Spartan Resistance

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “Kiss me,” he breathed.

  She kissed him and the same heat coursed through her as the first time. It was like being dizzy, feeling the rush of blood from the toes, or falling…but it was a sweet sensation. She moaned into his mouth and his arm tightened around her, pulling her against him. He was lean and hard and tall.

  And strong.

  He lifted her easily and walked her backwards, until her shoulders were against the wall. He pressed against her and she could feel his cock between them, hot and rigid with excitement.

  He pushed her hair away from her face, then kissed her again. “I like kissing you,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers. “I can’t get enough.” He pressed his lips against hers once more, his tongue thrusting into her mouth.

  Mariana could have stayed right there forever, except that her body was responding with almost frantic insistence. She wanted him to touch her everywhere, all at once. She kept thinking of the bed in the room behind them, of being naked for him and of the moment when he would slide into her.

  She shuddered and moaned and gripped his sweater, trying to pull him into her.

  He must have sensed her need, for he stepped back and stripped the sweater off in one movement, dropping it to the floor. Mariana ran her gaze over his shoulders and his chest. His stomach was as flat as the iron-hard strip of flesh she had glimpsed had promised. Muscles corded along his arms, sinews flexed under the lightly tanned flesh.

  Even his neck had strength, for it was thick with muscle, like a professional fighter’s would be.

  She lifted her hand and let it rest on the pillow of pectoral muscle. His flesh was warm under her fingers. “I think your past holds more secrets than anyone would believe, if they knew.”

  “If you want, I will tell you every last one of them.”

  She shook her head. “Keep them. I know who you are.”

  He fitted his hands around her waist once more and pulled her closer, away from the wall. Then he brushed his hands up, bringing the top with them, drawing it over her head.

  His gaze settled on her bare breasts and she heard his breath escape in a rush. Her nipples tightened in reaction. They ached to be touched.

  Laszlo kissed her again, trailed his lips down her throat. He pulled her closer to him, as his roving lips passed between her breasts and he nibbled his way down to her waist. He bent at the knee, propping himself up with it, so his head was level with her torso.

  Mariana propped herself up with her hands against the wall as he unfastened her trousers and pulled them off. Her shoes were next, then she stood naked before him.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “Anticipation,” she assured him.

  His thumbs stroked over the flesh just inside the mild rise of her hips, making her hiss and her pelvis to roll forward. It was an explicit invitation, but Laszlo didn’t take it. Instead, he rose to his feet again. His hands dropped to his trousers and while he watched her reaction, he stripped the last of his clothing away.

  The evidence of strength was on display throughout his body, from the rounded muscles on his arms and shoulders, to the powerful thighs, tight hips and taut abs. Laszlo was in phenomenal shape. No wonder he had been able to easily hold down a hysterical woman.

  His cock jutted proudly, thick and congested. Mariana reached out and when he didn’t protest, she curled her hand around the shaft. Heated velvet smoothness registered and he drew in a slow breath, controlling his reaction.

  “I want you. In me. Now.” Mariana murmured the words, her lips by his cheek.

  Laszlo responded by picking her up, his hands under her hips. He leaned her against the wall and as her back made contact she realized that he was going to take her right here and now, as she had requested.

  He curled her legs around him, watching her, his gaze absorbing every detail of her reactions.

  She felt the thick blunt end of his cock pressing against her cleft, driving upwards. She was more than ready. She could feel the wet slickness as he pushed against her. He eased inside, a small increment at a time. It was slow torture and she moaned, desperate to take him all in. She gripped his shoulders, squirming, trying to drive herself onto his shaft.

  “The heat of you,” he said. “Heavenly.”

  She couldn’t respond. Her body was a tense pillar and even her heart seemed to stand still while she accepted him into her. As he seated himself, fully enclosed, she couldn’t help but moan. “So good....”

  Laszlo withdrew at the same slow speed. Then he pushed back into her, thick and hard and hot. “Better,” he breathed.

