The Rabbit Dies Pt. 05

I fill my mouth with the bitter salt of his seed, letting it sit heavy on my tongue. My core twitches as it heads and my mind stops working. Naked. We both need to be naked and writhing and touching and kissing and the heavy seed should be in my womb, filling me. The taste of him dancing on my tongue, filling my mind with his scent is nice, euphoric in its own way, but not what we were made for. Both of his arms move to my waist as I feel the wet patch of his release soak into my skin.

"Are you going to drink that," Annette asks. She doesn't wait for a reply. She decides that Amaru's cup has gone untouched long enough to enter the space of commons. Unfortunately, she has to get up and reach over the table and in her current state, that demands that the arm bump against the table and knock over the cup, sending now warm beer spilling across our collective lap.

The spell is broken and I want to break something else. I reach for my hammer and find Amaru again. He grunts in pain as my grip is a little too tight to be pleasurable and the newfound sensitivity makes it pain. I let go and finally move from my throne.

"I'm so sorry," she says, "I'll go get a towel or something."

"It's fine. It's fine," he says, "I was honestly thinking about heading to the barracks anyway. I need a bath or something."

---

I shed the soaked clothes as soon as I enter into the bath house. Apparently, I am important enough to get my own private set. A depression the size of a horse stable sits in front of me, steam rising from the water. The storm broke as we passed the halfway point from the beer garden. Might have missed the rain if Amaru had the ability to move a bit faster, but his incessant erection made any quick movements a bit of wishful thinking at best. Still, helped hide the inevitable stain and might have made washing the thing a bit easier. That's a servant's problem now, though, and they have my sympathy. More honey cakes should soothe any ill will. Those things could solve any problem.

I stand for a moment and stretch, the cold rainwater still clinging to my skin. Stone, so much stone in the room, all polished and mirror. How many hands, how many hours spent on that simple task? For something that I barely even register and that the others wouldn't even notice at all. I suppose it's one of those things that is not supposed to be noticed. If you notice the floor, then it's a bad floor. Gritty or dirty or sticky in the bad way never seems to go over well. I shuffle over to the water. I almost trip on the stone. Too polished to give my bare feet any grip. But I don't fall. I never fall.

I sigh as I slip into the warm, let the water flow around me and start to seep into me. Better, so much better than the cold rain seeping into me. Almost as good as feeling Amaru's seed on my skin while it's hot. But warm water, completely immersing is also acceptable. My feet find the floor of the stone basin and I spread as far as I can. Mine, all of this is mine with the pattering of rain and the distant rumble of thunder, full of beer and honey cakes and I really need something more substantial in my stomach before too long. My arms wind long along the lip of the bath, the cold stone contrasting wonderfully with the warm water.

I hear the soft click of the latch and the heavy footsteps of Amaru bounce over the stone.

"Took you long enough," I sigh. I have no desire to open my eyes and break the dream of warm water at the moment. Just another handful of seconds to soak and ease and wash away the long day, the long weeks of travel and blood. The warm sea takes it all and drags it to the deepest black abyss where it will never, ever rise again.

"You're terrible," he says, suggesting nothing of the sort, "At least Dantea kept it to a bed."

"You need to open your mind. So many other places. Bar, river, inn, hilltop under the trees, battlefield."

"I don't think a battlefield would be a good place."

"I agree, but it's something I've thought about. And if I can pull it off, I'd imagine it would be amazing."

He slips in the water next to me, letting that same sigh come from his chest.

"They put something in this water, right? They have to."

"No clue. Don't think so. Don't really care either way."

I shift over to him and he takes the cue to put his arm around me. I feel the dense muscle settle across my neck. Well defined and hard, so good and strong and dense, it's all so wonderful.

"You're so much better naked," I say. That gets a deep rumbling chuckle from his chest.

"I am aware. And you're better naked too." I hum and lay my head on his shoulder. His heartbeat thumps in my mind and I could just die here in peace and let the world turn forever and ever. He takes his lips to the top of my head and it sends tingles down my spine. I lean my head up and find his lips. He still tastes like beer and the way it mixes with the taste of his mouth makes drunk all over again. He pulls away and smiles soft and sweet and warm and I melt into the water.

