The Rabbit Dies Pt. 05

As his release wanes, the pulses become harder and harder to distinguish. They blend together into an all-encompassing tense and release of his seed. When it finally ends, they both go slack, Annette into me, Amaru onto the cold stone at his back. Both lack the strength to support themselves. With ginger care, I extract his length from her and set Annette on the stone as well. I hope the cold stone will bring her back to her senses sooner rather than later.

Amaru still waves above the water line, deliberating whether it wants to go fully soft or not. His seed clings to the vein lines, to his head, beading down like a snow melt. Annette did not share with me so I will have to take my cut. Even soft, he fills my mouth. Their combined tastes dance across my tongue and the knot in my core loosens, however slightly. Not all mine, but this mixture, that is certainly heavenly. A few dull throbs pass through my lips as I coax the remnants from him. He sighs and grunts, but anything more sophisticated is lost in the moment. I take my mouthful of seed and savor the heavy, mind-numbing taste. I swallow and let the appetizer settle and spread its warmth through my stomach. He sighs and brushes my hair aside. I kiss his stomach and move away to let him bask in his wonderful after glow.

Annette tries to get her air back in her lungs. Deep, heaving breathes do an adequate job of keeping her heart beating and mind functioning, but she lays on the cold stone like a dead fish. Everything sits open. Her legs are spread and I click my tongue in disgust. After so greedily taking all of Amaru for herself, she doesn't even have the courtesy to hold his gift inside. Better for me at least, as now I can help myself.

More of that same intoxicating scent and taste block out rational thought as I feast on her, that bitter salt mixing with the deep taste of her flesh. The color as well strikes me. That abyssal black, emerald green and pearlescent white colliding within another. I stick out my tongue and lick and kiss and suck her clean. She mewls like a kitten as I lap Amaru's wonderful seed out of her.

"Stop," she moans, "You said we'd share."

"I said you would share. And you decided to go back on that promise. So, your word is now worth nothing and this all reverts to being mine. And do you really want me to stop?"

She slowly shakes her head no as I finish cleaning and tasting and savoring. I do slow down when it becomes apparent that she'll climax again, mainly because I'm concerned that it might actually kill her. But I do leave some to keep filling her and keep the afterglow bright and strong. She sighs and starts snickering again. The air comes back to her and she fills her lungs, and she starts humming again. I pull myself up out of the water and lie beside her. The melody finally clicks again and I hum the words as Amaru joins us on the floor.

"Where have you been?

Been searching all along.

Came facing twilight on and on

Without a clue," we all murmur in the pattering rain, as that wonderful warmth waxes and wanes like the moon.

---

I did not kneel and that was the correct decision. It was the best decision. It was the only decision. I should have stood on my tip toes, just to get as far away from the act of kneeling as possible. A handstand, or strung my neck up from the rafters, something, anything to get me away from the treacherous floor and its terrible instance that I put my knee there and let it stay in some act of deference to a higher power.

The Weavers did not give me the key. A big fuss over absolutely nothing and I hate the fact that my, admittedly fragile, maturity is keeping me from throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler on the grand staircase that leads down onto the main entrance. It would make me look like an absolute jackass, but I imagine it would feel amazing. Even better than yesterday, in some regards. But I do not. I square my shoulders and take a deep cleansing breath and start walking down, already making more plans to get drunk and actually take Amaru to the hilt again and again and again and again until I join lovely Annette in temporary paralysis. And Amaru can play nurse maid to me and I'll feel alright again. I get my hammer from the poor sap who has to deal with my bad mood.

Last night's rain brings out the scent of fresh grass, washing away the scent of the city. That is something to appreciate, I must admit. It helps clear the head and let my disappointment wash away down the stones until it's out of sight. I doubt the bakery would have any more honey cakes, but I bet they would have something. They had banana bread that looked really, really good too. It would be easier to share if I had something to carve and serve.

My steps don't seem to take me as far as I want away from the compound. Full strides, it still feels like full strides, but it's in every which way. I keep moving for a minute, hoping that this is some remnant of drunkenness that is new to me and all it will take for it to disappear is a few more steps. That illusion is shattered as I see a beggar, the beggar, hand out and hair in front of his eyes. I want to take my hammer and bash in his skull, just for the hell of it. It wouldn't do anything, but like a good tantrum, it would almost certainly make me feel better.

Instead, I fish out a handful of metal and toss it to him before sitting at his side.

"I thought I would only have to deal with one of you," I sigh. The beggar laughs and counts the coins.

"I can see why our friend likes you," he says, "Definitely his type. So few of those around him."

"I don't want to think about that. If you're wondering, your guy put up a decent fight. At least, he said he did."

"He didn't. He really didn't. Rabbie's a good man, but he can't keep his word if it was in a bank. But that's all beside the point."

He rummages through the tattered clothes he wears, finding trinkets in pockets that were not there before. Blades of grass, snowflakes unmelted, bits of iron still glowing from the forge, odds and ends picked up from the scavengings of a man whose been to every corner of every world. The hands finally still above his left shoulder and he pulls a rusted key, with a flaming sigil etched on the bow.

"Friend of a friend made this, as a favor to our mutual friend," he says, "Just in case my end fell through. He's been calling in a lot of favors."

I snatch the key and put it somewhere hidden and safe. I can still feel the fresh warmth of the fire that made it.

"And I don't suppose you'll tell me where this key goes."

"In a lock."

Skull. Bashed. Hammer. Happy. Me. Damned. But I would feel so much better after all was said and done. I don't respond. I just wait for him to pick up on the silent option of violence hanging between us and that he does not want that option.

"You really are his type," he laughs, "Go north. Go- "

"The Lilac Frontier. The Burrow," I say. I take one of my hands to my temple and rub.

"As you say. And for what you're supposed to do, that's our friend's business. Not mine."

"I understand. You all have your reasons. Even if they're asinine."

"I think his reason is just that he likes to mess with you. He likes to mess with people he likes."

"Wouldn't be surprised."

"Just make sure you walk," he says, standing up, "This part is where I really can nudge things. Little bit harder on me if you take a horse or a cart. And forget my guy's name. You're not supposed to know it, according to their rules."

I stand as well. I'm taller than him, by a good head. Mostly, it's because his back is bent and crooked. Just for a moment, the hair parts and I see a pair of glittery eyes staring a thousand miles away. He sticks out a knobby, warped hand. I grasp it and feel the energy thrum through the earth and settle in the balls of my feet.

"Safe travels, Verlaine," he says, "I'll make sure of it. Look forward to working with you. And thank you for your generosity. Been a hard day on this corner. Enjoy your long walk."