The Meeting Point (3 page)

 

 

Deborah's stomach fluttered and lurched at the same time as the guard walked away, leaving her alone in the corridor so close to her lover. Her legs felt heavy and frail, and she leaned forward, hands on knees, to catch her breath.
Keep control now
, she told herself while her spirit threatened to desert her. Closing her eyes, she inhaled and stood up straight. She strode toward the door and stopped, her heart sinking. Of course, it would be locked, wouldn't it? Cursing herself for being so naïve, she tried the handle and was amazed when it clicked and the door clunked open.

“Who's there?” Marcus snapped from inside. “I told you, I've had enough tonight. I'm tired.”

With trembling arms, Deborah pulled the heavy door toward her.

He was hunched forward in a chair by the bed facing away from her. Deborah watched him slump further when the door squeaked open a little more.

“Please,” he said, his voice weary and quiet, “leave me alone.”

A lump swelled in Deborah's throat as she stepped over the threshold. “It's me,” she whispered, but no sound came out. The atmosphere darkened.

Marcus rose violently and threw the chair to the floor. Deborah almost choked with fright.

He turned angrily, his black robe billowing, making him look sinister as a raven. “I said,” he snarled, teeth bared, and Deborah tried her best to stand her ground, but fear melted her limbs and she slumped to the floor, shaking.

In a breath, he was cradling her. Hands stroking her face and hair, exploring her, searching her.

“Is it you?” He took her by the shoulders and squeezed her hard. “Is it... Is it really you?”

Pain, longing, terror, and love streaked across his face all at once and Deborah began to grow under the glare.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice not letting her down this time. “Yes, it's me. I'm here, Marcus, I'm here.”

He pulled her into his chest and wept over her hair. Deborah inhaled his scent, wrapping her arms around his torso and up under his sweater as he rocked her back and forth.

“Oh God, how I've missed you.”

The words came out in great sobs and Deborah was overwhelmed at his reaction. She squeezed tighter, hoping it would hold his emotions together and not send him spiraling out of control.

“I've searched for such a long time. Such a long time. I thought I'd never hold you again.”

She could barely breathe, inhaling shallow hiccup breaths as he squeezed. If she wanted to, she could slip though, right through, into the very soul of him right now. It was a tantalizing thought and she let her physical self go.

“No!” She was being shouted at and shaken. “Wake up! Deborah, my God. I'm sorry.”

Deborah came to, scared once again by his strength and size. What was going on here? Had he lost all sense of scale? Deborah put her hands to her chest and breathed in reviving air, air revved and electric with his aura.

He was smoothing her hair gently once more, his eyes filled with fear. “I thought I'd killed you. I'm so sorry. I—”

Deborah leaned into his lips, tasting her true love for the first time in eight long years. It was the same exquisite Marcus and her mouth watered for his kiss. It came. Soft at first, then hard and fast, devouring her lips, skimming her teeth with his tongue and tangling up in hers. She met him lick for lick, mouths undulating together with need, sorrow, regret, and joy. Deborah couldn't believe the whirlwind of emotions being explored through this one kiss. The kiss where souls collide.

She could feel him smiling now as they slowed their pace. Deborah twisted her hips, bringing her knees up and over his kneeling thighs, and straddled him. They broke free for a second to stare into each other's eyes. He was smiling from within his very being and it shone out over his face. Deborah's excitement started to bubble as she moved around on him, feeling the heat rising and penetrating her. She could feel another rising too and tipped her pelvis to brush herself against the hardening inside his trousers.

“I've yearned for this moment for so long,” he said.

Deborah gasped as he bent to wander his lips about her shoulders and neck, nibbling and teasing the flesh with his teeth and tongue. Her skin tingled with extreme sensations that rippled through her body, carving a path straight to her sex. Her pussy was on fire now, and she writhed and humped on his thighs, loving the feeling of her liquid arousal smearing over him.

“I'm so wet for you,” she said as beads of sweat prickled over her chest and back.

He shifted position and gripped her firmly by the buttocks, lifting her as he stood up. Her heart fluttered at his strength and manliness and she wrapped her legs around him, all the while sniffing at his chest, trying to soak him into her.

