Black Christmas (Plus Bonus Story Black Supper )

by JC Andrijeski

  It felt futile though.

  Exhaling in a near growl, I threw back the covers.

  I could feel that he’d relaxed too, and not entirely because I wasn’t yelling at him anymore. I didn’t really want to think about why that was, or if it had anything to do with the fact that I’d left Nick’s house, knowing Black wouldn’t want me to sleep there.

  It doesn’t, he sent. His thoughts grew more blunt, carried more of an edge. But I appreciate it, doc... a lot. More than I should probably tell you right now.

  I’m not sleeping with him, Black, I sent, exasperated.

  Just shoving your tongue down his throat when you’re drunk, he growled. Just letting him put his fucking hands on you...

  The words came out hard, abrupt. I felt regret on him the instant he said them.

  I also felt I wasn’t the only one who had been drinking.

  Even so, a denser heat reached his thoughts.

  Gods, Miri. Don’t do that again... please. I just about fucking lost it. I’m still not... handling it well, Miriam...

  I shook my head as I crossed my living room in the dark.

  You don’t get to tell me what to do, I informed him. Not when you leave like you did. Not when you take off and won’t even tell me why. You don’t get a vote, Black.

  Don’t I? he sent, harder. You seem to have some pretty strong opinions about what I do with my cock when you’re not around.

  I flinched, frowning at that, but I didn’t answer at first.

  We’re friends, Black, I sent. That’s all.

  Bullshit.

  I meant me and Nick, I sent, annoyed.

  No you didn’t, he sent back, sharper. And stop fucking with me, please. Please, Miri. And stop pretending you don’t know I think of you as my girlfriend. Or that you don’t know how completely fucking insane it made me, having to watch you with Nick the other night...

  No one made you watch, I retorted.

  You’re my girlfriend, Miriam... in my mind at least. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear that part. If you want me to think about you differently, you need to tell me...

  I sighed, shaking my head. We’ve never even slept together, Black.

  Is that the criteria now? For being with someone? To have had intercourse?

  No. I pursed my lips though, standing in front of my closed front door. Why haven’t we slept together, Black? You know I would have, those days when we first got back from Bangkok. I as much as asked you for it.

  The silence deepened again.

  Can we talk about that later, Miri?

  I paused, even as I finished undoing the last lock on the door to my flat.

  “Why?” I said aloud.

  He didn’t answer.

  Exhaling in exasperation when the silence deepened, I opened the door, not thinking about the fact that the outdoor light was on over my porch until I’d already swung it wide. Making a snap decision, I leaned out and snatched the package up anyway, despite my lack of clothes.

  Bringing it inside, I closed the door behind me.

  Thanks for that, he muttered as I re-locked the door. Now I’m going to worry about your fucking neighbors, on top of everything else...

  Did any of them see that? I sent.

  There was a silence, and I shook my head when I realized he was actually looking.

  You’re ridiculous, I told him.

  I’m worried about you, he snapped.

  Biting my lip when I felt the emotion behind that, I decided to let it go.

  I looked at the box I held in my hands. His mind had gone silent again, so I didn’t have access to any of my usual guessing games.

  Pausing to light a few candles on the coffee table where I’d left matches earlier, I sat cross-legged on the floor by the same table, on a rug I had left over from my parents’ house. Pulling one of the glass candleholders down to the floor, I placed the box down in front of me. I didn’t bother to look for scissors but found the seams in the brown paper with my fingers, plucking at the tape and then tearing the paper to get it open.

  The box was relatively small. It was square, about the size of something that might hold a coffee mug, or a balled up T-shirt.

  Wrong and wrong, Black sent, but his voice sounded calmer again, almost amused.

  I finally got the box open, only to find tissue paper inside.

  Look harder, he sent, smiling at me through the space.

  At the bottom was a felt bag. Lifting it up and hefting the weight a little, I opened it, and a pendant dropped out, landing in my palm.

  I held it up to the candlelight, and immediately flinched, recognizing it.

  Fingering the design compulsively, I realized I could feel him on it too and stopped, swallowing. Where did you find this? I asked him. Realizing tears had come to my eyes, I blinked them away, swallowing. It was lost. It wasn’t on her when––

  I know, he sent. And I can’t tell you how, not right now.

  But it’s hers? I sent, almost afraid of the answer.

  Yes. He sighed, and I felt grief on him, real enough and intense enough that it closed my throat. Do you know what it means, Miri? he sent, his voice softer, but lighter somehow too. I could feel him pulling on me softly, trying to pull me out of the spiral where I could feel myself going. It was your mother’s once, wasn’t it? Before she gave it to your sister?

  I nodded, wiping my face with one hand. I found myself clutching the pendant again once I’d done it, unwilling to let go of it with either set of fingers.

  Yes, I sent. Yes. It was a wedding present. It was supposed to be about her and my dad.

  I expected Black to be puzzled by that, to ask me what I meant.

  Instead, he went completely silent again.

  That means something to you? I sent.

  I felt him hedging, but not really in avoidance.

