Sympathetic Magic

Diane turned off all the lights. The same moonlight alone now illuminated the quiet room. She faced the window. At an angle, she could see the clock on the Entrance Hall's spire -- nine-thirty exactly. She reached for the buttons of her shirt.

He flung his bag over to his other shoulder. He looked at the same clock. He was running a little late, but the men's dorm was now right in front of him.

She stood naked, silvery in the moonlight. She turned away from the window and walked over to her bed; she smiled mildly when she realised that she was flirtatiously rolling her hips. She dived onto the cool blue satin and reached under the pillow. He stopped right outside of his dorm's main door, suddenly sensing himself exposed. She pointed the glans right at her face, and smiled at it.

"Good evening, Niko," she whispered. She gave it a kiss, right on the tip.

A short gasp of laughter shook him. The cast was very good indeed, very detailed -- she could clearly see the indent of his slit. She pushed it with the tip of her tongue.

"Oh fuck," he whispered, and grabbed the door frame.

The bed. Get to the bed and enjoy this. He barged inside and ran up the stairs. She giggled, and stroked the shaft.

"Do you like this?" she asked. She kept trying to talk to him -- his presence was so clear in her mind; and besides, her portable Niko was just so inviting to play with. She placed it between her breasts, and squeezed them around it. "How about now? Can you guess where you are?"

He stopped on a landing and leaned heavily on a wall. His heartbeat was heavy, but still he felt hers on top of it, and the surrounding softness of her skin -- shit, just get to the room! He braved the remaining stairs, and got into his corridor. He stumbled forward on the weathered wood, found the key in his pocket, grabbed the door handle -- and froze, realizing that voices were coming from the inside.

She adjusted herself on the soft pillow. Her fingers circled her labia. She'd never used a real toy on herself before -- where would you get one in this country? (Although it is true that when she was growing up, her parents' cook did on several occasions note a mysterious disappearance of a cucumber. Beggars can't be choosers). She was really getting nicely wet, excited for what was to come. She knelt up, and again looked at the cast, hungrily.

He opened the door and saw Anton, Marcell, and one older student with large round glasses and a very serious air whom he didn't know, seated on the beds, pages of notes scattered on the floor between them. They abruptly stopped talking and stared at him.

"What..." he started. Diane put the glans in her mouth. He did not finish.

"Niko, roomie! Didn't expect you back so soon!" Anton immediately recovered his normal cheeriness. Marcell smiled thinly and nodded. The older student adjusted his glasses. Diane licked the cast's underside. Niko's toes curled.

"Weren't you sup... supposed to have a club meeting?"

"Oh, we are having a club meeting!" Anton's upbeat tone was undisturbed. "We're just having it here, see!"

It may have been just a bloc of resin, but it turned Diane on almost like the real thing. She sucked on it, just as she had in the back of the alchemy lab. Her stretched lips tried to smile. She imagined how hard he must be getting.

Niko's foot arched. Anton got up and genially spread his hands.

"Alright Niko, 'tis time to admit it. The Vallnord Pigeon Racing Fanclub is just a front. What we're really interested in doing together, is politics! And we're drafting a manifesto!"

"A manifesto," Niko stammered out, at a high pitch. His shaft, restrained achingly by his clothes, was slowly sinking into Diane's mouth.

"A manifesto! Aren't you annoyed by how this country, and this school, are run, Niko? Like a military! Why are our beliefs and activities so closely monitored? Why are we cowering before the Proctor Superior like schoolboys before a headmaster? We're adults, not children! We're citizens, not subjects! It's time for some reforms to take place around here!" Encouraged by Anton's speech, Marcell took over, shiny-eyed.

"We're hammering out our demands, and we'll anonymously print them out and scatter around the Academy... we'll get more people on our side!" There was genuine inspiration in his voice. There was genuine inspiration in Diane's eyes as she pinched her nipple and pushed her personal Niko right up to her throat.

"I was hoping you'd see reason in our position," Anton said.

"Yes!" Niko snapped, lunged past him, and tossed his bag on his bed, "I totally agree." He grabbed his towel, which was hanging carelessly from a bed post. "I wish you well! Thanks for sharing! I need a shower, now!"

"Al...right! We can count on you not telling anybody, right?" Niko moved stiffly towards the door.

