*I like science fiction and fantasy, and lately I’ve been into erotica and noticed there’s a sad lack of overlap in the genres. I decided to play with some supernatural themes and write some stories I’d like to read. I’d love to know what anyone thinks!*
*
I’ve been driving in the air-conditioned car for so long that I’ve forgotten how ridiculously hot it is outside. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been staring down a long, straight road that shimmers to the horizon with captured heat, it doesn’t matter that we pass scrub grasses, stunted, pointy trees, and brown -yellow earth. If you go long enough without feeling something, you start to forget it’s there for you to feel.
So I immediately regret it when I open my door and I’m slapped in the face by the desert atmosphere. The heat isn’t still, it rushes into the car like it’s being blown from an oven, instantly drying my exposed skin and dampening anywhere I’m covered by clothes. I grumble, and of course whenever I grumble, Elaine laughs.
She’s never laughing with me. Always at me, at my attitude and my dour comments and my, I think very professional, cynicism. I’ve read the Romans had this custom, whenever one of them would lead a great victory, where the leader was celebrated in a big elaborate parade. Song, dance, wine and women, gold and glory, all for him. And the tradition was that someone he trusted, someone whose opinion mattered to him, would be there at his side all day. To whisper in his ear “Remember you’re a man,” and keep him from thinking a little too highly of himself.
That’s who Elaine is, to me.
She keeps her hair short, just a thick ruff of brown that doesn’t cover her ears, so while I’m dragging my sticky curls out of my eyes and into a rubber band behind my head, she’s already out of the car and gazing around. Her eyes are wide and flicking over everything, analyzing. One of the things that makes her such a good researcher.
“Are we here?” she finally asks, when she sees I’ve pulled myself out of the car. She notices my bandanna and chuckles. I don’t care how stupid it looks, it’s the only thing that keeps my hair in order in this environment and isn’t a scrunchie or a trim.
“Well, we’re as close as we can drive.” I look at the motel, one floor of depressing stucco, and sigh. “It’s possible we won’t get shanked to death taking a nap here, and around ten we can head out to the site. Let’s just leave the gear in the car.”
We head into the office and I talk to the bored-looking clerk. His eyes bounce back and forth between me and Elaine when I say yes, I did mean two beds. She thinks it’s funny, every time this happens, but it’s always made me a little uncomfortable. If all the hotel clerks near our work sites have a social network, they all think I’m gay. We’ve shared a hundred hotel rooms. We’ve gotten senselessly drunk together, all alone, isolated from anyone who would ever know or care if we touched. But it just hadn’t ever been like that.
And I’d decided a long, long time ago that it wouldn’t. Whether that was a decision or a surrender, I’d also decided not to think about.
Yes, I’d wanted her. She was a woman, and a truly attractive one. A few years younger than me, built from floor to pixie haircut like a pin up model. Her legs were slender, gently widening to a flare of hips, flawlessly curved and muscular. She wasn’t thick or thin, just perfectly, touchably soft. Smooth.
I shook my head and gave the clerk my credit card. It’s too hot in this stupid desert.
But this was where the Confluence was, or would be, and anything was worth being here for it. Even if I had to drive for two days into the most dead and inhospitable environment imaginable. Even if I’d let it slip one drunken evening what I was looking for out here, and wound up bringing my best friend instead of having another Confluence to myself. I’d caved when she offered to do half the driving.
She takes the key cards before I can reach for them, and is a step ahead of me in getting to our room. It’s number three of four. The door is already falling closed behind her when I reach it, and when I come into the room, she’s already in the back, going into the bathroom. “I got here first!”
The door slams shut. I pull my wallet and keys out of my pockets, drop them on the side table, and roll my eyes.
“Whatever,” I grumble, and flop onto one of the beds. It creaks, out of apparent despair. It probably thought it would never have to work again. I don’t even take my boots off, I just lay like a snow angel and look at the cracked ceiling. Soon. Somewhere on the other side of this beat-up roof, things are aligning. Matrices are forming. I imagine I can feel it, and I know I’m imagining. It’ll only touch here briefly, in one very specific place, and then it’ll be gone.
