Hidden Energies

Their kiss abated. They opened their eyes. Her hair looked even lighter against the pink flush of her face. "I knew you had an eager spirit," she murmured. "Show me more of it, it's delicious." He lowered his eyes with a sheepish grin. She reached down and tugged at his trouser belt. "And get naked already!"

The cool confidence she maintained even now was irresistible. He took a shaky breath, undid the buckle, and with several impatient pulls got rid of his trousers, socks and shoes all at once. Then he looked up -- and caught a faceful of white cotton fabric as Diane threw her shirt at his head.

He heard her laugh, and felt her scent surround him. Slowly, he lifted the shirt from his eyes, like a curtain, and now he saw her -- sitting in the middle of the table, on her haunches, in her underwear -- a cute black silk affair, two short interruptions of her nakedness. The fact that he wasn't running his hands all over her skin was unacceptable. Now down to his boxers and his shirt, he hauled himself onto the tabletop, slid on the smooth wood, grabbed onto her, and leaned in for another enthusiastic kiss. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him hard into her, and tasted him hungrily.

"Let me," she interrupted when he moved to unbutton his shirt. Then she exhaled and paced herself at her work, fiddling with the buttons far longer than it was necessary.

"So, this is your first time since you've been here." The first button was done; she traced with her finger the skin over his collarbone on the way to the next one.

"It... isn't yours?"

"Got lucky once or twice."

"Who with? ...If it's not, you know, a secret."

"You know that cute servant boy that always used to grind coffee in the canteen?" Button down.

"...No?"

"Well, doesn't matter. He got a better job in the town. Maybe for the better, I was starting to be turned on by the mere smell of coffee." Button down. "So, how were you relieving all that tension these past months?"

He gave a lopsided smile. "Why... why do you want to know?"

She tilted her head, eyes down on her fingers. "Well, we only know each other from class, we've never really talked... maybe I'm curious about your sexual side?" The last button was done. She threw the shirt open, baring his shoulders, placed her hands flat on his chest and looked back at him with a smirk. He had to admit that, considering the situation, being coy about this felt a little idiotic.

"Well, you know. Like everyone. Privacy of the showers and a vivid imagination." The shirt slid off him, down to his wrists behind his back, bit like a straitjacket now.

"You've got a vivid imagination, then." The tilt of her head increased. "Have you ever imagined me?"

He flinched, moved back, and tried to hide a guilty smile behind his frantic efforts to get the shirt off his wrists. "Okay, I don't have to answer that!"

She laughed. "That counts as an answer." She pinched his cheek. "And you seemed so mild-mannered, too!"

He finally freed himself, put his hands on his knees, rolled his eyes, and sighed. Which accentuated his chest muscles quite nicely, she thought.

"I really like your chest," she informed him. "Very... caressable."

"Well, thanks?" He decided to sound petulant. "I'd like to say the same, but I can't see your..."

She didn't hesitate one bit. With a quick easy move she reached behind her back, unclasped the strap, and shrugged the bra off her. Her breasts, he noted, barely bothered to drop -- they stood poised, perky and spectacular, in his full view.

His palpable awe was delicious. Taking care to produce a little bounce, she arched her back and straightened her shoulders, showing herself off.

"Well?" she asked. "How do you like my—" He lunged forward, planted his face between her breasts, and pushed his lips into her skin. "A-hah-haah... alright. That counts as an answer."

He was at that moment lost in a surge of dizzying desire. He hunched low as she knelt high. He got her sides, just below the ribs, in a determined hold. Her breasts were pressing against his face, a delightful, warm softness, firm and yielding. With an impulsive sigh of bliss, he started exploring her with studious kisses, moving down, to the underside of her right breast. She lifted her arms and weaved her elbows above her head, let herself slacken in his grip a little, and closed her eyes. As he circled up towards her nipple, the tickling sensation got a primal edge to it, a familiar heat building up from her core. He reached her pale areola and nuzzled it with his lower lip, going around. Her breath grew ragged. The kissing before had been passionate, but not too illegal. Now all innocence lay abandoned. The nerves he was playing with now sang with an unambiguous sexual thrill.

