clouded with desire. How much of this was from the wine? How much from him? Come on, Amy! I couldn't concentrate, not while trying to get into the kitchen, to get what I needed. Christ, it was hot. I was sweating, and I wasn't the only one. He was watching me with a look of pure hunger, naked lust. A bead of sweat trickled down the center of his muscular chest and I wanted nothing more than to capture it with my tongue.

Wine. Beer. Celebration. Frat party. Sex.

Night clubs and bars!

"Dionysus?" I said, but it was more a question than anything.

He shrugged one shoulder and grinned, still following me. "I prefer Pan, but whatever."

Finally, I found it. My hand closed over a flat bundle of glass, metal and plastic. I unlocked my cell phone and dialed 911, watching him as I pressed the phone to my ear. "Stay there," I pointed.

He smiled with wry amusement. "Are you trying to call someone with a slice of cake?"

"What?" I blinked, then felt it. The texture against my ear was all wrong. I jerked my hand away and gaped at what looked like a thick slice of iced pound cake that reeked of liquor.

He laughed.

"Oh, fuck this," I spat, and jerked a huge goddamn knife out of the butcher block. "Stay the fuck back!"

He laughed again, reaching out with his hand. "A banana? Really?"

I looked.

Fuck!

I threw the banana on the floor. He grabbed for me and I ran, and it only made him laugh, but he'd gotten close, close enough that I could smell him, and holy God, did he smell incredible. I don't know how to properly describe it, to do it justice, but it was a purely masculine scent, of sex, of possession, of mastery. It tightened things inside me, set me on fire, sent me sprawling to the floor on my belly. My insides clenched like a fist, but around nothing, holding tight, tighter, shaking my limbs, hitching my breath, and I came with a scream.

Then he was laying his body against me, his legs along mine, his impossibly chiseled stomach grazing my lower back, and God, he felt good, so very warm, skin so silky soft and his body so hard. I tried to scream again, but my breath left me in a rush.

"It's okay, Amy," he murmured, close enough that his breath stirred my hair. "I know you're angry. It's the wine. I don't know why it's affecting you this way, but it will fade, and you'll feel so much better."

My body felt liquid. I couldn't move. I could only pant like a bitch in heat and feel my arousal soaking my thighs.

"What do you want?" I pleaded.

"I won't hurt you." His hand pulled my hair to the side. "Ican't hurt you, actually."

He couldn't hurt me?

He sniffed the back of my neck and I felt him shudder against me. Then he kissed my neck, lips so soft, lingering, tasting my skin, my sweat.

"I need you, Amy," he said, mouth trailing down my neck and back, his body lifting from me. My shirt was torn open like it was made of tissue. He pressed kisses down my spine while his fingers dug under my shorts.

"Please," I begged, wanting to get away, to fight, to do anything, but all I could do was feel him touching me, tearing open my shorts and pulling the tattered remains from my legs.

"I need your help." His voice was quiet, pleading. His kisses, so soft and warm, grazed the small of my back, the soft patch of skin just above my butt. "You don't know what I've been through," he said, crawling down my body and kissing my ass, spreading my legs, gliding a hand up my thigh and finding my soaking wet center. He didn't so much touch me as let me know that he could, the very tips of his fingers hovering there, the occasional twitch of my body causing them to make contact. "You don't know how much I've suffered," he breathed with quiet desperation, painfully acute, and his hand pressed firmly against my cunt, two fingers sliding against my folds.

I groaned pitifully, "Noooo..."

But he wasn't stopping, because it wasn't his hand pressing in. It was me lifting up to meet him.

"I can't do it anymore, Amy."

I found the strength to push up onto my arms, to get away, but that's not what I did. My body was no longer mine. My arms pushed me back, pushed my wet cunt right onto his fingers, two of them sliding up inside me, hips pumping so that his fingertips would find that spot and when they did oh my God it was so good.

"I can't stay there," he said, his voice shaking, so very sad, so tormented. "Half-awake, half-dead, all but forgotten."

I moaned, mewled, dropped my head to the floor with a thud and rocked my ass up and down, fucking myself onto his fingers, and when his thumb extended and I rubbed my clit against it, I came.

Maybe it was because I hadn't been with Trevor in a while, but I hadn't felt this feminine in so long, and I was reveling in it. I loved it, being able to fully submit to someone, and not just anyone, but a man, not a woman or a girl with a magic cock, but a real man. And he was. I could feel it in his legs beside mine, the warmth of his chest hovering over my back, his long thin fingers inside me, so utterly still, letting me fuck myself exactly how I wanted.

"It's so quiet there, Amy," he said with such sadness that it made me cry, made me question if they were my tears or his, if this aching need I felt deep inside me was his too. His hand smoothed up my back and held my shoulder. "It's so cold."

I came again, and right in the middle of it, he grabbed my throat and pulled, turning me over onto my back. He was above me then, braced on his arms, his hair falling around his head like a curtain of spun gold in loose curls, eyes impossibly blue and drowning in need and sadness. He settled between my thighs, where I wanted him to be. Or where he wanted to be?

