Polarisian Multiverse Bk. 01 Ch. 02

POLARIS: BOOK I, Ch. 2 -- Getting to Know You

Thea learns about weapons, magic, and feels his heat

You woke before her. Easing silently from the sheets, you fetched an early­ morning shot of caffeine before returning to stand gazing down at her sleeping form. Half covered by the sheet, the picture was a contrast between alabaster skin and black cotton, with the blaze of her hair a beam of color. She lay on her back, head slightly to one side toward you, right hand loose on the bed and left resting on her thigh. Dark lashes were closed over the green eyes, but you well remembered how they had glowed at you through the dark last night, alight with the heat of fear and passion.

Looking at her, you felt uncomfortable, and you wondered what had possessed you to stop in the first place, much less bring her here. Her presence evoked ghosts and shadowed feelings, yet you didn't want her gone. There had been another-green eyed girl once, when you and the world were much younger, when you thought love and dreams were enough to survive. Before you joined the military, before you saw stupid mistakes cause good fighters to die, before you started to believe that the only way to make it was to fight just as hard - and as dirty - as those you fought against. It hadn't been easy to give up your dreams, nor had it been by choice. You'd gone back twice to your green­ eyed girl. Once, when she was still living in the safety of suburbia, and had been dismayed and shocked by the changes and the roughening that were already becoming apparent in you, still saying she loved you but unable to accept the new rules you were learning. Later, on patrol in the smoking streets, you spent a rest break digging a grave deep enough that the scavengers wouldn't disturb it, feeling like you left whatever good remained in you in the ashen earth.

Since then, your contacts with women had been professional or carnal, or both. And never here. You knew of enough basement and attic rooms available that you had been able to keep your territory your own and inviolate. Yet you brought her here without hesitation. And now you couldn't bring yourself to wake her and clear her out and have your privacy return. Perplexed and unable to command yourself to a decision, you retreated. You'd see what happened when she woke up.

* * *

Waking up in another strange bed, I wondered what I was coming to; it wasn't a regular habit of mine. But at least I recognized this bed, and I knew how I had gotten here and what had happened in it. Pulling on my jeans and white shirt, leaving it hanging loose, I went in search of the "Captain."             

There was a door in the wall that divided the warehouse, half open, with sounds of activity behind it: kind of a rhythmic clanking thump. Sliding in, I saw you standing at a wooden bench, pulling a crank handle with one band and feeding parts into the machine with the other. Moving closer, I saw the brass and silver eggs' eyes of new bullets in boxes. You nodded briefly in greeting, saying only "let me finish this box," so I continued to look around. This room was only one story high, but again extensive: an indoor firing range, heavily insulated, so that barely any sound would even reach the next room. You had stands for targets against the far wall, as well as pulleys suspended from the ceiling to hang targets from.

At the near end, there were five large vaults, double-locked, and a couple of small loose tables that could be moved to any firing position to hold bullets or other necessities.

Obviously, a man who took weapons seriously, but I could have guessed that when I got my first look at you. This just confirmed it.

I heard the last box of bullets get itself placed on top of a stack of other boxes, and turned as you approached. You were silent, apparently waiting for me to make the first move. I hated doing that, but figured you'd been good enough last night (taking care of me both in and out of bed), that I owed you as much.

"Why the saber?" An odd first question, but one that had grown as I looked at the firepower capability.

"Huh?" Clearly you were taken off guard. Maybe your women only raved about your personal blade...?

"Your saber. With all this, why do you carry a saber?"

"Oh. Well, you see, Polaris is a funny place. Technology works here, magic works there, but a sword works everywhere. I'm no magician, so I need a blade for the magic spots."

"Great. I can handle a gun, pistol or rifle, so that's easy. But there's no such thing as magic where I come from, so that's out. And I know next to nothing about blades."

"Nothing at all?"

"Well, just play fighting when I was a kid."

"That's a start. And carrying one may be enough - deterrence, you know." You moved to the corner vault, unlocked it and started rummaging. "Here, try this." It was a switchblade, double-edged, slim enough to tuck in a boot or the small of your back. The handle was the metallic-grey color of hematite, the fittings appearing silver, but actually stainless steel. You showed me the button, and I flicked the blade open, testing the weight and comfort of the weapon.

"Strange. The handle looks smooth-grained, and it has an oily feel but when I grip it, it doesn't slide at all. What is it?"

"It's called touchstone. You're right it is strange. Some people can use it, and others can't. However hard they hold it, it slides right out of their hand. I got it from an old street bum who was thrilled because I found his lost dog. It's a nice blade, but smaller than I usually use. Keep it on you."

"Okay. But what do I do with it?"

"What, you want a lesson?"

"Please. I'd hate to do something stupid like cut myself with it, or worse, pull it out only to lose it to whatever's threatening me."

After selecting a tanto as a blade for yourself, you led me out to the main living room, and up some wrought iron stairs to the upper level of the rear half of the warehouse. This was a large bright area, with a smooth hardwood floor, still with high ceilings, empty of all but a few rolled mats and cushions against one wall.

We started slowly, as you showed me basic thrusts and parries. We progressed from working side by side, me imitating you, to against each other, practicing the movements in slow motion, getting faster as I caught on to the rhythms without realizing it.