The bed was soft and she landed with a flounce when he threw her on it and crawled up over her. He lifted her robes up and over her, holding them in place above her head along with her arms. Wriggling, she tried to shift some of the fabric away from her face so she could watch him drink her in with his eyes, but he had her pinned. Only her mouth was free.

“Marcus, I want to see—”

He silenced her with another ferocious kiss and took one hand down to her breast, kneading and pulling at the flesh, grabbing it and rolling it. Deborah groaned, suspended between desperate pleasure and pain. With his weight straddling her, she squeezed her legs together and her soaked pussy squirmed with heat and desire. Sticky, hot fluid was smeared over her inner thighs and she felt like her clit was going to scream out with a voice of its own. The pummeling of her breasts subsided and his weight shifted to allow him access to her pussy.

That's it
, thought Deborah,
that's it. Feel how much I want you, how much I need you.

He was kneeling by her side now, still holding her hands up with one hand, and the other roamed deliciously up the inside of her leg, bunching her robes as it went.

“I love your smell, I love it. The only thing that kept me alive in here was that smell. Your ripe, swollen cunt all wet for me. That's the smell. I can conjure it in a blink.”

A surge of juices welled from her at his words.
Cunt.
It was so raw and familiar and she could have cried with joy that he used it. It was as if they'd bridged all gaps in time and space with that one deliciously filthy and yet loving word.

“Do you know how I use it every day to make me hard, keep me hard?” he asked, then roughly grabbed at her slippery thighs.

She opened them up to him and he breathed in the scent of her. He squeezed her again then slid upward, pressing a finger to her entrance. Her pussy pulsed and twitched in trembling anticipation. Her whole body was shaking. It was about to happen. He was going to come inside at last. Spreading her fragrant juices all around her lips, he slowly, slowly circled the tiny peaking center of her clit. She jerked and spasmed as he kept milking the hardened bead.

“Marcus, don't,” she said in shrieking breaths. “I'm too close, I'm too close…”

Relaxing a little as his touch retreated, she went suddenly rigid as he shoved two fingers right inside her. She shuddered, and he plundered her pussy in and out with his thick digits. Her pelvis rocked in time and she spread her thighs further.
Yes, yes
, was the only word flying around her mind now.

Convulsing on the bed, she was in a place of pure love and desire. “Be one with me, Marcus, please,” she cried as he withdrew his fingers and began to pull off his clothing. Deborah realized he must have released her arms and went to take off her own robes. She was stuck fast. A faint giggle murmured from his throat.

“I've been practicing for when you came.”

She could hear the smile in his voice and she smiled too. Then there it was. Heat. Heat between her legs and the laden odor of aroused male. He was free of his confines and Deborah threw her head back and her pussy up.

“Fuck me, Marcus.” So possessed with longing and desire, she wanted him to impale her with his cock, ravage her and ravish her.

For what felt like the longest moment, he stilled. She bucked her hips then imagined him staring at her red hot pussy, all splayed open and ready for him. She would have paused at the sight too. His hands gripped the very top of her inner thighs and his thumbs took either side of her pussy lips, pulling them wide. She imagined her gaping hole, ready to be filled by him. She couldn't bear it. She was about to scream out again when he plunged his full length into her, stretching and pulling at her walls the whole way in, filling her, easing her burden, meeting her need.

Her sex flooded again as he withdrew, ready for another plunge. He grunted and groaned from his throat in that way that made her so hot, so horny. She'd forgotten about that sound. How could she have forgotten about that sound? A sudden melancholy threatened to descend on her when he cried out, breaking the spell.

“Oh, Deborah, fuck, fuck. I'm going to come in that hot, pulsing little cunt of yours. I can't stop myself…”

Deborah could have screamed in delight as the surging and twitching in the base of his cock connected with the very center of her sex, setting off a chain reaction of climax deep within her pussy walls. Clenching and unclenching, he pulled the robes from her face and stared deep into her eyes as they came hard and long together, wave after wave, filling up the time apart.

The convulsing and spurting finally subsided, and Marcus untied her while still inside her and flopped down, pressing her body deep into the bedding. Sweat and sex mingled together in a hot, wet tangle and Deborah was struggling to breathe again.

“Thank you.” His words were muffled in the damp hair by her ears, but she could hear he was crying.

She wished she could hold him there forever, but she was suffocating. The power to push him aside was leaving her and she squealed in her throat.

