ElyriasEcstasy (8 page)

Arvra slid her fingers into the woman’s full, rich hair. It
was almost as if its dark color gave it an added density. Her fingertips and
knuckles combed slowly through it as though it were black cream. A fragrance
rose from it, something refined and flowery. Maybe they anointed her before she
was sent in to Rune. Maybe the Shadowflash liked the scent. Arvra certainly
found it appealing.

She lifted her other hand and set it on one of Lavinia’s
bounteous breasts. The nipple was fiercely erect, poking among the mesh of her
draping little garment. She squeezed the full mound, amazed at its firmness.
Lavinia’s mouth opened wider still as her ongoing sigh became a raspy moaning.

Following the glowing points of instinct that led the way
ahead, Arvra slid open Lavinia’s gauzy gown and dropped her mouth down onto
Lavinia’s breast. Her tongue tantalized the thick nipple, then she caught the
bud with her teeth, being gentle and cautious about it, aware of the woman’s
responses. Lavinia’s back arched and the moan twisted into a cry.

Arvra bit harder. She moved to Lavinia’s other breast,
devouring, scraping at the nipple with the mild serration of her two top front
teeth. Lavinia’s body heaved on the cot. She caught Arvra with a cupping hand
at the base of her skull, and Arvra crushed her mouth harder onto the mound.

Hands were tearing at Arvra’s own filmy garment—literally.
She heard fabric ripping and didn’t care. Heat chugged in her body. Moisture
slickened her pussy, already overspilling. The shreds of her clothing were on
the cell’s stone floor. So were Lavinia’s. Wildness blazed in the dark-haired
woman’s eyes. Her mouth was alive with a fearsome predatory grin as she threw
herself full-length atop Arvra, the heavier body pressing her into the cot. At
no point did Lavinia remark on, or even seem to notice, Arvra’s scars.

The warmth of the female’s flesh was intoxicating. More than
that, it was almost a hallucinatory sensation, a crazed carnal sensory
experience, an excitement innately different from what the body of a male could
arouse in her. Lavinia felt vast and soft, and her flattening mass was welcome,
a sweet smothering of womanly sexuality.

Their mouths found each other again and the kiss was feral
and savaging. Arvra closed her hands over the meaty globes of Lavinia’s ass,
squeezing, fingers digging. Her fingertips discovered the delectable valley
between, found the dripping wetness, grazed the brim of her sweet pucker.

Lavinia writhed on top of her at the contact. Teeth clenched
and spittle sprayed. In an animalistic growl she managed to say, “Yeah, fuck!
Finger my ass. Do that, do—”

The fragrant reek of her pussy filled Arvra’s nostrils as
she reached around to seriously delve a fingertip into the woman’s eager
netherhole. Lavinia’s crotch was grinding crazily on Arvra’s pelvic bone, more
pronounced through her tauter flesh. She worked her finger into the female’s
ass, fitting it inside. She sank it in up to one knuckle, then to the next.
There she wriggled the digit about, feeling the clutching ring.

Lavinia, humid and heavy and beautiful atop Arvra, spasmed
through a sudden orgasm. Her writhings nearly spilled her off the cot. A moment
later, dazed and glazed eyes were slowly blinking above Arvra.

“So good…” Lavinia murmured. Her gaze abruptly focused. “You
like it too?”

“I…”

Lavinia levered herself up. Sweat shined on her full
breasts. She was wearing that predator’s grin again. “Roll over,” she panted.

Why not? She rolled over onto her stomach, excitement still
moving in heated rivulets over her body. She craned back her head as Lavinia
moved in behind her, drawing apart her legs, fingers parting the halves of her
trim buttocks. Then the woman with the full, dark hair was lowering her avid
mouth.

Arvra gasped as the tongue touched the ring of her ass.
Lavinia displayed no reluctance, no fear. Her tongue tip drilled into Arvra’s
hole. It was astonishing how deep she got. The eel-like sensation was unlike
anything Arvra could remember. Surely some lover must have rimmed her at some
time in her life, but she couldn’t recall it ever being this intense, this
earnest. Lavinia was practically reaming her with her tongue. Pleasure rose and
rose. Arvra’s pussy streamed in sympathy. The wet sounds of Lavinia’s ravenous
slurping filled the tight stone space. The rising elation abruptly surged in
Arvra, overrunning boundaries and hauling her along into an unexpected come of
her own, one that spilled from this unanticipated source, this dark pleasure
center.

