Ch.25
I woke up to her fingers on my spine and the gray light of dawn coming through the basement's one small window.
She was kneeling beside the couch. Already dressed, mostly. The white dress was on but the ribbon wasn't tied yet, hanging loose around her waist. Her black hair was in a rough ponytail instead of the twin-tails, the kind she did in the mornings before she bothered with the ornaments. Her eyes were focused on my back and her index finger was tracing a line of divine script, slow, deliberate, the falna glowing faintly blue-white under her touch.
"Bell."
"Mm."
"I need to verify the numbers."
I didn't move. My face was in the cushion and the couch smelled like both of us and the basement air was cold on my bare back except where her finger moved. The aftereffects of last night lived in my muscles, a loose heavy warmth in my arms and legs and a dull ache in my hips from the couch being too narrow for what we'd done on it.
"The numbers from yesterday," she said. Her finger traced the Agility glyph. Then traced it again. "For accuracy."
"You verified them last night."
"That was before the excelia registered." Her finger slid off the glyph and onto bare skin, tracing the muscle beside the falna. "I need to confirm the post-registration values."
She was lying and she knew I knew and the knowing hadn't stopped her hand from wandering below the last line of script and along my lower back and toward my hip.
"Hestia."
"Mm."
"You're reading the same glyph for the third time."
Her finger stopped. One beat. Then it moved again, lower, tracing the waistband of my pants. Her breath was audible behind me, faster than it should have been at dawn over a routine update.
I turned over.
She was right there. Kneeling beside me, her hand still on my hip, her blue eyes bright in the gray light. The bite marks on her right hand were dark red between her thumb and forefinger, last night's evidence. The flush was already in her ears.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi." She didn't move her hand.
I was hard. Morning, the warmth of her touch, last night still in my body. She could see it through my pants and her eyes dropped and stayed and her flush spread from her ears down her neck and across the tops of her breasts where the dress left them bare.
"Bell, I actually do need to-"
I put my hand on the back of her neck and pulled her down and kissed her.
She melted. Half a second of resistance before her mouth opened and she was kissing me with the sleep-warm softness of a woman who'd been working up to this since she woke up and decided to "verify the numbers." She tasted like morning and tea. Her hand slid from my hip to my chest and her fingers pressed into the muscle there and she made a sound into the kiss, small, barely there. Her hair fell around both our faces, a curtain of black that smelled like her pillow and the soap she used.
I pulled her onto me. She came, straddling my hips, the dress riding up her thighs, and the weight of her settled on my lap. The heat between her legs was immediate, pressing against my cock through my pants, and she was wet. Already wet. From the update, from the touching, from whatever she'd been thinking about while she pretended to read numbers.
She pulled back from the kiss. Looked down at me, her hands flat on my chest, her thighs on either side of my hips. Her cheeks were flushed and her ponytail was already falling apart and her lips were swollen and she was breathing through her mouth.
"Lili," she whispered.
"Upstairs."
"The couch-"
"Good enough."
She bit her lower lip. Her hips rocked against me, a small unconscious grind, and the friction of her wet heat through the fabric of my pants made my cock throb hard enough that she felt it and her eyes went wider.
I reached down and undid my pants. She lifted her hips and I pushed them down and my cock came free and the cool basement air hit it and then her heat was right there, wet and close, the length of me pressing along her pussy without entering. She wasn't wearing anything under the dress. She'd come down here with no underwear and a transparent excuse and last night still between her legs.
"Still wet from last night."
Her face went scarlet. "'Don't- don't say that-'"
"I can feel it." I ran two fingers along her, where she was pressed against me. The slickness was thick and warm, the leftover from last night mixed with fresh arousal, and the sound my fingers made sliding through it was wet and explicit in the quiet basement. Her whole body flinched.
"'Nn-'"
I circled her clit with my thumb. Slow. She rocked into my hand and her eyes squeezed shut and her lip went white where she was biting it. I watched her face in the dawn light. The crease between her brows, the pink spreading across her cheekbones, the way her nostrils flared when she tried to breathe through the sensation. Her breasts moved with each breath, heavy and visible through the neckline of the unfastened dress.
"'Bell- please- just-'"
She grabbed my cock. Her fingers were warm and slick from where she'd been pressed against me. She positioned herself over me and sank down.
The slide was easy. Wet and warm and deep, her body opening around me because last night had made the path and this morning she wanted it. She sank all the way, her weight settling, the full length buried inside her, and the heat gripped me from the tip down and her mouth fell open and her eyes lost focus.
"'Oh-'"
Loud. Too loud. Her eyes darted to the ceiling. The stairs. Lili.
Her hand started toward her mouth. The same hand with the bite marks from last night.
I caught her wrist. Then the other. Held both in my right hand, the Level 2 grip closing around her small wrists without effort. Her arms pulled down between us and she was sitting on me with her mouth uncovered, no hand to muffle herself, exposed.
"Bell-"
I put my left hand over her mouth.
Her eyes went wide. My palm covered her lips and the lower half of her face. The warmth of her breath came in fast pulses against my skin and she was staring down at me over my hand and her blue eyes were enormous and the early light made the tears that were already forming glint.
She couldn't move her arms. She couldn't make noise. She was sitting on my cock with the dress bunched around her waist and the only thing she could move was her hips.
"Move."
She moved.