It might take me years to calculate where the next one will be. I might work for years and then discover that the next Confluence is when I’m supposed to be three hundred years old. There’s no data on this, besides my own, and the math involved is just ridiculous.
I hear a squeaking, grating noise, and then the hiss of falling water. Elaine’s turned the shower on. I’m about to fall asleep when the bathroom door clicks and opens inward. From where I lay, perpendicular to the doorway on the bed next to it, all I can see is mist flowing from the door.
The loose fitting, button-up shirt Elaine has been wearing arcs out of the doorway and lands on the floor, in the corner of the room opposite the bathroom door. I blink.
A boot, then another boot, then a pair of her khaki shorts come flying behind, and crumple atop the shirt. Then a soft, soaking wet tank top.
“Elaine?”
She calls over the squealing shower. “What?”
“What are you doing?” Socks flop onto the pile.
“I’m taking a shower! Are you serious?”
I roll my eyes. “I figured that part out, but-”
“-I can barely hear you!”
Pale green panties soar past and join the rest of her outfit. I wait. Nothing. I guess she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Well, you’ll just have to-”
“What?” she yells, and I can hear the laugh in her voice. She’s messing with me. “Just come in, I’m behind the curtain now!”
My stomach does something weird, a backflip if I had to guess. I find myself rolling to my feet, standing beside the bed before I even realize I’m going to. I peek around the corner, into the bathroom. Through the steam, I see just a white plastic curtain that conceals the shower. I don’t see her at all, but I know she’s in there.
I’m glad I’m still wearing my shorts.
“Are you there?”
“I’m here,” I reply, and in the ceramic-lined bathroom my voice is a low rumble. “Did you need something? Why are you throwing your clothes across the room?”
“Everything in the bathroom always gets soaked,” she says, still speaking loudly to be heard over the faucet, and the falling water. I can hear that she’s moving around when the pattern of splashing changes every few seconds, channeled into a thousand directions by the curves and ridges of her lithe body-
I shake my head again. I haven’t been listening. “Wait, what?”
“I said,” Elaine drawls, as though I’m a dunce for not getting it, “that when I leave my clothes on the floor, they always get soaked. So I threw them out there.” Suddenly her fingers appear around the curtain, my heart leaps, and she pulls it aside- a little.
Her short hair is plastered to her head. Water trickles from the points of her locks, in little lightning-shaped rivers, down her face. Down her neck, over the one shoulder I can see. She goggles at me, amused.
“Do you get it, now?”
“I-”
She laughs and disappears back behind the curtain. “You’re acting weird. I know you’re not a prude. What’s your problem?”
“Problem?” Now that she’s hidden again, I’m thinking a little more clearly. What I’m really doing is trying not to think. “I’m not the one with a problem. Your dry clothes are in the car, still.”
The pattern of splashing becomes regular. A long moment passes. “Oh yeah.”
What would I usually say? Why isn’t this coming naturally, casually, like our banter always has? “Sucks to be you,” I chuckle, and turn to leave. That seems like me.
I hear her say “Hey, wait-” and there’s a metallic rasping above our heads. Moisture tickles the back of my neck. She’s pulled aside the curtain. She must be standing there, exposed and soaked, maybe forgetting that I’ve never seen her this way, despite everything.
I could turn around.
I say “Hey what?” to the open door in front of me. My heart pounds. She’d be embarrassed if I stared, maybe even if I looked. She’d feel violated. I know it.
She says nothing. Water hisses. Steam flows past me, sucked into the air conditioned bedroom from the shower. I know the water molecules brushing my skin have flowed over hers, and there’s a sad, greedy joy in that. Something. Some touch. I think I can hear her breathing, but I can’t be sure. It’s loud in here. The panting might be me.
Finally she sighs out loud. I hear the rings of the curtain slither closed. “Um… would you mind getting my bag, from the car?”
I dare to turn my head and look. She’s looking around the edge of the curtain again, exposing only her face. She’s biting her lower lip and looking down, then stops when she notices me watching. I keep watching for longer than I should. Our gazes find each other, and maybe it’s just all the whiteness in here but her deep brown eyes seem enormous.
Maybe she realizes she just almost flashed me, in a panic.