  Maybe, he sent after that pause. I honestly don't know. But where I’m from, the original seers, it was said that the seer races first came from the ocean. Some of the original clans... older tribes I mean, where I was from... they believed some animals were the relatives of seers. They thought that even now, those same animals carried their souls. And humans, they were the third race, according to that myth. The third race is said to come from the stars...

  He paused, and I could almost see him there, sprawled out on a couch, his arm slung over his head as he gazed up at the ceiling.

  The main myth that people believed, they called it the Myth of Three, he added. It got distorted a lot over the years, and used by different groups for some pretty dark things, political and otherwise. But the original Myths, they’re beautiful, Miri. Like living light. It’s like music to hear them... especially when they were spoken by some of the elders.

  I listened to him, realizing I’d never felt him like this before.

  Looking down at the symbol in my hand, I nodded, thinking about his words.

  Whatever it was to Black, to me it was Tlingit art, a Native American tribe from the Northwest. Some of my ancestors supposedly came from that tribe, on my mother’s side. My mom proudly told us she came from several different tribes––plains tribes, and those from the coast, a clan of warriors who lived on the sea. Her grandfather, who still lived in the Northwest, near Canada, had been an artist in that tradition.

  The symbol in my hand was that of a Blackfish, or an Orca.

  I’d never seen another one like it before, which is how I knew it was Zoe’s.

  It was the same pendant she’d worn for as long as I could remember while she’d been alive, but that had been missing from her body in death.

  According to our mother, our grandfather made it when she and my father were married. It depicted a Blackfish in silver in the middle of an arcing jump, with three bright stars below it, nestled in the curve of its body.

  Ocean and stars. Water and sky––like Black said.

  It was beautiful and ornate and it was family somehow, like a living representation of what I was. I’d been jealous that my mother
gave it to Zoe and not to me.

  Now I would give anything if I could hand it back to her.

  Looking down at it now, I rubbed it with my fingers, trying to feel my sister and my mom through the metal. I felt Black instead, the warmth of him, as if he’d stared at it like I was now.

  Merry Christmas, he sent softly.

  Wiping my face again, I nodded, clutching the pendant in my hand.

  I’m sorry about Nick, I told him. I’m sorry I flipped out when you left.

  I felt Black relax, even as a harder pulse of pain left him.

  I’m sorry I left, he sent, even softer. You have no idea how badly I wish I could’ve stayed, Miriam. How badly I want to be there right now.

  When are you coming back? I asked.

  It came out more like a demand than a real question.

  He sighed, and I almost heard him making that clicking sound of his as he laid there, eyes closed where he stretched out on a couch on a different side of the world.

  He didn’t answer me.

  I HAD THE pendant around my neck when I slid back under the covers.

  I felt him there still, almost felt the question on him when I realized he wasn’t going to leave.

  What? I sent. Did you want to talk some more?

  Talk? he murmured.

  There was a loaded pause, then I felt that heat intensify in my chest. Pain followed it, a pulling, aching kind of pain I associated only with him. It wasn’t really pain, not exactly, although he called it that, too. It was more like desire––an intense, frustratingly intense, longing kind of desire that I felt almost physically.

  No. I don’t want to talk, Miri, he finished.

  Letting my weight sink into the mattress, I smiled in spite of myself, shaking my head as my eyes looked up at the dark ceiling. The pendant felt cold against my bare skin.

  Is this like psychic phone sex? I asked. Is that what you’re angling for right now?

  We called it Barrier sex where I’m from, but yeah, he sent. I want to fuck, Miri. When I reacted, flushing at his words, that heat on him intensified, making my breath catch when he felt me thinking about it. What about you? he sent, his mind coaxing again, cautious. Can we do this? Are you still mad at me, Miri?

  Are you going to leave your clothes on? I asked him, still fingering the pendant.

  No.

  I watched in my mind’s eye as he sat up. He pulled the shirt over his head, then reached for his belt, unbuckling the clasp with clumsy fingers. He was already breathing harder, even before he stood up, unfastening the front of his pants before he shoved them down, stepping out of them along with the boxer briefs he wore below and leaving them on the floor by the couch. I couldn’t help but notice that he was already hard, that his body was warmer where I felt it through the connection between us.

  The urgency sparking through him caught in my throat, even before I saw him lay back down, his eyes closed as he settled on the leather couch.

  Gaos... he muttered. I can already tell this isn’t going to be enough.

  Whose fault is that?

  Shut up, he murmured. Are you really okay with me doing this?

  I smiled, puzzled. I assumed we were just going to watch each other masturbate?

  Not exactly, he sent, cagier that time.

  Before I could ask him what he meant, his presence flooded over mine. It was so intense that time I let out a low gasp, my back arching even as he pulled me out of my body, pulling me...

  Black, I sent. Black... what are you doing?

  Then we were somewhere else, and he was there too.

  I felt his body against mine, shockingly real... his hands almost rough as he pinned me to whatever I lay on. Once I focused down on it I saw a bed––complete with sheets and bedposts and a silk comforter. I knew it wasn’t real, just like the stars above me weren’t real, the water I saw flowing by our bed, the long black dorsal fins gliding through the glass-like surface.

  He had his fingers in me then and I groaned, arching against him.

  I couldn’t slow down the intensity of feeling that washed over me.

