Mizrah's Ladder Ch. 08

[MIZRAH'S PERSPECTIVE]

Well...this was unexpected, and that was precisely what you wanted in life - novelty. New challenges. New experiences, new possibilities...that's why the sense of subtly shifting, writhing chaos surrounding this woman was so incredibly enticing for you. Seeing in pitch black wasn't something you could do without really thinking about it, and all your other senses are tantalizingly heightened with the absence of sight. Your imagination easily fills in the supple way she moves from the light switch back to the shower...you're often hypnotized by the glide of her legs, slender and sculpted, as if from pale marble. Each winsome line of muscle under her skin gave the impression of long, shifting vines, from her flared hips all the way up along the length of her torso.

You take a step forward to meet her, but encounter her hand, light against your shoulder, pushing you back against the wall of her shower...again, novelty and the unexpected in the way she gladly takes charge; refreshing and attention-seizing after a string of submissives, bottoms and pillow princesses. "I love your body Yusuf..." She croons gently to you - you can't help but wonder if she received singing lessons at some point, the Aegean inflection in her smooth alto never failing to give you goosebumps. "You must have worked so hard to become this way," she whispers...she's leaning so close to you, her breath wispy against your chin. You're so sensitive.

"Do you want to touch me?" You purr back in controlled invitation, and it has the desired effect. As if she hadn't already had her way with you... how many times had it been already?

"Of course I do...from the moment I saw you." Her words are like a love letter, spoken with this throaty, breathy passion and you can't help but give a shuddering sigh of comfort and want at the way her fingers quest along the lines and divots of your chest, your shoulders. Her attention leaves you light-headed and hard.

Something about the fact that she's so earnest, so true and straightforward in her desires moves your heart...her affection for you is pure. Deeply sexual, yes, but it's like she'd said earlier - the two of you clicked, more than you had with anyone since Sadira and Mikey, or the one who martyred herself no don't ruin the moment with horrible thoughts.

"Isabel, could you, ah..."

"Yes, Yusuf?" her voice breaks through the dark, her sweet, feminine scent utterly intoxicating. "What do you want me to do?" The proposition is almost innocent, even though it holds such erotic potential. You almost feel bad for what you ask of her.

"Just put your arms around me? Keep me close to you, for a bit at least?"

Her breath catches in surprise; you'd have expected a laugh perhaps, but she gathers you to her, stepping close and pulling her frame against yours. She's not much shorter than you are, a little less than half a foot but she's about thirty kilograms less from sheer bone and muscle mass; a peregrine falcon to your steppe eagle but her embrace is larger than either of you. Even though she's the one with her cheek against your upper chest, your temple resting against her head, it still feels like you could nestle safely in her arms.

You stand with her under the flowing hot shower water...your equal, the Huntress you found and Turned, and maybe if you play your cards right, her heart can be yours. You want it, badly enough to kill and curse and break for it; you'd face down the ones who took your pack again just to have the chance for this, here, in the shower with her.

You've never told anyone, and you'd never tell a woman especially...and you'd especially never tell this woman whose life is your responsibility now, but you finally feel safe. You could tell her you always felt secure but that would be a simple lie because The Jungle is terribly threatening. Now, you don't have to shudder under the concrete eaves alone...not if it all works out with her.

"This is what you want, yes?" she whispers lovingly into your ear, pulling your head down to her shoulder and kissing the edge of your jaw; she's ethereal and delicate in your arms, and her soft, pink lips leave tingling marks on your sensitive skin.

"It is...I want this to keep going on and on with you, to never end."

What is this? Why are you saying these things? This is stuff for songs and cinema. 'You're going to scare her off man, tone it down a bit.' That's what you tell yourself when she doesn't say anything at first, but she lifts her head from your shoulder, gazing through those dark strands at you with those heart-wrenching eyes, blood-chillingly alluring.

"Let me care for you." Her voice is a bare breath through the shower steam as she brings her hands down to your manhood, still standing full-staff and throbbing with sensitivity. Your eyes close as she wraps her fingers around your shaft, slippery fingers teasing gently from your engorged, glinting crown down to the haft of your manhood. "I want to make you feel good, like you make me feel good..." She steps closer, and slides your cock between her legs. Rather than take your length within her, however, she moves her hips in smooth motions; the slick, hot wetness of her pussy slides along the top of your lance, drawing breathy sounds of desire from her, while her thighs caress you.