“No problem,” I tell her. I yank my sight away and stumble from the bathroom, letting out the breath I’ve been holding. I lean on the dresser and look at myself in the mirror. My own skin is damp now, and the air conditioning makes every inch of me shiver.
I look myself in the eye. The guy in the mirror looks predatory. Hair damp and tangled. Eyes haunted. My mouth hangs slightly open and I gasp for breath in the strange mixture of temperatures and humidities.
Why did she have to leave the door open?
I think about it.
“You’re crazy,” I tell myself, and before I can keep thinking, I head to the door and out to the car. The heat and light outside are just as insane as before, and I rush to the car, which is untouchably hot. I try the door handle. It’s locked. So is the trunk.
I sigh. I left my keys in the room. I turn to go back to room 3, and then it hits me. I also left my wallet.
And Elaine had the key cards.
“This is completely your fault,” I remind myself, deciding whether to knock on the door. She probably won’t even hear it, if she’s still in the shower. She could be rinsing shampoo from her hair, arms upraised, drawing her smooth midsection and firm breasts upward into a bow-
I’m knocking. I strain to hear through the door, to know if the water is still running. To maybe hear her coming. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I’m so keyed up. Why I can’t stop imagining what I just ignored, when it was within my easy reach-
-because it wasn’t within your reach, I remind myself. She was there, that’s all. She was naked because she was in the shower. Everything isn’t about you. I give myself a firm shake and knock the door again.
Elaine appears, opening the door inward, wrapped in a towel. She’s raked her hair back over her head, and she is bare, soft olive skin from forehead to cleavage, from knees to toes. The swells and dips of her body press against the inside of the thin, cheap fabric.
“Whatever you’re selling,” she says, as casually as ever, “I’ve already got it.”
“I forgot my keys.”
She laughs at me. It actually makes me mad for once, and when I glare at her and our eyes meet, her breath catches and she stops. Her lips are slightly parted. Lightness runs down my spine, and I find myself leaning forward, not really thinking about why.
Our faces are inches apart. Closer than we’ve ever been. I can feel her breath on my lips and it makes me want to scream. I blink and she’s still right there. There’s steam curling from her bare shoulders. Beads of moisture I want to taste.
I press a hand to her shoulder. Over the joint, rather than the graceful slope of skin that leads to her slender neck. It’s a casual, appropriate touch, but when my fingers press into her skin, just before I push her out of my way and shamble past, a tiny squeak escapes her lips. She presses them together, face flushing.
I don’t look at her as I retrieve my keys. She’s still standing near the door, holding her towel shut. I head back outside, retrieve the bags, and when I return to the room, she’s back in the bathroom, with the door mostly closed. I drop her bag by the door.
When I fall back onto my bed, I’m painfully hard, and it’s extremely obvious through my damp shorts. I groan. I quickly slide a hand into my shorts, gripping my aching shaft and rearranging it to be less vertical. A shudder of pleasure and relief rumbles through my entire body, radiating from the touch. My fingers linger, and I brush myself lightly a few more times, automatically.
I imagine it being her fingers, instead.
Before I know it I’ve got myself in a full, firm grip, veins pressing into my palm, and with only a few sharp, desperate strokes, I spill into my boxers. I grit my teeth against a gasp, and my hips buck. My free hand grips the sheet in a white-knuckled clench.
I’ve never come like that. Never so quickly, so painfully. Never with such relief. Tension melts from my body and I sigh, long and low, and start to feel a little bit sane.
And sticky.
And stupid.
What am I thinking?
“Hey, Elaine?” I call. I realize I’m too loud, now that the shower is off. I wonder if she heard me relieving myself, suddenly. I hadn’t planned on it and I hadn’t really tried to be quiet.
“Yes?” Her voice comes easy. No tension. No sense of confusion or frustration. What is wrong with me? Why am I freaking out and getting hard over someone I’ve spent a thousand innocent hours with? Why am I so frustrated? Why am I so hungry for her body, now, today of all days?
Why do I feel so… good?
“Are you done with the shower? I’d like to get cleaned up, too.”
It’s true. My heart pounds and I’m breathing like I just ran a marathon, and I feel alive. Electric. Maybe it really is the Confluence, the infinite flows of sensation and awareness, beginning to brush the world. I’ve only experienced one, before. I don’t know how they actually work.
