Angel Dark

Not that she was complaining about her first introduction to sexual pleasures! Just the memory of what he had done to her toes made them curl, and the way her lip stung told her that, as fast as their kind healed minor scratches, she knew they’d both be sore and aching from many such marks before their time with each other was through.

That thought reminded her that she had only a week or so to spend in this Goethe’s arms, before she would have to return to Starclaw with Lucian. Thoughts of Lucian made her flush uneasily at her mental images of just who had seduced her last night…and that led her right back to the desire to see her blood-mate’s face. Reaching up, she tapped the lightglobe. It brightened by a few degrees, making her squint a little until her eyesight adjusted. Then, squirming around, she faced her nest-partner.

And stared at the man she found occupying their bed.

Lucian Sunstalker.

Luminance of the Visi Goethe.

There was no mistaking that face; she’d seen it often enough over the past couple of weeks. Even with scratch-marks from her teeth, with a thin smear of dried blood at the corner of her mouth begging to be licked off, with more than one neat set of teeth-marks scabbing the flesh next to the base of his neck…it was Lucian in her bed. Lucian she had bitten, and Lucian she had copulated with. Lucian, whose blood had aroused hers to a nearly mindless frenzy of lust she hadn’t been quite sure beforehand a Goethe could even feel.

Lucian, whom she had imagined caressing her, kissing her, biting and thrusting into her…who had actually done all those things.

Desire rose, hot and sharp, as she matched the fantasy with the reality. It warred with dismay and disbelief. The Luminance, the wielder of the Daystone, the man who had started the civil war that had sent one desperate young Ana Goethe on the risky, deadly quest of climbing the Sun Tower and bargaining with the Enemy himself…was her blood-compatible mate?

The irony of it made her want to laugh. And weep. Yet the warmth of his body, which she’d lain next to for so many compatible, utterly platonic nights since first kidnapping him into her mad scheme, that body now undeniably aroused her. Just looking at his naked chest, the semi-flaccid state of his loins, the muscles of his thighs filled her with the desire to bite him for deceiving her—he had to know who she was, when he’d waved his vial under her nose!—and mount him for more of the incredible pleasure he had given her.

Sun, Moon, and Stars as her witnesses, she loved him and she wanted to kill him at the same time.

That must’ve been how he felt, she realized slowly, watching her unexpected lover sleep peacefully through her sky-shattering revelations.When I lay bleeding and dying in his bedchamber in the Sun Tower…he must have scented my blood then. He did say before he met me, no other woman had roused his blood-lusts. I just assumed it meant he didn’t feel anything now, either. Stars—all those times he grabbed me with what I thought was anger, in that first week or so…that was blood-lust as well, roused by the scent of my injuries. And if it has been three hundred years since his last sniff of desire…no wonder he spared me. Even if I am an Ana, and he’s a Visi.

But why the blindfold?He must think I’m one of those anti-Visi fanatics who’d rather kill either themselves or their prospective mate, if they found themselves blood-compatible with someone from the other sub-race… Idiot. Didn’t she climb the Tower to find him, and find a way to end the war between their peoples? Shaking her head, Nina sank back down into the soft, linen-covered pillows. Wondering what she was going to do with him.

And realized abruptly that he was awake. Watching her with slitted, wary eyes. The effects of his blood in her system could still be felt, but Nina wasn’t sure how to get out of the awkwardness of the moment. A twinge in her back gave her inspiration. Twisting onto her stomach, she folded her arms under her head and looked at him. “My back hurts from all that…from the pillows,” she hedged, still a little embarrassed at discussing anything involving passion. Desire was supposed to be the realm of the lesser races, save for her species’ need to procreate. “Could you rub it? Below…below where you bit me.”

There. It was out. She had acknowledged the hot passion that had consumed them. For a moment, he did nothing, then he shifted on the pillows, rising up to kneel beside her. Naked and gloriously male. Strange, how the scent and taste of blood made her aware of the fact that he was, indeed, gloriously a male. Even before he touched her, she felt a prickle of anticipation, and an illicit thrill. But her back did hurt, and it did need massaging. They’d flown so much, trying to get to the Gather in time to participate, her muscles ached from the long week of flight.

His hands touched her shoulders, first caressing, then digging with surprising skill into her taut, torqued muscles. Within a short period of time, the worst of the kinks had been smoothed out, and the platonic pleasure of the backrub superceded the pain…and as soon as she realized the pain had fled, a new kind of pleasure filled her body, joining the first. From the way her nipples beaded and her loins ached, Nina realized a good massage could stimulate sexual pleasure, as well as simple sensual delight. She moaned, feeling her body moisten and warm with rising desire.

