Neon Blue

by E J Frost

  Did you eat a lot of sushi in Japan? I ask, mostly to make conversation. We haven’t spoken much since the car. Both the silence and the content of our last conversation are bothering me. Probably will bother me for a long time. Am I really hiding from my own power? Am I endangering myself and those around me by refusing to accept everything I can do? And why is safety important to a demon?

  Not much. Masaharo and Hoshi-san weren’t into feedin’ me. He leers around his saki cup. They were more into the orgy side of things. When I did eat, I never got to see it made . . . fascinatin’, isn’t it?

  I nod in agreement. The sushi chef’s agile fingers turn the unprepossessing clumps of rice and strips of fish into miniature works of art. Each is beautifully displayed. He finishes a pair of salmon nigiri and places them side-by-side on the sushi boat so that the striping of fat in the deep orange fish creates a chevron. The demon smiles and silently toasts the shokunin with his saki cup.

  That’s almost too pretty to eat, I think.

  The demon’s dark gaze slides over me. Nothing’s too pretty to eat.

  I shiver. He hasn’t touched me. Barely even looked at me. And I’m still flushing with heat. How do you do that?

  He chuckles into my mind, deep and wicked. Natural talent. He takes another sip of saki. Go to the bathroom.

  What? I don’t need to—

  Want me to jump you out here?

  No! Fine, fine. I’ll go.

  I pick up my handbag and flee to the bathroom. Running cool water over my wrists and patting it on my flushed cheeks helps. Until I hear his thought, like a warm breath in my ear. Unlock the door.

  Automatically, I turn and unlock the bathroom door. The demon slides through and locks it again behind him.

  “This is the ladies room,” I point out.

  Like I give a fuck.

  He backs me up against the sink. Before he even touches me, electric sparks are jumping between us, crackling across my skin, flaring his dreadlocks. He slides one huge hand around my waist and pulls me tight against his body. His heat hits me like a physical force, sinks into me, tightening everything from belly to groin, while the rest of my body goes limp and languid. I clutch at his leather jacket and his dark chuckle fills my mind.

  Then his mouth is descending. I arch up onto my toes to reach him and his other arm comes around me, holds me tighter, closer, crushing me against that hard chest. He widens his stance as his mouth nudges mine. His tongue presses into my mouth; his erection presses against my belly, and I’m lost. I don’t care where we are or what’s going on around us. I need him, with an intensity that would be frightening if I could spare a thought to be afraid.

  I climb my way up him and he helps me, lifting me until I’m balanced on the edge of the sink and can wrap my legs around him. We kiss looking into each other’s eyes, the way we did last night. His eyes are dark and deep and wicked as his chuckle. He rubs against me, grinding his erection against my pubic bone. A warm, sexy ache. I claw at him, wanting more, wanting all that hot skin against mine. He lets me tear off his jacket and the black sweater underneath. He pushes my clothes out of the way until we’ve got what we both want, skin on skin. One of his huge hands closes on my breast and I nearly swoon into the sink.

  Sensitive. He rubs my nipple with his thumb. His other hand kneads my hip, my ass, pulling me tighter against him. His hips rock against mine. The slow, sweet rhythm he uses when he’s inside me. Need balloons up from my groin, expands until it consumes me.

  Please, I think fuzzily.

  Yeah, you want somethin’? He eats at my mouth, sucking on my tongue.

  I want— It’s hard to say. Hard even to think. Sex in public is so not me.

  Right here? He tilts my head back with his chin, licks his way from my mouth to my ear. Right now?

  I shudder. Give in. Yes. Yes, please.

  What if I say no?

  I clutch at him. Please. Please, Jou.

  His chuckle slides through my head. Mmm. However I want, right?

  The heartbeat pounding between my legs increases, rising to a frantic tempo. Yes, however you want.

  Then I got a surprise for you. He reaches between us, unbuttons his jeans and works them down over his hips. Mine follow. He takes his time working mine off, stroking my thighs, my calves, his hands hot on my skin. I glance at his groin, expecting to see something different there, but it looks the same. Long, thick, so engorged it must be painful. I don’t see anything different, but I don’t care. I’m totally happy with what I’ve already seen.