Her cry echoed. Lavinia’s mouth came away and a subtle chill
teased Arvra’s moistened hole. Once again, a bit limply this time, she looked
back over her shoulder. Lavinia’s grin was still in place. Her eyes were
precious stones reflecting an inferno.

Haste took hold. They must do this
now
, Arvra thought
with burning clarity. They must see this thing all the way through, to its
molten ending.

She hopped up, beckoned the larger woman to lie down on the
cot, on her back. Then, as if climbing atop some strange conveyance’s saddle,
Arvra mounted the woman’s body and reversed, dropping her already sopping pussy
toward the waiting mouth, while diving at the other female’s own glistening
folds.

The taste of her womanhood was nectar. It bolted a furious
energy through Arvra. Her tongue raced along Lavinia’s cleft, parting her. Dark
curls tickled Arvra’s nose. Her tongue probed deeper, harder. She treated
Lavinia’s clitoris as she’d earlier treated her nipples, nipping, grazing,
stimulating, then drinking up the rewarding juices hungrily.

Lavinia was eating her out with equal ferocity, and this was
no soft misapprehended imagining of female sex. This was the hard carnality of
human bodies, the needs of the flesh, the gorging and gobbling and greed of a
woman’s mouth. Lavinia’s tongue, working below, swirled forcefully in Arvra’s
pussy, batting at her clit, catching the sensitive bud between her lips, then,
perhaps imitating Arvra, with her teeth, applying exquisite pressure.

Arvra bucked atop. Lavinia shuddered beneath. Hips jerked to
a mutual rhythm. Lips and tongues never tired. Sweat oiled their bodies and
skin slipped on skin.

Cries of nearly simultaneous bliss were muffled against
equitably drenched groins. The pleasure took hold of every part of Arvra’s
body. It lit her with a rapturous glow, brighter than the sunlight that never
quite seemed to fall directly on her border town. Fulfillment poured through
her, streaming out onto Lavinia’s enthusiastic tongue.

Lavinia’s pussy expelled its liquid ecstasy as well, hips
vaulting toward the cool gray ceiling, and Arvra was there to take the honeyed
elixir, swallowing all she could, sating herself and her lover.

Eventually they unbound themselves from each other. Lavinia,
chuckling, looked somewhat stupefied. Arvra oddly felt a twinge of
embarrassment. For herself? For this woman? Neither seemed likely. Maybe it was
simply the lingering shame of finding herself in a jail cell. That was part of
what the Guard did. They tried to mortify you, take away your humanity. Well,
too late for that, Arvra thought with a happy, tired smile as Lavinia clomped
over to the opposite cot and threw herself down onto it and, apparently,
instantly fell into sleep.

Arvra curled onto her side atop her own cot, feeling sleep
coming for her as well, hoping it would claim her while the heat of sex still
warmed her body. The Guard couldn’t take everything from you. Neither could the
Lux, who controlled them—who controlled
every
thing. Neither could the
Weapon with the pale hair and the fey features.

Nobody and nothing, she thought as she shut her eyes, could
take it all away.

* * * * *

They had taken everything from him.

The thought, new in its stark articulation, though familiar
as a subject he’d nursed for some long while, beat in Urna’s skull as he raced
on foot through the city streets. He was not winded, even after dashing a
considerable distance through the streetlight-glowing nighttime.

The Lux lived well. The homes lining the streets down which
he sprinted were like little fortresses, with looming walls and soaring gates.
They looked out on the night through the eyes of magnificent arched windows and
from the vantages of grand terraces. These were places of vast comfort and
lavishness. Inside the great houses, as well as along the avenues, electric
lights burned. No power rationing in these districts. The solar arrays
collected the sunlight and transformed it into electricity through a process of
which Urna knew nothing. The light vaguely reminded him of the fungal
phosphorescence that the Black Ship exuded.

He was escaping through the city. Behind, the alarms had
finally wound down. The alert, though, was surely still on, and he was no doubt
being actively pursued.

Very likely the one person best suited to tracking him would
be set on his trail.

Rune…

But Urna had his speed, his stamina. He would’ve preferred
the streets to be a little darker, but so far he’d managed to make his mad dash
without drawing undue attention. His clothing was nondescript, the sort of
outfit a worker might wear. Hopefully any member of the Lux, roused enough by
the wailing alarms to glance from a window, would merely think him a menial
rushing to attend some urgent repair. He was counting on the indifference of
these wealthy fucks.