"Shit!" You jerked back suddenly, smoothly switching the tanto to your left hand as you clapped your right hand over your left forearm.

"Christ, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Just a nick. My fault for letting us get that far without dummy blades, and I thought I was clear."

"Here, let me see." The cut was a shallow slash, about two inches long. I replaced your hand with my own, holding the edges together to slow the bleeding. "You know, it's funny, I thought you were clear too. I could have sworn I was missing you. But there was this weird tug on my hand, and then you yelled. This sounds crazy, but it felt like the knife pulled me to make the cut!"

"Hmm. No, in Polaris it's not crazy. It never happened with me, but then again, I usually hit what I'm after anyway. Touchstone is funny. Put it this way, if that knife is helping you out, all the more reason to keep it on you. But I'm not fighting you with it."

"Fair enough. I think I've had enough for this morning anyway. Let's get your arm bandaged." I gently pulled my hand, sticky with dried blood, away, to see if the bleeding had stopped, then stepped back in horror as I stated at your smooth, tan forearm, with no mark or scar where the cut had been. I started backing away from you, stammering "Who - no what - are you? Nothing heals that fast!"

You stepped forward swiftly and grabbed me before I could start to run. Holding me tightly by my arms, you backed me into the dividing wall and looked down at me, your eyes fierce. "I don't. There are enough scars on my body to prove that. This was magic. From you."

"NO, no, that's impossible... I'm not... I can't... I told you, there's no such thing as magic, or magicians, where I come from!"

"That's immaterial." You were still fierce, forcing me to listen by your strength of will. "Just because your world didn't have magic didn't mean there was no one there with the capability; they just didn't have the environment to discover or use it. You can... you do have it in you. I saw it last night. I just didn't know what I was seeing."

"What are you talking about?"

"When you got out of your Jeep. Some of the street rats tried to attack you. You fried them. Literally."

"No, no... I don't remember. And what has that to do with this? How could I have done this?"

"If you don't know, I sure as hell can't tell you. Look," your tone switched to one of gentleness, "don't worry about it. If you don't feel comfortable, don't mess with it. I'll show you other ways to get along. But I think you should try. It's not something everyone has."

"How?"

"Well, let's see. You healed a cut on my arm. Let's look to some other healing. Put your arms around me. Now, place your palms across my back, one above the other, from the small of my back up. What do you feel?"

I shut my eyes, concentrating on my hands, heat through the palms and fingertips, reading the signals. "You're tense. Actually, very tight. The muscles are locked together around this one area. There's an irregularity here, this bump where the bones are together. It shouldn't be like this. They should move... like this. Then the muscles don't have to overcompensate... they can relax..."

"Stop." Your voice was soft but strong, right in my ear. Startled, I opened my eyes. You were leaning over me, your hands on the wall over my shoulders. "Did you feel it?"

Yes, there had been that heat. And the almost internal vision of seeing what lay under your skin, seen through my nerve endings. But was that it? "Maybe."

"Trust me. You did it. Those vertebrae fused years ago when I broke my back. It's hurt, more or less, ever since. Now it doesn't." You placed your forehead on mine and said softly "Thank you." Almost as if we couldn't resist, our lips sought each other. Before your mouth claimed mine, I thought I heard you whisper "Can you heal my heart?" but I wasn't sure, and then I was lost in your kiss, feeling the fire plunge down through me, only to well up again from the depths as I fought to equal the intensity of your kiss.

Your hands at my waist pushed my jeans to the floor, and you clasped a warm hand over my shaven pussy before you spun me around to face the wall. As you held my hands above my head, I felt your cock thrusting its smooth head between my legs, and I closed them, just tight enough to grip that cock without shutting it out. Arching my back, I thrust my ass at you, teasing you with glimpses of my pussy. You slapped my ass in retribution for my impudence, and I felt you grab it and mold the cheeks together, holding them with one hand while a finger of the other sought my opening. Finding my hands released, I reached back and circled your cock, leading it forward until the head brushed the smooth skin of my pussy. I used the other hand to open the lips, letting you feel a hint of the wetness that lay waiting inside. With my guidance, you worked yourself in. It was erotic to feel bare skin where our legs met, illicit with our torsos covered by shirts. I was the exposed one, you were hidden behind me. But I could feel you. I could feel your cock penetrating me to the deepest inch, rubbing itself on every ridge and fold inside me, driving me crazy, making me thrust myself against it to ask for more if it stopped. When you pushed me hard against the wall, I could feel the boards abrading the freshly-bare area of my pussy, sensitized to the new stimulus, liking it, seeking more.

As your movement grew in speed and intensity, I reached back, cupping your balls, teasing them with my fingernails, lightly raking the ridges of skin and pressing the

base of them against the root of your cock. You remembered the heat and the power in those fingertips, and their touch felt electric. I could hear you saying "Yes" with each thrust, driving yourself farther forward to better reach those elusive fingertips. I could feel my wetness on your balls, and in the way you slid in and out so easily and completely. I was asking you to drive harder, deeper, and you were asking me if I was ready, if you could come, and all we could say to each other was "Yes" as we took each other so completely that the act of taking was in itself a complete giving.