  “Mmm.”

  Laszlo seemed to have superhuman discipline. He kept up the slow torture, his cock sliding in and out at turtle speed. Mariana’s nerves and muscles jittered apart around his cock. She was no longer holding herself up. Laszlo was supporting her fully, while she dropped into the swirling pool of feelings. She lost track of time.

  But Laszlo’s superhuman control was finite. His breath quickened and his movements hastened. He began to thrust harder. Even his cock seemed to grow hotter and harder, until with a groan that seemed to pull from his toes, he rammed into her in three little thrusts and held still, gripped by his climax.

  Mariana trembled, wracked by waves of heated need. She wanted more.

  Laszlo lowered her feet to the floor and she slid down, resting against the wall. She could barely hold herself up.

  He kissed her again and it was as delicious as any of the kisses he had given her so far. She caught her breath as his kiss trailed back down her throat again. Only this time, his lips moved to the aching tip of her breast. For a heartbeat or more his mouth hovered over her nipple and Mariana nearly cried out her frustration and need.

  Finally, he drew the hard nub into his mouth and his teeth closed around the sides of it, scraping and teasing.

  Mariana could barely stay upright. Her clit and her cleft were throbbing heavily. She wanted him to fuck her again. She wanted him in her.

  Instead, he moved his mouth to the other breast. He cupped the first with his hand, the fingertips catching her nipple and tugging.

  Mariana realized she had pushed her fingers into his hair and was trying to direct his head, to hold it steady while his lips and tongue made her feel this way. She didn’t want it to end.

  Laszlo stood, releasing her. Mariana contained her disappointment, breathing hard.

  “Ah, you want more,” he said, smiling.

  “Much more.” Her voice was rough.

  His smile broadened. “You didn’t think I would leave you wanting like that, did you?”

  Before she could find an answer, he turned her so she was facing the wall and spread her legs wide by pressing against the inside of her ankles. His hands slid up along her thighs, making her hiss, but they skirted her cleft and swept over her ass, before gripping her hips and tugging on them, making her arch backwards.

  His cock speared into her. There was no finesse this time. He rammed into her in exactly the rough, hard way she wanted, driving himself up until his pelvis was hard against her.

  She would have moaned if she’d had the breath for it. Everything squeezed around him and her clit swelled and pulsed even harder.

  Laszlo pressed his lips against the back of her shoulder. “Lean forward, my lover. You’ll need the support.” His voice was low and thick with lust.

  She braced herself against the wall. Laszlo picked up her wrists and slid her hands up, until her arms were extended. “To give me access,” he murmured.

  His hand closed around her breast, squeezing it and pulling on the nipple. He rolled it and played with it and a bolt of pleasure shot from her breast to her genitals, which clenched in response. It was so much better with his cock inside her.

  She rested her head on one arm, gasping as the sensations roiled through her. She couldn’t catch her breath. It hitched and caught with each thrumming beat of excitement.

  Then Laszlo’s fingers slipped into the slick channel of flesh betw
een her legs and settled against her clit. He began to stroke with exactly the right pressure, on the most sensitive part of her clit.

  Mariana shuddered and shook as her climax leapt. She lost awareness of the room around her, of the details of what Laszlo was doing to her, of everything except the building pleasure.

  She cried out as her climax shattered over her. Her voice sounded like a stranger’s, thick and deep with lust.

  Laszlo was thrusting hard and fast, driving himself to his own climax, as she squeezed his cock with a vice grip of muscles. His hand slapped the wall next to her own as he came, his hot breath fanning her shoulder.

  They stood locked together for what might have been minutes, as they recovered. Mariana looked over her shoulder at him. He was smiling. It was a small, pleased expression.

  “Perhaps we should go over to the bed,” she said. “I don’t think my legs will hold me up much longer.”

  Laszlo withdrew from her and stepped back. “Perhaps we should,” he agreed.