  He closes the space between us. His big hands slide up around my neck and throat, holding me as he starts to kiss me again. He rubs the smooth skin of his chest against my aching breasts. Heat and power. Sweat and the seawater smell of sex. He pushes against me, his thick tip probing. I struggle for a moment, uncomfortable on the edge of the counter. He reaches down and tilts my hips to the right angle. My legs come up naturally, wrap around his waist. He sinks into me, working his hips in tight circles. I feel him all through me.

  I reach back, my hands feeling along the sink to the backsplash. He fucks me harder than any man I’ve been with. I brace myself and wait for him to begin pounding into me.

  No, I want you close. He pulls me tight against him. My angle’s wrong again and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, trying to get my balance. His hand settles in the small of my back. Keeping my hips tilted. Keeping my groin welded to his. Keeping me still while an unfamiliar and impossible sensation laps over me.

  What the—? I try to pull back. To look down. He doesn’t let me.

  His dark chocolate chuckle slides through my mind. Nethertongue.

  What?!

  Just enjoy it. The impossible sensation slides over me again. I shudder. I don’t like oral sex. It’s wet and messy and leaves me feeling empty inside. This is completely different. He fills me, wedged so deep he pulses against my cervix with every rock of his hips, while that impossible sensation continues, circling the swollen nub of my clitoris, flicking in a rhythm that matches the throbbing deep inside me. His hands move over me, stroking my throat, my back, rocking my hips against the double pressure against and inside me. Good?

  Good. Omigod, good.

  Thought I could get you to like it. He pulls out a little so he can plunge back in. The wet lapping over my clitoris intensifies. I clutch at his shoulders, digging my nails in.

  Yeah, just like that. He throws his head back, rams deep into me, his hands on my hips holding me still against the force of his thrusts. I’m shuddering. I’ve never felt anything like this and it’s more than I can stand. The friction of him pumping inside me and the motion against my clitoris make my whole body scream. The mounting electric energy swells and builds in tight waves.

  He brings his head forward and looks directly into my eyes. The neon-blue glow fills my mind. You want to come?

  God, yes. I grab at him, suddenly fearful he’s going to say no, exercise his right to have it his way.

  So do I. His hands tighten on my hips. Tomorrow I’ll be bruised, but right now, high on endorphins and power, it just makes me gasp with pleasure. Swear you’ll drink everything I give you tonight.

  Wha—?

  Just swear it.

  It’s too hard to think. He’s still driving himself inside me, filling me over and over while that impossible, amazing pressure laps over my clitoris. I tremble with effort, and my impending orgasm. Give in. Okay, okay, I swear.

  He brings me to climax immediately. Sweet and hard. Sweating and shaking from the force of the orgasm that tears through me. Thunder rumbles outside. Plasma leaps off my skin, showering across the tile. It runs under his skin, swelling his veins to glowing paths of light. Leaves me gasping and limp in his arms.

  He kisses me through the aftermath, one hand cupping my head. Whatever’s down there licks me gently. His other hand roams my skin the way it did when we were going at it. Stroking me everywhere, keeping my skin alight, tingling with the promise of more.

>   When he finally lets me go, I slump back against the wall and watch him dress. He does it unselfconsciously. Letting me watch. I can’t see anything different about his groin. Whatever was down there has disappeared into the dark thicket of his pubic hair.

  “What are you going to make me drink?” I ask. My voice sounds rough, husky. Not like my voice at all. “More of your blood?”

  He towels sweat off his face and neck, wads up the paper towel and tosses it into the waste basket. Nope.

  Then what?

  Wait ‘n’ see. See you outside.

  He leaves me straightening my clothes.

  When I return to the counter, the sushi boat is only half-finished. The sushi chef glances at me incuriously as I sit down beside the demon. We haven’t been gone long enough to cause even a raised eyebrow.