"Why am I the last to join cuddle puddle," Annette says. She joins us in the warm water, immediately dunking herself and letting the drops roll down her skin. The clear black tears sparkle like molten onyx. Her own sigh of wonderful release is ugly and grating and primal and I can't help but appreciate it against the measured rumble and soft wind.

She moves to the center of the pool, lying on her back, letting the water take her weight. Her breasts stick above the water and flow to the side. The horn of obsidian and emerald juts arrogantly to pierce the ceiling.

"Is this as good for you as it is for me," she asks. We all agree.

"I should also get a thank you, by the way," Annette continues, "Saved your asses back at the bar."

"You knew," Amaru sputters.

"Of course, I knew. He was panting like a mutt and you had that look on your face that you always get when you're horny."

"I don't have a horny face."

"Yeah, you kind of do," Amaru the traitor says, "You kind of clench your jaws and your eyes kind of close and your gaze just goes, I don't know, dark? Annette, is that a good word?"

"I'd say more vicious, although dark works. You look hungry, like ravenous, eat the whole cow raw and then the horse and the entire hen house hungry. I like it. Amaru, you have something similar, although it's a little angrier. I like that too."

She floats to the other end of the pool, nudges her foot and comes sailing back. Her horn almost pierces Amaru's heart.

"See, you both have it right now."

I grab her wrist and pull her into our shared space, wedging a hold between me and Amaru. He doesn't object and neither does she. She immediately comes to kiss my collar and neck.

"And now it's even worse," she hums, before nipping the skin.

"Y'know, I've been thinking," Annette continues, "I've been kind of left out for a bit, haven't I? I mean, I get it. Some big reunion between the two of you and that stage play was kind of a two-man act. But how long since we've had some fun, Cottontail?"

"Cottontail?" Amaru asks.

"No clue. She started after we ran into each other on a job and now she won't stop."

"And since I think I want to play with you now, Amaru, I need something to call you. Any suggestions?"

"Mom calls me Ammy."

"That is a lot to process. And not calling you what your mom calls you. I think I have it though."

Her hands dart under the water and I watch as Amaru freezes once more. Her fingers find his length at rest. A moment of fishing, and she hefts him free from the bath, letting the weight drape over her outstretched palms. He hangs limp, although I can see the pulse through the veins slowly changing that.

"Lop Ear. I mean look at this thing. I'm surprised Cottontail can take it. Even when it's like this, it's so heavy. I can't even wrap my hands around it. Look."

She hefts it. Vein and pulse the heartbeat of drumming life in her palms. I feel the dark hunger in my core start to rise. And my teeth are clenched. Never noticed that fact. I don't see a reason to unclench them. Annette likes it. She also marvels at his size, that slow growth of flesh taking the weight from her palms. My own hand reaches out and joins hers, finally giving him enough to be encircled. I look to him and there is that look. And it is a bit angry, but a puppy dog angry. Doesn't have quite the confidence behind it to be threatening. I lean up and kiss him while his length jumps and twitches.

"I think he likes that, Cottontail," Annette says, "Do it again."

I interpret that as a suggestion, not an order. And either way, it is a good idea. I move a bit closer, drawing myself up his body. Hard, so hard and line, everything about him is chiseled and sculpted perfectly. Just the slightest give to him though, my hands sink an inch into him. I can feel the twitch of his length, his width travel through his body and I taste him again. I taste him deep down into my core and I am drunk on him with bloody lust. I bite his ear and the final twitch stammers his breath cold and still. Annette takes a sharp inhale.

"Wow," she whispers. In the silence of the bath, it echoes like a church bell.

She looks to me and the question is asked with no words. She has to know. She has to try. Frankly, just asking is enough. I have the key to the gates that lead to him and she knows better than to try and force her way through.

"I have to try," she whispers again. It's almost to convince herself. Something so immense and so massive had to be tried and experience, if only because it is there.

"One rule," I say, "Amaru, this is more your deal. Don't finish inside. That's for me."

She lets a low whine escape, her disappointment plain and apparent. I understand. I really do. Which is why I have made that concession. That knot, that ugly vile knot of hatred, isn't there. That was reserved just for Dantea and her smug, halfhearted conquering. As this is now mine, I may divvy and parse as I see fit. And if she wants any of it, then she will have to accept those terms.