Elaine laughs. I blush. I bet she did hear me. “Sure,” she says. “The hot water might be used up. Maybe a cold shower will do you some good.”
She does know. She has to.
So why is she laughing? Why isn’t she telling me how gross and inappropriate it is to want her this way, to stare at her nakedness, to frantically touch myself and be cured of some of the hunger? Why isn’t she asking to go home and shaking her head and telling me she thought better of me?
She emerges from the bathroom in a gray t-shirt and baggy gym shorts. Her hair is still swept backwards and damp. She looks so earnest, so harmless. She’s driving me insane. The tips of her breasts press through the fabric, dampening the shirt in two small, spreading circles.
I hop up and duck into the bathroom myself, shutting and locking the door behind me. I’m already hard again.
This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought her here. I hadn’t wanted to, and I had done it anyway, just because at the end of the day I could never resist showing anybody something new. That was what made me a good scientist, I’d always thought. Now, erect and shaking and standing in the middle of a bathroom damp with mist, I think maybe it makes me a loose cannon.
The Confluence was something I’d discovered, several years before. I’d gone to school for radio astronomy, but my real passion had always been for learning about the ancient stargazers of history. The Egyptians, the Druids, the Mayans, the strange and unknown people who had left temples full of astronomical knowledge in Turkey and Papau New Guinea, and so on. It seemed that everywhere in the world, there had been people who watched the skies and knew to wait for very special, very specific days.
They made pyramids and circles and ziggurats that described the numbers and angles of the stars at certain times. They performed their rituals according to the movements of the heavens. And everyone in the world was willing to believe that it was all just ritual, or religion, or pure research. As though it would have been worth the time of struggling nomads to build temple cities that required centuries of knowledge of the movements of Jupiter.
I’d searched. It became an obsession, and I almost didn’t graduate with my actual degree. I’d learned three dead languages. I’d crossed borders only a fool would cross, especially with my big dumb American face. I’d broken laws and trespassed on World Heritage Sites and employed a close friend to hack into a few foreign nations’ equivalent to Departments of Archaeology.
And I’d found the secret. Once. Now twice, if I was right.
I turned on the cold water and stood beneath it, gasping. It was a shock at first, but it cleared my thoughts. I didn’t feel so frantic. Gradually, my body calmed down, and the ferocious hardness of me settled to something more like a relaxed throb. It would have to do.
Then she spoke, from the other side of the curtain. “I’m really excited.”
“Jesus, Elaine, what?” I burst out, yelping kind of pathetically. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m bored. The TV doesn’t get anything out here, and the WiFi sucks.” She paused, then giggled. “And I left my vibrator at home, so yeah, I’m just about out of things to do. What’re you up to?”
I swallowed, hard. “Showering.”
“Oh, really?”
“You asked.”
Elaine laughed again. I clenched my teeth. Her voice was getting to me again. “Look, I’ll be out of here in a minute. I want to get some sleep before we head out. I’m just-” I sighed and lied. “I’m tired. I’m excited too, I just don’t have the energy to be silly.”
“You’re never silly,” she grumbles. “You’re a big sour grump.”
“That’s not true!”
“Prove it!”
I look around the curtain and she’s standing there in the middle of the bathroom. Her casual, pajama-style clothes are plastered to her form with dampness. Her hair hangs over her forehead and drips, slowly. The swells of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples, the cleft between her shapely legs, I can see everything, sharply outlined by wet fabric.
My cock leaps up, frantically. I almost swear out loud.
And at that point, naked and hard, one tiny sheet of vinyl away from everything delicious in the world, I realize she’s probably hitting on me.
We stare at each other for a long moment. The water is still cold and I don’t feel it at all. Fire rages through all of me. I remember the Confluence, what we are here to see. I remember what it felt like.
“You want to see my fun side?” I growl. My voice rumbles off the walls. She licks her lips and nods, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Then get ready for the Confluence. It’s only a few hours away. That will be…” I look her up and down. I let her see it. I wonder if my eyes look as desperate and hungry to her, as they did to me. “That will be fun.”
