Paresthesia Pt. 02

Curved, the muscle is still there, strength and bone and trained hardship just as Hannah's. The differences, the quirks, the oddities each one took led them to diverge, not even considering the initial starting point. I rub them, going down her back, but not breaking the line of reasonable assumption of what a shoulder would be.

Color comes back and Kieran shifts a little.

"I'm going honest Hannah this time," I say.

I win. Hannah gives herself the point for being honest and frankly, she deserves it for not trying to trip me up on the first go round. I signal when the refractory ends and the gray seeps at the edges of my vision.

"Hips," she says. The word stops as the air grows still. Lie, that is a complete and utter lie. It's on Hannah's face, the slight turn at the corners of her mouth, the attempt to get me somewhere I should not be. But I get hips this time around and I am not one to go against the will of the world when it aligns with mine.

Still soft, so soft, the dip of her spine and the rise of her hips more pronounced. I can't stop my hand from tracing the curve again and again. I circle to the front, tracing the bottom of her stomach and crossing the reasonable line of what hips consist of. I do not care. Not one bit. Soft and warm, the twitches still coming to my palm through the statue, the slight give and flex unstoppable, even when the world at large has bent to my will.

Kieran is rubber, molded and bending and flowing rubber, never quite able to submit to the gray world of stopped time. It keeps writhing, keeps finding increment, inches, microscopic distances to move into and occupy. She cannot be still. I can feel the desire for movement in her hips, the shimmy and sway in time with a grand dance of the solar rotation. Slow, glacially slow, but unrelenting against me and the gray.

I give back the color to the world. I have had my fun for the moment and it is time to move on. She shivers again, some lightning slithering up the spine again.

"Liar Hannah," I say.

"Nope," says Kieran, "It was hips. Although you tend to wander Evan. Try to play fair."

"Yeah, he does that," Hannah says, "You get used to it."

I shrug. I refuse to apologize for indulging myself like this, with blue and gold staring at me through the dark, wide, and eager if only for the slight tease and touch I can provide. This is the game we want to play, and I will play it how I wish. Hannah forgets to give out a point, although I give myself one. I deserve it.

I don't care what Hannah says to me next. She does, some word leaves her mouth, but I've honestly stopped caring about the game. It was fun. It served its purpose, but I do not want to keep playing. Once more, I take the world and let it the tone die.

In the gray, I reach for Kieran's chest. Groping and rolling, kneading her breasts between my fingers, slipping my hand to touch the snake's tail. I follow the ink, circling her torso, her back, the rise of her hips again, down to her thigh, the slither in her skin coaxing me deeper and deeper into her body. I take my hands to the inside of her thigh and I find her arousal clear. I lean down and kiss just beneath her navel, right between the snake's fangs. She will have the moment to feel all of that. But my work is not yet done.

Hannah has been alone for far too long, in my opinion, standing shirtless and neglected a mere vessel for the continued enjoyment of someone else. The humble game master deserves to play too.

Hard, she is hard, the clay still molded and shaped, the toned muscle giving her hard lines on her stomach. Not deep, not massive, but impressive and strong. I follow the lines, just as I did with the snake. Over her stomach, up to her chest, circling the nipple and tracing over to her back, the lines and ridges there just as pronounced. A mountain slowly crumbling on top of me and a hand grenade with the pin removed, those were my companions for the night. I kiss her, find the collar with my lips, and work my way up. I can almost taste the endless vibration thrum from her core, begging even now for some amount of freedom from the monochrome prison.

I finish her with a deep kiss, lip to lip, embracing her tight, just for me. She cannot feel this, but she will. Every sensation I impart will collide together when I give the world back to the color and the endless flow of time. I have cast my die to the wind, and I wonder where it will land.

Both of them shiver when the color comes back and Hannah starts laughing, chuckling deep in her chest. She sighs she shivers away as the deep rumbles travel through the floor. Kieran shakes too as the sparks travel through the ink. Long languid shivers through the flesh and through the skin. The snake slithers down her stomach, mouth wide and threatening, but still somewhat inviting. Danger and ecstasy in equal measure through the inked skin, it gave to me.

"He cheats like that," says Hannah, a squeak hidden in her chest, "He doesn't really play fair."