  You did that weird time thing again, didn’t you? I sit down shakily, trying to pull myself together. Trying to pretend that I didn’t just have sex with a demon in a public restroom.

  Yup. Have some saki. He nudges my cup.

  I sip hesitantly, expecting some awful addition. But it just tastes like saki. Warm and mellow with an acidic edge that keeps it from being bland. “This is nice,” I say slowly.

  How much you usually drink?

  Not a lot. Why?

  How much is too much?

  Three glasses is usually my limit. Why?

  The demon refills my cup, which is still more than half full. I don’t want you puking on me later. “Kampai.”

  Kampai?

  Bottoms up. The demon tinks his cup against mine, tosses it back and pours himself another.

  I watch him warily. You’re trying to get me drunk?

  Thinking about it, yeah.

  Um, it’s not like you need to get me drunk to take advantage of me. I can’t believe we just did that. In a public bathroom. Without a condom.

  He grins, but responds seriously. Told you, I don’t get human diseases.

  You can still carry them, though.

  That’s water demons, sweet meat. They’re the plague-bringers. I burn off anything I’m exposed to. You’re safe with me.

  Not. So, so not.

  Although my thought wasn’t directed at him, he chuckles.

  Why are you trying to get me drunk?

  I got my reasons. Now drink up. You promised.

  I did. And even though I’m dealing with a demon, I keep my promises. I take another swallow, which is just as nice as the first. My belly’s still quivery from my orgasm, and the saki’s warmth calms the frantic fluttering to a mellow glow.

  The demon puts an arm around me, enveloping me in his heat and the smoky, spicy smell of his skin. Together, we watch the sushi chef finish his masterpiece. Whether it’s the saki or the sex or something else, sitting with him is companionable. I don’t break the atmosphere with questions until the sushi boat is finished and the demon takes it to a table.

  I sit down across from him, glance at him ruefully when he refills my cup again. Take an obligatory sip before pointing at one of the pieces of sushi. “Any idea what that is?”

  “Sea urchin,” he responds. “Give it a try.”

  I do, and it’s wonderful. Chewy and fresh as salt spray. “Good,” I say when I’ve finished it. Then I ask the question that’s been haunting me since the car ride. “Why do you care about being safe?”

  He raises a dark eyebrow as he surveys the sushi. “Why’re you askin’?”

  “Because of what you said in the car. About safety being all there is.”

  He selects a piece of sushi, chews slowly. “You ever been really afraid?”

  “Yes. Especially recently.”

  He ignores my pointed comment and takes a piece of sushi with a ruffled, reddish edge that looks like a cross-section of tentacle. I’m definitely not eating that. “Ever been afraid ‘cause you knew what might happen was worse than dyin’?”

  I huddle in the chair, and nod slowly, thinking of my nightmare. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Mmm.” He chews the tentacle for a moment. “You live alone. No one depends on you. You died tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter to anyone.”

  I glare at him. “Well, thank you very much!”

  He stretches his legs out under the table until he catches my ankle between his. “I’m just statin’ a fact. You’re alone, sweet meat. You got friends, but they don’t depend on you. All you got to worry about is yourself. You’ve been afraid, but only for yourself. You don’t have to worry about what would happen to the ones who count on you if you got yourself killed. I do. It’s worse than just bein’ afraid for yourself.”

  “You have people who count on you?” It comes out resentfully, because I’m still stinging from his last comment.

  “Yeah. Demons ain’t loners. We like company.”

  He hands me a piece of the artfully-striped salmon while he bites into its mate. I eat slowly, still a little resentful, even though the fish is meltingly creamy. “You said you had several thousand siblings. Are they the ones that count on you?”

  “Not all of ‘em. Just my clutch.”

  “Your clutch? Sounds like a bunch of chickens.”

  He chuckles. “Eighteen of us hatched out at about the same time. We’ve stayed together since.”

  “Eighteen. That’s a lot of . . . people depending on you.”

  “You can call us demons. An’ it’s only six now. That’s all that’s left.”