You let yourself lean back and relax. You've only done anything like this with her, actually, since your partners have seemed to ubiquitously expected you to perform; in truth you didn't even know such a thing could happen between man and woman, and you were struck as being more prudish than you'd originally considered...in fact you might not allow a woman such unfettered access to your body out of simple insecurity - but not with her. You had to trust her, since you'd given her no choice but to trust you.

"That feels amazing," you breathe.

She presses her thighs together, soft, smooth skin sliding soapily along the rock-hard flesh of your penis; you can feel the bloom of her sex and smell the sweetness of her arousal slicking all over your manhood and it's *amazing* - this entire moment is shockingly erotic, in a way you'd never experienced. Yes, sex in the shower, sex in the dark, these were old bedfellows but...both at the same time?

She places her a delicate, long-fingered hand on your collarbone, leaning back to caress your chin.

"You're so handsome Yusuf. I'm sure you know this, but you're a truly beautiful man...your mouth is so expressive, your lips always have such a confident little smile, and I love your eyes. Please kiss me, my Persian prince?" she coos softly against your cheek and you must oblige. You growl softly against her, your hands tightening their hold on the round, firm-yet-soft perfection of her gluteal muscles...so many firsts and new experiences with her, things you didn't think you enjoyed turning out to be heavenly, like something as simple as kissing her.

"Nobody has ever spoken to me like this, or treated me this way..." you admit, and she lets out a little, throaty sound of hunger, enticing motions of her thighs and labia over your glans making you pulse with desire. "You make me wild..." The woman from your dreams, she gives you a mischievous little smile and pushes you back to straighten your torso, presenting the bronzed cuirass of your chest.

"Then let me kiss you here." Her lips find your nipple, your eyes widening at the sensation of her teeth - another new, extremely unexpected experience, you find your nails curling along the wall as her tongue traces little circles around your areola, an alto chuckle from her throat at your reaction. "Ohh, sensitive are we...let's see just how sensitive you are." You can tell she's having a wonderful time enjoying you, and that makes you enjoy it immensely as well.

Her fingers drag slowly down the sides of your torso, tracing the lines of important veins and nerves running beneath the surface...it's as if she has already found the places where all the energy in your body moves, naturally attuned to your chakra flow. Her fingers alight briefly on your hips, so closely pressed against hers, and she moves to release your manhood from between her beautiful, supple thighs.

A low sound, masculine desire, the effort of self-control, rises from your chest as both of her hands wrap around your penis, slowly pumping up and down. "I've been terribly curious about these, you know...I read about them, but I never thought I'd end up making love to a man who actually had them." She carefully forms a ring with her finger and thumb, squeezing lightly around the ridge of your glans and pulling upward - it's so good you have to work to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head, and from her low giggle, you surmise you must have failed in part. "Why, if I may ask?"

She runs her finger up the curve of your frenum as she explores the bulbous shape of your crown, and already you can feel the low, growing heat of an orgasm in your pelvis. You've gotten this question before of course, and you've given a different answer every time.

Will you tell her the truth? Will you tell her a lie? You haven't lied to her...not yet. When will the lies start? Does she need to see the shame, the weakness, the vulnerability behind the truth?

"I lost a bet," you reply cheekily, satisfied with your response.

It's true - that much at least - the context, the characters, the darkness around it...Isabel didn't need to know that, and if she pushed like so many inevitably did? Oh, you knew how to be incredibly distracting.

"Oh? You didn't get it to enhance your already impressive cock and make women thirst for you?" Isabel gives you this...murky little smile, leaning in as she touches your manhood.

"It works," she breathes against your jaw.

That particular stroke to your ego was just about as good as the way she strokes your cock, and the earlier, fluttering threat of shame is put to rest by the tone of adoration in her voice. You feel guilt at its purity; hunger for more; joy by its firelight.

