Something to Applaud

She reached up to her own face and took his hand in hers because his touch kept her from thinking clearly. Her fingers locked into his, gripping his as hard as she could. She noticed that he did nothing to remove his hand; he just kept it there, in hers. White, a bigger, more powerful man than StJohn, would have removed his hand from hers instantly. The soul in this body now was a more charming, more debonair incarnation. "You are StJohn!"

"Of course, My darling. Back from the grave, so to speak. Ah ha!" He said.

Their fingers unlocked as she rolled to face him. The movement caused the left strap of her gown to snap. Exposed to the air, her left nipple raised into a stiff peak. But Marpessa didn't notice. She wanted to test his words, but she had to get on top of him first. She brought herself up onto one elbow, then onto her knees. The torn scrap of her skirt got in her way, so she pulled it up and to the side as she straddled him.

Yes, this was StJohn inside of White's body. White's body, a sturdy column of bone and muscle, made Marpessa feel like she was on horseback. He would have quickly reversed their positions and subdued her, like he had on the balcony earlier. She remembered the feel of his thigh between her legs, and how her body urged her to grind down on it.

Tenderly, she reached down and touched his side. His uniform was torn where she stabbed him, and she needed to remove it to see his wound. Her fingers expertly unfastened his stiff collar – after all she normally wore a uniform too – and moved down to unfasten his jacket completely. She let out her breath in relief. It was a small flesh wound, little deeper then a shaving cut. Of course a person experienced with a monofilament blade would have done far more damage. She was also relieved that the bleeding had stopped on his head wound.

Her fingers combed through the white hairs that fanned out over his chest, and followed a thin trail of hairs down, over his heart, over his navel to the top of his trousers where it disappeared. Had all of his hair turned white?

StJohn drew a breath, thinking with his skin, feeling her hands trail over his body. He gasped as her hand slid down his trousers, and felt his cock spring to life. His gaze fixed on the nape of her neck, and he drew a finger along her collarbone at the same pace she drew her fingers up his shaft.

His dick was rock hard, pointing upwards as if it wanted to cut through his trousers on its own. This pulled his uniform tight, making it difficult to unfasten him. Marpessa had to reach in from the top, and hold his member flat to his stomach so that she could release it from his pants.

He left himself in Marpessa's capable hands, sliding his finger down over her chest, up the gentle slope of her breast, circling her nipple with a fairy breath of pressure. StJohn could have sworn it stiffened further, if that was possible, and he slid both hands over her shoulders and down, trailing gently down her back until they encountered her bodice strings. As if by magic, they dissolved under his fingers, and the sudden release of pressure allowed his hands to slide further under her dress. He scraped his fingernails lightly down her spine, feeling the muscles shift in response. He'd trapped her hands by sliding his hands down her back, and now he released them, moving his fingers seamlessly onto the skin of her arms. He felt her grasping him, and smiled.

Perhaps I should return the favour… he thought, extending his thumbs and brushing her hard, pink nipples. She shivered, and he pressed his thumbs into her nipples, pressing them back into her breasts, now moving his whole hand across, dragging the skin of his palms across her nipples. An odd moment, she half recoiled, half pressed forward into his hands.

Did his fingertips have current running through them? They electrified her pink nipple-skin and pale breast-flesh. He enlivened her hidden places, the sides of her ribs, the backs of her thighs, the bend where her leg met her torso.

She needed a kiss, that much he could tell. There was still too much tension in her, a situation that must be rectified immediately. He grasped her arms and pulled her down, slowly, meeting her lips with his. Extended his tongue a fraction, felt hers advance the same margin. He tested peaches on her lips, and wondered if that was a natural flavor, or if she'd had them for breakfast. He kept his eyes open, not wanting to lose a second of her face, and raised his hands to her face, lightly, one either side of her face, his index fingers just touching her ear lobes. He traced a long line down her face with his left hand, pushed his right up, into her hair, and pulled her mouth more firmly into his.

She inhaled his exhaled breath and softly blew it back into his mouth as their lips touched and touched. Oh, how he missed this! Breath! Life giving flow of air! As euphoric as StJohn was, he could feel the strength of his older brother White.

