The Catch

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is an authorized, but unofficial sequel to Groade's story "The Chase". I strongly suggest that you read his story first. While the one before you now can be read on its own, you will profit from reading "The Chase" first.

All characters of legal age (18+).

The hotel room shuddered as a truck thundered by. Shadows danced to life, chased across the room by the headlights, but Lindsay did not stir. He only heaved a sigh once the squalid little room had quivered back into silence and darkness.

Weeks, even months of headless, precipitate flight had taken the fight out of him. It mattered little that in this short time span his savings had melted like snow in the summer sun. It mattered little that he was running out of ideas where to hide next. The truth was, Lindsay was tired. Too tired.

In the evenings, after waking up, the face of a stranger looked back at him from the mirror. Instead of the spunky, doe-eyed, well-groomed youth he was used to see, he was greeted by a scruffy, tired, ashy face with a distant, far-gone stare.

At night he kept passing back and forth between bleary-eyed waking moments and minutes of fitful, dream-filled sleep. From time to time, he would press his burning forehead against the cool window of whatever bus or train he found himself on. But soon, his neck would ache and he would slump back into that feverish languor.

During the days, he curled up on whatever cheap bed he could find, the door locked and bolted, the blinds shut. At times, he would start at the slightest sound, fearing that he had been caught up with. At other times, he would lay in a drowsy, indifferent stupor, staring into the darkness for hours without moving.

Outside, the bus arrived with a hiss and a squeak. This was the night-line bus Lindsay was supposed to be catching, but he sat still on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. The bus departed with a laboured roar -- but without Lindsay, for Lindsay was tired. Too tired.

For how long he sat there, he could not say. Only the smarting of his wrists told him that time was passing at all, but still he would not stir.

Nor did he stir when there was a tiny, metallic scrape at the door: The bolt slowly, carefully slid back on its own, as though unlocked by an unseen hand. Then, the key began to turn in the lock, and with a cold click the door was unlocked.

Lindsay didn't even need to look to know what was going on, nor did he care. He had seen it happen so often now...

The door swung open, and there she was. As Lindsay peered through between his fingers, he felt -- guiltily -- a twinge of relief that she had caught up, that there was nowhere for him to run: At least it meant an end to all the exertion. At least he wouldn't have to bother anymore.

Sifania, for her part, simply stood there. Something was different this time, and she could sense it. Lindsay wasn't trying to run, or to fend her off. Usually, he always had some new and useless trick up his sleeve, some resource, some little hope. Not this time. He just sat there, slumped over, resigned, tired.

Although a Sidhe might neither reason nor feel quite in the strange and crooked ways of a human, Sifania definitely felt a sharp pang as she saw him like this: A pang of pity, of compassion, of sadness.

And so, she did something she had never done before with him. With a kick of her heel, she closed the door; and kicking off her shoes, she sauntered over to the bed, dropping her purse, and her jacket, and taking off the soft leather gloves on the way there. And then she simply sat down next to Lindsay, sliding one arm around him, her sleek, claw-tipped fingers digging into the soft side of his slim belly.

She smiled bitterly as he started at her touch, and his body grew taut with suspense, and fear. Still, he hid his face in his hands, and still he would not look at her.

"Lindsay," she murmured softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I cannot do this anymore," he muttered into his hands.

Sifania lifted her head, staring at him through the silvery bangs that covered her eyes, but remained silent.

"I'm tired, so tired. I don't want to run anymore. I don't want any of this, I-", he trailed off.

The fae slowly tugged his hands from his face, squeezing his hands with her long, pale fingers. In Lindsay's eyes, there was neither defiance, nor anger, just a deep, hopeless resignation. Sifania stared back at him, the golden glow of her eyes shining through the wisps of hair that ended just above the tip of her nose.

"I am growing weary of this as well," she conceded with that ancient, melodic accent of hers. "For a while, the chase had its own merit, and your resourcefulness gave it zest. But no more."

"Then why do you keep doing this?" Lindsay whispered. "Just let me go home, just leave me be."

The Mahdron Sidhe crinkled her cute nose, and her perfect lips parted into a smile, revealing two rows of razor-sharp fangs.

"We've been over this, my sweet. I follow you, because you are my lover. My chosen male. My groom. I love you, and you will love me, eventually. It is our destiny."

