Dark Interests Ch. 01

Hello everyone. This is my first submission Literotica. I've always wanted to write an erotic tale that had story and character development that was as important as the actual naughty bits. The product of those thoughts is what you see before you. Warning: This is long.

Very special shout out to macktosh for the amazing editing and input that helped turn this into a more complete work. Also a special shout out to you for reading all this!

Disclaimer: All people and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people and places are coincidental. All sexual situations occur between adults over the age of 18.

Let's get started! Hope you Enjoy!

k9

***

CHAPTER 01

"Are you sure about this?" Daemon asked as he gripped the medallion between his thick fingers. The leather thong that ran through it was worn smooth with age and no longer irritated his neck.

Amanda O'Connor tilted her head to the side in thought. The afternoon sun framed her from behind, turning her curly red hair into streams of fire. Large green eyes squinted up at Daemon from between pale lashes. She swayed her hand back and forth in a see-saw motion. "Forty-sixty."

"Don't you mean sixty-forty?" Daemon asked, suddenly concerned.

"...okay, sure. Sixty-forty." Amanda smiled reassuringly at her large adoptive son. Daemon would have fallen for it, if he didn't know her better, but he did. Her smile widened when she saw that he wasn't convinced. "Now off with it!"

Slowly Daemon lifted the necklace, his handsome face scrunched up with worry. The leather cord got stuck on his ear and a laughing Amanda reached up, almost tip-toeing, to help. At five foot five she was just under a foot shorter than Daemon, and his six foot four frame towered over her. The metal pendant, the size of a quarter and made of tarnished copper, remained fastened to the space between his pectorals as if by glue.

"Are you sure?" Daemon repeated as he pulled the collar of his shirt away and gripped the leather cord more securely. "And I mean, sure sure, not your iffy-bullshit percentage sure."

White teeth flashed from between her plump red lips as Amanda smiled, her vibrant green eyes sparkling with mischief. "You're the one that asked me to do this. You said you were feeling...leaky. Why the cold feet?...Or are you just looking for an excuse to call off your hot date tonight? Oooh, is poor little baby scared to pop his cherry?"

Daemon's cheeks colored slightly, the blush less evident on his tan skin than it would be on, say Amanda's own ivory. The eighteen year old boy, a man now really, knew better than to reply; Amanda would just try and make fun of him even more. Instead he steadied his nerves and pulled.

Two things happened as soon as the pendant lost contact with his skin. First, Amanda's pupils dilated and she let out a low moan as she felt Daemon's repressed magical aura flex and stretch, smothering her and blanketing the surrounding pasture in energy. The grass pressed away from him in a circle, the blades lying flat. Her mage vision showed his magic billowing off him like a dark fog. It enticed her and scared her in equal measures.

Secondly, the man himself let out a groan as he felt his magic bubble through his veins, setting him alight. It felt like hitting his funny bone but all over his body. Luckily it didn't last long.

"Y-you've gotten stronger," she said, her voice breathy. She took the necklace from him and stepped further away, as if distance would help. "It's a good thing you asked for this upgrade. This old chunk of metal probably wouldn't have been able to contain your magic for much longer."

Daemon cast his dark eyes down, aware of the impact he was having of her. He could see it in the way her hand trembled as she slid the metal disc from the leather cord, in the way her thighs were pressed tightly together and she seemed to squirm in place. Hell, he could see her nipples poking through the thick fabric of her green vest. He hated this part of his heritage.

Amanda slipped another coin from the back pocket of her jeans. This one was silver with a copper center framed with tiny, intricate sketches. She threaded the coin through the leather strap. Her slim fingers made quick work of the job and, taking a breath like a diver about to head into deep water, she stepped towards Daemon, her arms wide with the necklace dangling between them.

Bowing slightly so she could reach, Daemon let her press in close as she reached around his neck to tie it. Amanda let out another moan as she felt her sensitive nipples scrape across Daemon's chest, her soft tit flesh molding around his firm muscles. Sparks of pleasure streaked through her from the point of contact down to her navel.