He felt her nipple harden, put it in his mouth, and met it with the tip of his tongue. She sighed, and the pleasure in her voice sharpened his arousal. He rose up and their eyes met. She smiled, pushed him away gently, and slid off her panties, down her legs, with the same casual ease as before -- as much bashfulness about her as if she was taking off a glove. All of her was exposed to him now, and he looked on, the light-headed with eagerness -- the clean-shaven pubic mound, the stark taut muscles of the inner thigh where her legs met her body, and there her flesh growing more delicate: a curve, a fold, the colour pink.

She wouldn't just have him stare unproductively, though. She leaned into him and he instinctively embraced her naked, warm body. She shot him a quick, enticing look, put her hands on his shoulders, and then gave him a dancelike, full-bodied caress, sliding down his skin, across his chest, across his stomach, across his underbelly, until finally she buried her fingers under his waistband, pulled down just a little, and stopped.

"Your hair colour matches," she observed.

"Yeah, well, I'm mousy all over."

She tufted the curls with her thumbs. "Mm, it's a cute hue." At an infuriatingly relaxed pace, she pulled the boxers down, baring the base of his cock, and then, millimetre by millimetre, his shaft. When she finally made it past the ridge of his head, the waistband could no longer contain all this coiled energy -- and so his cock sprung free, swung violently up, and then as its own swollen weight brought it back down, it found its balance pointed expectantly upwards.

"Well, aren't you pretty..." She smoothed her fingers lengthwise along its top, appreciating its curve and drawing a sharp breath out of Niko. But before he had any real chance to react, she abruptly let him go and turned around. She took the bowl, and inspected the table.

"So to do this," she said, matter-of-factly, "we need a clear space." He looked at her, dazed, erect and aching. She grabbed all the discarded clothes and tossed them away, to the floor. She placed the powder a little away to her right, within arm's reach. She looked around and thought for a moment. Then she faced him. They were now on their knees, straight-backed, almost touching, completely naked, the vast glass and gas-lit Conservatory around and above them, the Ticker ticking quietly, deep early spring night beyond in the world.

"Okay, Niko," she said. "Let's work some magic."

He beamed. "What are we supposed to do first?"

She shifted herself right up to him, and placed her palms flat on his chest. His cock pressed against her underbelly. She felt its rocklike hardness, full readiness brought on by raging blood.

"Don't worry," she replied. "I see you're already doing all the right things." She turned her awareness to the billowing heat between her own legs. "And so am I. So close your eyes, breathe in, and acknowledge the powder." They both did this, goading their unwilling attention away from each other and towards their project. They sensed it, sitting still in its bowl and ready to receive an impulse, inert yet and sterile. "And now, relax." In her voice, there was a flirty invitation. He felt her hands gently press against his chest, and he let himself yield to them, slowly drop backwards, until his shoulder blades rested against the wood. "Just relax. Our bodies know the rest."

She shifted herself forward and squatted on his thighs, pressing against his cock. The rest of his body had been happy to lay down, but this one part resisted her pressure, and remained defiantly upright.

"Ready?" she asked. He looked up at her, and gave a lip-biting nod. She grabbed him, underhand, stopping to let herself enjoy the pulsing girth pressed against the base of her hand, a tickling touch of his tip on her inner wrist, leaving her skin slick with a thin film of precum. Then she lifted her hips, guided him between her legs, breathed in, and very slowly began to lower herself.

He arched his neck back. His world collapsed to that little warm wet sliding sensation, sensation of entering into her. She felt herself open up to him, felt her body eagerly make way, welcome his. The delightful fullness grew, kept growing, pleasure surging inch by inch. They were both absorbed into this feeling of joining together, joining closer and closer, until finally her haunches rested on his hips, him taken whole.

She brushed her hair back, and her smile crept broader across her face. "See? This—" she cleared her throat, her words having come out a hoarse whisper. "See? This is really simple magic."

"Mhm" was the only answer he could muster. He looked at her, into the blue of her eyes, as if bewitched. Wait, was he bewitched? Instinctively, his trained mind did a quick mental skim, but it returned the result he had already known. Nope. This feeling of blissful well-being, this apparent transmutation of his spine into warm caramel, it was all pure, all coming from within him. He put his hands on her waist and adjusted himself a little.