At these words, a spark of willpower seemed to return to Lindsay. He shook his head and protested:

"No, no, no. That's nonsense! If you loved me, you would respect my wishes. If you loved me, you wouldn't hurt me each time we are together!"

Her smile vanished.

"It wouldn't hurt if you wouldn't resist me."

"I wouldn't resist if you wouldn't hurt me," Lindsay hissed. His weary eyes lit up with anger.

Again, Sifania's lips curled into that fangs-bared, unnerving leer.

"It would seem we have reached an impasse," she murmured in her musical, lilting tone. "But you will have to accept that fact, too, eventually. You resist -- my body senses it. You try to escape -- my body holds you in place. It is nothing I can control."

She paused and her forked tongue moistened her lips, lightning-quick.

"Just think back yourself: So long as you were willing, did you not always feel pleasure? And did it not only hurt when you resisted? It is your own behaviour alone that causes you pain."

Lindsay averted his gaze, staring at his hands, and at her claws holding them.

"I'm scared of you, Sifania." He said it as simply as it was.

"Don't be," she replied just as simply. To her, it was all so easy!

"I'm scared of falling under your sway, and what you might do to me if I give in," he insisted sullenly. "I'm scared of the pain. If you really do love me, don't hurt me anymore," he implored her with a subdued whisper.

The Sidhe sighed. She loved Lindsay, but she did not love useless repetition.

"I won't, so long as you don't resist."

She stood up abruptly, and roughly pulled her top off over head. For a split-second, Lindsay caught a glimpse of those feral, brightly glowing eyes as the top brushed her hair aside, and he dry-swallowed. Sifania hastily undressed, dropping her pencil skirt to her ankles, impatiently tearing off her stockings, until at last, she stood there in all her naked glory.

Despite himself, Lindsay could not help but admire her unearthly beauty. She stretched her perfect, lithe form in the moonlight, glorying in his gaze. She saw his gaze wander over her pert little breasts, and she cupped them in her disturbingly long fingers with an inviting purr. She spun round, showing him her back as she stretched herself long; an athletic, inviting back -- but covered in a host of mean, short spikes, like the thorns of a rose. She grinned at him over her shoulder, and that sweet, alluring smile, and that lovely, soft chin and those perfect, pale lips almost let him forget what lay hidden under the hair that covered the upper half of her face.

She turned round again, a tiny sway of her hips inviting him to look further down, his eyes racing over her white, almost diaphanous skin, to her taut belly that sported no navel, and below that the silvery, tufty triangle of hair.

He stared at her graceful legs as she sidled closer to him, and he gave a surprised little squeak when she ripped his shirt open in one go, not bothering to unbutton it. She ran her sleek, pale hands through his golden hair, pressing his face against her belly, and she giggled when she felt his stubbles tickling her. Even in this disconsolate, dishevelled state he was incredibly sexy to her.

She gave another inviting purr, and he could feel her tummy vibrate softly against his lips. Just then, Lindsay awoke from his sullen stupor. He planted kiss after tiny kiss on her belly, part of him hoping that his surrender would appease her, would spare him that infernal pain this time -- and another part of him was genuinely, incredibly turned on.

Sifania gently tugged at his hair, urging him to his feet. As soon as he stood upright, she tore his jeans apart faster than he could look, again in just one swift go. He stood there, naked, aroused, confused by his conflicting feelings: Fear and passion, worry and desire.

Another guttural purr escaped her throat as her glowing gaze passed over his lean body. Always on the slim side, the exertion of the past weeks had only made him leaner; but as her hands followed her gaze, Sifania found that there were still plenty of soft spots here and there.

To her delight, Lindsay began to respond to her caresses. His touches were tentative at first, trying to work his hands around the massy thorns on her back. But when she drew him into a tight embrace and nuzzled the side of his neck -- kissing, licking, nibbling -- he abandoned all apprehensions. The nagging voice that used to yell warnings at him from the recesses of his mind was silent, and Sifania's unwonted tenderness drew him to her with the irresistible force of a strange magnetism.