She frowns a little, tilts her head. Then, slowly, a smirk takes over. “I see. Sounds like a plan.”
She leaves me in the bathroom, quaking with need. I growl under my breath, but I’m loving every minute of this. It’s insane. We’ve never been like this. Not even close. We’ve even talked about how nice it was that there wasn’t sex between us, that we were professionals and friends.
But here, now? She’s… well, I don’t know what she’s doing. Or feeling.
There’s one thing I do know, and that’s the Confluence. And I remember, shivering with delight at the memory like I always do, that light pouring through me. The tidal rush, the sensation of my mind and body sailing in place, surging…
Maybe that’s what I’m feeling, today. Maybe that’s why we’re both so suddenly aware of each other, and so hungry. Maybe the energies are already beginning to flow.
But near here, a lucky short walk from a cheap motel, is an old circle of painted stones. And in the center of them, three hours from now, those forces will come crashing down in laser focus.
That’s where I’ll take her. That’s where I’ll have her. It’s perfect.
I can feel it.
I finish my shower, towel off, and find that she’s left me my bag on the counter. As I dry and dress, I notice none of the towels and none of my garments on the floor are wet. I grin. I’m such an idiot. She’s been teasing me on purpose.
When I come out of the bathroom, also in gym shorts and a plain t-shirt, she’s lying on her bad with her ankles crossed, leaning against the headboard, propped up so she can read from a little ebook device. She watches me over the top of the thing, tracking my movements. I feel magnetic. Like it’s completely natural and right that her eyes are glued to me. Of course she wants to watch me move. I’m a majestic thing.
Now I know it’s starting. That’s not the kind of thought I have about myself.
And I should.
I can feel my heartbeat in my chest, my throat, my fingertips, my cock. Heat flows through me, down my spine, along my bones. I watch Elaine and I see her nipples stiffening, her lips falling slightly open. Her ankles unwind and spread, while she presses her thighs firmly together, never taking her eyes from mine.
I’m drawn to her. She looks good. Delicious. Something to hunt, to conquer, to taste. My mouth waters. “How are you doing?” I murmur. She flinches visibly.
“Good,” she almost whispers. “I feel like I’m floating.” She smirks at me, knowingly. “Did you put something in my drink?”
I lower myself to my own bed, slowly. It’s difficult. She’s right there and she wants me. I can smell her fresh, clean, perfectly ripened body. I swear I can taste the wetness of her, but I can only suspect, for now. I’ve never known it before.
Soon.
Heat thrums through my world. The edges of things seem extra sharp.
“It’s starting,” I say, low and slow. “It’s affecting us. I didn’t know it would be like this.”
“I was just thinking that’s why you brought me,” she laughs, blushing. “So I’d feel it and get… like this.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t the same when I was alone. It was amazing, spiritual. I felt like knowledge was being poured into the top of my head. Like my body was made of light.” I trail off and watch her watching me. “Maybe it’s different when it’s multiple people. Maybe it made me this hot last time, but I wasn’t around anyone, so I didn’t realize how much I wanted… someone.”
Anyone?
I can be honest with myself. I deserve truth. I am fire and light.
I wanted her. I’ve wanted her for years. Silently, carefully. I hid it in the attic of my life, but it was there and I’ve always known it.
“I feel so good,” she slurs, her breaths coming long and slow. Her breasts heave against her shirt. “So good. I can’t believe it. I thought you were making it up.” She grins at me, her old self for a second. “Sorry.”
I don’t care. She’s here. “You came all this way, not knowing if it was real?”
Her right hand slips into her shorts. She’s still kind of holding her book reader with the other hand, but it’s tipped onto her belly, forgotten. “I was sure it wasn’t real,” she murmurs. Her wrist rocks, and she sighs. I feel myself leaning closer and pull myself back, with an effort.
“Why, then?” I grin. I know.
“I’ve been wanting to fuck you, you big dork,” she laughs, and I can hear the slickness of her. “And you’re fun when you’re going nuts about space stuff. But holy shit.” She stops talking and moans, arches. Her reader slides off her body and flops onto the bed. Her other hand is in her shirt, wrapped around a breast, grinding.