Her hips rolled forward and the drag of her sliding up my cock sent a wave of heat through my whole body. She rose and sank. The wet sound filled the basement, louder than last night because she was wetter, the combination of old and new making every stroke slick and obscene. Her thighs flexed on either side of my hips as she found the rhythm. Her breasts bounced with each drop, the dress fallen open enough to bare them fully, nipples hard in the cool air. Her black hair was coming loose from the ponytail. Strands stuck to her sweaty neck and swayed with each drop.
She made sounds against my palm. "'Mm- mm- mm-'" Rhythmic. Matching her hips. Each one a warm vibration that pressed against my fingers and traveled down my arm. The shape of each moan came through my hand, her mouth opening wider when she dropped deeper, her teeth grazing my fingers when she bit back a louder one.
The dawn light filled the room gray-blue through the window. No candle. Just the morning catching the sweat forming on her collarbones and the flush spreading down from her face across her chest. A pigeon on the ledge outside the window cooed twice and flew off.
I thrust up from below.
Her eyes flew open. The angle changed. Deeper. Harder. The cowgirl grind that she controlled became an impact she didn't and the upward push hit a place inside her that made her back arch and her chest push forward and a muffled cry vibrate against my palm. Her whole body clenched around me and the tightness was blinding, her pussy gripping my cock in a squeeze that made my vision narrow.
"'Mmph- nn- mm-'"
I thrust up again. Harder. The couch creaked and her body jolted and her breasts bounced sharply with the force. She was trying to maintain her rhythm from above but my thrusts from below kept disrupting it and she was faltering, her pace uneven, rising when I pushed and caught off-balance.
Sweat was forming between us. Her thighs were slick where they pressed against my hips. The sounds were getting louder, wetter, the slap of her dropping onto me mixing with the obscene squelch of how wet she was. She knew. Her eyes squeezed shut and the flush on her chest went dark and her hips went faster.
My cock ached inside her. The tightness, the heat, the vibrations of her sounds traveling through my palm, the visual of her above me with her dress around her waist and her breasts moving and her face wrecked behind my hand. I was harder than I'd been last night and the edge was building faster, climbing in the base of my cock and in my stomach.
Her wrists pulled against my grip. She wanted her hands back. I didn't let go. She looked down at me and her mouth moved against my palm and the shape of my name pressed into my fingers.
I pulled her down. Flat against my chest, her face beside mine, my hand still over her mouth. The angle changed. Shallower. Grinding. Her clit pressed against my stomach with each roll and the contact made her jerk and her breath come in sharp fast pulses against my palm.
"'Nn- nn- nn-'"
Every rock. The vibrations continuous, her mouth open behind my hand, her breath hot and wet against my skin. Her chest was flush against mine and her heart hammered through both of us. The couch creaked in a rhythm that was getting faster.
Her left hand found the back of my head. Fingers in my hair. At the nape. Gripping.
I moved my hand from her mouth.
Her eyes went wide. Her mouth was free and the sound that came out was real and open and louder than anything behind my hand had been, a raw "'AH-'" that hit the basement walls. I tilted her head and kissed her and the moan went into my mouth and I tasted it and she shuddered and then I put my hand back.
The moment of freedom and the slam of the cover back on. Her body broke. Her hips stuttered. Her pussy clenched in waves that started deep and gripped my entire cock and her eyes rolled up and a scream pressed into my palm, compressed, tiny, the jaw working behind my fingers, her teeth finding the heel of my hand and biting down.
I came. Her clenching pulled it from me and I thrust up deep and held and the heat flooded between us and her whimper vibrated against my palm and her body pulsed around me, tighter, looser, tighter, the waves fading slow while the heat spread.
She collapsed. Boneless onto my chest, her face turning sideways, my hand falling from her mouth to the cushion. Her breathing was ragged against my neck. Wet. Fast. Slowing.
The falna pulsed.
On my back, under her weight. Blue-white light, brighter than last night, bright enough to throw the shadow of her body onto the basement ceiling. The hieroglyphs glowed through my skin and the light filtered through the white fabric of her dress and for a moment she was lit from underneath, the divine script visible through the cloth like she was wearing the falna itself.
She lifted her head. Looked at the light coming through her dress. Through her own body, almost, the blue glow warm on her face.
"Bell." Her voice was ruined. "It's glowing. It's glowing from-"
From the sex. From the excelia. Liaris Freese amplifying every emotion she was carrying, the falna responding to the loop in real time. The power-sex circuit made visible.
She pressed her hand flat against my chest. The bite marks on her fingers caught the falna's light, red against blue. She was still on top of me, still around me, still warm and wet, and the divine script on my back was brighter than a candle.
"Your numbers," she said. Her voice cracked on the word.
"I know."
She stared at me. Blue eyes lit from below by the glow coming through her own dress. Her hair was a wreck and her mouth was swollen and she was a goddess who'd just come on top of a mortal whose falna was glowing because she'd made him stronger by being on top of him and the look on her face said she didn't know what to do with that.
I put my hand on the back of her head. Pulled her down. She came, her face in my neck, her body heavy and warm.
"Stay," I said.
She laughed against my skin. Small, breathless, wrecked.
"That's my line."
The falna dimmed. The light fading from blue-white to a faint glow to nothing. The basement went back to dawn-gray and the pigeon came back to the windowsill and the stairs above us were quiet and Lili's cot didn't creak.