Daemon had to push her away gently, and one of her hands hung in the air between them. Trying to ignore his own feelings of arousal he tucked the pendant back under his shirt and felt the cold metal stick to his flesh.

Like water down a drain, all his magical energy withdrew back into him in a great rush. Amanda felt light headed as the final dregs of his magic was pulled from her and she stumbled slightly only to have Daemon rush forward and fold her into a warm, powerful embrace.

"I'm sorry it always affects you like that," he rumbled quietly as he squeezed her gently, letting the warmth of her body soak into him and vice versa. "I wish it didn't have to be like that."

"Ssho-kay," she mumbled into his chest.

Amanda snuggled closer to him, and for one selfish moment she allowed the arousal to stay and fill her head with visions of Daemon bending down and placing his lips, so hot and gentle, on hers. She enjoyed the way his muscular arms wrapped around her and his chest vibrated when he talked. Eventually common sense won out and she banished those thoughts to the darkest parts of her mind.

"Keeps me young," she added as she pulled away from his embrace.

And that was the truth. She could feel her body greedily consuming the energy it had stolen from him. Without conscious thought from her the energy cycled through her body healing and mending what it could. Amanda marveled at the man before her. Daemon's magic was so potent it saturated the space around him when not contained, leaking into every possible crack and corner. It was intoxicating.

"I think you're a Black now," Amanda said thoughtfully. Her gaze passed over the pastures full of fat cows, and settled on the hills in the distance. "I can't be sure though, I haven't met many other blacks, but if I am correct...it means you'll need to be registered."

Daemon moved to stand beside her. "I thought you said it's too dangerous for me to be part of the Clave. Whoever killed Mom might still be out there. Safety in anonymity, remember?"

"If you were a Grey or even a Green it wouldn't be too much of a problem, the Clave wouldn't hunt you down...but if you are a Black...that's too much power for them to just let wander around. They will come for you. In fact, they may have already sensed you when we removed the ward." Even though she said that she didn't seem rushed to leave. Amanda tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting the afternoon sun warm her face. "I don't think we can hide for much longer."

"Sorry," Daemon said on a long slow exhale. He knew Amanda's life had been on hold since he was dropped in her lap fourteen years ago. It helped that the thirty-seven year old tinker looked like she was in her mid-twenties due, he knew, in a large part to exposure to his magic.

"Don't be. It was bound to happen. What time's your date?"

Daemon smiled at the reminder. Thoughts of Elina always made him smile and their plans for this evening made the smile turn downright face-splitting. "She gets off work at around five and wants to go home first to get ready-"

"You mean shave her legs and hoohoo."

Daemon spluttered for a second, totally not ready for the visual that provided. "NO!"

"...just saying. If it were me, I'd be shaving my hoohoo," Amanda said as she laughed at the look on Daemon's face.

"Hoohoo?" he finally managed to ask.

"Yeah, like an owl...because it's coming out at night..." Amanda explained slowly, as she led the blushing boy towards their pickup truck. "I call mine Yogi."

Against his better judgment Daemon had to ask. "Why Yogi?"

"Because like a bear, it's hibernating."

"I don't even know why I asked."

"You have a natural sense of curiosity. That's a good thing! It'll definitely help tonight, I can tell ya that!" Amanda winked at him over the hood of the truck as she tossed him the keys. "You mind driving?"

***

Aaron Bokipse had two things going for him. Two special gifts that made him great at his job. First was the fact that he was perhaps one of the strongest sensitives on this side of the equator and secondly was that he had a very rare affinity for one of the higher tiered schools of magic: Space.

Aaron's childhood dream of being a battle mage ended when he was thirteen and killed his dog. He had built a simple Gravity Well framework and held it in his mind's eye, his affinity filling in the required branches with information he forgot. When he was ready the space mage pushed his mana through it. His focal point was five feet away in his backyard. He was excited though and he over compensated. The resulting surge of mana broke the flimsy framework holding the spell together. The gravity well was built, it just wasn't under his control and the dog got sucked in as it was walking past.

After two weeks of crying and vomiting and a few years of lying on a couch talking to a quiet woman who wrote a lot, the space mage decided that battle magic wasn't for him. Instead he turned his attention towards more relaxing endeavors and found that ripping through the fabric of space/time and stepping through came to him as naturally as breathing.

