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Worm's Lemons


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Опубликован:
24.05.2016 — 20.09.2016
Читателей:
6
Аннотация:
Yeah, it's Lemons, lot of Lemons! You were warned! Спасибо Арийскому Гомофобу за ссылку. 20.09.2016
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I was more concerned with his mouth at the moment, at the demanding drag of a hot tongue and the dizzying drag of calloused fingers against my back. I still did my best to keep up, dropping in a nibble and making a few fruitless grabs for dominance here and there. I didn't have much success but again, no complaints. Absolutely none. When he finally let up and moved down to my neck, pulling me closer still, only one in every three breathy little gasps were because I needed air.

My brain felt like putty, and we hadn't even hit the main event yet. Aleph was either going to be unspeakably proud or impossibly jealous.

Perhaps intuiting that my thoughts had drifted towards another man — or perhaps because I had taken advantage of the new position and began mouthing at the sensitive skin beneath his ear — my current partner let out a sound remarkable close to a growl against my neck and wrapped a thick arm around my thighs, heaving me up with an ease that was utterly, primally appealing. The thigh-slit allowed me to hook my legs over his hips and he slid a rough palm up the length of one, giving my ass a squeeze before depositing me on the couch and pinning me there, capturing my mouth once more and reasserting his claim.

I slid my hands back down over his chest, choking off a moan when his hand slid from my ass to the juncture of my legs, rubbing against the thin fabric of my panties. They weren't exactly my normal style, half black lace and thin enough that I had already soaked straight through them. I felt his lips curve smugly against mine when he noticed that, and I nipped at his lower lip to remind him that me being wet and the little hitching jerks my hips made when he rubbed his thumb against my covered clit were not good enough excuses to stop kissing me.

He obligingly continued, albeit at a slower, searingly languid pace as he tugged the small scrap of fabric to one side to touch me directly. I let out a gasping whine and bucked against his hand as he wormed one thick finger into me. I heard him hiss through his teeth when I clamped down and rocked against the digit, and his fragments practically vibrated in anticipation. I still held out though, instead pressing my nails against the skin of his back to keep me grounded. Not yet, I told myself firmly, through the fog of more and please and — oh God, I was actually saying that out loud, wasn't I?

"Yes," he rumbled against my jaw, and then worked in a second finger.

I went limp against the leather of the couch, keening breathlessly. His hand was curved so that each thrust and stretch dragged the side of his finger against my clit, and if he kept up that pace I was either going to go insane or come like a freight train, I was pretty sure. He sped up, stretching his fingers a little, and I realized I had probably said that out loud too. And then I hit that peak and buried my face against his neck, clutching at his shoulder blades for dear life. I could feel my fragments trembling, struggling desperately against the last shreds of my self-control.

Those tenuous little threads nearly snapped when he pulled out his fingers. When he unbuckled his belt, impatiently shoved down his pants and replaced those fingers with something thicker, hotter, and longer, I was utterly undone.

I practically bloomed against him, my fragments snapping onto his wavelength and mingling with his, desperate and as eager as a daisy opening up to the sun. He was so damn big — physically and otherwise — that it was actually a decent metaphor; he practically oozed power and data, caging in my fragments and hiking up one of my knees over his elbow as he began to move in small, slow jerks. I was still reeling from that first orgasm, spasming around him every now and again, still tender and sensitive, but I worked hard to gain back some measure of control over my fragments.

Obviously, I couldn't overpower him — I wasn't sure that was a thing any Architect could even do, with a Fighter of his caliber at least — so I spread them out around his, forming a thin, mesh-like net of fragments as I synchronized with him. I nearly lost my ragged patchwork concentration when he punctuated a thrust with a scrape of teeth against my throat, but somehow managed to finish the configuration.

I angled my hip up to meet his and let my head fall back, eyes glossing over as I looked past the flesh, the bone, the slick friction where we were connected, as I reached out and connected our Carriers. The data-feedback nearly made me lose it again and he went dangerously, unfairly still above me as he too turned his attention outwards, inspecting my fragments in detail. One of his defensive functions flared up, experimentally, and I reigned it back in with as much force as I could spare without getting swept away by the rest of him.

