The Duellist

"I'm not done with you, Niamh," he said. "Get on your knees."

For a second she looked at him, her emerald eyes wide above his cock. Then she pulled her head free, obediently scooted around to face the back of the sofa, climbed onto her knees. "Jay, what are you going to do to me?" she said breathlessly, her voice betraying her excitement.

He fingered her cunt, rubbing it in her juices then sliding it into the cheeks of her ass. Worked his finger along the crease of her ass, feeling the slick smooth skin, touching the wrinkled flesh of her asshole. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass," he said, quietly.

She looked back at him. "Bastard," she said.

"Don't tell me it's your first time?"

"No. But it hurts, Jay."

He slid his finger into her cunt, slow, controlling, his thumb on her asshole. "I'll be careful, okay?"

For a time she said nothing, looking at him. "Will that stop you being pissed with me?"

He grinned lasciviously.

She sighed. "Fuck. Alright then, you got a shower in this poverty box?"

"Yeah, what for?" he said.

She looked at him gone off. "If you think I'm letting you fuck me in the ass before I, uh, wash, you can forget it."

He grinned. "I'll show you..."

"No you fucking don't, Jayden Carney, you're not watching that. Just tell me." He pointed to the back of the apartment. She grinned. "See you in a second."

Jayden poured himself a rum, gin and tonic for Niamh. From the back he could hear the sound of the shower, the toilet flushing. He sipped his drink, returned to the sofa. A few minutes later Niamh emerged, walking naked across the room to stand toe to toe with him, her body still damp.

He handed her the drink, knocking his own back. "You're a bastard, you know that Jay," she said quietly, looking up at him. She held up a small tube of lubricant. "Use this. And lots of it, okay."

"Where did you get that?" He stroked the skin of her arm, feeling her lean into him, her nipples touching his chest, her leg brushing his, cock on her skin.

"My purse." She grinned, kissed him on the mouth softly. "Okay, bastard, what do you want me to do?"

"Kneel on the cushions," he said, grinning, nodding to the sofa.

She looked. "Okay," she said softly, crawling onto the seat, leaning on the back. She curved her back so that her ass was presented to him. "Like that?" She looked back at him over her shoulder, smiling.

"Yeah. Like that." He stood behind her, using his thumbs to push her cheeks further open, squirted lubricant gel on her skin.

A small sigh. "Go on then, bastard..." she whispered, her head dropping forward onto the sofa. He pressed gently, sliding his finger into her ass, the tight hole giving way to the feel of soft flesh inside, working the lubricant into her slowly.

She grunted, her body tense. "Jay..." He gradually increased the pressure, slowly sliding his finger as far in as it would go, the cheeks of her ass obstructing.

"Pull yourself open." After a moment's hesitation, a quick pause, she reached behind back, pulled the cheeks of her ass open for him. He fingered her, working lubricant into her asshole with his hand, listening to her grunt gently as he did so, each penetration opening her asshole a little further. Eventually the resistance faded, her ass gleaming with gel. "How's that?" "Oh, fuck," she said. "Jay... Just try not to hurt me, okay."

"I won't." He fingered her some more, gently running his hand over her skin, sliding his finger into her easily now. He shifted position, rubbed his cock between the cheeks of her ass, smearing her with his dripping precum. Finally he positioned his cock her asshole. "You ready?"

She looked back, biting her lip. "You'd better appreciate this," she said quietly, nodded.

He smiled, pushed into her - a groan, back arching - her tight asshole resisting. Slowly, with the pressure, it opened to swallow the head of his cock - forcing a pained grunt from her. "Fuck Jayden, it hurts." Her body tensed, her cheeks clamping him still, stopping him.

"It's okay, Niamh, it'll pass..." He stroked her skin, stopping.

"What, you some kind of expert now?" she said through clenched teeth. "It's not your fucking asshole being stretched."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no... Just give me a minute..." She dropped her head, almost physically willing herself to relax. "Fuck!"

Gradually the tension leaked out of her. He opened her ass wide, hands on her hips, thumbs pulling her cheeks apart, pushed into her again. She groaned, his cock slowly disappearing into her a fraction at a time. "That's it, all the way in," he said, stroking her back.

"Thank fuck for that," she said, looking round, her voice a little strained. "You're a complete bastard for making me do this, you know that?"

"I haven't even fucked you yet."

She grimaced. "Get on with it then. Slowly, Jay, okay?"