Perhaps it was his constant joy at teleporting coupled with his disdain for walking that turned the slightly built child into a rather round adult.

Aaron pulled at the coat as it stretched over his stomach, grunting with annoyance when it wouldn't stretch anymore. He wore a pair of simple black slacks and a white dress shirt, professional but casual, under his office jacket - a black dovetail coat gilded in dark purple thread with the initials M.K on the breast - which doubled as a uniform of sorts.

He was sitting in the heavily padded chair at his desk. His office was on the second story of one of the Clave's buildings. He had a view of Gerard Ave., or Strange Way as the locals called it, through his window. Aaron had spent more than a little time at that window, staring down the street at the people bustling about. Members of the Clave blended in with the Norms, as they went about their day to day activities. It was one of the ways he had trained his sensitivity. Now he could pick out future candidates before they even felt the urge to use the spark of magic they had.

In fact, his high level of sensitivity had contributed greatly to his success and awarded him his own office, not one of those cardboard cubicles most everyone else got. Or god forbid, one of those ones underground.

Aaron's stubby fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed up the latest report on a new candidate: a young woman by the name of Clare who had spent the last three weeks in a looney bin because she thought she heard voices. Aaron had been notified by a member of the staff and he had gone down to check it out. It turned out she was a psychic, fairly low level, but still strong enough that he had felt her as he stepped out of space in the hospital's car park. Breathing on the back of his neck: that's how he described feeling her power when asked.

He had just clicked on the submit button on the screen and leaned back when he felt it. A wave of pure force that hit his chest like a charging horse and left him gasping. Sitting upright the chubby man gripped the armrests of his chair, his knuckles turning white, as an invisible force pushed in on him from all sides. Cold sweat sprung up on his brow as he forced himself to concentrate past the wild beating of his heart. He pushed back against the pressure, a feather light touch in comparison to what he felt, and found where it was strongest. East.

As quickly as it had come it disappeared. A suddenly light, confused Aaron slipped from his chair, his body feeling weak and feverish. Fear and excitement made his chest hurt as his heart beat painfully against his ribs.

He raised a shaking hand and made a grasping motion before pulling down on the air. The framework took form in his mind, practice and affinity making quick work of the complex structure. It was almost direct effect by now. Mana coursed through the mage's body and flooded along the branches of the spell. Aaron Bokipse stepped through space...

...and reappeared in a lavish foyer outside of an elevator door. Thick red carpet covered the floor, muffling his steps as he reoriented himself. Light from the wall lamps shone off polished wood, a rich mahogany red. Marble columns stood at each corner of the little room. Paintings of people and places adorned the walls, reminding Aaron of a museum or art gallery.

Two individuals stood guard outside the door, directly across from him. He waved nervously as the masked guards turned their heads to focus on him. While technically they could all be considered working together, Aaron couldn't help but feel threatened. They wore the same coat as him with the added exception of a hood that attached to the collar of theirs. What truly set them apart from the space mage though was what they wore under it. Black tactical clothes, the material thick enough to provide some protection. Their boots looked like they were made to crush skulls.

Another difference was the muscles. They had them and Aaron did not.

Stopping just shy of the pair Aaron tried to distinguish gender and failed. The only difference was height and that was only different by about three to four inches and didn't really mean anything. The overactive imagination of the space mage conjured images of faceless golems glaring at him from beneath the Arlecchino masks and he felt cold sweat bead his brow.

"It's urgent," he managed to croak out.

Neither masked guard so much as twitched in acknowledgement but that was fine. He knew she heard him, even through the closed door and even if she were busy. Taking a breath he allowed himself to relax, his senses picking up a slight shift in the energy of the two guards. He could sense the magic coming from one, heavy and oppressive. It left his mouth feeling gritty. Earth mage. He looked at the joker's face the guard wore and almost nodded. Brown and gold, it had intricate metal etchings all over the mask, running like shadows along the jaw and around the eyes. Aaron looked closer at the etching and could make out scenes of hills and mountains, landslides and earthquakes. Tassels and bells hung from the horns that jutted out under the black hood.