“Oh, sorry.” Marcus laughed softly when he realized what was happening and lifted himself up onto his elbows to give Deborah space to inhale. “I guess I'm out of practice at being the dominant one.” His teeth were so pretty as his eyes crinkled into a smile. The smile Deborah knew. The smile he saved for her and only her, she was sure of that.

His softening cock began to slide free of her and she clamped down, trying to hold him inside for as long as she could. But he caressed her cheek with his fingers and rolled off, pulling her to his chest once more.

Their love trickled out and onto the bedding, cooling quickly, and Deborah pulled some of the blankets around her to stave off the chill.

His heart thundered in his chest as Deborah listened, gazing at the peaks and valleys of his body. It was leaner than before—even hints of a six-pack were visible through his pale flesh. She was sad at how white he looked, his skin deprived of sunlight for so long. Memories of sun-filled days, of living free in the forest flooded her mind and she smiled to herself, realizing how pale her own body would be, having been held captive indoors too. They would be a shining, conspicuous pair if they broke free. Two white ghosts roaming the land.

She ran her fingertips over his pecs and nipples. A dusting of fine hair now adorned the dip at his sternum. He was a man now. Sadness washed over her. He'd grown into a man without her. She'd missed when it happened. Missed when the pubic hair had made a channel to his belly. When his mustache had become a stubbly beard flecked with white. She tipped her head to study his jawline. When had that happened? When had the hair at his temples become peppered with gray? It wasn't much, just a couple of strands here and there, but the loss of those years of still youthful adventure shone in them. Deborah let go and finally mourned this loss, crying heavily into his chest.

 

 

A dull ache thudded through Lena's temples, and she paused for a moment before opening her eyes. Thinking back through every damp, cold, excruciating minute of lying all night in this dip, she couldn't remember actually falling asleep. Her nose was dripping and she pulled her face down into her robes to heat it with her breath, surprised icicles hadn't formed. Getting the feeling that she would never be ready for this day, she bravely blinked open her eyes to see the mist rising from the morning dew. She stilled and focused on the horizon. Three deer, hazy in silhouette, were nibbling at the wet scrubland. Lena's scalp prickled as she made out the buds on the larger deer's skull. A buck.

Excitement bubbled in her chest, and she wished she could rouse her companions to witness the sight. It was an omen. She was sure of that. A parallel trio, wild on the moors. When she felt she could, without breaking the spell, she let her mouth dance into a smile. As she did so, one of the does looked up in that eerie, languid, yet perfectly on guard way. Their eyes met through the thick morning air and Lena yelped in her chest.

Suddenly, anything seemed possible. The uncomfortable, sleepless night forgotten, she gently rocked Angelo's thigh, trying to wake him carefully. His eyes shot open and he sprang up, startled, and the deer scattered out of sight. Lena sighed then looked to her disheveled lovers.

“Morning,” she said, and kissed his sleep-swollen lips.

“Mmm.” He rubbed his eyes and smiled the smile that devastated her every time.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, snuggling back into the warmth and safety under his arm.

“No.” He wrapped his arms about her. “But I'm guessing you didn't either?”

The hollow ache behind her eyes became a thump, and seemingly instinctively, Angelo took her hand and massaged the flesh between her thumb and forefinger. It was a strange pain, like an electric bolt, but Lena felt a knot unwind and release the tension in her neck and temples.

“How did you do that?” she asked, wide-eyed and astonished when her head and vision cleared and she felt refreshed.

“Come on...” He smiled and winked. “You know how good I am with my hands.”

Lena nodded and leaned back as he drew his face close to hers, kissing her gently on the lips. She inhaled and all the tiny hairs on her skin came alive and connected to each other, sending similar shocks of electricity through her.

“I missed you so much,” whispered Lena as Angelo kissed the still cold tip of her nose. She sniffed, tears as well as mucus threatening to spill.

Marcus kept silent and shifted his kiss to her mouth. Lena slumped back into the land as he rose above her, scooping her while their mouths entwined. One arm cradled her upper back while the other roamed under her clothing. His fingers found her heat quickly, and she squeezed her thighs shut around his hand. He pried her open with two fingers and thumbed her clit slowly. Lena's head fell back further, deeper into the earth, as he kissed her lips and thrummed her pussy. Twisting her arm awkwardly, she managed to rummage among the furs and robes, and found him hard and desperate. Still kissing ravenously, he shifted a little to allow her more space, and she wrapped her hand around his girth and began to stroke him.