He grinned at her, taking hold of her hips. At first he kept to small short strokes, his cock moving hardly at all, letting her body adjust, accommodate him. Even so, each thrust brought a new groan from her. Gradually her asshole seemed to relax, stretching to take his cock and fucking her became easier.

"Mm, that feels weird," she said, a little breathless.

"What?" He paused, stopping, holding her still. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay... Just feels a little weird, like you're in my pussy and my ass at the same time." A low chuckle. "It's kind of nice..."

"Good." He gripped her hips hard, holding her steady, started to fuck her again. Her asshole was relaxed now, easily taking his cock, thrusting into her freely. "'Cause it feels nice to me," he said.

She looked back at him, a shy smile on her face, rocking as his cock slid into her ass. "It fucking better, you bastard." She held his gaze, letting him see her hand slipping to her cunt, letting him know she was fingering herself as he fucked her. Said quietly, "It's not hurting, fuck me a little harder if you like..."

He grinned. "You're the boss, boss."

She giggled, broke off - moaning slightly. "Mm. God, that feels good." She turned away, sagging over the back of the sofa, her hand deep in her cunt, breathing hard. "Fuck..."

He pulled her onto him, cock sliding deep into her ass, her flesh stretching around him. "Oh fuck, Niamh!" he said, voice breathy.

She moaned. "That's it, Jay.... Oh!" Her back arched, her hand frantic on her cunt, gasping. "Oh fuck!" He fucked her, hands pulling her back onto him, her body rocking on the sofa, his cock sliding easily into her ass.

It wasn't long before he felt the liquid heat of his climax, surge of feeling in his groin, spreading through his cock. "Fuck, Niamh, I'm going to cum," he said, gasping.

Her hips thrust back against him, the cheeks of her ass pushing against his body. "Mmm, come on then, Jay, cum in me..." He drove into her, restraint gone, his passion overwhelming him, heard her moan in response, her chest heaving - breath coming in gasps.

His climax exploded through him, hands gripping her tightly, holding her still, his cock driving into her one last time as he came, shooting hot liquid into her body. He moaned loudly. "Oh fuck..." he said, voice quiet, breathless, body straining against hers.

Niamh groaned, pushing back against him. "Bastard," she said, at last, laughing, her voice hoarse, dry. "I didn't cum. Don't leave me like this..."

He grinned, slowly pulled his cock out of her ass with a muffled slurping sound, liquid mess dripping over the floor, the sofa - the earthy smell of shit coupled with the mineral scent of his cum.

"Oh fuck," she said, blushing, viscous brown liquid dripping down her legs, smelling of her own shit. "Don't look... Shit, you'll go off me for sure now..."

"What makes you think I haven't already?" He chuckled. She shot him a venomous glance. "Hey, I'm kidding, half the mess is mine anyway," he said. "Turn around."

She turned about a little unsteadily, sat down in the mess, spreading her legs, pulling her lips open. "Go on then, bastard," she breathed, her fingers making way, pulling herself open. His tongue slithered into her. Immediately she gasped, grabbing his head, pulling him against her. "Oh fucking yes..."

It took her no time to cum, gripping his head between her thighs, feet on his back crushing him against her - making a noise somewhere between a moan and a scream. Gradually she relaxed, releasing his head, lying back laughing. "Fucking hell, Jay."

He stood, flopping onto the ruined sofa next to her. She turned about, putting her legs over his, lying back. "I'm a mess," she said happily.

He smiled, but it was a distant, thoughtful smile. If she noticed, she didn't let on.

******

Three days later, Emma contacted him, interrupting a lunchtime meeting.

Pretending urgent business he excused himself from the room, drawing a few curious stares from his peers, retiring to the atrium of the conference suite - a luxurious waiting room decorated in pastel shades, comfortable chairs and sofas positioned geometrically around low tables and corporate issue potted plants. Frosted glass windows made the light gentle. Other than him it was empty.

"Hi Emma, sorry about that - meeting," he said.

She smiled. "That's okay, I know you capitalist destroyers of the environment are busy twenty-four seven," she said playfully.

He laughed. "So, is it time to negotiate?"

"Uh, no, not yet," she said shyly, cocking her head. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out for something to eat tonight?"

"What, a date you mean?" he said, grinning.

She smiled. "Just two old friends having dinner together."

"Two?" he said smoothly. "No Wim tonight?"