She started spinning her hips. His muscles followed, and soon they synced, an unhurried, languid rhythm. She leaned forward, and with her hands she explored him -- slowly and studiously, as if his body was some fascinating science project. She noted the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. She noted the rapid pulse in his arteries. She noted his muscles flexing and relaxing to their bodies' shared timing, and him flushing as she caressed him, and when she turned her fingers to toy with his nipples, she heard his small moan, and practically felt herself the butterfly flutter which seized his belly.

He was overwhelmed by her exploration, lost under her hands, and for a while he just unfolded completely and delighted in the sensation. After a while of this he opened his eyes, meeting hers.

"That's right," she said, calmly. "Relax, let the pleasure fill your body." She leaned down and put her hand on his cheek. "You look really cute lying on your back like that. And you're doing" tock "a very good job."

He gave a little laugh, and licked his lips. "Okay, well..." Wait. Hold on. Tock...?

Tock.

Suddenly rigid, they swerved towards the door.

Tock.

Footsteps. Heavy, hollow, and not human. In the hallway, approaching the Conservatory.

Niko and Diane exploded in a scramble of flailing limbs. They instantly understood that their only hope was to dive under the table. One of them grabbed the stone bowl on the way down. With panicked lucidity they caught their bags and all their clothes and got them under cover, and threw themselves on the floor next to them just as the door opened.

The table's sheer size provided some modest hiding place. If positioned well, they could maybe keep themselves unseen. Right now, they were out of sight -- of those entering, Niko and Diane only saw two pairs of legs; but those legs they recognised immediately.

Diane groaned under her breath.

Of all the legs in the entire damn Academy to march in at this time, the pair now crossing the threshold were the most calamitous imaginable choice. These legs, clad in no-nonsense black heels and half-covered by a formal business dress, bore upon them the terrible person of Professor Eleanor Kadar, Proctor Superior of the Vallnord Academy, the formal guardian and the staunchest supporter of its many codes of proper conduct.

And behind hers were the legs that had sounded the warning -- dull, grey, massive legs of clay, supporting the quarter-ton body of one of the school's work golems.

"See, here it is, as I suspected, yes." Professor Kadar's authoritative voice echoed off the glass panes. "Put on your footguards and come." The golem affirmed with a level, sonorous tone. Their kind were allowed freely on the hallways' limestone tiles, but on the glossy polychromatic marble of the Conservatory they had to take precautions to dampen their heavy tread.

Diane suddenly became aware that she was lying naked on her stomach on this floor, and gooseflesh rose on her skin. Niko, who ended up splayed mostly on top of her, felt her shudder, and thus suddenly became aware of her body pressed against his.

"Those third-years were supposed to bring it back to the thaumaturgy lab this evening, yes." The Proctor Superior's footsteps, echoing like a judge's mallet, were taking her in their direction, and they now understood what brought her here -- the thaumometer on the table next to theirs. "Disciplinary action will be taken, yes. We're only admitting adults here, and yet I feel like we're running a creche. This is flagrant carelessness with school property." She stopped by the thaumometer, some fifteen feet away from them. Alright. Unless she bent down, she wouldn't notice them. Diane breathed a little easier. "Oh, will you come over already?"

Niko shifted restlessly. The initial panic had made him go limp, but now his cock grew heavy again, stiffening in its resolve.

In their general direction were now shuffling two clay legs clad in outrageously pink and fluffy bunny slippers.

These were the only shoes on the market that were soft and large enough, the administration had explained to the board, and they didn't want to spend on custom-made. The administration failed to find anything funny about this straightforward and practical solution. And so, right now, did Diane.

She watched the golem stop by Professor Kadar. She heard her bark out instructions. And suddenly, she felt Niko's hand slide towards her clit.

She turned to him sharply.

"Can you hold the moan?" he whispered.

"You're insane!" she mouthed back.

"If we're really quiet..."

Her eyes darted back to the pair now disassembling the thaumometer's tubes for safe carrying. They were making quite a bit of metallic noise. Her attention flew to the sensation of being sandwiched between the hard, icy floor, and his hard, warm body. She felt his cock at her inner thighs, and his hand on her underbelly, and his hair tickling her shoulder, and an irresistible heat rising up in her.