"Yeah. I think it's great. Will tell no one. So tired. See you later!" He nodded at them, smiled sharply, and shut the door behind him. There was a brief moment of silence.

"See!" Anton turned to his two clubmates with a reassuring smile. "Told you he's cool!"

"I don't know about this." The older student adjusted both his glasses and his parted hair. "He seemed to be extremely uncomfortable with this situation."

"Nonsense! Niko's alright." Anton's smile widened. "He's just a bit high-strung. You know, not all people are adventurous. If he's too nervous to be involved in anything illicit, we shouldn't judge him!"

He hobbled through the corridor at top hobbling speed, past the rows of doors, eyes on the inky window at its end. There, the last door to the right, was the bathroom.

Diane took him out of her mouth. She spread her legs wide. She felt her swelling, her expectant wetness. With a smile she put the cast's head right at her labia. Its rounded, blunt tip pressed against her flesh. She closed her eyes, and remembered Niko's. She smiled wider, and bit her lip.

She shoved him in.

He slammed into the wall right by the bathroom door.

"Fuck!" he whined under his breath, and hid his face inside his elbow. His cock raged against his clothes as it felt all around it -- tight, warm, wet, slippery -- her, her body, her depth. He bit down on his fist, picked up his towel that he'd dropped, and flung open the door.

She purred happily, and slowly rubbed around her clit. It was so satisfying, the inside pressure of his girth. On their own, her legs parted further, her hips bucked up, and her vulva presented itself for his access. She imagined his body, its enticing frame, gentle muscles, mousy hair here and there. She recalled the scent of his fresh sweat. She remembered his smile, shy at first, more and more enthusiastic as he went along. She reached for her breasts and played with them, exactly the way he would. With her mind she grasped the cast, and it rocked back and forth under her telekinetic guidance.

"Niko..." she whispered. The room was dark and quiet. Stretched and bucked forward, she glistened in the moonlight.

The bathroom was bright and noisy. All surfaces were covered with white enamelled tiles. Of the six shower stalls, one was occupied -- Niko could see the feet, the upper back, and the head of some student he didn't know. The stalls' flimsy whitewashed doors provided only a semblance of privacy. Whatever, this would do. By the time he'd reached the last stall by the wall, he was already unbuttoned and unbuckled. He kicked off his shoes, flung his clothes all together onto a hook, glanced at a wood-framed mirrors above the sinks opposite -- the other guy was not caught in any of them -- and pulled down his underwear. He gasped with relief as his cock shot up, and finally free pulsed furiously in the air. He skulked into the stall, closed the unconvincing door behind him, leaned against the wall, and let delight flow through him.

She hummed low and tossed in the sheets. Her fingers circled faster, but she slowed down the cast's strokes -- once she'd made him come he'd sever the mental link, and she really wanted him to still be with her for her orgasm. She thought of him as only she knew him -- naked, erect, intense. Sometimes he could be soft and yielding -- sometimes, forceful and decisive. She really liked both, depending on the mood. Right in this moment, her memory enthusiastically wrapped itself around that second Niko, that demon Niko lurking behind that meek smile and lowered eyes, that rough Niko, grab you by the hair Niko, pin you down and fuck you against a table Niko, that overpower you and be embarrassed about it later Niko. Her breath broke into quiet moans.

His hips, invited to dance, swayed in the air. His neck arched back, and his hair tickled his shoulders. He grinned. A quarter mile away, a dream girl was pleasuring herself to a mere thought and cast of him -- and he'd been welcomed to share the experience. He thought of her, of how her calm poise easily shifted to a reckless passion, of the strength of sexuality that lurked within that serious, no-nonsense girl, and of how he was let in on the secret.

The splashing of water ceased in the other stall. Niko realised that he was humping the air under a switched-off shower. He quickly turned the valve-like tap. The copper pipes rattled, and the rickety head splurged warm water which splashed at his feet and calves.

She ran her hand along her labia, smudging the wetness around. She ground fiercely against her hand's base. In her mind, Niko held her tight, and breathed into her neck. In her mind also, Niko writhed in his bed right now, holding his moans, feeling every detail of this. "I'm gonna come," she told them both.

