by Lila Dubois
“Are you going to come?”
“Yes!”
He withdrew his hand.
“No! Henry, please.”
“Not yet. Roll over.”
Frustration beat at her. Akta felt half-mad from the desire. “Fuck me.”
Henry chuckled. “I plan to.”
He rolled her onto her belly, slid a hand under her waist and then lifted her onto her knees. His palms smoothed over her ass cheeks, then pulled them apart. Akta sucked in a breath.
“I’m going to use you here.” His fingers brushed the entrance to her ass.
“I’m not sure,” she stuttered.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I’ll make you ready.”
There was a click and then his fingers were on her anus, rubbing a cool, slippery substance around her puckered hole. She relaxed a little, glad he knew to use the Astroglide she’d left out. For someone who’d been a virgin weeks ago, Henry was making up for lost time and then some.
She whimpered when he pressed one finger in.
“Does that hurt?”
“No, but it feels weird.”
He paused, then pressed his finger in deeper. “If you don’t like it after we do it once, we won’t ever do it again.”
“O-okay,” she stuttered. It felt strange to have his finger in her ass, but when he started pumping it in and out, the strangeness was colored with pleasure.
When he forced in a second finger, she cried out.
“Does that hurt?”
Her body was stretched around his fingers, and she had to fight the urge to pull away. “Yes.”
He didn’t withdraw them. “Is it good hurt or bad hurt?”
Akta shivered. Any of her other lovers would have withdrawn the minute she said it hurt. Not Henry. He was going to use her, push her to her limits…and she liked it.
“Good hurt,” she whispered, and it was true.
His free hand reached up under her and cupped her pussy. He pressed his hand flat against her, rubbing the whole of her sex. He fucked her ass with his fingers as he rubbed her pussy. Within minutes, she was pressing her ass back to meet his hand, fucking herself on his fingers.
“Now I’m going to use the plug.” He withdrew his fingers and more cool lube coated her anus. Then something smooth and rounded was there, pressing into her ass.
She took short, gasping breaths as he pressed the plug in. She had two. One was short and thick, the other longer with a more gradual taper. As he kept pressing, she decided this was the second one.
It seemed to go on forever, widening with each millimeter.
“Are you okay?”
“Yessss…”
“This is…” he stopped, took a breath, “…this is hotter than I imagined. I like using you, I like the sounds you make as I fuck you.”
Akta could only murmur her assent.
The widest part of the plug was pressed into her ass, and her body closed around the narrow neck. Henry tugged on it, testing how firmly it was seated within her.
“How does that feel?”
“Full. I feel full.”
“Too full to take my cock in your pussy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Then I’ll make sure you’re ready.”
With the plug firmly in her ass, Henry flipped Akta over onto her back and tugged her to the edge of the mattress. His fingers parted the lips of her sex, spreading them open so he could lick and kiss her clit.
Akta reached her bound hands above her head, grabbing on to the sheet. She was wound so tight, her body was so ready that after only a few strokes of his tongue, she came.
“Henry!” she cried out, the orgasm ripping through her.
His mouth left her sex, to be replaced by his cock. She was tight from the orgasm, tighter still because of the plug in her ass, but he was gentle, pushing in with slow, deliberate thrusts. When he was fully seated inside her, Akta moaned. Her pussy felt stretched to its limit, the same for her ass. Her first orgasm had subsided, and without the diffusing power of arousal, it was a little uncomfortable.
Henry started thrusting and the discomfort vanished, replace by fresh need. She hadn’t thought it was possible to become aroused again so soon after such a powerful orgasm, but it was. Akta wrapped her legs around his waist and spurred him on. He pounded into her pussy, kissing her neck, face and breasts.
Akta came a second time, vising her legs around Henry to hold him still inside her as her pussy clenched.
“Did you come?” he asked in a low tone.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He pulled out and rolled her onto her belly.
Akta knew what was coming as he lifted her to her knees. He tugged out the plug, fucking her with it a few times before removing it completely. Then his cock was at the entrance to her ass.
“Condom,” she gasped.
A moment later, foil tore and then he was back, spreading lube around her ass, working it in with his finger. This time when his cock pressed against her entrance, it didn’t stop.
He held her hips still as he buried himself in her, inch by inch. He was wider and longer than the plug, and the pleasure of the possession was mixed with the faint pain of being stretched and filled. When he started to move, the pain was gone, or rather it was rolled into the pleasure. Her nipples rubbed against the sheet as he thrust, her pussy clenching in time with each movement.
Long, slow strokes turned to fast, hard thrusts, and he owned her, possessed her.
When he came, pumping hard and fast into her ass, Akta too shivered.
“Akta,” he whispered.
Then he was pulling out, removing her blindfold and the bindings around her hands. Her flesh felt electric, even the little brushes of air nearly too stimulating.
She met Henry’s gaze. “You’re still aroused,” he said.
“No.” She shook her head. That wasn’t possible. She’d come more than once.
“I can see it.”
His fingers slid into her pussy and with a few strokes of her clit had her screaming in orgasm. Akta clung to him as her body throbbed with pleasure.
This time when it was over she felt exhausted, almost numb.