He looked down at me, something flickering in his eyes — too fast for me to interpret it, even as connected as we were — and then he levered a hand under my back and rolled us both upright, leaving me straddling him. For a beat I was motionless, out of pure surprise, but a pointed roll of his hips knocked me out of my momentary stupor and I took the offer for what it was. It was a little difficult, finding purchase for my knees against the leather, but he wrapped his hands around my thighs to keep me steady and I was able to work my way into a decent pace. It was easier for me, as I recovered a little from my first orgasm, but it wasn't long before he was thrusting up into me with a wild fervor, his grip on my legs almost bruising.

One of my hands crept up, lacing into his hair as he crushed me down against him, shuddering as he flooded me with his seed. I was nearly knocked flat by the feedback from his fragments then, but I was slowly adjusting. I was comfortable enough by that point to do a little experimenting. I gently prodded at that defensive function and my eyes widened as I felt his dick — which had, at that point, been beginning to soften — swell back to its former hardness. He sucked in a sharp breath next to my ear and I was unceremoniously tumbled back against the couch again as he began plowing into me.

That set the pace for the next — I don't even know how long. I lost a little time somewhere after my third orgasm, and when I came back to my senses I was on my stomach and he was still rutting into me, like a beast.

I'm pretty sure we might have kept on like that for even longer, except at that point the door slid open and I heard a woman speak up.

"Hey, Boss we — oh, fuck." There was the unmistakable sound of a hand meeting skin, either over her eyes or across her forehead. "...hate to bother you, but it's important."

He grunted in displeasure — or maybe just pleasure, since I felt him finish off inside me again — and sat up, leaving me to collapse against the leather. My hair was a mess, just as Aleph had predicted, and I had no idea where most of the pins had gone. "Go find Lee," he instructed the woman, as I tried to remember how to breathe normally again now that air wasn't being driven out of my lungs in time with merciless thrusts. "I'll meet you in the office."

I heard the door slide shut once more and he finally pulled out again, sending a violent shudder through my body as our fragments finally disengaged. I felt absolutely bloated with power, practically drunk on the sheer number of functions now available to me. I was also feeling utterly exhausted and — I think the closest word available was 'sated'. I felt ruined and glorified and amazing.

"You're welcome," he said, running a hand up the curve of my spine as he stood.

I really had to work on my brain-to-mouth filter if I was going to keep doing thing like this. That was probably Aleph's fault — the thing about Collaboration between Planners, Thinkers and Architects both, was that it didn't have to be physical but it was deep and pervasive enough that any type of privacy was utterly obliterated. My thoughts were his, his eyes were mine, and so on. So, perhaps it was understandable that he had never mentioned my tendency to babble during moments of intimacy. I was still going to blame him, though.

"I'll be back, eventually," he told me, and I heard some rustling before he pulled his pants back up and rebuckled his belt. "Stay as long as you like."

There was a certain undertone to that — a crude promise, a dark humor, a predatory expectation — but all I managed was a sleepy noise of assent as he left.

Not long after that, the door slid back open, and I wasn't sure if I was relieved or crushingly disappointed when I cracked open an eye and saw that it was only Bitch.

"She says it's time to go," Bitch grunted, heaving a large black bag off of her shoulder and opening it up. She pulled out what looked like a squeeze-bottle and a stack of towels, and in that moment I could have kissed her. Or Lambda-154. My dress had been rucked up to basically my ribs, so it was rumpled to hell and back but it was more or less free of the mess spattering my thighs and the couch. I had no earthly idea what had happened to my panties, but they were gone now. Bitch helped me peel myself off of the couch and clean myself up, using the gentle, brisk motions she usually reserved for her dogs.

When I was as clean and dry as I was going to get, she let me use her as a crutch, one arm slung over her shoulder as I levered myself to my feet. I took one step and nearly face-planted.

"Shoes off," Bitch suggested.

"Shoes off," I agreed, finally toeing out of the heels. I tried to hide how I winced at the way that tugged at the thoroughly abused muscles in my thighs and abdomen. I was unsuccessful and Bitch hauled me up, apparently more than capable of hefting my deadweight to speed things along.

We made our way down to the ground floor without being stopped by anybody, keeping away from the other patrons and the entire lounge floor. Instead of going back out the way we first came in we took a different turn, going down a short hallway for the staff and ducking out a door that opened into an alley, empty except for one very familiar dog.