"That's fine," Kieran says, "I don't mind."

I say nothing. I have my next move planned anyway, but that's something to come later. The metronome of gray slowly ticks onwards, waiting for the moment it's rested enough to come back in full force for me, to take the world into gray. I give the signal and the next round begins.

"Kiss her," Hannah says, "Grab her ass for me too."

Honest or dishonest, that was my intention as well. Maybe not quite the same as intended, but it would happen, and it would be glorious.

She's taller than me. Kieran is taller than me. I knew that. I could plainly see that I felt that. Not even by a significant degree, a half a head at most, not even half a foot. But the eyes, the golden amber eyes, cold and analyzing, despite what the rest of the body did, made her seem gigantic, immense, towering, a moment away from bending down and crushing me.

I leaned it, letting those eyes shine and sparkle and pierce into me as I kiss her. Deep. Mouth to mouth, the taste of bitter drink and forgotten wine overwhelming me. I didn't start grabbing as instructed, not at first. I moved my arms to her back, pulling her in deeper as she draped her own across my shoulders.

She moves faster than me, arms trailing down my back, finding my own toned flesh, finally touching, and moving the ridges and muscles under her grip. A strong grip, very strong, hungry digits digging into me, nails across my back. My own hands cannot find that same strength, weakly kneading and pawing with clumsy attention to her. My eyes are closed. I cannot bear the knowledge of where the golden light would come from. It would hypnotize me, enrapture me with the endless light of pleasure.

Hannah moves closer to us. I vaguely sense Kieran motioning her. And she joins, the frantic hum of vibration at her core growing faster and faster. The three of us are together, surface level contact going as deep as it possibly can go, the motion and the slither and the rumble of a tightly wound missile melding into one amorphous pool of sensation.

I break first and watch the two women linger with one another, Kieran taking the lead and tilting Hannah's head, exploring her mouth with her own. A long moment of passive observance ends when Kieran reaches down into my pants and grasps my shaft. She hums and purrs as she frees me as she breaks with Hannah. In a daze, she holds the pose for a moment, not quite sure where she is.

"Well then," she says, "I think it's time we play a different game."

---

They undress me quickly. Hannah sheds the last of her garments in an instant and she is bare and smooth and toned before me, her hands on my chest pushing me back, taking my shirt and tossing it aside. The pants take a bit more than that, a bit more effort before I am fully exposed and open and rigid with anticipation. But they too join some forgotten corner of the room, their usefulness expended in the face of sheer primality.

Their tastes blend together, the sensation and scents mixing with my own until there is only one pure radiant joy from us, mouth to mouth to mouth. Skilled tongue, a very skilled tongue Kieran has within her. Long slender winding wet flesh coming to a tapered point. Both of them push into me, hard and soft, toned, and fleshy, pressed up against my own body.

"He's so smooth," said Kieran. Hannah just murmurs something in response, the syllables lost in my collar bone.

The hands wander, all of them, finding things to touch and squeeze and knead on everything and everyone. All good, all so good to touch and feel pressed against me. Hannah starts her own thrum, complementing the writhe and coil of Kieran. A misfire hits me in the stomach, and I have to break for a moment, to keep the wind in my chest.

"Sorry," she murmurs as she buries herself in my chest. The rumbles soften, the tectonic blasts from within smooth and lessen, going back to a gentle massage, throughout my whole body. Kieran sighs and shivers again as it rattles something inside.

"That is a very, very good trick," she says.

Hannah beams and goes to her chest, latching onto her breast and humming. Kieran hisses through clenched teeth. Their collapsing weight shoves me to the couch, my grip taking them with me, and I lay there sprawled and chuckling. Vibration and lick, traveling through body and cushion infuse my soul and take away the reason and logic. There is only sensation, only pure sensation of body and need. I am hard, so incredibly hard, poking into a stomach, rubbing, and slipping between thigh and breast as all of us squirm together.

Lower, the touch drifts lower. I find Hannah's thigh and go up, finding her entrance slick and twitching. I enter her, and she pulls away, focusing on the filling I give to her. She rocks her hips a little, letting me find the spot she wants, letting me find the ways she wants to be touched, before going back to Kieran and her chest. We share the same admiration for her at least, my hand finding the other one she does not worship with tender kisses and humming hymns.