Henry disappeared into her bathroom. When he came back, he joined her on the bed, pulling the covers over them.
“And that was only the As and Bs,” he said as she drifted off to sleep.
Akta smiled. Oh, how she loved this monster.
Chapter Twelve
Music thrummed through the speakers, loud enough to make the liquid in her glass tremble. Akta danced in place, waiting for the bartender to hand her a second drink.
The wrap party was underway. Akta had been to her share of these, though they were usually more for the crew than the cast, but this one was special. There was a palpable sense of relief among the people in the bilevel event space. They’d completed principal filming without any further attacks, and now that they were in postproduction, the risk had gone down considerably. Due to the speeded-up schedule, there had been enough left over in the budget to buy out most of the crew’s time, technically keeping them on the production payroll while in post, which kept them from taking other jobs and also decreased the likelihood of someone spilling the beans.
The bartender handed her the second drink and Akta danced her way toward the seating area in the loft. She toasted Jane and Michael, who were getting down and dirty on the dance floor. She shook her head. For someone so quiet and calm, Jane was like a coked-out stripper when the music started.
Climbing the steps, she handed a drink to Henry, then dropped down into his lap. She didn’t care who saw them—right now she wanted to enjoy herself. They’d taken the premier seating spot—a circular booth on the edge of the loft, with a view of the dance floor. Margo and Lena had agreed to turn off their phones for the night. Oren and Maeve were sitting in the other large booth with Jo and some of the other department heads. Tokaki had gone back to his native China, doing his part to spread the word there
.
It turned out that Tokaki’s father was a seriously important businessman—and one of the film’s anonymous investors. Using his business ties, he’d been able to approach party leadership in China and present himself and his Clan as an important and powerful resource. It was a delicate dance, but Tokaki and his family seemed to be dancing it well. “I told you I’d get the drinks,” Henry said, pulling her more securely against him.
“I like doing it. Besides, I’m friendlier than you.”
“True.”
One of Akta’s favorite songs came on and she started wiggling on Henry’s lap. “Keep that up and we’ll be leaving sooner than planned,” he warned.
“Why don’t you come dance with me?”
“No, thank you.”
Akta mock-shrugged and tossed her head. “Okay, I’ll go dance with Jane, I’m sure Michael will do that with both of us.” She pointed to the dance floor where Michael supported Jane as she bent back over his arm, their hips pressed together so tightly they might as well have been fucking.
Henry made a disgusted sound and drained his drink. “Okay, let’s go.”
Akta tugged him down to the dance floor, laughing at his reluctance. Once she got him there, he started smiling as she rubbed up against him. One of the young, bouncy PAs got a conga line going—to a dubstep number, but Akta wasn’t going to judge—and she dragged Henry into it.
“Hey hey hey, cast and crew. Turn your attention to the monitors. The producers asked me to put this on for you all.” The DJ’s voice boomed out as the song faded.
Akta knew what was coming, so she dragged Henry to the stairs and back up to the booth.
The screen on the side of the dance floor, which had been showing a slide show of stills from the production, including candids taken by members of the crew, went blank. A moment later, a news report started playing.
Yesterday Akta and Henry had done the biggest interview of the production. In keeping with the new PR plan, they’d met not with an entertainment reporter, but with one from a news magazine show. They’d gone not to talk about the movie, but the impetus behind the movie. The full interview would air next week, but the network was using a two-minute teaser in tonight’s broadcast.
They watched the end of a report about the economy before the camera flipped and a smiling female anchor said, “Up next we have an excerpt from Lillian Jones’s exclusive interview with the stars of one of the most anticipated, and secretive, movies you’ll see this summer.”
Akta pressed closer to Henry as an image of the two of them, sitting side by side, came on-screen. Akta was smiling, wearing a cute black dress with a high-collared jacket. Henry wore a dress shirt, open at the throat, and a designer sports jacket.
“We look good together,” Henry murmured in her ear.
“Shh,” Akta hissed. She wanted to hear this.
The blonde reporter smiled. “Tell me, Akta, what is different about Truth in Darkness?”
“I wouldn’t say there’s anything different about Truth in Darkness. It’s a wonderful story, almost timeless.”
“Then why the secrecy?”
“What’s different are the actors, like my costar Henry.”
There was a close-up of Henry’s face. He wasn’t smiling—he was smoldering. Someone in the crowd on the dance floor wolf-whistled.
“Henry, tell me, what’s different about you?”
“I’m not entirely human.”
“Not human? That’s quite a thing to say.”
“But it’s true.”
“If you’re not human, what are you?”
Henry shrugged.
The video shifted back to Akta. “The story we’re telling in Truth in Darkness is fictional, but the actors are being very truthful—they’re showing themselves. Showing who they really are.”
“Henry, would you be willing to show us that?”
“Of course, Lillian.”
In the video Henry got up and walked out of the room. It cut to a shot of him walking back toward the chair in his true form—an eight-foot-tall monster wearing knee-length pants.
“Oh my,” Lillian said. “May I?”
Henry cocked his elbow, almost as if he was offering her his arm. The video cut as Lillian put her fingers on his forearm.