"Hi, Angelica," I called out, even as Bitch activated her basic function and her dog began to grow and warp until it was a massive, monstrous creature only vaguely recognizable as the puppy she had first brought back with her a week after joining our crew. Bitch helped me up before she climbed on and then we were gone, darting down the alley and onto a deserted backstreet. She wasn't much of a conversationalist normally and seemed more focused on remembering whatever directions Lambda-154 had given her, so I took the opportunity to lean back against her and rest my eyes a little.

It was impossible to fall asleep while riding a giant dog — heaven knows Aleph had tried, time and again — but I felt a little better when we finally stopped in front of a slightly rundown warehouse.

We were the last to arrive, and Aleph stepped forward to help me down. He had lost his jacket at some point and his shirt was untucked, with half the buttons in the wrong holes and half left completely undone. There was a mess of bruises and hickeys on his neck, and he was radiating a pulsing smugness that tickled the edges of my over-stimulated fragments.

"What happened to you?" I asked, fighting off a yawn as I leaned heavily against him.

He didn't complain for once, curling his arms around my waist to help me shuffle inside. "Size-shifting twins," he said with faux-modesty. "Not a big deal — well, except when they were. But more importantly," he diverted me as Brian and Bitch heaved the heavy doors behind us. "What the hell happened to you?" His eyebrows furrowed. "And where's your other shoe?"

"What?" I blinked and looked at the fingers I had hooked into the ankle-straps of my heels. Sure enough, one was missing. "Damn it. I must have dropped it somewhere on the way out."

"You pulled a Cinderella on Lung?" Lambda-154 cut in as we hobbled over, looking honestly impressed for once.

"Lung?!" Aleph echoed, looking either delighted or jealous. Maybe both, knowing him.

"Who's this?" I asked, more concerned about the small brunette next to our Thinker friend than the fact that I had apparently pulled a runner on an intergalactic crime lord. For the moment, at least.

"Uh," Lambda-154 grimaced. "Okay, I know this is going to sound bad, but we need to take her with us. Her name is Dinah, and — "

"Ninety-eight point three three repeating chance that I'll be assigned to breed with Kappa-011 if you leave me behind," the girl said, and I sucked in a breath. She was young, which meant she had to be newly manifested, but to have that sort of precise precognition... It was rare, and powerful. And given what we had dug up on Kappa-011, 'rare and powerful' was definitely to his taste, and he didn't seem to mind if his partners were young.

I bit my lip, torn.

"Come on, Taf," Aisha wheedled, throwing an arm around me and Aleph. "We're already going off the grid and flipping the PRT the bird; what's one more crime for a good cause?"

Dinah worried her lower lip, staring up at me pleadingly. "Ninety-five point seven two nine nine percent chance I'll be dead within four years if you leave me behind," she said, and then winced and staggered a little. I knew firsthand just how terrible it felt to push your major function just after initially manifesting and sighed, reluctantly making my choice.

"...okay," I said. "She can come. When are we leaving?"

"Now!" Lambda-154 chirped, beaming at me.

"...if you weren't the best damn navigator we've ever had, I swear to God," I started, before shaking my head and cutting myself off. "Whatever. Fine. Get clear so we can do this, then."

She didn't need to be told twice, ushering Dinah off towards one of the walls, and the rest of the crew already knew the drill. I leaned into Aleph, sighing, and reached out for his familiar cluster of fragments. He had gained quite a few in the time we were apart, but then again, so had I. He shifted his grip on me, drawing me close and beginning to rub firm, soothing circles low on my back. And then he reached back.

If I bloomed like a daisy, eager and open, then Aleph was a rose. He loosened slowly but never fully, an inviting slide of satin-softness that tantalized and drew me in as our fragments mingled and connected. Our Collaboration flared to life as our conjoined Carrier congealed around us in a sudden explosion of iridescence and crystalline forms.

The resulting ship was bigger than any we had ever formed, from what we could feel, and there was a definite well of power that we had never had at our disposal before. We would definitely be able to get out of the system, maybe even a couple over before we got tired enough to need to rest. The control deck even looked more sophisticated than usual from what we could see from where we were suspended in the core, and I could feel Aleph practically purring with vanity, felt the skin of my neck beneath his cheek, felt him sigh asI rubbed away at where I could feel stinging scratch-marks and his hands kept working, easing the ache away from my hips little by little.

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