Hidden Energies

"Fuck...!" she managed, eventually. "Fucking hell!"

He couldn't agree more. He pressed his forehead between her shoulder blades and laughed himself, quietly, his jittered nerves letting go of the stress. Some minute later, he calmed down and gasped in air.

"So, since when do you swear, anyway?" he asked.

"I always swear when the situation requires it." They spoke carefully, in hushed voices. He was still inside her, and she felt that the sense of danger in her mind was now being rapidly undermined by the resurging want -- no, a need -- for the release which had so narrowly eluded her. She looked to the door. Little chance anyone else will drop in, but—

She shrugged him off her, crawled out from under the table and stood up. With her hand extended towards the door, she focused.

He rose up beside her, and saw a faint orange glow briefly surround the studded wood. He recognised the pattern -- a basic muffler spell.

"Why are you..." he trailed off as she next turned her outstretched hand to a large antique bookshelf right by the door, tensed, and pulled -- and the shelf lurched.

"Help me," she said hoarsely.

He reached out with his hand. The bookshelf was a massive bulk of dark carved oak, but its padded legs helped with the sliding. A few sharp skids later, it was standing against the door.

Niko panted with the exertion. "If anyone does want to come in," he said, "we're gonna have a hard time explaining why did we construct a soundproof barricade."

She leaned against the table, winded from the effort as well. She looked at him. "If," she said. "We'll figure something out if it comes to that, but I'm now about to come, and I'm not going to be quiet, and I don't want anybody to fucking interrupt me!"

There was some piercing, intense madness in her eyes. Niko saw it, and was overcome with a madness of his own, lunging out from his spine, rising up roaring to meet hers.

She yelped happily as he grabbed her, turned her around, bent her over the table top, bore down on her, and entered her with raw heated energy. His left hand pinned her firmly to the table by the joint of her shoulder and her neck. Before she had time to wonder where his other hand was, she felt it squeeze under her, and find the exact spot she had shown him, and touch—

"Fuck!"

He chortled. She definitely had no intention to keep quiet. This was positively a shout that she let out just now, saturated with a sort of awed laughter, a shout which he thought rattled all the glass panes of the Conservatory. The sheer joy of that shout made him swell with a warmth, filled him with a determination to fuck as much joy into her as she can possibly bear—

She felt him steel himself, tighten his grip, thrust harder, his hips and thighs clasping loudly against her—

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Even this shred of vocabulary soon abandoned her. She withered and squirmed, her right leg wrapped around his like a grapevine, his weight pounded her into the table, his touch blazed on her nerves. She'd clearly coaxed out a demon in this soft-spoken guy, and a spectacular demon it was. Her moans grew deeper, from her chest, from her core, and echoed in this amphitheatre of a hall, immersed him in the sound of her excitement -- they came like waves, each one more forceful, each one reaching a higher pitch—

She felt it rise, and overwhelm her. She flailed around, looking for something to grab onto, found his head, pressed it against hers—

And he heard her stop abruptly in mid-moan, and he felt her muscles contract around him, and he found himself pressed cheek to cheek against her. When sound did come out of her, it was more of a sigh, relieved and satisfied. Her leg, which had been twisting hard against his, went limp.

He lifted himself off her and his hand let her go but stayed on her back, just resting there, feeling out the wonderful, delighted trembling of her body.

With a groaning sigh, she lifted herself up. There was an ache in her body where she had to bear their weight against the hard wood, but it enhanced the bliss that filled her. She straightened out her fingers, rubbed her nose, and...

Something was off.

She sensed it. They both sensed it. They turned to the door. It appeared undisturbed. Yet there was some intruding magical presence nearby. Was someone in here? Was someone watching? In their minds they searched the room frantically, followed the energy lines. The source of this disturbance was very close by, right by them, at their feet—

Oh.

Under the table, among a pile of tussled clothes, the bowl of germinal powder was happily crackling with strong vital energy.

That was, in fact, still a thing.

"Well," he said, relaxing, "I think we're gonna pass."

She smirked. He was still erect, glistening in the air. "You should top it up. Just to make sure." She hauled herself back onto the table, where they had started. Resting back on her elbows, she spread her legs, displaying herself to him. "Come on, I want to feel you cum in me."