  “Oh.” I pause for a moment. Then curiosity gets the better of me. “What happened to the rest?”

  “Killed.”

  “By humans?” I ask in a whisper, afraid of the answer.

  “Nope, mmm, yeah, one was killed by humans, now that I think about it.”

  “And the others?”

  “The old man ate a few.” His grin morphs into the shark’s leer, full of teeth and cruelty. I shiver. “Infanticide’s one way to take back the power he expended creatin’ us. Very popular with the older set. Th’ others were killed in one war or another. Drink your saki.”

  I take another obligatory sip, chase it with a piece of spicy tuna. “I didn’t realize demons fought in human wars.”

  He frowns. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

  “You said they were killed in wars.”

  He shakes his head. “Hellwars, sweet meat. Not the little games you humans play with gunpowder and cordite.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know there were wars in Hell. I can’t imagine what they’d fight over. “Have you fought in them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t seem like a soldier.”

  “What d’you know about being a soldier?”

  I shrink into myself, feeling stupid. “Nothing.”

  He tilts his head to the side, watching me. His eyes are dark, but not soft. “Why’re you askin’ so many questions?”

  I shrug uncomfortably. “I want to know about you. You know everything about me and I barely know anything about you.” And learning more about him is the only chance I have of finding a way to send him back. But I carefully stuff that thought to the back of my brain.

  He goes back to the sushi. “I’m not complicated, sweet meat.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” I say slowly, not wanting to offend him, but not wanting him to close off this line of conversation, either. “There’s more to you than just that.” I wave vaguely behind me, towards the bathroom.

  “What, ‘cause I want to say when and how?”

  I nod. “And because you care about your siblings’ safety.”

  He eats two pieces of sushi before he responds. I study him while he eats. The crimson fall of his dreadlocks. His hooded eyes and the clean lines of cheek and jaw. The faint quirk of his mouth as he chews. The smoky scent of his skin fills my nose when I take a breath. It makes my belly tighten. He doesn’t seem bothered by my scrutiny and I don’t have much choice about watching him. My eyes gravitate to him no matter where else I try to look.

  He finally says, “I just do what need
s doin’. Drink up.”

  I finish the saki in a warm swallow and put my cup down between us, expecting him to refill it immediately. He doesn’t. I wait, watching him curiously, feeling the buzz from the saki spreading upwards from my stomach.

  “Can’t remember the last time I had a real conversation with a human,” he says eventually. “Most of you just force me to divvy secrets your kind’s better off not knowin’. Gimme commands, without ever considerin’ the consequences. What else you wanna talk about?”

  How to send him back, but I can’t ask it baldly, as much as I wish I could. “So you have a family?”

  “More of a harem.”

  “Oh.” Disconcerted, I take a piece of tuna and turn it around in my fingers, watching the shine from the halogens overhead glisten on the fish. A harem. What else should I expect from a lust demon? “What happens to your harem while you’re stuck here?”

  “Ful’ll watch over them. An’ I’m not stuck here. I can go anytime.” He rubs his ankle against mine. “That’s the beauty of not bein’ bound.”

  Which leaves me exactly screwed. Next time a demon asks me to bite off its binding, I’m going to tell it to get stuffed.

  “Don’t you miss them?” I don’t have much hope of getting him to go back on his own. He’d have done it by now if he was going to. But it’s worth a try.

  He chews for a moment, washes it down with a swig of saki. “Yeah. Not the way you mean, but, yeah.”

  “Why not the way I mean?”

  “’Cause I’m not human, sweet meat. If they were yours, you’d miss ‘em the way humans miss each other. I miss ‘em because they’re part of my power base. ‘Cause I’m not as strong when I’m not with ‘em.”

  “But you worry about what will happen to them, so you must have some feelings for them.”

  He snorts around another piece of tentacle. “Feelings. Everything you humans do is so wrapped up in your feelings. You think I can afford to be controlled by my feelings? Like when that stupid fuck left you. You think I could let losin’ one of ‘em destroy me?”