I’m watching her without blinking. Barely breathing. Her soft little cries make my body quiver in response. I don’t know about these next couple of hours, anymore. It’s almost an hour to the circle, from here. I won’t be able to make it.
Yes I will. Her form writhes before me and I feel sublime. Anything is possible.
It’s so clear to me, now.
“Let’s put on our hiking stuff,” I suggest, in a tone that says it’s not a suggestion. She meets my eyes, bites her lip again, and nods. “Let’s get there. We can’t miss it.”
Elaine rolls to the edge of the bed, a movement of hips and shoulders that always leaves something round and supple facing my way. Meeting my eyes, standing proudly, arched with the same tingling energy I’m feeling, she draws her shirt off with one hand and flings it aside. Her breasts are everything I’ve ever dreamed, now that I let myself acknowledge I’ve been dreaming. Perfect. Round and high and taut. I want to adore them with my mouth.
She smirks when she sees my open-mouthed reaction, then turns on a heel and strips out of her shorts as well. They peel wetly from the space between her thighs, but she rotates her hips and conceals herself from my eyes.
Then, before I can properly worship the sight before me, she’s digging in her backpack and dragging out a clean set of hiking clothes. I briefly debate attacking her, force myself to remember the Confluence, and instead tear my own clothes off and quickly dress for the outdoors.
Soon.
We move through the door, out into the night that’s rapidly cooling, without touching each other. Neither of us has said anything about avoiding that milestone, but we’re both just doing it. We can feel that the right time is coming.
The world pulses around us. Light seems to fracture at the edges.
Soon.
She knows I know the way, and walks beside me. We don’t say much. I’m so aware of her, even when I’m not looking. It’s like I can feel the air trembling between our bodies, giving me a sonar sense of her. My feet move toward the circle without much conscious thought. My body can feel it now, the pull. Like gravity. The easiest thing to do is move toward it.
I glance at Elaine. She’s breathing hard now. Her steps are quickening.
I grin. My pace increases to match. Then she moves quicker. Then I do.
We round a large formation of orange stone just as I decide I’m going to tackle her and lick every inch of her body, and only the sight of the painted stone circle stops me. We’re here. This is it. This is happening.
She stops beside me. “Is that it?”
I nod. She nods too. “I knew it. I can feel it. This is crazy.”
“Are you… I know this is intense. I’ll let you go, if you want to leave.”
She stares into my eyes and then smiles. “I’m not sure you could, at this point. But it’s all right. I wanted this already.”
And that’s all I need to hear. I groan and take her hand, and we hurry toward the circle of stones. The very air dances in place. The silence sounds like music.
As we cross between two of the perimeter stones, something happens. Something like heat, like the tingle of a numbed limb, but neither of those things, spreads across my flesh. I feel it sinking into my bones. I wobble and fall to my knees onto smooth, clean stone. The barest shadow of old paint traces a tight, ten-foot-wide spiral across the space between the stones, and no dust or gravel litters the area. It doesn’t seem possible.
I don’t care about things like that anymore.
Elaine is quivering beside me, wracked by the force from nowhere that oozes into every cell of her. She looks up at me with mouth agape. “I-”
I slip to the ground and cover her mouth with a kiss. Our first. Her eyes go wide and she moans into me. I’m smiling like a fool while our tongues thrash together, while she breathes and gasps and makes half-words without breaking the touch of our lips.
I’m pulling at her clothes and the force is growing stronger. When I open my eyes, I can see her by the starlight and she’s perfect. When I close them I’m lost. The places where our bodies connect are lightning, crackling along my nerves, touching more of me than it should.
She moans with me. I growl and gasp into her mouth. I don’t mean to tear her shirt but it’s already destroyed. I fall upon her breasts with my mouth, licking in swirls around her stiff nipples and then lightly biting them. She squeaks and arches when I clamp down. My hands take the opportunity and slide beneath her body.
I can smell how wet and ready she is. I fumble at her button, almost break her zipper, and slide her out of her jeans with clumsy urgency. She laughs, and it makes me even harder to know she’s as delighted by this as I am.
“I want to taste you,” I say into her ear. She sighs aloud when she hears it, wriggles herself to be aligned with my body, and wraps her legs around me.
“Yesss,” she hisses. “Do it.”