She hesitated, looked unsure for the first time, her smile slipping. "Uh, he's away tonight. On Earth. I thought..."

"Yes, I'd love to, Em. Want me to pick you up?"

Her smile returned, she looked relieved. "No, it's okay. Meet me there, eight pm?"

"Where? You haven't said where we're going."

"Oh, sorry. The Arena, you know it?"

"Of course I do." The Arena. Corporate hangout. Little chance of coming across any of Wim's friends in there, he thought. "Eight pm."

She smiled. "See you then."

******

"Jay, what happens if we agree terms," Emma said quietly, staring at him across the table. "You know, for the partnership..."

Jayden sighed, turning to look out of the window. Beyond, the sun was slowly disappearing into the Earth's shadow, the encroaching darkness heralding the approach of night for the dome.

The Arena wasn't far from New York Dome's corporate heart. Achingly trendy, it was located in a converted factory unit, the tables placed amongst scattered machinery - lathes, presses, decommissioned robots - the walls hung with items of industrial memorabilia. Even the bar was fronted by a long workbench, scarred and stained with use. Despite that, it managed to strike a fair balance with comfort by lowering the dark ceiling, by filling the place with subdued lighting in rainbow colours and low music and potted greenery. It was always busy, a haunt of celebrities and well-heeled corporate execs, a few pro duellists. Its reputation guaranteeing a crowd.

After Emma's call he hadn't bothered to go home, instead finishing late and working out in the gym before changing - the office housing a wardrobe containing several spare outfits for just this reason. He'd chosen Boss in black, the German stylehouse producing an eye catching line of suits inspired by duelling, the cut flattering his toned body.

He'd arrived a few minutes before Emma, checked their reservation and ordered drinks. Their table was set in a small alcove, a large window giving a good view of the busy street beyond, the close walls assuring them of at least some privacy. She'd arrived only moments later, looking breathtaking in a tight black dress cut high on her right thigh - the golden skin of her slim leg visible almost to the hip - blond hair falling loose about her shoulders.

Dinner had passed in a blur. As he had all those years ago, he found her easy company, the conversation flowing naturally between them. It certainly seemed as if she felt the same way, laughing easily as they'd reminisced or swapped anecdotes, conspiring together to keep the conversation light. It was only as desert was cleared away that the atmosphere changed.

Emma had stared out of the window, watching the stars, eyes tracking an occasional person wandering past. He watched her, not disturbing the silence, teasing at his feelings as he might a loose tooth. Eventually she'd turned back to face him and the conversation had turned serious, had turned to the coming duel.

He shrugged, aware that she was waiting for him to answer. When he turned to her, she was staring at him, her face guarded. "What always happens," he said evenly. "I'll find some pretext, some point of business policy to disagree with and I'll call my boss out." He thought of Niamh, shivered slightly.

She sipped her drink. "So you'll fight your boss?"

He grimaced, looked away. "Actually, no. My boss is a junior partner, they don't have to duel themselves if they don't want to. Achilles has a number of pros on retainer. I'll duel one of them for her job."

Emma nodded, thinking. "So partners don't duel?"

"No, mostly. Some do, they just don't have to," he said, watching her across the tale. "Perk of the job. They can duel if they want to. If they do they still get the pro's help."

"And if you win?"

"I get her job, become a partner."

She nodded, sipped her drink. "What happens to her?"

He shrugged. "She'll lose her job. The corporation doesn't have to honour her salary or bonuses from the moment of her defeat. And they won't."

She looked at him, her face fascinated. "That's horrible."

He nodded. "Survival of the fittest, Em." She grimaced. He smiled, looked down.

"What's it like? Duelling, I mean," she said, voice betraying her interest, her eyes bright. "What happens?"

He smiled. "You've seen it on TV?"

"A little, not much. Wim's not, uh, not a big fan," she pulled a face, "and I haven't really paid much attention... Perhaps because of that," she said. She looked at him, blushed. "I saw you duel once..."

"You did?" He grinned. Sipped his drink, considered his next words. "Do you know anything about how it works?"

She shook her head, resting her chin on her hand, watching him. "Okay," he said. "There are different kinds of duel - some are team efforts, if you're duelling to decide contract issues, most aren't. In the typical promotion duel there are two of you."

"Uh-huh." She stared at him speculatively, her head cocked to the side, eyes on his.

"The duel will take place on a preset killing ground, normally in one of the reclamation estates. Each of you is inserted into the duelling space from opposite ends," he said. "Then you make your way towards one another and one of you kills the other. Or tries to."