“Tune in Monday at seven, six Central, to see the full interview. And now over to Mark with the weather.”
The video feed cut and everyone in the party erupted into cheers.
Akta’s heart was pounding in her chest. This was it—there was no going back now. Henry had exposed the truth on national television. At the end of the interview, Akta could tell that the reporter Lillian hadn’t really believed them. Henry had changed out of sight, since the process was fairly gross, and without actually seeing the transition there was a possibility that Henry was just wearing a costume—though it would have been the most amazing movie-makeup magic ever.
Still, they’d done it—maintained their composure and made sure to craft the message they wanted. A rep from the PR firm had been there, standing behind Lillian and helping to guide them through the interview.
“Akta, Henry.” Lena held up her glass in a toast. One by one, the others raised their glasses.
“Cheers,” Henry said clinking his glass to theirs.
When they pulled back, he tapped his glass to Akta’s. “And cheers to us.”
Akta smiled and settled back against him. She was happy—truly happy. Her life would be almost perfect, if not for the ball of worry in her stomach.
Akta pressed her lips together and tried not to giggle as Henry’s hand slid down her back to her ass.
“You know I can see you, right?” The disgruntled sound editor’s voice piped through their headphones.
“Sorry,” Henry said, sounding anything but.
They were in a recording studio doing the dubbing. They’d had trouble with the sound during much of the filming, mostly due to noises made by the guys’ wings. As they were nearing the end of postproduction, and with the release date now less than a month away, Akta and Henry had been called in to fix places where the dialogue quality was low.
“Okay, let’s go again,” the editor said.
Akta checked the script on the music stand in front of her, then watched as the soundless video played.
“Ebon, go, just go. You can get away if you leave me here.” Akta did her best to match the emotion on-screen with her voice.
“No, Padma, I’m not going to leave you. I’d never leave you.” Henry had lowered his voice to match what it would be if he were in his monster form.
For four hours they went through scenes that needed to be dubbed, doing each one multiple times so the sound editor would have options.
“That’s it, we’re done. Thanks, guys.”
Akta pulled off her headset and rubbed her ears. Henry pulled her against his side and kissed her forehead.
Akta couldn’t stop her smile. Outside the circle of people who were contracted to keep their mouths shut, he was still hands-off, but in front of the crew, he didn’t hide their connection.
“Do you want to go get some lunch?” she asked Henry.
“Go out?” There was hesitation in Henry’s tone.
Akta suppressed a sigh. “We could get takeout.”
“We can go out if you want,” he said reluctantly.
“No, better safe than sorry.”
Together they walked out to her car. Henry paused with the keys in his hand. “Akta, I don’t want you to feel like we have to hide.”
“It’s okay.”
“Hold on.” Henry turned her to face him. “You know how much you mean to me. I want you to be happy.”
Akta smiled tightly. The past month had been wonderful. After the good reception to the interview, everyone had relaxed. She tried not to take it personally that Henry didn’t want to be seen in public with her. She tried to remind herself that he was cautious, not that he didn’t respect her or was ashamed of her.
“
I am happy.” She lifted onto her toes to kiss him. “Why don’t we pick something up on the way home?”
Henry touched her cheek. “Thank you.”
Henry drove while Akta called ahead to Urth Caffe. He double-parked while Akta ran in. She ignored the way people started whispering as they recognized her. It wasn’t her first time there, and as unfair as it may be, she knew they’d let her cut in line. She slid up to the counter and held out her credit card. One of the staff saw her, smiled and grabbed her order.
Bag in hand, she started out of the restaurant.
“Is it true—are they really monsters?”
Akta stopped short as a man jumped out of his chair. He’d been sitting alone at a table by the window. He looked a bit unkempt, with unwashed hair and dirty clothes. Urth Caffe was a casual place with a coffeehouse vibe. Akta liked it precisely because it wasn’t a snotty place catering to celebrities.
She smiled. “I can’t say. I guess you’ll just have to see the movie.”
“They’re monsters. I’ve seen them. They’re going to kill us!” He picked up a tattered book off his table and threw it at her. Akta jumped back as people leapt from their chairs. She heard someone on the phone reporting what was happening.
“They’ll kill us all!”
The man ran at Akta. She dropped the bag and scrambled back, holding her hands up. Akta threw her hands in the air to ward him off as the man grabbed her. Dirty fingers dug into her arms. He was screaming nonsense words, shaking her. Akta tried to pull away, but he clung to her with an almost unholy strength. Bystanders had jumped to her aid, trying to pry the man’s hands from her arms.
A growl rumbled through the room. The man’s fingers released as he cried out in pain. Henry was there, gripping the attacker’s wrists so tightly that his fingers were turning white.
Henry forced the man to his knees. “Do. Not. Touch. Her.”
Silence, punctuated by the man’s whimpers, settled over the cafe.
Akta looked up, saw the cell phones that were out and pointed at them. “Henry,” she breathed, “let him go. We need to leave.”
Without stopping to see if he was following her directions, she turned to the counter. Fumbling in her bag, she pulled out a business card with her manager’s number and passed it to one of the stunned staff people. “I’m going, call this number if you need anything.”