The speed at which he joined her was astounding. He leaned down over her, entered her one more time -- and felt himself barely hold it together. He stopped, breathed deeply, and looked at her, her face, her body under his. He swallowed.

"Niko?"

"Just a second." His eyes disappeared under his hair, and she saw a flash of his grin. "I'm just enjoying the feel of you." Inside her, in that snug warmth, his cock twitched, the sensation now almost unbearable, demanding release.

She smiled, smugly. "It's better than you imagined in the showers, isn't it?"

He half cringed, half laughed, pinched her nipple, and flicked it gently, and her whole breast did a firm little jiggle. "Leave my shower thoughts alone," he muttered. Then, able to endure this no longer, he thrust, and immediately felt the tell-tale thrill seize him.

She weaved her legs around his lower back, wrapped her elbows around his neck, and pulled him close to her. His breath broke into a moaning, and his movements grew frantic as he lost control of his pace. He breathed in for the final time, and his moan came out as a soft rugged groan. He felt his body take the plunge, and grasped tight onto her -- and then his devouring inner need resolved itself in a wave of intense, blinding joy. His voice by her ear dropped to a low purr, his body slackened over hers, and his cum flowed into her, deep inside.

Everything was quiet again. High above them, the brass universe ticked benignantly.

He rolled off her, and they lay side by side.

She cleared her throat. "I guess we better go, before someone actually checks on here."

"Yeah. Yeah, we better."

They stayed put for another minute or two. Then, with a sigh, she curled upwards, got off the table, and on unsteady legs went to look for her clothes.

He slowly sat up. Endorphins floating about him, he watched her carefully place the bowl on the table, and clean herself up with a piece of tissue from her bag, and he tried to figure out what had just happened, and how exactly was he supposed to act now.

She fished out her underwear from the pile -- the cute matching black silk affair -- and suddenly he twigged.

"Hey, Diane? Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Do you always wear swank underwear while doing coursework?"

She paused a little. Uh-oh. "All my other stuff is in the laundry."

"And, like, keep yourself clean-shaven down there?"

She tried to shut him down with a patronizing look. "I like it that way. Feels clean."

His smile was widening. "Okay, tell me one more thing... hey, look at me! One more thing. Before we came here, did you know that the midnight catalyst was going to fail?"

She opened her mouth, but instead of her intended reply, a skittish laughter came out. Ah, shit. Busted.

"I didn't know for sure. But I suspected that there was a possibility."

He shifted forward to his knees and leaned towards her. "And when you asked me to do this project with me, and then insisted on something with a vital catalyst, did you suspect it then?"

She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and sighed. "Look, I just came across this way of doing magic and I thought it would be fun to try it. And then I thought, who would be fun to do this with? And I thought of you." She looked back at him. Her admission gave him a definite check. She pressed on. "And I was right. This was really fun." She ran her hand along her body, and winced as it brushed past the crest of her pelvis, bruised and tender from getting ground into marble and wood. "Though honestly, I envisioned a gentler affair."

"Well..." He rubbed the teeth marks on his forearm. Now he recalled all the things he did to her, and was at once struck with pride and embarrassment. "Huh," he said. She saw his conflict, and her doubts returned.

"I mean, I hope you don't feel... angry about this? I mean I came up with that stream alternative so you wouldn't feel pressured and I hoped—"

He interrupted her. "Want to do this again sometime?" She blinked. "I mean, not a ritual, just plain sex. I don't want to do more magic, I just want you."

There was a faint nervous quaver to his voice. Well, she had wondered who he was, deep inside. In an instant, she saw this shyness, and the shamelessness he had shown her so bluntly, and saw that he was perfectly himself in both these aspects. Allaying materials came to her mind -- hidden potentials, secret energies. Complex natures of all living things. She smiled, reached out to him, and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

"Yup," she said.

"Awesome." Her eyes were very close to his. He tried to find something smart to say.

"Cool," he added.

And the next day, Professor Straub who taught the Intermediate Alchemy course noted that their germinal powder was satisfactory but that they had ground the myrrh too fine, which diminished the overall potency, and so he only gave them a passing grade.

So that's the point of this whole story and the reason why I wrote it down for you, always remember to be careful when grinding your ingredients and that overdoing something can be just as bad as negligence! I hope you found this instructive and profitable and that your knowledge of useful things has improved.