  Mariana moved into the bedroom proper, but Laszlo halted her with his hand on her shoulder. “Or not just yet,” he said. He pulled her down to the thick rug at the foot of the bed and rolled her onto her back.

  Mariana caught her breath. “What...?”

  He spread her thighs and settled between them. “I’m finding it difficult to let you go.” There was no light in the bedroom, only the light from the sitting room coming through the doorway that fell on one side of his face. His gaze dropped to her pussy. “Very difficult,” he said and lowered himself down.

  His mouth closed over her clit and his tongue pressed up against it, driving in hard thrusts, stroking it.

  Mariana clutched at the rug, her breath snatched away. Her clit was already overly-sensitive and her hips lifted in reaction, but Laszlo merely held her down, anchoring her hips with one hand.

  The other pushed into her pussy, the fingers knotted together. The rough, uneven invader spread her open and rubbed against the muscled walls, making her cry out weakly. She realized she was rolling her head from side to side as the waves of pleasure washed over her.

  Her climax was no less intense than the first. It gripped her, making her still and silent, halting even her breath. She shuddered through the orgasm, which seemed to pulse for ages.

  Laszlo rested over her, a hand under her thigh, lifting it. His cock slid inside even while her nerves were still fizzing with delight. “Quickly,” he said breathlessly. “Make yourself come again.”

  Mariana pushed her fingers down between her thighs, her knuckles brushing up against his pelvis as he ground into her. She didn’t have to work her fingers at all, but merely rest them against her clit. Laszlo’s frantic motion worked the tips of her fingers, stroking her clit.

  This, her third climax, was a more gentle one, but she still tightened around his cock with a hard clenching of her muscles, slowing the beat of his thrusting. He groaned as his hips jerked and this time she could feel the spill of his cum, hot inside her.

  Her heart was racing and her limbs were iron-heavy. Mariana laid silently recovering, Laszlo propped over her, his cock inside her.

  He shook his head. “No, still not enough.” He pulled out of her, picked up her hips and turned her so that she was on her hands and knees. His hands gripped her hips from behind as he slid into her pussy. His cock was still firm, as it had been the first time he had entered her.

  * * * * *

  It was two hours later when Laszlo finally laid his head upon her pillow for the first time and both of them were drained and laid together in silence. A profound repletion settled into her bones and muscles. Mariana sighed.

  “Sleep,” Laszlo whispered.

  “Not while you’re doing that with your hand,” she murmured. He was stroking the side of her breast, which was stirring a sludgy arousal.

  He took his hand away, rolled over and kissed her. Then he pulled her up against him, so that his long length curved around her, his hand tucked under her waist. “Bliss,” he whispered.

  Mariana sighed. His heavy, even breath told her he had slipped into sleep, just like that.

  It was a good idea. She drew in another breath, letting her body relax, then blinked at the sunlight streaming through the window. She was still lying in the same position as when she had fallen asleep and Laszlo’s arm was still around her.

  The day stretched ahead, full of delicious possibilities.

  * * * * *

  Hammerside, Detroit-Rocktown Supercity, 2265 A.D.

  “Ouch! Fuck!” Gawaine jerked his shoulder away from Marley’s reach and glared at her over it.

  Marley yanked his shoulder back into place. “Baby. It’s antiseptic. And you shouldn’t be complaining, considering how you got the scratches in the first place.”

  “You said they wouldn’t be painful after a day,” he reminded her.

  “You weren’t supposed to go and get a new set straight after I dressed the first. I suppose I should be grateful she doesn’t bite you. Vampires teeth are razor sharp. I’d be doing more than dabbing cream, if she did.”

  Gawaine turned his head to look at her over his shoulder again. “She does bite.” He had an odd smile on his face.

  “Where?”

  “Neck and shoulder. But she heals them afterward.”

  “Why doesn’t she heal your scratches while she’s at it?”

  “Says they’re honorable war wounds.”

  “Trophies,” Marley reinterpreted. She hesitated. “I’ve heard….”