"Oh. What if you can't find each other?"

He chuckled. "That's one of the fiendish parts of it," he said. "Having two people wandering around lost wouldn't make for great TV, so the armour you wear contains a tracker that broadcasts your position to your opponent. It's proximity sensitive, it shuts off if you get within two hundred metres of your opponent. So if you're close together you don't know where your opponent might be, but as soon as you separate..."

"Really?" Her eyes widened. "I didn't know that."

He laughed. "And there was me thinking you were a closet groupie."

"Afraid not, Jayden Carney," she said, laughing with him. "So, go on, what do you think about before you go in?"

"Not dying." The laughter tailed off, silence crawling into its place. He sipped his drink.

"Oh," she said, her face thoughtful.

"Enough about me," he said. "My turn again."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Go on then, what do you want to know?"

"Why did you ask me out to dinner?"

Her smile turned a little artificial. "Wim was away, I thought we could catch up." It sounded rehearsed.

He nodded slowly, rolling his glass between his hands. "That might convince Wim," he said slowly. "But it's not true. You could have caught up any time." She didn't say anything. "No. You waited until Wim was out of the dome because you wanted to see me and you didn't know how the evening was going to end."

For a long time she stared at him, her blue eyes wide, her face unreadable. "You arrogant bastard," she said at last, her voice quiet.

He looked at her, his face expressionless. "I'm right, aren't I?"

She paused. For a moment her face was torn, then she said, "I'm sorry you think so." Stood, picking up her purse. "This was a mistake."

His eyes met hers, holding her gaze. She swallowed. "Wim says he'll contact you tomorrow, set up a meeting for Sunday to negotiate terms," she said, not looking away. "Goodnight, Jayden." She held his gaze for a fraction longer, turned and walked away.

When she reached the door she hesitated, glancing back at him, her eyes uncertain. The moment passed and she was gone. His eyes followed her out.

"Bollocks," he said under his breath. He grabbed his wallet, dumped the best part of two hundred dollars on his plate and ran after her. She was on the sidewalk, halogen lights making it bright, a yellow painted cab whirring to a halt beside her, bending to open the door. "Em, wait," he said. "I'm sorry..."

She turned to face him. Her face brought him up short, her desire a mirror of his own. "Don't be," she said, her voice tense, breathy. "You were right."

For a second longer he looked at her, the moment hanging between them with an unexpected weight, then she was in his arms - a breath of scent, of the smell of her skin - kissing each another with a frantic passion, a clash of mouths, of lips - teeth biting, pulling. Her slim body was pressed against him, long legs tangled with his, her hands in his hair, tongues duelling together. She gasped words into his mouth, onto his neck - incomprehensible, meaningless words full of desire, of need.

Somehow they made it into the cab falling through the open door onto the back seat. He garbled his address, lurching against her as the cab jerked away from the kerb. He barely noticed. She was tugging at his shirt, her hands sliding over his bare skin, his own sliding along the warm flesh of her legs - one cocked on the seat, the other still on the floor.

His hand slid between her legs, the skin at the top of her thighs warm, moist, encountered the lace of her high cut panties. Her hand fumbled with his belt, sliding into the waistband of his pants, onto his ass.

"Oh, Jay..." A breath.

He felt the mound of her cunt, pressing gently against the fabric of her panties. She moaned, pressing against him, her back arching. His mouth dropped to her neck, nipping her soft flesh, licking her skin.

"Oh God!" she said, moaning. "Jay, fuck, stop..."

Gradually he became aware that she was pushing him back, trying to disengage. He released her, looking at her, confused by lust. "Stop, Jay, please... I can't do this, I can't," she said breathlessly. "I'm sorry..."

Reluctantly he released her, sitting up. The cab driver was watching them in the rear view mirror. Jayden glared at him until he looked away, refastened his belt. Next to him Emma was straightening her dress, her face as befuddled as he felt. "Jay, I'm sorry, I just..." She ran her hand through her hair, looked at him, her eyes beseeching. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, there's no need," he said, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried for a smile. "Don't apologise, Em."

The cab pulled up outside his apartment block. She nodded. "This where you live?"

He stared out of the window, his mind spinning, the entrance looked alien, unfamiliar and very far away. "Yeah. If you're ever around, it's number thirty-eight." He grinned, half-heartedly tucked his shirt into his pants.