Your breathing is growing deep, ragged...your climax is getting close now, and she can tell in the dark. "Cum for me Yusuf...I've felt it so deep, now I want to see it." She...god damn she is good. Isabel's sinuous body twists so that her back is pressed against your chest, squeezing your cock once again between her thighs and using both of her supple, slender hands to get you off.

"Haha...so this is what it looks like, having a penis - ohhh fuck, ohhh fuck Mizrah..." she almost falls forward but you catch her, pulling her to straighten against your powerful body as you surprise her, pressing your crown up underneath her nubbin of pleasure. The gorgeous Greek woman's body tenses as she grinds your cockhead in slick circles against her vulva, moving her hips to the tune of your pleasure - she never lets you slip inside, and that's part of the fun.

"Ohhh yessss, nnnfh I'm gonna cum."

"Yes cum for me - wow!"

Your hips thrust as you cry out through gritted teeth, manhood twitching in her hands as she levels it between her legs and your first jet of sperm shoots hard against the shower door with an audible -PAT-.

"That's how you...no wonder it feels so good," she breathes as she strokes your second gush forth - when you've been aroused for more than an hour, ejaculation comes extra forcibly. You almost fall forward over her, but she's strong and actually presses your pierced, pulsing head against her sex, your seed messy between her legs. "Yesss, oh fuck yesss..."

Your hands grip her hips, holding her close, and you moan long and husky in her ear...by the time you're finished, she reclines back against you with a sigh of pleasure.

"You have...the most powerful, masculine orgasms I've ever seen."

You've noticed that Isabel is spare of tongue, a woman of few words with others - she's particularly talkative with you, but everything she says is well chosen. You remember dad being the same way, he'd often quote Proverbs your way: "A truly wise person uses few words; a person with understanding is even-tempered", as if to remind you that you were neither of these things.

Isabel, unlike you, always seems to say the right thing and you feel your heart melting for her again. You should be disturbed, do some self-reflection about why exactly you were falling for her so much harder than you intended but...fuck that.

You haven't been happy and safe in so long.

"That's probably the best thing anyone has ever or will say to me," you laugh, panting for breath. The reciprocity was unexpected - you'd done your duty before, gotten girls off and ended up having to finish yourself later - but she was so focused outside of herself. Endearing and wonderful, but also a danger for her; a Turnskin that didn't attend to their satiety was like to fall victim to it. Hunger was a greater threat than any Prey. "...but baby, you gotta let me take care of you now."

She pushes gently off and gives you that glittering smile after flicking the lights on, the one that reminds you of something deadly peering from behind a veil of flower petals. "You did, you've cared for me over and over again." Isabel snags a towel off a wrack, wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling you in to kiss your chin, your chest. "I like to return the favor."

Wow, and you are...feeling your coherence drip apart under her attention. How does she do that? You've always been the one in control, your partners sort of...swept along in your predator's shadow; this is like some sort of equality. The kind of equality you had with...the one who died for the Cause. This will never replace that which was torn away from you, but no two loves are the same.

Will violence take her too? Can it ever stop?

"Not like that babe," you chuckle, leaning back and running your thumb underneath her bottom lip - she smiles widely at you, nipping at it with sharp, pretty canines. "What I mean is you gotta eat, which means we gotta Hunt and lucky you, that's the best part of this life. You'll see what I mean when you're in the moment, beautiful girl." Her fingers find your wrist, and she gives you a heated little smirk, biting your thumb just enough that a needle-sharp fang breaks the skin, a ruby bright bead welling to the surface.

She licks it off gently, eyes glittering like the void of night, scattered with hot, distant stars.

You could fuck her again right now, but she needs satiety. You need to care for her, better than the others.

They're so quiet now.

"Hmm...you're right, I'm extremely hungry." Her sultry tone leaves it open as to what she hungers for, but soon you're both getting dressed in her bedroom. You admire her figure in every moment - naked or, in this case, clothing herself. "So then...how does this work?" you try to concentrate on the question as you watch her fish out a pair of black and pink, rather...petite underwear. She arches her back, clearly aware of you watching as she stands in front of her wall-mounted mirror. "Do we just...go out there, find another Turnskin and chase it down?"