A tortured glimpse of a face, Fortula, he thought, and a sensation, of tightness, hot and sweating lightly...White struggled upwards, trying to regain control of his body, his fingers. Which were cupping what felt like breasts.....

"StJohn!" she said as she broke their long kiss. Looking down, she saw that he had ripped her dress down the middle, leaving her breasts completely exposed. No longer constrained by the red dress, they bounced as she giggled.

"Oooh, sorry, was that a favorite?" StJohn asked, a bit puzzled. He didn't remember tearing the dress, and nor did he remember being strong enough to rip clothing as he had apparently just done.

"It doesn't matter, help me get out of it," she said. This was an easy task, the dress was in tatters, the wearer eager. StJohn finished the tear, splitting the dress in half. She darted forward, biting him hard under his neck, and his hand fell back, ecstasy making his arms suddenly boneless. He was vaguely aware that the halves of the dress were still clutched in his fingers.

Marpessa used her fingers to free him from his clothes. Still crouching over him, she opened his uniform further. Her tongue, soft and warm, circled his nipples until they were as hard as hers. Then, she pulled her head away from them and blew on them. Her breath seemed cool on them, and they stiffened more. She brought her mouth down on them again, moved her lips over them to feel their shape against her lips.

Her mouth moved down the center of his chest, following the thin trail of white hairs. While she placed longer and longer kisses on his stomach, her hands pulled his trousers down around his thighs. She let her breasts dangle over his cock, letting them touch lightly and then pulling them away. His cock twitched as she pulled his trousers down over his knees and feet.

When she was finished undressing him. She knelt between his legs, holding her hands on his knees. He tried to sit up, but her hands lightly held his legs down and open. She paused slightly; staring into his face until his eyes unwaveringly met hers. Then, she parted her lips and lowered her head. With one hand stroking his dick, she sucked his balls into her mouth, one at a time, until they were as wet as she was. She blew on them, like she blew on his nipples earlier, and watched the white hairs stand up. Then, she licked the insides of his thighs, the soft skin under his balls, everything but his cock, which by now was flushed and pink. She crouched down lower, moved his legs up over her shoulders, and put the tip of his dick in her mouth.

StJohn felt her lips and sighed, raising his hips and sliding his dick into her mouth. He goggled at the way it disappeared inside, amazed that she could take it that far in. He felt her teeth as she sucked him, sliding her head up and down. White had never felt such pleasure, such talent. The swimming sensation in his head would not vanish, and as she clamped her lips on his cock, he felt the waters close over his head once again.

"Oh, Marpessa, you're so good at that, I think I might have passed out for a moment, there…" StJohn said, feeling his cock slither out of her mouth as she scraped her fingernails down his stomach.

She worked back up his body, dragging her tongue, feeling his muscles tense and relax under her. On the way, she put his cock between her breasts, and rocked back and forth slightly. They both looked down and watched it, the pinkish wet head poking in and out of the soft valley.

Enough torture, she thought. In a quick movement, she pulled herself up, and positioned herself over his dick. StJohn thrust his hips up as she moved downward. She sat up, like a horsewoman, straight and tall, and rode him. Her horsewoman fantasy was fed by her boots, which she still had on. They scraped against the wooden stage floor with her motion, sounding slightly like hooves.

Marpessa, always wanting more, remembered how it felt earlier on the balcony when he had his leg between hers. That desire to grind. She moved forward, putting her hands down on each side of his head. Her stomach rested on his. Her breasts flattened against his chest. She bent her neck down over his shoulder, and lightly bit his earlobe. She crouched like a tiger over him, and changed her movement from up and down to front and back. Instinct took over as she rocked her pelvis into him.

StJohn felt her clit rolling over his pubic bone, and he grabbed her hips, pulling her harder against him. The tiny ridges and bumps inside her ground against the skin of his cock. The pleasure was intense, he felt joined to her, a part of her. Finally, after all these years, he was inside his Marpessa. The thought made him swoon, and White swam back into focus. He felt her wrapped around him, the gooey wetness engulfing him, and he smiled a wolfish grin. His hands clenched in the material of her dress, and StJohn blinked. The emotion had overwhelmed him for a moment.

"Marpessa…" He breathed, lost in the sensation.