He gulped and looked to the other one as he shifted his feet nervously. This mask had a deck of cards fanned out like a collar, dark red and tarnished gold. Wild animals stalked prey along the contours of the mask and up and down the ridges of the wearers brow. Two horn-like protrusions poked out from under the hood. Were-beast, his senses screamed.

Before Aaron could completely freak himself out, the guard with the brown mask reached a gloved hand out and pushed the door open. On silent hinges the hard wood swung inward, revealing an opulent office. Its base materials were much the same as the hallway: wood, marble, and thick carpet, but instead of art there were floor to ceiling bookshelves stuffed with a wide assortment of tomes.

Taking hesitant steps, the space mage entered the office. Two intricately carved chairs sat facing a large dark wooden desk, its surface covered in files with a shiny laptop open. Aaron took all this in at a glance before facing the woman who sat behind the chair regarding him coolly.

She was beautiful. Wage war, destroy kingdoms, ransom kings, burn the world beautiful. And utterly terrifying. Ringlets of the deepest darkest black were tied in a bun on top of her head with a few strands artfully free, framing sharp cheekbones and a delicate neck. Thin eyebrows over large dark grey eyes with thick curling eyelashes. Lips of cherry red, full and perfectly bow-shaped glistened with moisture. Her skin glowed in the afternoon sun that streamed through the large bay windows behind her.

She was wearing a loose white blouse, the collar hanging low enough to show her collarbones and the beginning swell of her large breasts with the creamy expense of cleavage between.

"You felt it?" she asked. Her voice was cold and emotionless, detached from the conversation.

Aaron knew better than to look into her eyes and he wasn't about to stare at her breasts so he looked down and focused on his shoes.

"Yes, Countess."

She cupped her chin with a palm and propped her elbow up on the table, two fingers splayed across her cheek to tickle her earlobe. Tilting her head to the side she considered the small round man in front of her.

"And your estimate?"

Aaron took a second to organize his thoughts. He knew she didn't mind waiting in silence, she actually preferred it to the 'umming' and 'ahhing' that some people tended to do.

"I believe whoever it was would be classified as Black. This is due to the strength of the ripple I felt even at such a distance. I also believe I have a lock on the location, although due to the distance I can't say for certain, Countess."

"Once again, you have proven your worth Master Bokipse. I confess, even I could not tell which direction or at what distance the ripple originated. Tell me, can you still feel it?" she asked. Her voice may have remained emotionless but her eyes sparkled with interest.

"No, Countess. I cannot. Due to the duration of the ripple I would presume someone or something is sheltering the individual."

"Could he or she not simply be shielding?"

Aaron once more took a second to consider his answer. The Countess waited patiently, her steely gaze intent as she slowly tapped an earlobe with her finger.

"The ripple was so intense that it could have only come from a released suppression. Take water for example. If you fill a bottle full of water then turn it over the water will spill back out, but it spills out at a controlled rate. This is much the same as personal shielding. If a classified Black were to release its shielding voluntarily, the magical signature, while not being weaker, would not be so widespread." Aaron looked up, suddenly mortified as he realized that it might sound like he was trying to lecture her, but the Countess rolled a finger in a circle for him to continue so he did. "If we use the same example of a bottle of water, if the bottle is the shielding and it is suddenly removed, all the water would spill out as one, making a mess and spreading all over the place."

"Very well put," the Countess said. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"Countess?" Aaron asked, suddenly very confused.

"Well, Master Bokipse, you felt it, you've located it, and you've theorized on it. What now?"

"I...go find it...I mean him-her-them?" Aaron stumbled over his words.

"Good. Take Bowers with you, in case you need backup. Standard procedure Master Bokipse."

"And whatever was blocking the signature?" Aaron asked, already stepping back slowly.

"Bring it, whether it be item or person matters little," she said after a moment's consideration.

With a deferential bow Aaron backed out of the room. The same guard that opened the door closed it before once more going motionless. Shrugging to himself the little mage tore a gap in space and stepped through only to appear in a small, paper-strewn office.