The other guy finished towelling himself and was dressing up somewhere behind. Niko bent down under the cover of the door. The splashing water drowned out his heavy breathing. His cock pointed up, taut like an iron spring. He felt her contract around him.

"Niko," she hissed. "Niko, Niko, Niko, Niko..." She spread herself to near splits, and tightened whole. He felt an intense, pulsing gripping. The force almost jettisoned the cast out of her; she stopped it with her fingers and shoved it all the way in, and forced herself to cum against its girth -- and imploded all around it, pleasure obliterating all thought.

He stood still against the white tiled wall, and chuckled, voiceless.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Spread on the bedsheets, plugged by her toy, dripping wet and drained, she tingled with satisfaction, core to fingertips.

"That was good," she announced to the ceiling. Her body unmoving, her mind grabbed the cast, slid it out, and let it levitate above her, glistening silver in the dark. Over the hot steam, he felt the coolness of her bedroom air. She brought it closer to her eyes and smiled at it. She put one finger on its glans, petted it lightly, and then traced on it a little heart shape.

This time he couldn't keep the voice out of his chuckle. He cleared his throat and pretended to cough.

"Your turn," she whispered. The cast did a graceful little somersault on its way back between her legs.

The other guy finally left; Niko heard the door shut behind him just as he felt himself plunge back into Diane. He hummed, and sank onto his knees. He ran his hands along his chest and sides, imagined her caressing him.

At first she thrust him in and out, but quickly realized that they were unimpeded by normal anatomy here; she focused and added a spin to the motion, moving him along like a corkscrew, twist in, twist out. He bent down and moaned, caught in her whirl.

She looked intently down, at the dark shape moving in and out of her. It was so hot, giving him pleasure, controlling it from afar. His body writhed, dancelike, on its knees. He was close.

"Niko, you know what would be fun?" She focused all her mind on the cast. There was a trick that he'd taught her himself. If you take something and sort of make it move against itself...

Gently but at great speed, the cast started vibrating.

If he hadn't knelt, he'd have fallen. He yelped, and his muscles tossed him at the wall. His nerves, deeply shaken, went into a complete overdrive. Blinding ecstasy ripped at him, tore voice out of his lungs, very loud, swear words, her name, incoherent cries. Every part of his body jolted away from him; orgasm in his nerves, orgasm in his muscles, orgasm in his bones; in his hips, in his spine, in his stomach, in his chest, in his throat. He came, rapidly and uncontrollably, all over himself, all over the wall. And still his cock trilled right from its core, all his nerves blazing -- and it was too much, he genuinely thought it would fry his brain -- and he sought out the sympathetic link in his mind, and severed it, and leaned limp against the wall, shaking.

She suddenly felt alone. She let the cast go and smiled.

"Told you you'd like it," she said.

He tried to catch his breath. Oh, shit. He'd been really, really loud. He quickly turned off the water and listened. No steps, no voices in the corridor. But these pipes conducted sound really well. Perhaps in the boiling room someone was now looking up, mortified. But perhaps not.

Still wheezing, he sat on the wet floor. His chest was streaked with semen right up to his collarbone. More of the stuff was sliding down the wall, white on white. He buried his face in his hands and chortled.

"Diane, what the fuck," he whispered.

The cast sailed lazily above her head, glossy from her wetness. It was a pity that this pretty thing would crumble to pieces tomorrow; but then again, it would be way too dangerous to actually keep it. Maybe after Yolanda falls asleep, she'll have some more fun with it. Though Niko's feeling was gone from the thing, it was still his enticing likeness -- and she still had a good imagination.

First lights were going out in the dorms. In two different places, one girl and one boy were resting in an afterglow, thinking fondly of each other. Elsewhere, three students were parting with conspirative whispers, a project of an incisive manifesto hidden in the sleeve of an overcoat; elsewhere yet, a small group of exhausted hoverboaters were creeping upslope towards the Entrance Hall; in the library, five different people ran five hands across five faces, determined to finish their five different essays on five different subjects or die trying; in the basement of the medieval wing, a fire demon was merrily downing a bottle of pure methanol; in his office, the Chancellor was ending the day with an entirely passable cigar.

It was, in short, a fairly normal evening at Vallnord.

*

If you enjoyed this, there are two more stories with these characters in my profile: Hidden Energies and Crisis and Opportunity.