All of her weight rested on him now. In a quiet moment, she kissed his neck and felt the burn from the drapery rope that she had thrown around her neck. With her lips on his ear, she whispered, "why did you do it? Why did you hang yourself?"

StJohn paused inside her, his whole body screaming the answer, even stilling his brother's struggles as he waited for the answer.

"I…couldn't have you." He said.

A single tear, crystalline, perfect, snaked along her nose, hung, suspended, on the point of falling, and dripped, onto StJohn's face. A great sigh left his body, and the sense of release was a climax more intense than any he'd felt before. StJohn, as he rode the waves, heard an old woman laughing, glimpsed her face as the rushing ceased.

~~~

"StJohn, you're back." Momma Fortula said.

"Just long enough to say good bye, dear lady." He gave her a slight bow, and the left the card table for good.

She chuckled. No one called Momma Fortula a lady.

~~~

White heaved, and they rolled, his cock still inside her. The sudden movement caught her unawares, and he ended up on top of her easily. He captured her hands, which had begun to grab for balance, and wound the shreds of her clothing around her wrists. He tied it firmly, figure-of-eight, as secure a handcuff as one of plasalloy. She watched him, fascinated, as he thrust her hands down to the floor. The action brought his face down to hers, and nose to nose he watched her, noting the slight widening of her eyes and he ground himself deeper inside her. "I don't know how you did that, Marpessa…" He said, dragging his hands down the skin of her arms, pressing his lips into hers, feeling their teeth clash as he kissed her.

"StJohn!" She said between his biting kisses.

As soon as the word was out of her lips, the audience broke into applause. White started up, rising to his hands and knees, breaking their lock. This wasn't the end of the opera, but the end of an important chorus. The last woman who Satan brought before Don Giovanni had cried in front of him, for she truly loved him. Yet, the Don could not remember her name. As quickly as the applause began, it died down, and the audience quieted to hear the next solo, Don Giovanni voicing his regrets about that one true love.

"Oh no, StJohn, no!" Marpessa, deprived of an orgasm, threw her bound arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled. He could feel the heels of her boots – the only clothing she still had on – on his ass. But, she could not put them back together again, as much as she desired it. "StJohn, what is the matter? I can get rid of the audience. Now please!"

White paused for a moment, the word 'StJohn' ringing inside his head. Scenarios explaining every possible reason for her use of the name occurred to him and were dismissed in the same breath. He remembered the murky, unconsciousness of the last few minutes, remembered the sensation of being displaced, and his eyes widened slightly.

A possession of the living by the dead, it was a scenario out of a novel, the type of novel that people read in complete secret. Once they finish it, they read it again. Certain sections get read more than others, the pages more worn from being turned by shaking hands. During the day – the book is hidden – but not so well that it can't be found in the middle of the night.

Did Marpessa believe he'd been possessed by the ghost of his brother StJohn? Well, if she did, there was no reason at the present moment to disabuse her of the notion.

White rocked back on his knees and grabbed his dick with one hand. His other, the left, he pressed into the area of skin beneath her navel, holding her immobile on the floor. Leaning forward, he parted her inner lips with the end of his cock, and stroked upwards, rolling her clit under the pressure. She gasped, arching her back, trying to keep the contact there. He drew back down, long strokes over her clit, his cock acting like a broad paintbrush for this artwork.

Strange sensations for Marpessa, the wooden stage floor on her back, leather boots, satin handcuffs, his hand on her belly while her pussy got worked over. He penetrated her slightly, just the tip, stretching her open once again before rubbing his cock back over the sensitive area of flesh that produced such…interesting moans. Her stomach muscles quivered under his hand, the first brush of orgasm. White continued, the same process, over and over, slide, penetrate, slide, feeling the spasms and muscle contractions get more powerful, longer in duration. White glanced at her face, head thrown back, mouth open, short, panting breaths, her breasts quivering with every rushed intake.

Marpessa gasped, on the very brink, feeling every fibre of her body tense up, the first waves of orgasm building up against the damn, preparing to wash over her and…White withdrew. He stopped. She waited a moment feeling the stare of the audience, the air, and nothing more, brush her engorged, ultra sensitised body parts.