His hands hesitated on her skin.

“If you stop, I’m going to bite you,” she muttered. His hands stayed still and quiet, barely touching her back, and she realized how that could be interpreted; they were Goethe, after all. “…Alright, if youdon’t stop, I’ll bite you.”

His hands moved, but not to massage her. They turned her over, making her look up at him as he cupped his hands around her biceps, holding her in place. The desire in his pale sapphire eyes transfixed her. He shifted his position, sliding the naked heat of his body over hers, pinning her to the nest of pillows lining the bed, letting her feel the thrust of his desire as it brushed against her legs. She struggled a little to free her arms, and he held her in place, preventing her escape. Not that she wanted to, but she enjoyed flexing her muscles against his, testing her strength against his.

He growled softly, and snapped his teeth at her neck. Though he didn’t even graze her, a shock of desire raced through her at the pseudo-bite, and she arched her back, offering her throat in passionate surrender. He growled louder and bit her shoulder, right next to the first set of marks he’d made. There was no pain this time; at least, no pain that wasn’t instantly drowned under desire. She wanted to bite his shoulder, too, but she didn’t want to break the stimulating lock of his teeth in her muscle. When he pressed himself into her body, invading her below as surely as his teeth had above, she knew she had to have more. Catching the hand opposite his bite, opposite the arm braced for balance over her, she dragged it up to her mouth and bit the outer edge of his palm. Warmth spurted over her tongue, mouth-wateringly good, and she sucked hard, making him lose his own grip with a cry of pleasure.

Moisture from their love-bites slicked their skin and stained the sheets. He lapped at her shoulder, savoring each smear. She bit the edge of his ear, delicately, just enough to pierce and suckle the flesh, not to tear it off. He thrust into her, as rhythmic as flight, as powerful as a glide. When she panted on the edge of an orgasm, snapping at him with her teeth, he gripped her waist and rolled them over, giving her ascendancy in their embrace. His fingernails scraped claw-like down her back, not quite drawing blood, but making her feel every inch in the pleasure/pain of Goethe mating. Shouting, she rode him hard and even harder, while they exchanged crimson kisses, while his hands kneaded her breasts and her groin pummeled his shaft.

Climax came with what felt like an earth-shattering shudder. Panting, collapsing on him, Nina let him lick the remaining blood from her shoulder, rolling her over onto her back while he still thrust, and thrust, and thrust into her. It was while he was sucking on her latest wound that he came, pooling his rising fertility deep in her body, preparing the way with their compatible chemistry for the procreative culmination of their physical love. Feeling his seed moisten even further the now slow glide of his flesh, knowing what it was for, triggered another orgasm in her blood. He growled and pumped a little more, prolonging the pleasure, then released her shoulder with a groan. For a little while he rested on her, then pulled out, slumping to the side in sated exhaustion.

Nina trailed her hands over her skin, still panting a little from the overwhelming pleasure. She could still feel him against her, over her, inside of her. “Stars…no wonder the Satyrans love doing this so much!”

Lucian laughed at that; it was a weak chuckle, but he laughed. He rolled against her, tucking his arm around her waist, bringing their bare flesh together. Cuddling her. Nina cuddled him back, enjoying the platonic feelings aroused by his presence in her arms as well as the sexual ones. She stroked his back, then teased his down-patches with a fingertip. That made him shiver, and retaliate by teasing her own shoulderblade feathers. Source of price, source of embarrassment, they were now also a source of stimulation. Arching against him, rubbing herself into him, she trailed her fingers down his ribs and tickled the side of his hip, then the sensitive crease between the front of his hip, his groin, and his thigh. He retaliated by sliding his fingers to her belly and lower, into the feathery down covering her groin. Delving into them, he teased her wetness, rubbing the side of his finger against a nubbin of flesh, stimulating her with a groan and a splay of her legs.

To her surprise, he withdrew his touch, rising from the bed. At her wordless, disappointed sound of inquiry, he smiled ruefully, moving over to the table where a tray piled with edibles had been placed. “I awoke hungry, and fetched some food. I realized we weren’t Satyrans, built to live solely on physical love.”

“Actually,” Nina drawled has he brought the platter over, setting it on some of the pillows in the bed, “I’ve seen a Satyran eating something.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Each other’s groins,” she jested. Rather than laughing at the joke, his gaze dropped to her lap. “What?”