  “Heard what?”

  “What’s it like, being bitten?” she asked curiously. “I’ve heard that there’s something in their bite that….” She drew in a breath, feeling awkward. “That makes sex incredible,” she finished in a rush.

  Gawaine looked down at his hands. “There is.” He was smiling to himself and the warmth of his expression was a better answer than his confirmation.

  Then he reached for the remote and turned up on the volume on the screen. They had been watching the news station while eating breakfast, until Gawaine had asked with a touch of bashfulness if Marley could tend to his back once more. The TV had been forgotten, but now with the sound turned back on, it reminded her that there was a world outside the walls of the Agency, a world that didn’t like vampires all that much.

  Gabriel was on the screen.

  “Oh lord,” Marley whispered.

  “Shush. This guy is brilliant.” Gawaine tugged his shirt back into place absently, all his attention on the screen.

  “You’re joking!”

  “Sick, but brilliant,” Gawaine said. “He knows exactly what buttons to press and how to press them. No wonder they keep giving him free air time. Shush for a bit.”

  This was no press conference. The lighting was dim, making it hard to see behind Gabriel. He was sitting in a chair of some sort with a high back and lots of room. It made Marley think of a throne.

  Whoever was holding the camera was an amateur. The camera was steady enough, but they didn’t pan smoothly. But it didn’t matter. The subject was more than sufficient to keep her attention.

  Gabriel was speaking slowly into the camera.

  “He looks sick,” Marley murmured softly. “Look at the way his face is drooping under his eye.”

  “He doesn’t look as pretty as he did last time,” Gawaine said.

  Which was true. Last time, Gabriel had looked vaguely like an Italian video star, with limpid eyes and dark Latin good looks. That impression was gone. His jaw was thicker than Marley remembered, his nose was bigger and lopsided, too. His eyes, though, were as mesmerizing as she remembered.

  “...you believe we are vanquished, that the short-lived victory of the vampires was all it would take to defeat us. You were wrong.”

  “Shit,” Gawaine breathed. “I hope they’re watching this.”

  “They will be.”

  “I will not fill your ears with empty rhetoric. Not today,” Gabriel said, then paused.

  “He’s
weak,” Marley said. “He’s resting in between sentences. That’s why he’s talking so slow.”

  “Gabriel weak? That’s not what Kieran said about him.”

  The most powerful psychic in the world was the way Kieran had described it. As Kieran’s own skills were considerable, he had both the authority and the experience to measure Gabriel’s talent.

  “Something has exhausted him,” Marley said as Gabriel opened his mouth to speak once more. The camera jiggled and steadied once more.

  “Today I will demonstrate why acts such as those of the Chronometric Conservation Agency and their allies last year do not go unrewarded.”

  A chill touched Marley’s neck, making her shiver. “This isn’t good.”

  Gabriel smiled and it was a wretched expression. The left side of his face stayed still, the lips drooping, while the other side of his mouth opened to reveal yellowed and decaying teeth. It wasn’t a smile. It was a rictus of hatred.

  “Bob,” Gabriel said calmly. “Are you listening to me very carefully?”

  “Who’s Bob?” Gawaine asked.

  “Bob,” Gabriel said. “Take a walk.”

  The feed switched instantly to black. Then the studio anchor flickered back into place.

  “Bob, take a walk?” Gawaine repeated, sitting up and looking at her.

  From the floor above them, someone screamed and they both jerked their chins up to look at the ceiling.

  “Robert! Robert, stop!”

  From out on the street came more screams and cries of panic.

  Horror swept through her as Marley realized what Gabriel had done. “It’s not just a single Bob,” she said, racing for the door. “It’s every Bob!”

  She heard Gawaine thudding after her as she ran for the stairs at the end of the corridor. People were opening their doors, checking to see what the sounds of panic were about. Checking to see if they were in trouble.

  Some of the doors shut once they figured they were fine. Others stayed in their open doorways, watching them run past.