He cupped my cheek, and I felt him press against me, hard and eager beneath his jeans. "I've been alone for so long, Amy." Tears fell down his handsome cheeks. "So alone, and I can't stand it anymore."

He reached down and tore his jeans open, I felt him, long and hard and bare, his shaft hot against my lips, his tip leaking onto my stomach, then it was gone and his fingers were there and I was thrusting my hips up and pushing myself onto them.

"Save me, Amy," he breathed.

I felt his solitude, so sharp it was a knife twisting in his gut, his heart, his mind, threatening his sanity. He had once been worshiped, believed in, prayed to, but no longer. He was nearly forgotten, alone, weak, and dying. It was so awful that I wept for him. No one should be that alone, not even a god.

He pleaded with an agonized whisper. "Please."

I fucked my aching cunt onto his fingers and knew that I could save him, and I wanted to, and not just my body. My body craved him, but even the little bit of logic that remained available to me told me this would all finally be over, that if I saved him, I would be free of him. I just didn't know how to do it.

"How?" I gasped.

He smiled, his eyes, his mouth, his entire expression so full of hope. His fingers slid out of me and his cock was pressing at my opening, not in, but there, swollen and so damn hot. "You're touched by us, Amy, touched by the gods. Accept my seed willingly," he told me, pushing up onto his arms, looking down at me, still poised to enter me, to pierce my body onto his length. "Carry me, bring me into your world, nurse me, care for me, love me body and soul, and I will make you a Queen."

Whoa. He wanted to fuck me, impregnate me with himself, give birth to him, and fuck him again?

Oh,hell no.

The aching need inside me vanished and I slugged him right in the mouth.

"Fuck!" he spat into his hand, blood leaking between his fingers.

I scrambled away from him like a crab, and he grabbed for my ankle with his bloody hand, but I kicked him right in the mouth again. He cursed long and loud, flopping onto his back, and I rolled and ran for the bedroom, knowing that Sarah's phone was on her nightstand. I could only hope that Dionysus would be too stunned to turn Sarah's phone into pound cake too.

God, I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that.

A hard body collided into me, slamming me face first onto the floor. His hand clamped onto the back of my neck and lifted my upper body.

"I said I couldn't hurt you," he growled, and then he threw me. I don't mean a foot or two. He threw me across the apartment. I crashed into something, felt it splintering under my back, grinding against my skin, but oddly it didn't hurt. Dionysus pounced, straddling me, crushing me into whatever the hell I was lying on, and he leered, "I didn't say I couldn't toss you around like a rag-doll."

He threw me again. Whatever I hit that time was a lot harder, a lot less forgiving, but I went right through it. Water was spraying me in the chest, both hot and cold. When I blinked my eyes open, I saw that he'd thrown me through the shower wall, through brick and steel plumbing alike. How the hell had that not hurt?

"You may as well stop fighting me, Amy," he called out while I tried to get the wet grit and dust out of my eyes. "There's no sense in fighting because of Sarah."

My breath caught.

He laughed arrogantly. "You love her. I get it. I really do. But I have it on good authority that if you stay with her, you'll kill her."

It felt like a desperate lie, like he was willing to do or say anything to get me to just give in.

"Bullshit!" I yelled, getting the last of the dust out of my eyes.

"The Fates are rarely wrong, Amy, so you might want to give it some thought."

He came back into view, striding towards me. Then I saw his split lower lip, the blood on his chin. He couldn't hurt me, but I could hurt him.

I surged to my feet and charged him, my body shaking with rage, welcoming it. Dionysus braced himself and I threw every ounce of my weight against him. We fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. I punched, clawed, kicked, even landed a knee into his groin. He grunted and slugged me in the left eye, and while I perceived the impact and felt the pressure, it just didn't hurt at all. Then he heaved with his arms and legs, throwing me clear away from him. I landed on my face and he was instantly on my back, pinning my arms to the floor with his knees. He slapped his hand against the back of my head and shoved my forehead into the floor, hard enough to crack the wood.

"You want to lose your friends, Amy?"

I froze, and he kept the pressure going on my head, the hardwood floor groaning under the stress.

"I can't hurt you, but imagine what I can do to them." He laid himself along my back again, his hard cock settling between my cheeks. "I could fold them in fucking half along with that couch."

Oh God. Sarah. Phillip.

"It will bring this party to a tragic end, for both youand me, when the others come running to your aid, to clean up the mess I make." He leaned close and hissed. "But it will beso fucking worth it."

I couldn't let him hurt my friends.

He roared right beside my ear. "Choose!"

Choose? Like I had a choice? Let myself be raped by a god, give birth to him, and fuck him later. Or let him kill my friends. Some choice.

"Choose!" he yelled, shoving down on my head harder, until half of my face broke through the floor. "Or I'll choose them."

A moment of clarity hit. The rules. He couldn't hurt my friends without breaking a rule, apparently, since that would bring the 'others', which presumably, were Helena and the Hound. They had told me what they could, and they wouldn't have bothered if it wasn't important. Something was there, a key that...

Free will! The Hound had told me to remember that I had free will!

"Why don't you just choose to rape me?" I growled.