She gave him a judgemental look, pursed her lips, and lifted up her hips so he may enter her more easily.

She focused on her breathing, and exhaled very very slowly as his cock slipped into her body again. She timed herself very carefully with him, helping him slow down on forward thrusts, avoiding noise. His left arm reached around her shoulder. She took his right and guided it, to exactly the right spot, and suggested to his fingers exactly the right pressure. Then she supported herself on her elbows, propping his weight up with her back, and gave herself up to him.

He kissed her on the nape of her neck, and then leaned forward to look at the profile of her face. Her eyes were fixed on the woman and the golem, but it was a bright, absent stare. Her cheek was flushed, hair was getting in her face, and she bit down on her lip in a grin quite unlike her normal half-smile.

He rubbed his cheekbone against hers, listened to her breath, and thrust deep, into the engulfing warmth.

Her whole mind was taken over by Niko's cock, by Niko's finger, by Niko's weight on her, by Niko's reckless, naked, unrestrained passion. She saw and heard the Proctor Superior with little awareness. "No, lower. To the left. Tuck the antenna in first. Yes. Correct." Diane slowly closed her eyes. He had a good angle on her now, going deep, deep and satisfying... "Now turn this screw." He pulled out, and with another thrust was back in, and she took him, to the hilt, felt his girth stretch her out...

She let out a tiny, whimpering moan. Immediately, with voiceless laughter, he pinned her bodily to the floor, grabbed at her head with his right hand and smothered her face into his left inside elbow, and pressed his temple to hers.

"Sshh..." he hissed.

She had to hold back laughter, but he made it easier - he was now bearing down on her with his whole weight, squeezing her against the marble, making her work for each breath. This was intensely interesting.

"Put your finger," she breathed out each word carefully through her teeth and into his arm, "back on my clit."

"Will you keep quiet?"

"I'll be good." Her gaze caught on the golem's slippers. She found them hilarious again, and fought down another bout of laughter.

He did as she asked, and resumed his thrusting, fucking her slowly, heavily, grinding her into the ground. She exhaled raggedly, still muffled. She wriggled one of her arms from under him and sank her fingers in his hair. He felt her squirm under him. His cock felt so good in her, and the world's most stern guardian of morality was just next to them, and his weight pressed down on her, and he was touching her exactly at the right spot--

He felt her muscles tense up. Her legs weaved around his, her feet arched, and her toes curled. Her eyebrows twisted, she sank her teeth hard into his forearm, and in her chest he sensed the hard battle she fought to stop each breath from coming out as a loud, full-bodied moan--

"There, done." The black shoes whirled around and took two steps forward, towards the hidden lovers, and suddenly stopped. "Goodness me, what is this chair doing on the floor?"

Niko and Diane stopped dead. The chair which he had overturned in his eagerness to get to her still lay on the floor, right before the Proctor Superior's advancing steps.

"This whole school is going to the dogs, yes. In my time, we would never be so thoughtless to leave disorder behind us. We should be training our elites, but are raising rabble." She stopped by the chair, and gave out an indignant snort. "Pick it up, will you."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Niko whispered. Diane, his arm still in her teeth, stared at the incoming slippers and frantically looked for a way out - but there was none. The slippers stopped, a clay knee slammed on the floor, the massive bulk bent down - and suddenly the two helpless students found themselves staring right into the golem's hollow eyes, two empty round holes in a vast angular head.

A few astoundingly long seconds passed.

The grey head tilted. Inside it, data was being rapidly processed.

The two warm-blooded creatures unexpectedly found under the table were identified as first-year students. Nothing too unusual about finding students here at night, especially as the trimester's exams were approaching. These two were apparently engaged in some sort of an ecstatic ritual. The golem noted that their work station was very disorderly. The golem also noted that they both were in extreme violation of the Academy's dress code. But it was not the golem's duty to watch such infractions. Everything, therefore, appeared to be in order.

With complete indifference, the golem turned to the chair, picked it up, and slid it back into its place. Then, upon further instruction, he picked up the thaumometer, and a minute later the Conservatory's door closed behind his back and the Proctor Superior's.

And only then Niko finally exhaled, and at this moment felt a rapid quaking underneath him -- Diane's suppressed, hysterical laughter.