Chapter 17 #2
She had never liked being face down but she was too far gone to care.
She wriggled under him, trying to grind herself against the mattress, anything for sensation.
Then his hands were on her back, rubbing tense muscles, his fingers tickling her ribs, just the correct side of almost tickling.
His fingers trailed down, rubbed her lower back as he straddled her thighs.
Both hands took her buttocks and massaged them, squeezing the pale globes then gently separating them.
Some distant part of Kiera wanted to protest, to turn over, felt humiliated despite her desire, but he gentled her, stroking, whispering words she didn't quite understand.
When he moved her legs apart, his fingers drifted past where she didn't want them, moving instead to her hot, wet, wanting core.
This time, he ran the tip of two fingers around the outside, then slowly, so slowly she bit her lip and fisted the sheets, he slid those fingers into her.
Past the first knuckle, then past the second, then all the way in, withdrawing with infinite slowness, feeling her entire channel, letting her feel his heat, his touch, the way he could rotate his fingers inside her and touch that place deep inside that made her arch into him, saying words that weren't real.
Her orgasm raced through her, pulsing around his fingers, her clit exploding into pleasure, her breasts feeling electric against the sheets, the waves of pleasure focused between her legs but spreading out to encompass every bit of her body.
She cried out, and in that instant, she felt him shift, felt him spread her legs wide and pull her hips up to meet him. He shoved his entire length and thickness into her, the hard, hard cock filling her and she took him as deep as she could, rocking to try and fit all of him inside.
At the same time, he leaned down, his mouth on her throat, his tongue on the pulse there, and then he bit.
Kiera came again, shouting, frantically shredding the sheets under her hand, crying his name.
His fangs were a burst of pain followed by a blossoming of pleasure, as if she were being filled with heat and stroked from the inside, the best massage, the best hand job, the best and most intimate fucking of her life.
He didn't lose control. She could feel his own pleasure, some touch of his mind against hers but also because his cock hardened and his strokes moved faster as he sucked, drinking in bits of her, letting Kiera herself, the very essence of her, begin to heal the evil done to him when he had protected her.
For an instant she felt dizzy, but probably he hadn't taken more than those times the medical tech would take three vials of her blood for tests the doctors never quite explained properly. He took it slow, so the pleasure played out, uncoiling and unfolding until she thought she'd faint from it.
Until at last he slowed, and stopped, and she felt cold for a second as his mouth left her throat, but in those empty instants he wound her hair around one fist and began to pound his cock into her, fucking her now, hard and fast and she gave up trying to meet him in any kind of rhythm and just arched her back, holding her ass up, letting him pound into her over and over until he cried out the way he hadn't even once as he'd been beaten.
There was an endless instant as he filled her, her own warmth returned to her in hot come, and then he folded himself down over her, hugging her from behind.
She felt him slip out of her and then pull her over so she lay on her side, spooned into him, one of his hands on her breast. She'd have liked to move so he held her across his chest, but doubted he could lie on his back.
She felt his groin snug up against her ass, his feet tangle with hers, his breath, warmed, on her neck. She felt a vestigial surge of pleasure from her throat and from between her legs, and then she was asleep, hearing his even breathing even as she fell down into dream.
When she woke, she thought of course it would have stopped snowing and an early spring would be finally making its way into Chicago's deadly winter wonderland.
But that was too much magic to ask for. There were no windows where they were, coiled together still, but she knew when eventually the Council sent a soldier to open the door and release their very healthy, very alive captives, it would still be snowing.
That wouldn't mean the world wouldn't have changed.
When she moved, he woke, and Kiera turned in his embrace to face him, the question in her eyes obvious enough he turned so she could see his back.
Colorful bruises marked the extent of it, but they already looked days old, and they surrounded the faint silvery purple trails of scars, like injuries long hidden.
She ran her fingers over them and felt him shiver, but with the sensation, not with pain.
So much violence had led to this second, so much fear from both species involved in everything that had happened.
Even if it marked a turning point, true change might never come.
Even among the races on Earth, enlightenment didn't always lead to change.
But things had changed for her. She'd find a way to see her family.
She didn't think that would be a problem now.
Moving slowly and with caution, because she wouldn't endanger her family or Loren for it, she might be able to do something about Diane and Stu before sentence was carried out.
They were unpleasant but they were human. That had to count for something.
And while the new Council leader probably didn't like Kiera any better than the last one had, he was younger and possibly less violent, and somewhere deep inside, she had hope.
The End.