He tried to wrap his arms around her, but immediately winced as the spikes on her back pricked his arms, and he squirmed and shifted until his arms settled into an awkward, but delightful embrace: his one arm wrapped around the back of her head, urging her to continue pleasuring his neck, his other hand resting on her derriere.

Now it was Lindsay's turn to purr with delight, his head tossed back, his eyes closed. He moaned softly as the forked tip of her tongue danced under his earlobe. He giggled as her fangs tickled him when she gnawed on his trapezius, and he gasped when she bit down a little harder, the points of her fangs pinching him like so many tiny needles.

Only once the side of his neck glistened with her spit she let up. Without a word, they stared at each other for a while, until Lindsay responded to her amorous leer with a wan, furtive smile. He tried to brush her hair out of her face, wanting to see her eyes, but she caught his hand in hers.

"Not yet, lover," she whispered.

And with a strength that belied her slender body, she pushed him down onto the bed by his shoulders, making him sit on its edge. Quickly, she moved onto him kneeling over his lap with her legs on either side of his hips. She smooshed his face into her chest, and while he kissed her snow-white breasts, he felt a warm, womanly soft hand gripping and caressing his erection, and he sighed with delight: Had she always been this tender with him, he would never have thought of fleeing her...

Sifania leaned her forehead against his, and Lindsay waited in vain to feel those bony ridges that sloped over her brows, contorting her face into an eternal, savage scowl. He could only make out the yellow glow of her eyes shining through her silver hair while she softly nudged and rubbed the tip of her nose against his, making soft, reassuring sounds.

Nonetheless, Lindsay tensed up as she slowly lowered herself onto him, his apprehension and his fear returning with a force.

Sifania held onto him roughly, unwilling to let go now, and sat herself completely down in his lap. Although her sex was so slick and wet that he slid into her with ease, he whimpered at the painful tightness. Instinctively, his hands reached for her hips to pry her off him, but her body sensed his intentions and clamped down on him savagely.

"Ow, Sifania, please..." he yelped.

"Don't resist now," she growled into his ear, crushing him against her, her fingers digging at his back.

With all the little strength and willpower he possessed, he slid his arms around her, pressing himself against her, hugging her against him. He whined as the thorns on her back stung his arms.

But then, the Sidhe's body realized he was no longer fighting her, and all at once, the pain was gone. The thorns on her back receded into sizable, but perfectly smooth bumps. Her vagina relaxed its strangling grip, softly embracing him instead. Sifania's taut, sleek form now felt unspeakably soft and warm, inviting him to melt right into her.

"There, Lindsay, that's better," the fae murmured into his ear, licking his earlobe. Lindsay gave a little moan, and another, louder moan followed as she began to move.

Sifania loosely rested her arms on his shoulders, smiling at her chosen mate. His velvety, soft moans were the most delicious melody she had ever heard. His willing surrender -- so long had she dreamt of it -- turned the loving glow in her heart into an all-consuming fire. Finally, she thought, this sweet man, her destined lover, was hers, and now he would feel what pleasure a Mahdron Sidhe could bestow...

"Oh, Sifania, oh!" he moaned, her slow, steady rocking motions driving his pleasure higher and higher, washing away any memory of the pain she had caused him before. She again hugged him tightly, both lovers caressing each other blindly, drunk on their mutual lust.

Sifania drew Lindsay into a deep, soulful kiss, and he moaned into her mouth: At the same time as her forked tongue softly played with the tip of his tongue, her sex tightened once more. But this time, her vagina held him very gently, trying to pull his seed from him with its soft, milking grip.

Once more she lifted her hips, and once more she brought them down, taking him inside to the hilt. Lindsay again moaned into her kiss, louder than ever before, and she held still as his slender body stiffened and shuddered in her embrace, knowing she had won. He clung to her, desperately, trying to snuggle up to her as closely as possible as his climax hit.

He broke the kiss and gasped for air, only to again cry her name with each successive spurt he shot into her welcoming sex.

"Yes, Lindsay, that's it, let me have all your pleasure," she murmured in her ancient tongue, weaving a spell into those words, a spell that would keep him ejaculating inside her until she would decide he'd had enough.

"Oh, Sifania-ah-ah-ah!"