She ensnares us, both of us, with long embraces that trail, kisses that linger, touches that spark and light the skin with pinpricks of electricity, enslaving the both of us to her body. She is strong, slowly pulling the both of us deeper into her. Hannah goes down, while I slide up.

She finds herself between Kieran's legs, staring down the serpent's throat, its hunger matched with her own. Hannah did not need any prompting, any encouragement to begin. She simply did it, licking and spreading and filling, doing as she pleased, letting the booms and blasts trickle through the tip of her tongue, out of the pads on the fingers, through her lips and reverberating into Kieran's core.

Kieran's moans are deep, very deep, subterranean river flowing through caverns taller than the sky, wider than the ocean. Every part of her goes into its release, no individual bit working hard at all. But each part, each bit, each tooth on each cog, turns the noise sonorous. My hand still works in her and I can feel the beginnings of her own ministrations, the rumbles, and booms. Contained, each one is so, so contained within the core, locks upon locks upon bars of restraint, dulling the initial vaporization to a soft gust just beyond her. I know what that feels like when more of the locks are removed. One of them, the outermost bar, falls away and the jolt finds its way into him.

Kieran kisses my stomach, trailing down to my shaft, tongue and starting her own exploration. Skilled and wet and warm, coiling tongue over me, riding up and down, tracing veins and ridges. My thighs clench and twitch stomach the same as each moment brings another shiver through me.

"You are sensitive aren't you, Evan," she hums into me, even as her voice hitches and slows from Hannah's efforts, "Try to hold on though. I want this to last."

Mouth, I am in her mouth, down her throat, vibrations traveling through every nerve fiber in my body, soul trembling from the power, mind eased away with warm wet muscle enveloping, the weight and pressure of two bodies pressed against mine. I lose myself in the act, trying to find some communal rhythm to twitch and spasm to. Frantic, when I finally find it. Manic, even, muddle and rushed, and shifted together. But it works. It works so well, sluggish, and languid and panicked and shifting with each moment to the next.

I let the gray flow from me. They stop. They both stop with the world and I catch my breath. Too much, too much too soon and I couldn't quite keep up with the both of them. But I have time. I have all the time in the world, really. Endless days and weeks to myself to simply keep the statue dedicated to primal lust before.

Hannah looks ecstatic, the joy in her face peeking between the thighs, the bountiful flesh spilling down. And I don't want to let the moment go. Flushed and red, even in the gray I can tell that they are both red and breathing heavy. I'm the same, mind gone to the point where I can't even think when nothing is happening. I want to go back. I want to go back to the endless song with no tempo. I want to go back to the moans and chirps that pierce my ears and soothe my mind and soul. There is no replacement for one moment to the next. The endless admiration will fade and dull, with me then stuck in passive observation. I catch my breath, though. That is something I take for myself. I know I will do it again before the night is over, but that is a pragmatic decision to prolong the moment and my enjoyment of it. I fill my chest, hold it for a long, long moment, before letting it die into the gray. Color comes back and I immediately gasp as Kieran grazes my shaft with her teeth.

The breath hitches and catches in my throat. I can't get it out, the verbal cue that what is coming. A long finger crawls up my chest and rests on my lips. I look down and see Kieran's face bright red and flushed and panting, eyes wide. She's close too. Wordlessly, I know. I can tell from the shifts and rumbles and twitches from her core, mixed in with the massage of Hannah. She is twitching too, around my hand, on my body. Everything is twitch and writhing and coiling together as we all ride the lightning sparks together.

Each one is different. Mine is a massive flow, endless and eternal, pulsing and twitching down Kieran's warm throat. Pulse and shot down and tingling light across my skin. I can't feel a thing other than the warm glow within me, coaxed to the surface. A sharp start, but a gentle duration, a gentle moment to the next that slowly falls. Warm, everything is warm and soft and glowing as the numbness overtakes me and I relax into the cushions and the embrace of Hannah and Kieran.