"Oh, God, Please…" She said, looking down at him. He knelt, watching her, a strange smile on his face. She'd never seen StJohn with that expression on his face before, it looked more like…

"White!" She gasped. He winked, and thrust himself back into her, pressing himself inside her to the hilt. Her gasp turned into a shout, then a frantic scream, "WHITE!! Uh, Fuck!"

The inside of her was slightly shorter than he was long, and he pressed his cock hard into her, watching her scream in protest. He lowered his hips a fraction, changing the angle of his thrusts, aiming his cock at the front wall of her vagina, at that incredible bundle of nerves known as the g-spot. He thrust hard, rhythmically, the slick feel of her insides making him shiver with pleasure. His lips slid from her mouth, to her ear, down her neck to the junction of neck and shoulder. Withdrawing his lips, he lightly flicked his tongue along the inside of her clavicle, raising gooseflesh across her chest.

Determined not to let herself cross over into orgasm, Marpessa stopped screaming, and held her breath. She thought of boring things, personnel reports, waiting in line at the mess hall, dentists, desks. Slowly, her stomach muscles relaxed. Her legs grew slack and lay limply on the stage. She stared at the top of the throne at center stage while she pulled her hands against the tight satin bonds. Yes, this was White, this man knew his own body, his own dick, lips and tongue.

He could feel her slackening; distancing herself from her body, and it angered him.

Without warning, he bit her, hard, on the soft flesh, the hard muscle of her neck. Marpessa drew a breath through her teeth, and sank her fingernails into her palms.

How could she get out of this? Her mind wanted out, but her body was about to give itself over to White's expert thrusts. She needed to change things, fast. Boots, she still had her boots on, nothing else. She pulled her legs apart and her knees back. White's hips swung in a wider range of motion as his knees dug into the stage floor. Then, the heels of her boots dug into the tops of his thighs. With a heave she suddenly kicked herself up, pulling away from his cock, through his arms. She even used her bound hands to push at the top of his head as her body slid beneath his face.

A lesser man would have let her escape. But White easily grasped her waist and flipped her over. Her still-bound hands rested under her, between her breasts. Still slick with her, his cock rested firmly between her haunches.

"Bastard, bastard, bastard!" she screamed as she clenched her butt as hard as she could.

White felt the squeeze on his cock, and heard the genuine fear in her voice. "Don't worry Marpessa, if I wanted that I would already be in there."

"Ahhhhhhh! Get off of me!" She screamed.

He rested more weight on her, until she had enough room to breathe, but not to scream. "What now? Cry rape? Call for your Klingon to save you? The surveillance record will show you giving me, me Marpessa, possessed by my brother or not, a professional blow job, and then riding me like an equestrian." The warm breath of his angry panting blew past her ear.

She swung her feet furiously, kicking his lower back. White quickly rose up and changed his position over her so that he sat right on top of her ass. His hands moved down over her kicking legs. Holding them immobile, one at a time, he pulled her boots off by the heel and let them fall with a thud onto the stage floor. One gold coin escaped and rolled towards the rapt audience. Wildly bucking beneath him, she unleased a string of Romany obscenities.

'This strange girl isn't worth it,' White thought. After all, the holodeck is a place for easy fucks from willing phantasms. In one fluid motion, he stood up and moved out of range of her kicking feet. His dick slapped the tops of his thighs as he walked upstage to the only place he could rest, Don Giovanni's ornate red and gold throne. Soft velvet and plush upholstery cushioned his tired limbs. Marpessa proved to be quite a work out, a stairway chase, balcony fall, wrestling . . . Not worth the effort.

The stage lights felt hot and unfamiliar on the bottoms of Marpessa's feet. She curled onto her side, facing away from White, and tried to work on the knots that still held her wrists together.

White deduced her actions by the motion of her shoulders. "Oh come here Marpessa, you'll never get yourself loose."

She chose to ignore him but her fumbling only made the bond tighter. Her fingertips began to tingle and turn bluish. She brought herself to he knees and then stretched to standing.

White noticed that Marpessa walked on the tips of her toes as she approached him. Maybe she didn't like the feel of the wooden stage floor on her feet, or maybe she was nervous. Maybe – White drew a quick breath in over his teeth – she did it to make her legs appear more graceful to him, because it did. The stance thinned her ankles and pushed her apple-round ass out slightly. Her feet traced a straight line to him. Those hips swayed more than they needed to.