Dionysus laughed. "Oh, if only it were that easy." For added emphasis, he forced my thighs apart and pressed the wide tip of his cock against my opening, which wasn't anywhere near as sopping wet as before, but from the way he fit himself there so easily, I was more than wet enough. "If that were an option, I wouldn't have bothered with manners in the first place. Now, choose. My life or theirs."

Okay, so he couldn't take me against my will. I had to offer myself to him. He'd already told me as much, but I'd missed it. He'd asked me to accept his seed.

But what else? Theyhad to have told me something else I could use!

"Fine, say goodbye to them," he growled and began to rise up.

"Wait!"

He froze.

"Just...wait," I sighed. Dionysus settled his body against mine again, once more pressing his tip against me, but this time he firmly lodged himself there, not quite in, but close. Definitely close enough to turn my stomach.

A young man, I remembered. Helena had said I would be dealing with something that behaved like a young man, one that was courting me, trying to conquer me, win me. Dionysus didn't really want to rape me anyway. Even without Helena's advice, I knew that. He wanted me to want him. Except I didn't, and unless I did, unless I accepted him, he would kill my friends.

Okay, then what options did that leave me? What if he didn't want me?

Remember who you are, Helena had said.

Ah-ha!

"I-I want to see you," I stammered.

The pressure eased on my head. It took him a moment to say anything, and when he did, his tone was cautiously quiet, as though he didn't quite believe he'd heard me right.

Experimentally, I pushed up with my arms, and he let me lift my face out of the subfloor.

"I don't like this," I told him, and he growled. "I...part of me wants this."

He sighed, and I felt him shivering from chest to toes, everywhere he was touching me. I twisted my upper body so that I could look at him over my shoulder. Dionysus lifted himself up, giving me room, and that gave me room to do what I needed to do. I almost didn't risk it, seeing his eyes burning with lust and rage. He looked insane, or close to it.

I spoke softly, trying not to let my voice quake and give myself away, what I was doing. "If I do this, if I accept you, accept your seed, I want to see you."

He licked his lips and nodded once.

"Okay," I breathed.

With a growl, he grabbed my shoulder and flipped me over like I weighed nothing, and as he spread my legs, he looked down and his eyes went wide as saucers. The look he gave me was priceless, and I swear to you, his erection wilted just a little at the Violet-sized cunt cleaver (I'm rather proud of myself for coming up with that in the heat of the moment) sticking up from between my legs.

I smiled up at him. "What's the matter? Dickgirls just don't do it for you?"

He blinked at me, then breathed, "That bitch."

Dionysus leapt to his feet and roared, "That fucking cunt!" The walls literally shook with his fury. Hell, the whole apartment did.

Slowly, I got to my feet, cautiously edging over towards the couch.

"Lucas, you sniveling piece ofshit!" He fumed, kicking the armchair across the apartment, where the dinner table had been - it was a pile of shattered wood now. "You had one fucking job!One fucking job! Find me a girl that's been touched by us. That's all I asked!" He roared at the ceiling, shaking the building to its foundations. "And you found me a Gifted instead!"

I wasn't sure what Gifted meant, but I heard the capital G in there. Whatever it was, there was meaning to it.

While Dionysus ranted and raved, thoroughly trashing the apartment one piece of furniture at a time, I got to Sarah and Phillip. I leaned in close to hear them snoring, both of them sound asleep.

Then Dionysus snapped his fingers. "Of course!"

He whirled about and faced me, his expression wildly triumphant.

Uh-oh.

"Lucas, you wonderful little fool. I underestimated you, dear boy." He smiled wickedly. "I'm going to make that young man a King." He paced away from me, across the apartment, tapping his chin with two fingers. "Now, where might it be?"

What the hell was he talking about.

"There!" He pointed up, then at my dresser.

The top drawer exploded, and a second later, my statue of Freyja was in his hand.

"No!" I charged him. I didn't care how strong he was, how fast. I couldn't let him take away my gift.

Dionysus back-handed me into the elevator doors, and they crumpled inward like aluminum foil. When I got to my feet, he waggled the statue at me.

"Do you know what this is, Amy? What thisreally is?" I didn't answer, but I don't think he cared anyway. "It's a vessel, and its sole purpose is to protect you from the full effects of the tiny fragment of a god within it."

He crushed it in his hand, but before I could cry out, the apartment flashed with brilliant gold light. When it faded, there was pinprick of light in his upraised palm.

He laughed at me. "Oh, you have no idea what you're dealing with, do you? This miniscule sliver of Freyja contains more power than you can ever know. Without the vessel, it would have torn you apart, destroyed your mortal form, and we Gods onlyknow what it would have done to your immortal soul." He spread his hands and struck a proud pose, showing off the chiseled lines of his body. "But for someone like me? This, in essence, is what I was looking for in you, a spark of godhood, just a little, just enough to ensure that you could accept my seed, through Lucas, and bring me back into this world."

I had no idea what he was going to do, but I started making my way back to the couch. Whatever he did, I had a feeling it wasn't going to be good at all, and I wanted to be with Sarah when it happened.

redskyes
redskyes
1,111 Followers