Hannah's is tight, so tight, every muscle tense and rock hard as the inside pops and trembles and rocks through her, clamping and squeezing and crushing her as well as us. She squeaks and shakes, breathes, and locks in her core straining against the chains and bars. It wants freedom, the release the infinite crash of her orgasm. But it cannot break free. The couch underneath us protests against the act, the force trying to turn the frame to splinters. Her release runs up my arm and I can feel the heat emanating from her.

Kieran's is slower, slower than the both of us, the muscles tightening and coiling into her, running up her spine. The snake encircles her and gentle squeezes, not quite crushing, not quite choking, not quite smothering, but consuming all the same. I watch the ink dance across her stomach, the snake etched there dancing in ecstasy. She sighs, that same low release from her chest, church bell and clean.

The click in my core, the call of the gray world is silent. Not enough time for it to go again. Shame. I want this particular instant to last, to savor the end before the next beginning, to savor the whole as it slowly fades back to the want. But the pants, the sighs, the quiet recollection for the next step, because there will be a next step if I have to kill someone for it, that moment to the next is its own pleasure.

"Wow," says Kieran.

"All that and you can only say wow," I say. I drape my arm across my forehead, wiping away a sheen of sweat.

"Oh, I can think of many more things I want to say," she says, "but they can wait for later. Hannah how are you doing."

"Love you Evan," she says, "I love your hand."

"It's a good hand. A very good hand."

Kieran slowly slithers to freedom, stretching some of the burn away. I watch her. Hannah watches her. The frame twists, the slight momentum shifting her chest, her hips, her ass. Hypnotic, she is hypnotic.

"Drink break," she says, "And then we keep going."

There is an inch of question in the words, but it's mostly a command. We see no reason to disobey.

---

The wine was alright. Middle shelf, like I thought. Not worth celebrating much of anything other than a hard week's work, but it pairs well with sex. Frankly, anything pairs well with sex. Dishwater would still be acceptable for it. But middling wine that tastes the same as any other wine enjoyed naked with two women is absolutely nothing to complain about. I have only half a glass. Hannah has two and Kieran slowly works down to just one.

Hannah latches onto my arm wordlessly, just enjoying the sensation of my body on hers, arm in arm shoulder to shoulder, slowly pawing at me to try and get my attention. I give her a soft kiss on the forehead, and she hums with her whole body in response. Kieran slowly uncrosses her legs, open wide for a long, long minute as her entrance slowly disappears again behind her thighs. A hand goes to her breast, lifting one up and letting it drop again, shockwaves rippling. A kiss on my ear and I go back to Hannah, finding her cheek, her collar bone, her sternum her nipple.

Impatient, she is so impatient, and I do not blame her. The moment's rest was torture, but the need built back up to action. Hannah turns and straddles my lap, my hard shaft pressing into her stomach as she starts to writhe on top. Heat, wet slick heat, hot breath in my neck broken by flashes of amber gold on the other side of the room.

"Go ahead," Kieran says, "I like the show." I vaguely notice that her legs are open again.

Hannah doesn't hear her. Or she doesn't care at least. She straddles me and kisses me, showering with loving thrums and a hum of crashing earthquakes and collapsing buildings. I moved my hands behind her back and pull her close. Smooth, she is so smooth and slick and tight. She is a drum, a whole kit, bass to snare and everything in between.

"I love you," she whispers in my ear. That is for me. Not for Kieran, only me. There is only that sentiment for me. Kieran might know what she said, might figure it out and take it as any way she will. But those three words, those three words said to me whenever we are like this, those are mine and mine alone. I feel them rumble through my chest, reverberating and bouncing down into my core.

"I love you too," I whisper back. And the same, it's just for her. Those four words, sometimes three if I get to the expression first, but those are hers. Free to take just as they are freely given.

She raises her hips, aligns us, and drops her hips, hilting me in one smooth motion.

Warm, she is so warm and wet and tight, enveloping me and squeezing. She keeps the detonations centered on her hands for the moment, just with the fingertips, on my shoulders. They worm and wriggle down my ribs, suffusing my core and finally working their way back. She holds me deep, so deep for a long, long moment, just savoring the simple fullness. The breath catches for a moment before slowly releasing. I feel her grip soften and relax, gentle waves coaxing me down. She kisses me again, lightly this time and I feel the boom in her core travel through my lips. She raises herself up, slowly, so agonizing slow and glacial before dropping again.