Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (39 page)

"Perfect," Belle replied, noting the way his eyes avoided hers.  "They won't hurt her will they?"

Xavion appeared to think about that, still not meeting her gaze.  "No.  But if she’s never been penetrated before she may become sore."  He aimed his words at the top of Pietre's chair, just above her head. 

"Well we’ve all been there, haven’t we?" she asked conversationally, to which he made no reply, so said, “Moving on,” and dismissed the topic with a wave of her hand.  Xavion's eyes immediately shifted to it.  He would be fascinated by its smallness.  They always were.  She glanced at his crotch, at the unmistakable evidence of her effect on him.  Still rock hard.  "About the radar..." she said, raising herself from Pietre's chair.

Xavion immediately stepped back, his stance still ramrod straight.

She strolled around him, close enough for him to scent her - to note that her head barely reached his chest - to think on that.  She knew he'd been thinking about her.  About how they could mate.  If they would mate.  Working the pieces around inside his mind.

Now she wanted him to feel it with his gut.  To question his loyalty.  His obedience.  The very morality of his soul. 

That was what Belle wanted.  And the persona she'd assumed, that of Pietre himself, would undoubtedly add to Xavion's confusion.

Lizard green contact lenses.  The black suit.  Polished shoes.  Hair tied back and make-up used only to promote the resemblance.  Belle had been very careful with this particular disguise.  It wasn't overtly sexual.  She'd constructed it specifically to invoke Pietre's innate personal authority, then shroud that in her own carefully cultivated mystique. 

She wanted something of Xavion.  Something he would struggle against.  Something she must have.

And yet there was another purpose to her caricature.  Another layer.

Belle knew Xavion was predominantly heterosexual, yet she felt sure his fanatical protection of Pietre was motivated by more than mere duty.  Was there an unconscious attraction she could exploit?  They were of a similar age - had been raised together, Xavion's father in the service of Pietre's.  Xavion must know what she knew about Pietre's childhood.  Had he ever comforted the frightened boy?  Sexually?

There was much to be discovered, but that would be peripheral to the main purpose.  The mermaids must be under no supervision between midnight and dawn.

Belle felt that aim was achievable.

She turned back to Xavion, found him watching her, staring at the gleam of her shoes.  "Will the computer boy be able to repair the radar tonight?" she asked.

"No," Xavion replied evenly, his gaze centred on her left shoe.  "A part is destroyed.  The spare is missing.  I’ve ordered another -"

"Sloppy."  Belle shook her head.  "Remind me to punish him.  Or perhaps I should punish... you, Xavion?" she said, using his name for the first time.

As though on strings, Xavion's head jerked up.  Their eyes met and he swallowed hard. 

"Shall I punish you?" she asked quietly.  His reply was equally soft.

"If you will."

"Oh, yes," she nodded, walking towards him.  "I most certainly will.  But how I wonder?" she mused, and having reached the control panel, she stretched past him, her wrist deliberately grazing the front of his pants as she activated the main display screen.  Despite the fact that she held that position - her forearm firm against his erection - Xavion remained rigidly still.

"Look," Belle said and Xavion dragged his eyes from the point in space he'd been occupied with, to stare blindly at the screen.  "Sasha is doing her veil dance.  I do so love that one.  Wendee does too by her expression.  Wouldn't you say?"

"Yes."  The syllable was uttered grudgingly. 

He was trying to close up, to lock her out but Belle was patient.  She had hours yet.

"See the way her gaze follows Sasha's breasts.  Such beautiful breasts.  Especially when they jiggle like that.  But now, look at Zoe.  The redhead."

Xavion obeyed, shifting his gaze marginally.  His body remained still, seemingly a prisoner to the arm pressed against his pants.

"She's not watching Sasha," Belle pointed out.  "She's watching Wendee.  Do you think she lusts after her?"

"I don't know.  Perhaps."

There was the faintest tremor in his voice.  Already.  Would it be easier than she'd thought?

"I think Zoe is jealous," Belle said.  "Sasha is her lover and she doesn't like to share."

"Might she harm the Wendee?" Xavion asked, his voice firmed by purpose.

"How could she?"  Belle moved her arm further across to adjust the light contrast on the picture.  "You are her Champion, are you not?"

Xavion had closed his eyes against the onslaught of her touch but they snapped open again at those words.  He stared at the screen.  "I am the Wendee's Champion.  Pietre has charged me to protect her at all cost."

"At all cost," Belle repeated thoughtfully.  "Would you kill Zoe is she threatened your Wendee?"

"Yes."  No hesitation.

"I see."  Belle was silent for a moment, stretching it out.  "What if I threatened the Wendee?  Would you kill me?"

The silence that followed her question lengthened. 

On the screen before them Sasha dropped her last veil to stand before Wendee clad only in ornate silver jewellery, her legs parted slightly, her hands poised above her head.

From a cross-legged position on the floor, Wendee rose to kneel in front of her, tentatively touching the glinting emerald that lay nestled in the warm cave of her belly-button.

Sasha's heavy mane of oiled black hair rolled across her back as she looked across at Zoe, who in turn glanced at the camera.  There was a moment of suspension where the only movement in the room was Wendee leaning in to press her lips against the emerald.

Then Sasha closed her eyes. 

Zoe stood and walked out. 

A boxed off section of the screen showed an outside view of Zoe strolling to the lagoon, her hair a russet glow in the moonlight.  At the edge she paused as though she would turn back, then abruptly dove into the dark water, resurfacing a moment later to float quietly on her back. 

Belle returned her attention to the inside view.

"It appears Zoe isn't as jealous as I'd thought," she said, slowly removing her arm, grazing it against Xavion, listening for any sound he might make.

There was none.

She smiled, pushing her hands into the pockets of her trousers and strolling over to the screen as she had seen Pietre do countless times, leaning in to inspect the point where Wendee's tongue had just delved into Sasha's luxurious bush.  Sasha, her head thrown back, her legs still open, had begun moving her hands slowly above her head.  Her belly quivered and her hips began to rotate.  Wendee, holding on to those hips, kept pace, her head moving in sync, her tongue busy amid the jewellery-framed curls.

"Doesn't look as though Wendee will miss Skye."  Belle turned back.  "The blonde your men took," she explained.  Xavion nodded stiffly.

Belle closed her eyes, tilted her own head back.  "All this sex makes me restless," she said softly.  And her hands came out of their pockets to smooth up over the front of her crisp, black shirt and touch her throat. 

A moment later she opened her eyes and looked straight at Xavion.  "Do you know what I do when I'm restless, Xavion?"  She said his name again, watching the effect of it in his eyes.

He shook his head and at that moment she believed him incapable of speech.

"I kill," she said.  "I drink blood."

His lips parted.  His chest rose and fell.

They stared at each other for the longest moment before she said, "Whose blood shall I drink, Xavion?"

                                   
Chapter Twenty-Three

Josh felt Christophe move restlessly on the ledge beside him and he dragged his attention away from the spectacle beside the fire to look at the boy.

"I can't watch this any more," Christophe said and he turned his back on the initiation that Nick had tirelessly undertaken.  The usually playful twin was all concentration as he coached the blonde on how to fellate his brother, a task made more challenging by the fact that Mack had her haunches in a firm grip and was punching into her from behind, making her large breasts jerk backward and forward.  "I want to go out," Christophe added desperately, and Josh noted there was no sign of an erection straining against the boy’s jeans.