He didn’t look up, as he breathed his reply. “I wonder…what that would taste like…”

Rather than repulsing her, the thought stimulated her. Nina could easily picture him kissing her there, as he had not done while she was still blindfolded. Could picture him biting her there, in the most intimate way of all. A flick of her will floated the platter of food to the floor, where it wouldn’t get knocked over in the throes of their lust. A shift of her position, and she lay back among the pillows, thighs parting and knees drawing up and open.

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Nina…” Gripping her thighs, he stared down at her feminine core, still damp with their shared desire, then slowly, cautiously lowered his head. He inhaled her scent, their shared scent, and dipped down the last few inches. Saluted her with his lips. Caressed her with his tongue. Drove her slowly mad with a rising desire that could not reach its culmination without the taste of his blood on her tongue. She finally pulled away, flipping herself round. Grabbing his hardened shaft, she kissed and licked and caressed him, tormenting him with pleasure as he had tormented her. He lifted her upper leg as she lay on her side, and pillowing his head on her thigh, resumed what he had been doing. Retaliating most pleasurably.

Licking and sucking, she enjoyed the heady, if incomplete, pleasure of their mutual ministrations. But a wicked streak rose within her as she laved him with her tongue, and when she took him in her mouth again, she scraped her teeth lightly, carefully up his length, all the way to the tip. A tremor rippled through his flesh, accompanied by a muffled shout as his body tensed. Grinning, she soothed him with her lips, with her tongue. He returned to kissing her intimately; Nina licked him again, aroused and hungry, and feeling very wicked.

She bit him, penetrating lightly, quickly, two shallow wounds from the sharp tips of her canines.

The oath that escaped him and the way he jerked away didn’t give her much time to taste his blood. Laughing, she scrambled over the rim of the bed, spinning to face him as she gained her feet. He had risen to his knees with a soundless snarl, and she laughed again, shocking him with the impudent, carefree sound. Shocking herself, too.

The hot, hard look in his eyes darkened, and a growl rumbled from his chest. Nina, her strange sense of amusement fleeing, took a cautious step back. And stepped onto the edge of the food-tray. Feeling the pastries crumble and smush under her head, she gasped and quickly jerked it up. And laughed again at the mess she’d made.

Lucian launched himself at her, teeth bared. Unsure of his intent, she whirled to leap over the tray and flee. He hit her from behind, knocking her thighs into the table before she could head for the door. Her upper body almost hit the surface as the impact tipped her off her feet. One of his hands fisted in her hair, which was already partially dishevelled from its upswept, neatly pinned and looped array, while the other arm wrapped tightly around her ribs, just under her breasts. His erection jabbed between her thighs as his body pressed hers into the table, sending a thrill of desire racing through her sudden upwelling of fear.

“—You’re laughing at me?” he demanded in a growl, jerking her head back.

Nina didn’t know which to feel, the fear or the desire, but from his words, she knew he was on the edge of misinterpreting the moment. Of re-creating the horror of three hundred years before, the last time he had felt blood-lust for anyone. She’d forgotten that his last potential blood-mate had laughed in his face, and tried to kill him, because she, too, had been of a different subrace. Throat stretched, head and body caught, she concentrated not on her fear, but on the feel of him, hot and hard against her body, hot and hard between her legs. She chose the path of desire, not fear, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Bite me.”

For a moment, he stiffened. Whether from desire or shock, even he probably didn’t know.

“Please, Luc,” she begged. “Bite me!”

A ragged breath, a feral growl, and he pulled her head to the side and sank his teeth into the flesh of her throat. A shift of his hips, an inviting tilt of hers, and he thrust into her, taking her raggedly. Roughly, and excitingly. She moaned for more, aroused beyond endurance yet needing more; it simply wasn’t enough. He released her hair, sliding his hand around, covering her mouth.

“Bite!” he snarled, releasing his teeth from her neck. She caught his hand and dragged his wrist into reach, biting into the tender, succulent flesh. He gasped and bit her again; together, they copulated against the table. It was rough and hot, hard and fast. When their climax hit, it seemed to go on and on, flowing from one to the other and back again, rumbling like an earthquake, lasting like aftershocks.

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{Author’s Stern Note: This is a section snipped and edited from a larger story that I am writing, which I hope to eventually have printed in its final form as a novel. All copyrights are reserved for this version and all the other variations of my original creation, as applicable, blah blah blah, insert legalese here. Anyone plagiarizing my work and/or my ideas is a hornless Mintak. (You’d have to know the overall story/world to get the insult). Any errors are the result of this being a first draft. Other than that, enjoy! ~Ladyofthemasque}