"Can I swallow it?" she asks, and that is a very good retort. I ponder the terms.

"Yes, but you have to share." She nods and breaks out into a wide eager grin. Amaru doesn't seem to have much to say about this. I slowly break from Amaru and let Annette take my place. For the moment I watch. I let her straddle him, lacing her arms around his shoulders and she steals his lips for a moment. That knot does not make its appearance. Only a dull glowing warm from the water seeps outside in and inside out and everything starts tingling and lighting up and shimmering within me.

"Are you going to choke me out," she asks.

"Not planning on it."

"You did threaten to bash my skull on several occasions."

"Mainly because that was an active fight. And that's what you do in fights. And you were on the other side of the fights. And now you're not. You're supposed to be riding him. Are you stalling?"

"No." A little crack as the voice fades determines the lie, bold and plain, plastered in the air.

"Good. He's ready. Right, Amaru?"

He nods and huffs and I am looking at a prize stallion leashed and tamed in the stable. I move, rippling the warm water in glorious circles.

"I think you need a little help, Annette."

She nods and trembles. I grasp his length and it feels hot, boiling hot, burning singing blazing hot, while her entrance weeps in terrified excitement. I line them up and Annette gasps and shudders as his head plays with her lips. She hugs his neck tight. Her back tenses and locks into place. I take my hands to her hips and start pushing down as Amaru bucks upward.

Slowly, glacially, we work him into her. Immediately, she starts shaking and trembling, hissing like a tea kettle at the spread and open part of Amaru's invasion. It takes her several minutes, but he gets past the head and waits for the shaking to stop and her mind to become all her own again.

"Claire," she moans, "You're insane. Amaru, you're insane. How did you do that? How did Dantea do this? Part of me wants to say halfway, but I know that's just the head."

She moans deep in her chest as she twirls her hips, trying to work more and more of him inside. I watch the weeping tears of pleasure bead down his shaft, tracing veins and bends like rivers through mountains. She settles down again and her breathing steadies once more to a gentle rise and fall. She pulls her hips up an inch and starts the descent on her own once more.

Every bit of territory gained is a slaughter against her. Spread so wide, spread so open and shifting, Amaru keeps advancing. He keeps it slow, as slow as he possibly can. And my hands go to her stomach as I trace his path on the outside. I trace the shape he makes in her belly, distending her stomach. One palm glances up to her breast and starts circling, trying to get her mind away from him, however slightly. She goes down past the head, past the fringe, still gliding herself down.

She hits the quarter mark and stops once more.

"I hate you both so much," she groans. That pulls a chuckle from Amaru.

"You're the one who hopped on," he says.

"You're ruining me. It'll never be the same. And you laugh, you jackass."

Against my wishes, she rises a bit, letting the stretch sink into the shallows of her. Both palms go to her chest, pinching and twisting and pulling. She cannot escape the delicious agony of our existence crashing into her.

"We haven't even started," I purr, "Do you want to stop?"

"Oh gods no. If I can walk after this, I will never stop rubbing it in. Give it to me, Lop Ear."

I sigh and smirk and look to him. I nod and he returns and his hands go to her waist, lifting her up just a bit more. Like an avalanche, he pushes her down, more and more and more and more of his length disappearing into her. I feel the bulge in her stomach crawl ever upwards, ever high, past her navel, almost to her rib cage, where it simply hits a dead end.

"Mistake," she squeals, "Big mistake. Oh gods, worst idea."

She's just past the halfway mark, just past the claimed line of someone else. Still not all the way. That is still just reserved for me and me alone.

"I think that's her limit," Amaru growls. Must be frustrating in its own way. He knows, he knows that there can be more for him. Not with this one though. Another failed attempt to claim him.

"Don't be like that," I say, "She's doing so good. Better than I thought she would even. So, you bottom out a bit before you want to. That's no reason to stop."

"Mistake," Annette gasps, "but I didn't get to where I am by making good choices."

He shrugs and lifts her again, taking that wonderful protrusion of her stomach and letting it lie flat again. With a smooth turn, she flips around and faces me. As she descends, he gets a bit deeper. Worth it probably, but I think that is just her limit. There might be a way to train her more, but that's for later. Now, there is work to be done.