Lindsay moaned and sighed her name over and over as spurt after spurt was milked from him by her vagina. The pleasure that coursed through his body left him reeling, stars dancing before his eyes, but more importantly it breathed a glow of genuine, tender affection for the Sidhe into his heart. He squirmed in her arms as she showered his face with wet kisses, sending fresh sparks of pleasure to his loins, but soon it was more than he could bear.

"There, there," she murred happily.

Sifania noticed that he was about to swoon with pleasure, and she smiled. Pressing him against her, she murmured an ancient word, and suddenly -- Lindsay could not tell how -- they were lying on the bed, Sifania on her back, Lindsay lying atop of her, joined as tightly by the hips as ever. Their embraces mirrored each other: One hand caressing a shoulder blade, the other groping at a shapely tush. With each well-timed squeeze Sifania gave Lindsay's rear, he delivered another delicious spurt into his supernatural lover, and each time he moaned her name, and she gasped and purred with delight, knowing that he was falling deeper, and deeper under her sway.

At last, he came down from his high -- the most wonderful he'd ever felt, without doubt -- and he lay on her, his body going limp in her arms, and he still moaned and panted her name in appreciation.

This time it was her turn to muss up his hair, to caress him with tiny touches, to bathe him in tender kisses until he was half asleep.

"Was it better this time?" she murmured "No pain, as I promised, right?"

"Mmm-hmmm," he hummed, already in a deep, languid state of relaxation. "You were wonderful."

Sifania grinned over his shoulder, petting the back of his head. No, she would resist the urge to get him hard and willing again right now. She would let him rest. She brought her mouth very close to his ear:

"Then promise," she whispered, "promise that you will not run from me again."

Lindsay purred his consent.

When Sifania awoke, dawn was already breaking. She could tell even with her eyes closed from the racket outside, the birds singing their lungs out, the traffic on the road. She stretched herself long on the bed.

"Lindsay?"

She pawed around herself on the bed, still not opening her eyes, groping for her lover. Her hand met a warm spot on the mattress, but no Lindsay. The Sidhe's eyes blinked open, and she immediately realized that there was no Lindsay. He was gone. Even his duffle bag was no longer by the bedside. She sat up abruptly, listening for any sound of him -- maybe he was just taking a shower?

But there were only the birds, and the cars passing by outside.

Sifania's heart sank. Oh how she longed to finally wake up next to him! As powerful as she was, the Mahdron Sidhe could have had almost anything she wanted, but the one thing she wished for eluded her: Lindsay's love. She could easily have chained him to the bed with a spell, preventing him from running away, but she wanted him to stay with her willingly. She could easily have used the sway she gained over him to make him follow her, as though on a string, but she wanted him to be with her on his own accord. She didn't want a puppet -- she wanted a willing lover.

She drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin in her arms. He had promised to stay with her, and now he was gone. She had tried to show him her tender side, hoping that it would relieve him of his fear. And yet...

Finally, she got up and went to take a shower. She had been through this exact situation often enough, but this time -- after the moments of warmth and gentleness they had shared, after the promise he had given and broken -- it was especially bitter. As the water purled over her face, she just wanted to cry with disappointment.

A muffled sound woke her from her sad reverie. She immediately turned off the shower, and listened intently.

"Lindsay?" she whispered quietly.

Again, there was a muffled sound, and she thought she heard Lindsay call for her.

"LINDSAY?!" she yelled, and her voice sounded strange and choked, her heart moving up into her throat.

The bathroom door opened, and Lindsay stood there, holding his duffle bag in one hand, running his other hand through his hair in embarrassment, and tried an apologetic smile. He saw Sifania gnaw on her lip, and had immediately guessed everything from that, and from her cry of his name.

Sifania made a tiny, strangled sound, but only continued to bite her lip.

"I was, you see..." he guiltily pointed to his duffle bag. "My laundry...at the coin laundry...while you were asleep..."

She barely comprehended what he was saying; all she understood was that he was back, and that he was sorry. She didn't need to hear more.

The Sidhe suddenly pounced forward, crushing Lindsay against her. She pulled him under the shower, with his clothes on and all, turning the warm water back on.

She kissed him madly, sighing between two kisses, glad that the water streaming over her face would hide her tears of relief. Within seconds his clothes were drenched with water, and she giggled as she played with his wet t-shirt: Once white, now semi-translucent.