  I was clutching his back then, gasping when he kissed me, and I felt his tongue. My fingers fisted in his hair, pulling on him, my legs wrapped around his waist, but it wasn’t enough. I felt like I was trying to pull him inside of me, under my skin... I felt him trying to do the same. Those flickers of frustration were the only things that broke the illusion, reminding me that it wasn’t real.

  A memory hit me, of what I’d wanted from him before he left, and his whole body writhed above me, right before he let out a deeper-toned, heavier groan than I had.

  Miri... can I... can I... ?

  I nodded to him somewhere in that and then...

  He was inside me.

  I cried out, feeling him there, but still not enough.

  He drove into me harder.

  Then harder, liquid heat swimming through me... through him.

  I felt a near violence on him. A wanting so intense it made me want to hurt him.

  It wasn’t enough.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Fuck... His voice broke, even as he let out a longer cry. Fuck... Miri... Miri...

  My hands dug into his back, but it still wasn’t enough. I wrapped my legs tighter around him, gasping, pulling him further inside me.

  Nothing was enough.

  He arched into me again, harder, and I felt that frustration building on him too. I saw his eyes close in that space, got a glimpse of him naked and sweating on that couch.

  I came... hard.

  So hard I bucked against him, my jaw clenched, eyes closed. I lost track of both places even as I heard him talking to me, felt his hands on me... felt his frustration... his desire. I felt him wanting to have sex with me for real. I felt him fantasizing about it, even as his hands roamed over me in this unreal place, even as he kissed my mouth, slowing his body right before he slammed it into me harder.

  He raised his head, his jaw clenched as he slammed into me again, letting out a low groan.

  Gods... he groaned. This is making me fucking crazy...

  Images flickered behind his eyes. Some of them were intense enough to make me flinch. On my knees in front of him, his fingers clenched in my hair, my body... gods. He had things in me, my wrists cuffed behind my back... then the image broke, shifting... and I was tied to his bed, his hands holding me down, his mind and his tongue, his cock and fingers learning things about me that made my skin blush where he held me. He started off coaxing me, seducing me... then he started making demands, forcing me with his body and hands. He pushed on me harder, looking for limits. Looking for where I would say no.

  Right then, he didn’t hit very many, and I felt that pain on him worsen.

  I remembered that he was built different.

  He was built like a seer, not a human.

  Seers had an extra part. He called it a hirik, which meant “thorn” in the language where he was from. It looked like a thorn too, a hard, curved thorn out of the soft end of his cock, that was supposed to fit like a puzzle piece in an equal but opposite part of me.

  He wanted to use that on me. He wanted to use it so fucking badly.

  Just thinking about it made him have to fight not to come.

  That pain in me worsened, grew unbearable...

  I’m a virgin, he blurted.

  I looked up at him, stared at him, at his body and face silhouetted by stars.

  He must have felt my disbelief.

  He’d just been showing me images of him tying me to his bed, blindfolded, my legs locked apart. Fucking me from behind while he––

  I don’t mean that, he sent, clenching his jaw. He was still breathing harder, exuding frustration so intensely I was gripping his arms in both of my hands, unable to loosen my hold. Embarrassment swam over him, even as his fingers tightened on me more. I mean I’ve never been with another seer. I’ve never had sex with a seer, Miri... a female seer. Only humans.

  I blinked up at
him, lost somehow in the conflicted emotions I felt coming off him.

  I was practically a kid when I came here, Miri... to this dimension. You’re the first female seer I’ve met here...

  He seemed at a loss, not sure what else to say.

  Miri? He prodded me lightly with his mind, even as he remained inside me, pulling on me. You asked why. You asked why I didn’t sleep with you before I left...

  I closed my eyes, pulling him against me as much as I could in that space.

  For a long moment, I could only lay there, turning over what he’d said.

  I massaged the back of his neck, curling my fingers into his black hair.

  Everything I’d been feeling over those days... all of it, the assumptions I’d made. The stories I’d spun in my mind about where he was. Why he’d left. What he’d been doing.

  Why he didn’t want me anymore.

  Miri? Black sent. He caressed my face, still lying on me, still exuding heat although I felt him trying to control it again. Miri, he murmured. ... I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I left. I didn’t want to lay that on you, I guess... not after everything you’d been through. I didn’t know how you’d...

  He hesitated, embarrassment pluming off him again.

  ... I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, Miri.

  That harder feeling in my chest began to lift, cracking like a fissure in clay.

  Curling my fingers tighter into his hair, I pulled him down to me.

  We could try it here, I sent softly. Do you want to try it here, Black?

  I pulled on him as I said it, tugging on him gently, teasingly, like he had me.

  Pain coiled out of him, hitting me hard in the abdomen, right before his eyes closed. Here, in this other place, his eyes were an even lighter gold, pale stars that seemed to reach through me as he studied my face. When he opened them again I found myself kissing him, caressing his light skin with my fingers, even as I wished it was his real body under my hands.

  Yes, he said, answering me finally, his voice gruff as his fingers wrapped around my hip. Yes, Miri... so badly I’m ready to beg you for it...

  That time, it was me who closed my eyes.