Excitement welled frantically despite the deliberate, slow, sensual actions they performed on each other. Her hips undulated in time with her hand pumping his cock languidly. It was excruciatingly hot to be brought so teasingly to that state of arousal.

He broke free of the kiss just long enough to whisper into the side of her cheek. “I love the way your pussy feels.”

Her grip tightened on his cock, and she couldn't hold back anymore. She fucked him hard with her fist and bucked her pelvis, swallowing him up and forcing his thumb harder onto her clit. The trembling began in her stiffened knees and rose to the depths between her thighs. The kiss stopped as time itself suspended. She came hard and ferociously on his fingers, pouring her juices onto him just as he shuddered in her hands.

Taking the tip of her thumb over the come-slick head of his cock, she smeared his cream all over him and her hand. He withdrew from her and sucked his soaked fingers. She was a little embarrassed until she realized it was exactly what she'd intended on doing to her own sex smeared fingers. She brought the milky liquid to her lips and licked hungrily. The taste was something she had longed for. In the manor, she'd had to make do with just the merest pearly hints of pre-come to satisfy her greed for him. All those times when they'd been so intimate, yet his essence had been whisked away as soon as he came.

She wondered if any of his samples had been viable—had they made any babies? Then suddenly her brain swarmed with jealousy. Part of her rational mind was amazed at the reaction. It had never bothered her before about what might come of his semen, what it might be used for, even though she had been fully aware of her role at the manor. And his. Why was it only now, when she had him to herself—and Mae—did it bother her?

She could see an image in her mind's eye of the vats of frozen specimens, shelves and shelves of the stuff waiting to be tested or discarded. The next image she saw was of herself, storming the room and smashing each and every vat, watching the frozen shards turn to vapor.

“What's the matter?” Angelo looked concerned. “You look horrified. What's happened?”

Lena shook free of the imaginings and laughed at herself. “Sorry, I just had a pang of envy for all those times I never got to taste your essence or feel you come inside me, trickle out of me, after we made love.” She tongued the last of his fluid off her fingers and relaxed.

“But we're here now. All of us.” He smoothed her hair from her eyes and tilted her chin up. “We'll never be apart again. I promise.”

Lena shuddered. That was quite a statement, but deep inside her, she believed it.

Mae stirred to the right of Angelo, twisting and yawning. She raised her arms above her head, stretching the fabric of her cotton shirt over her chest. Lena was amazed that the sight of the twin buds of her nipples brought renewed arousal between her thighs. She tried to shrug herself free of the burden of sexual need, just for a little while at least. They would have to start planning their next move.

“What a lovely sleep,” Mae said, sensual as a cat as she unfurled from her slumber.

Lena rolled her eyes lightheartedly. That woman could just be so in command of herself no matter where she was or who she was with. Lena was suddenly thrilled by the admiration she felt for Mae. So self-assured and confident about her place in this life. On this earth. Lena thought how wonderful it must be to never have a doubt about your own worth. It was refreshing and invigorating to be around, if a little trying at times. Lena decided that from now on she would embrace Mae's positive attitude of entitlement and try and cultivate some of her own. After all, she must mean something; these two lovers of hers must have thought so to come and rescue her.

The sun finally broke free of the horizon and sat fat and expectant in the sky.

“We better start making a move.” Lena began to gather up some things when Mae reached over to her, cupping her cheek.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Mae said and leaned over Angelo to kiss her.

Lena grinned.

When they'd cleared their camp and tried to erase any evidence of them being there, Angelo stood and held the clockwork butterfly close to his face.

“It's not broken, is it?” Mae asked.

“No, it's not broken, just a little worn, I guess.” He tweaked a few of the tiny mechanisms then began to carefully wind the key. When it was fully loaded, he held it out between thumb and forefinger, facing the way it had come from.

“So we're decided then,” said Lena, trembling a little since it was really she who wanted to follow The Wasp. What if the others really didn't want this?

“Yes,” said Mae, stepping close and pushing her arm through Lena's. “Yes, we're decided.” She smiled and they all watched as Angelo delicately released the butterfly into the morning sun.