I slide down between her legs. Her ankles cross against the back of my shoulders, and her fingers twine into my hair.
I find her with my tongue.
She opens like a flower, distinct petals slick with nectar, and the sweetness of her sets my mind alight. She’s divine. There’s no other explanation. This body, this moisture, this sensation, it could only be that I’m in the presence of something sacred.
She bucks and cries out. Her fingers twist against my scalp. I keep her thighs spread with my shoulders and press harder with my tongue, dragging the flatness against the slippery bud of her clit. She’s thrusting her hips now, dripping, and I can feel how she wants to be filled. I slide a finger into her, then two, and the sounds she makes are the sweetest I’ve ever heard.
From everywhere at once, light surges through us. I feel it moving in her, as well as I feel it within myself. The same energy flows through us both and makes us burn.
This is it. Now.
“I need you,” I moan. “I need you now.”
“Then do it,” she gasps, holding me.
I drag myself up her body, positioning her hips against mine. I can feel heat boiling from between her legs. A moment of doubt passes across my mind like a shadow.
“Uh, I don’t have-”
“Do it!” she cries, and sensation surges along my spine. My hand finds the back of her head, holding her off the stone, my fingers in her soft, fluffy hair. We stare into each others eyes.
My hips move, almost on their own, and my hardness sinks into her. She’s soaking wet and squeezes me with her snugness. She burns like the sun. I look at her face and see the same wonder there.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I say, and she smiles, and then I rock my hips and begin to move in her. She lets out high noises of pleasure with each thrust.
I’m moving as slowly as I can make myself. One hand is gripping the back of her head, the other is spread on the hot stone, holding me off her. I release her head and raise myself higher, raise her knees with my arms, so she is flat on her back and I’m deeper inside her than I can believe.
Lightning surges through my body. My fingers clench spasmodically on her thighs. I feel her get wetter and laugh. She likes that. I squeeze her again with my hands, and she squeezes me back with her sex. I gasp and lurch forward.
Her eyes in the starlight are infinite. I feel the moment of my climax coming close, and I want to be close to her. I lower myself again until our faces are close, and kiss her fiercely as my thrusting picks up speed.
I say her name into her ear. I’ve always wanted to. Her pussy flexes and gushes on me.
She cries out my name, then. I never thought I’d hear that, never in a hundred lifetimes, and the sound of her voice sends me soaring over the edge.
I explode inside her and barely keep from screaming. I make it a long moan as the moment of release just goes on and on and on. Her nails dig into my back.
For a long moment I stay inside her, still, and we look at each other in disbelief and pleasure. Then, with an immense feeling of regret, I withdraw myself and roll to the stone beside her. My body still feels warm. I still twitch at the slightest touch on my cock, or just at particularly sharp memories.
The crackling, surging energies have faded, at some point. I didn’t really notice. The world is just the world again.
The Confluence is over. Maybe the last one I’ll ever know.
We lie beside each other and breathe. I briefly expect to feel uncomfortable, now that it’s over, to be undressed and out here with her. But it doesn’t happen. I look at her some more, enjoying the sight of her supine body, and she seems fine with it.
“How do you feel?”
She waves a hand feebly. “I can’t. Can’t articulate.” She pants and looks exhausted.
I just laugh.
“You?” she asks, blinking and trying to sit up.
“I’m really good. Really good.”
“Oh yeah?” She gives me a sultry smile. I don’t know if this will ever happen again, but I can see on her face how much she liked it. I can’t stop grinning. “What was your favorite part?”
I look her up and down. She blushes a little. The moment is already passing. We’re not going to become lovers, now. That isn’t what we are. I know we’re back to being friends again. “My favorite part?”
“Yeah.”
I make a face like I’m thinking hard about it. Then I pretend to decide. “Now you’ll have to tell everyone I’m right about the Confluence. I believe I’m going to be winning several bets. Have fun explaining it.”
She swats my shoulder. “Jerk.”
We walk together, back to the motel. Elaine sees me strutting and nudges me in the side. “Remember, you are just a man.” I guess I’ve mentioned that tradition.
“I’m fine with that. It’s a good thing to be.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/4rvshj/mf_mystical_confluence