Authors: Gray Miller
Tags: #thriller, #action, #bdsm, #sex magic, #rope bondage, #kink, #graydancer
Her hands were placed on
his chest, palms on either side of his sternum, and his decorated
arms encircled her like a ballet dancer
en
face
, his palms flat and fingers spread
over each shoulder blade. Neither of them were looking at him; in
fact, they were the exact opposite of his nightmare, their eyes
locked into each other as they moved.
“I am responsible for my
selfish actions last night, and would make amends. How can I help
you,
Man
?” There
was a soft remonstrative noise from Sullivan at that, and she
sighed again, repeating her question with a slight difference. “How
can I help you, Brian?”
Sullivan chuckled. “Spoken
like a true
Man
,
eh, Vash?” She didn’t have to sniff, the look she flashed him at
that point was anything but penitent. “Still, boy, we can’t have
you in this condition. I understand your reluctance to accept her
aid, though I have to tell you, when she’s of a mind to, she’s a
far better healer than I. Maybe I can do somewhat to bring you back
up to speed, though; she charged me with enough to jumpstart a
horse.” He gracefully rolled up over his kneecaps, going from a
cross-legged position to kneeling next to Brian’s chest.
Brian still couldn’t move
anything but his head, and was mildly bemused by the fuzzy lack of
control anywhere on his body. He had a moment of mild alarm,
wondering if the larger man was going to heal him the same way he’d
taken care of Vash (
wouldn’t THAT be an
interesting way to explore bisexuality, eh?)
but instead Sullivan’s hands came down briefly one after
another on his forehead, throat, sternum, lower stomach, and
finally his left hand cupped Brian’s flaccid cock and testes
briefly, the warmth of his palm feeling strangely
comforting.
“
You, my friend, are up
shit creek right now. I would feel sorry for you, but it’s really
not worth it. You’ll either measure up or get killed really fast,
so I’ll just save my pity and see what happens.” Sullivan delivered
this matter-of-fact statement as he dumped sugar into his coffee,
as if commenting on the aroma. They were heading towards the back
room of Mimazu’s, a local coffee hangout frequented by students and
leftover hippie types. Brian was familiar with the place from his
time as a freelance writer… back when times were good. He forced
his mind away from that, and tried to figure out what the big man
meant.
Brian thought for a
moment, past the images of her naked body and the flames and tried
to remember what had actually
happened.
Her hands flicking over
his body with the knife, blood glittering down his body black in
the candlelight, her eyes meeting his across the blade as she
lifted it… and the strange way something in him had moved when her
focus had slipped, stepping into that thick sense of power… Focused
inward on his memory, he suddenly felt the pattern of cuts on his
torso grow hot. He tried to relax, and the heat grew from a flush
to a painful searing. He opened his mouth involuntarily, about to
yell, his coffee cup spilling to the floor, when Sullivans hand
wrapped firmly around his wrist and he again felt the draining
sensation as the power flowed out of him. “Whoa, there, Tiger. You
have even less control than I thought. Better that you stick to
thinking about the physical bits for now, after all. Doesn’t she
have great nipples? She used to name them, Perky and Crinkles.
Before she got all ‘momma kali’ this and ‘evil Man’ that.” He made
faces and said the words in a harsh falsetto like the witch in the
Wizard of oz.
“
What you got a taste of
there was power. That’s my word for it, and it’ll do for now. Call
it prana, orgone, or happy tingles if you want, it’s the same
stuff. It’s basically the force that causes us to want to mate—not
the chemical reactions, in the brain, all the stuff that goes along
with that. The actual
will
to do it, as opposed to simply the
need
.” Sullivan sighed,
and sipped his coffee. “I’m getting too esoteric on you, too soon.
Fact is, you’ll figure out your own idea as to the what of it
sometime after you figure out the how of it. Or else, as I said,
you’ll be dead. Or so far gone as to not care anyway.”
“
Alright. So there’s this
power, that everybody’s got a touch of. And just like sex, some
people are better at it than others. Genetics, upbringing, health,
whatever, they simply
are.
These are the people who, when they walk into a
room, cause folks of either gender to sit up a little straighter,
breathe a little quicker. People like Marilyn Monroe, poor girl.
And me, in fact.” He motioned across the room to where a man seated
at a table with a laptop was staring, not at the screen, but at
Sullivan, whose sudden returning glance startled him. Blushing, he
looked back down at his laptop and resumed furious typing. Sullivan
gave a tired but wicked grin.
“
Stupid git. Probably got
no porn worth anything on that laptop. Talk about two wasted tools…
anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah… and also just like sex, these people
sometimes take the time to learn how to use that energy better. As
it happens, the best way to manipulate it, store it, do things with
it is through directed sexual action.” He squinted for a moment at
Brian, still seated and silent. “You getting any of
this?”
“
Power. Manipulated by the
beautiful people. Controlled through good sex. I played a lot of
D&D when I was a kid, I can figure out how a magical system
works.” Brian paused. “I’m not joking, I understand what you’re
telling me. It’s just really hard to believe. Even with… what
happened.”
“
Of course it is,”
Sullivan agreed. “Because you and I, m’lad, we are a couple of
North American good ol’ boys, raised on John Wayne and Clint
Eastwood and Natassja Kinski and Kelly LeBrock.” He shook his head.
“Hell, kids nowadays have it even worse, with the Cruise, Kid Rock,
Pamela Anderson and such. Talk about unrealistic.” He sipped his
coffee. “Tell me if I’m wrong. Your parents didn’t want to talk
about sex with you. Your friends only occasionally would do it in
giggles, or whispered conversations at night around a stroke book
passed around at a sleepover. Your teachers wouldn’t talk to you
about it for fear of being labeled pedophiles, and the only other
authority figure left—the church you went to, what,
Catholic?”
“
Mormon.”
“
Pretty much spot on. But
that’s the way it is for most people I know. Or meet. Sexually
healthy or not.”
“
Right, right, but here’s
where I get good.” He held up one finger, laced with the same ink
that swirled down the back of his hand and up his arms. “Somewhere
early on, you had two things happen: one, you developed a tendency,
a proclivity, an interest in some sort of sexual aberration. Whips,
chains, goats, latex, beans, whatever… something outside the norm.”
He held up a second finger. “And two, somehow, some way, you lucked
into a sexual relationship that did not put the burden of shame on
you.”