With the alarms at last silent, the city was still. He found
very few signs of activity as he ran past the gated house fronts. Just the
occasional liveried servant tending some chore out of doors. Urna was barely
spared a look.

He still had the firearm with him and he would use it if
necessary. He listened above the steady tattoo of his bootfalls and the even
heaving of his breaths, straining to detect sounds of pursuit. It would be the
Guard. That would be the logical move. The Guard handled domestic disturbances.
Urna was military, true, but this was the Safe, and the Guard were supposed to
deal with whatever happened within the borders of the Safe. That wouldn’t stop
Rune from coming after him, though. Urna thought it not at all unlikely that
Aphael Chav himself would have personally dispatched the Shadowflash to find
his wayward Weapon.

They’d taken everything from him. Yes. They
had
. Who
the “they” were in that blunt statement, however, Urna wasn’t sure. But his
memories had certainly been tampered with. He’d known this. Rune had known it
too. Childhood was a hopeless blur. Adolescence was hazy at best. Only his life
as a soldier had any real clarity and even that was muddled somewhat by the
drugs the doctors continuously fed him.

Urna patted the pocket where the last of his pills were. If
he was jonesing for the dope he couldn’t feel it yet. Adrenaline was serving as
a neat substitute right now. Later, though…

They had done something to him. They had taken his life.
They had robbed him of the reassurance of his memories, of whatever life he had
lived before becoming a Weapon. Why? Why had they done it? To shape him into
what they wanted, probably. And this, then, must be what they wanted. The
superhuman Weapon, the slayer of Passengers. Champion of the people.

Teeth appeared in a wicked grin that cut across Urna’s face.
“They” might be the officers who ran the Weapon/Shadowflash program, might be
the Lux, might be the Toplux himself. Urna didn’t know, though he intended to
find out.

At least, he thought as he grinned harder, he had given his
manipulators a shock tonight by going over the compound’s fence.

By now he had crossed several miles of the city. From views
of this Lux stronghold which he’d gotten when he and Rune were aloft with their
wings, he had a rough idea of the scope of the city. A map would’ve served him
well but he’d had no way of getting hold of one. He would manage. Right now he
was only concerned with putting as much distance as possible between himself
and the Citadel. Rune could detect him within a mile’s radius. But outside of
that he would be invisible to the Shadowflash.

Rune. Rune. They’d taken everything from him too, but evidently
he didn’t care. Or at least Rune was perfectly willing to go along with the
life that their manipulators had constructed.

Poor deluded fucker.

Urna threw off the impulse toward pity. He came to a street
corner and abruptly halted. There was a wheeled vehicle idling at the curb a
short distance away. Its electric engine hummed quietly. Its hatch was open.

His heart made a steady hammering in his chest. Even with
his considerable physical endurance he felt the strain in his leg muscles.
Sweat dotted his forehead and he drew several long breaths as he scouted the
street. A door in the spiked gate of a nearby palatial home had been left wide
as well. Perhaps the car’s driver was making a delivery. Stupid to leave the
vehicle unattended—although, not really, he immediately amended. This was the
city of the Lux, those who wielded political power within the Safe. No one here
would be expecting a crime to be committed.

On soundless feet now Urna glided forward toward the yawning
hatch. The Guard would be after him in similar vehicles, but if he could stay
ahead of them this escape might prove successful after all.

Just before he slipped inside the conveyance, he detected a
faint buzzing on the night air. Though he could just barely hear it, it was
definitely there, and quite familiar. A set of wings in flight. Rune, up there
in the sky, circling, looking for him.

Urna. Urna…

The ghost voice yet again. This time, though, it might
actually have been Rune, at the very edge of the Shadowflash’s ability to
project his voice to Urna’s ears. A note of desperation sounded in the voice,
real or imagined.

Urna shut the hatch and worked the levers that set the car
into motion. He steered it through the quiet, glowing streets. The electric
battery should last some while. As he neared the city’s limits, he turned down
a narrow alley, one that fed out onto a vacant lot. The roads would have
checkpoints. It might be necessary for him to ditch the car. But no. He saw a
way. The lot was bordered on its far end by a junkyard. Refuse similar to what
he’d seen in the Unsafe cities was piled in moldering heaps. He carefully
maneuvered the droning vehicle among the mounds. Eventually he reached a
stretch of grass, an unguarded field. He crept the car across it.