Amaru starts his dance in earnest, simple up and down, in and out again and again, picking up the pace as gradually as his instincts allow. Annette tries to help and I admire the effort if nothing else. She tries to match the rhythm the out and in with her own rise and fall, but it's weak, amounting to nothing more than a soft suggestion of more to come. But she keeps trying, face scrunched and teeth gritted against the invasion.

I like this new position for her. I watch her face contort and stretch, just as her stomach does. I can play with her now, pinching and fondling, kissing and stroking, adding devilish texture to the battering ram bass drum rhythm. Harmony and melody over tempo, all concepts she knows so well. And it all works so well against her.

She can't find the tempo. It rushes or drags and she wants it to be steady and clear. Once the foundation is established, then flourishes can be built on top. But there is no art here. Brutal destruction and the simple joy of desolation, that is all we are and she is falling down into it. The gritted teeth soften and the lips part and open. It's laughter, it's pure and simple joy at the world so much larger than her.

The tremors start in her stomach and rise up to her chest. Her arms go to me and pull me from the water and to her lips and I drink of her from her. It tastes manic high and rainbow pastel as the lust from her own release pours into me. Amaru does not stop. He cannot stop. Only half of him is accepted and he has to compensate. As she climaxes and her own release sprays to my stomach his quakes grow faster and faster and faster, putting more and more strength into his hips. Water spills over the lip of the bath.

More and more of her weight falls on me as her climax ends and even when he keeps thrusting, she lets out a dreary eyed sigh that sounds like a death rattle. I kiss her again, turning the noise to a muffle moan.

"Why," she whines.

"Why what?" I ask, biting her lips, her ears, her shoulder, her neck.

"I don't know. I just have to ask a question. Why would the world be like this?" each word shifts between a laugh and a sob, a snicker and a cough, breaking the syllables down into staccato snares.

"I think she likes you, Ammy," I say. He grunts and settles into his final rhythm.

A little bit faster than the previous, strokes going a bit deeper than she can handle. This is for him and him alone. Her pleasure, her pain doesn't matter. Her eyes lose focus and her grin turns lopsided and drunk. The shakes of another release pour through her. I occupy myself with her lips, her tongue with my own, tasting everything, taking everything through her. When she stops responding, I move on. Amaru is focused on her, the dark, dark skin of charcoal and ash, beading sweat and noise hammered from the core of this creature. His is not much more sophisticated than that. A rut, a simple rut of a female that isn't quite enough for him. His mind is still present enough to taste me as I taste him. Wild and raging, a storm housed in pale blue skies, he tastes like a mountain range collapsing into white water rapids.

With a heavy sigh of disappointment, I sense his own quakes through her. It's inevitable and they will both break that one rule I set. But it just seems cruel to deprive them of that. And while I may be vicious, I am not cruel. And I don't think I could muster the strength to pry him off without hurting one or the other more than they would care for. So, I let them at it.

He grunts and chuffs like a beast, hands pulling Annette close. He almost crushes her. Bone pressed distention of flesh, gritted teeth and clenched jaws, both use every bit of their remaining energy to bring out one more trip over the void.

With one final thrust, still stopped short only halfway and a half, Amaru moans with the deep bass rumble that threatens to collapse the ceiling on top of us. Annette just laughs, manic and high and winding as her mind fails to understand that her body is going through all of this and reaming in one piece. Her own release joins her first, running rivers down my stomach, through the lines of my hardened muscles. She collapses into me. All of her strength is gone and only the remaining movement is pathetic twitches of the body trying to prove itself as still alive.

Amaru's takes a bit more time to become evident. The waves start to build for the tidal wave collision from his core. I watch the pulse travel up his exposed length. I savor the shocks of his seed hitting depths and it finally ignites some strange version of that bitter knot that the demon tied. Not that it happened, but that it happened before my turn, that the rules I set were broken. The idea of sending Amaru out to pasture does tickle something within me, but that is for later. Right now, I just content myself with the show, watching pulse after pulse detonate within her and try to keep her upright. The shape of him through her stomach blurs and rounds as more and more of that heavy seed settles in her depths.