You love that she sounds game, but..."Hah, as fun as that is, it's a dangerous bet with just the two of us. We're tougher than all the others, we always have some advantage they don't, but they know we're their natural predator. Nooo...I think for this one, hmm..." It's at moments like these that you feel how your humanity has departed you. Dad would be disgusted, even mom would give you a second glance.

"Isabel." She turns to face you, a matching bra dangling from her delicate fingers, her firm, light breasts almost calling for you to touch, to lick them...you force yourself to look into her eyes.

"Whom do you hate? Enough that you'd make them Prey?"

She smiles so beautifully at you.

She'd given you permission to keep a few changes of clothes here, Yusuf...how long until you're cohabitating? Normally letting a woman get that close was a big no-no for any Turnskin, but she was different. Prospective pack, and...this was really nice. You're dressed as usual, foregoing the sleeves to tolerate the heat - one of your band's own T-shirts adorned the carefully worked shape of your chest, fitted black jeans, boots made for stomping...gotta protect your legs and feet.

You're both staring at each other in the mirror. Have you ever wanted a woman this much? Have you ever wanted her to want you this much? She's dressed to kill in a pair of dark grey, low-rise jeans that show off the lines of her hips; a red T-shirt featuring a raised fist clutching a bunch of flowers showed off her flat, perfect midriff and the soft shape of her chest. That amazing hair was tied back, cascading down her back, and her eyes - darker than yours even - were crawling from your lower abs, up your torso, to your face.

Your eyes lock. You gaze at each other with adoration and you hold a hand out. Come here baby.

She floats to you, wrapping her arms around your chest, head against your shoulder. You love it...you love to embrace her, to feel the full, forceful power of her existence - the Curse had pulled her vitality to the forefront, past the heavy pall of misfortune and sleepless nights...for the price of her Humanity, her improbable woes had been mostly wiped away, and both of you were healthier than any mortal would ever be. She'd never be taken from you by disease or age, infirmity would never slow her graceful step. She could run, Hunt, kill at your side until the moon cracked from age.

She sighs happily against you, gazing up from your chest and smiling widely, her happiness so pure and earnest. "You're so hot Mizrah."

"You're stunning. The Huntress I saw in my dreams." It's true...you'd seen her many times in your dreams, someone who looked like her.

It strikes you how...easily she seemed to take to all of this; it wasn't that you were a particularly fine teacher, and you didn't presume that the intensity of whatever this was - sexual passion, predatory instincts, romance - was enough to render a sharp woman like Isabel pliant. She'd barely balked at the fact that you'd admitted to eating humans as a matter of habit once, and that you were already proposing consuming another with her. How much of a monster have you become, over the years? Has abstaining from the Flesh of Man made you any more like a human?

Does it even matter? You live in an era that is far beyond any questions of morality, as humanity's autocannibalism had become a perfectly institutionalized, efficient process and from the outside looking in, the Dollar ground people up like livestock. Werewolves were driven to Hunt other Predators...and her description of this 'Gregory Stathis' fit the bill. While she was moonlighting at an accounting firm in Grange Row, closer to downtown than the River District where you two lived, a major data-leak compromised several high profile customers. Stathis, the vice CEO (and as it happened the CEO's nephew, of course) had sworn up and down that it was Isabel's fault, going so far as to say she stole and sold the data to a suspicious party.

Unfortunately, and you knew this was just due to the sinkhole of misfortune that had defined her existence as a Prospect, a lot of circumstantial evidence lined up. The months of difficulty that had followed - couch-crashing, a relationship she endured to keep a roof over her head, a barebones diet that left her malnourished - were primarily why she'd become attached to that job of hers. She still didn't seem to believe that the two of you could live beyond the demands of money, and when the time came you'd show her again.

Stathis was soft prey...but nourishing prey nonetheless, and you wondered how she would take this first step in leaving her humanity behind - from the perspective of a typical human, the thought of using physical charm to draw in an unwitting man to bed and then devouring him was unconscionable, but...mortals didn't see the ones preying upon their work, their sweat and blood, as wolves, so much as simply more successful sheep living amidst the flock.