by Lila Dubois
“Uh…first was I had to tell you what you like and don’t like. Third was not to wear anything.”
“And the second rule?”
“To do what you say, when you say?”
“That’s right, the second rule is that you obey.”
Jane shivered, and not from cold. She would have sworn that her body was so exhausted it would be days before anything could affect her sexually, but Michael’s stern voice, the look on his face, the way he focused on her, his gaze never leaving her as he demanded obedience, caused her to shiver in arousal.
“But what if I don’t find it pleasurable?” Jane asked, testing the boundaries of his dominance.
“Then we’ll stop. You already know that, Jane, you’re just stalling to be naughty. You will be punished for that later. Now, on your knees.”
Resting her hands on his hips, Jane dropped to her knees. Michael’s long, hard cock jutted before her. It looked awfully big from this angle. She swallowed and then looked up, up, up to his face. Michael’s eyes were hot with passion, a startling bright blue. Jane frowned as a thought struggled to the surface. Something about his eyes…
He cupped her cheek and stroked his thumb across her lower lip. “I will not force you to do this, but I want my cock in your mouth, I want to feel your lips around me. Have you done this before?”
“Yes, but, oh, Michael, I’m terrible at it.”
“No one as sweetly passionate as you could ever be bad at this.”
“You say that now, but you’ll hate it.”
“I won’t. Do it, take me in your mouth.”
Jane opened her mouth as wide as it would go and leaned forward until the tip of his cock was inside her mouth. Once the head bumped the roof of her mouth she stopped moving and closed her lips. Breathing through her nose Jane tilted her head up. Michael’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his hand stroking her bangs away from her forehead.
“If you knew how beautiful you looked, sweet Jane… But you’re right, you are bad at this.”
Jane sat back, a blush heating her cheeks. “Thanks a lot! Way to make me feel stupid.”
“Jane, if a male never taught you to do this why do you expect to know how?”
“I am so embarrassed. Can we stop talking about this?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“No. Give me your hands and let me teach you.”
She looked up at him, evaluating him. Michael looked down at her, no cocky smile or snide remark. Sure, it was self-serving of him to want to teach her to suck cock well, but she had the feeling that wasn’t the reason he was doing it. He was doing it because she was embarrassed and unhappy that she didn’t know what to do.
Jane held out her hands and took the first small baby step towards trusting him.
Michael turned her palms up, bent and kissed each one. “Thank you, Sleeping Beauty.”
“You’re welcome. So…um…what do I do?”
“First use your hands.” He guided her hands to his groin. “Just get to know me before you have to take me in your mouth.”
Jane ran her hands all around his groin and belly, combing her fingers through his blond curls, stroking the point of his hip bones, then, tentatively cupping and stroking his balls.
“Mmm. That’s very nice. Now my cock, do the same with my cock.”
Jane ran her palms up and down the sides of his shaft, then carefully explored the veins and ridges with her fingertips. It always surprised her how soft cocks were, the skin velvety smooth compared to the hardness.
“Now wrap your hand around the base, firm, but not too tight.”
Jane tentatively wrapped her hand around him, keeping her fingers loose.
“Tighter. You want to control the cock. When you choose to take a cock in your mouth, it is yours to control. Grip me, just don’t press too hard with your thumb on the bottom as it will restrict the blood.”
Jane followed his instructions, strangely fascinated by the intricacy and psychology of doing this. Clearly she’d seen one too many bad porn movies, as her idea of what made a good blowjob was being able to take it really deep in your mouth really fast.
“Now lick my cock, lick it all over so that when you start sliding up and down it is wet.”
Firmly holding his cock, Lena started to lick, careful to cover every inch of flesh. As she lapped at the head of his cock she tasted the salt of his pre-come, and, on a naughty whim, pressed her lips just around the tip of his cock and sucked, hard.
Michael moaned, one of his hands fisting in her hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers. “I thought you said you didn’t know what to do.”
“I’ve never done that before. It was just…”
“Instinct.”
“Sex instinct.”
“I told you there was great passion in you.”
Startled, Jane looked up, but Michael pressed his hips forward, in a not-too-subtle hint, and she returned to her task of lubricating his cock.
When he was well coated, and Jane felt that her tongue knew every ridge and bump of his cock, she looked up, licking her lips.
“Now, keep your lips closed and your jaw soft, push your head down on my cock. Let my cock open your mouth. Use your teeth to create pressure, but keep your lips wrapped over them.”
Jane huffed out a breath, disconcerted by how complicated this seemed to be.
“Jane, beautiful Jane, this isn’t meant to be a chore. You should enjoy it.”
“I just…don’t want to mess this up.”
“You won’t. Trust yourself.”
Jane licked the tip of his cock, her hand firm around the base. She eased herself into it, licking and kissing the head for a while, then, careful to keep her lips over her teeth, slid her mouth down far enough to take just the head of his cock in. His fingers kneaded her scalp, and the sound of his breathing, coming hard and fast, made her feel powerful.
She pulled back, removing him from her mouth, and lapped at the tip, before taking him into her mouth, sliding down a bit farther, taking more in, her lips sliding along him, her tongue cradling the tip as it slid in.
It wasn’t until she stopping thinking about it, stopped worrying about keeping her lips around her teeth or applying exactly the right amount of pressure that she started to enjoy it. For the first time she understood the desire to suck cock because it was satisfying.
There on her knees she felt owned and powerful, submissive and controlling. As when she’d stood on the table to be inspected, the duality of what she was doing gave the greatest pleasure.
Soon Jane’s head was bobbing up and down, both her hands were wrapped around him, and spit coated her chin. She slurped and sucked as she massaged his cock with her lips and tongue, moaned and whimpered with excitement each time he took control. He held her head in place for a long moment before allowing her to pull back. She nibbled the slit at the tip of his cock to hear him grunt and moan.
“Jane, Jane, Jane. I’m close. I’m going to come. I’m going to come in your mouth.”
Jane looked up, his cock buried deep in her mouth. Michael looked down, and the sight of her on her knees before him seemed to catapult him closer. His cock twitched in her mouth and Jane moved her hands to his hips, holding them still. She took a deep breath, and then, with a long smooth motion, took the full length of his cock into her mouth and down her throat.
“Jane!”
She swallowed, gagging slightly, but didn’t let go. She found that she could breathe in this position. Jane dug her fingers into his ass, swallowed hard, rubbing him with her tongue, and then, dragged her teeth along his shaft as she pulled back.
Michael shuddered and moaned, his fingers twitching in her hair. When Jane reached the tip she sucked hard, and then took his full length again, faster this time. She repeated the process over and over, sucking him down, holding him there, and raking him with her teeth as she pulled out. Soon that was too slow, and Michael commanded her to go faster, bobbing her head on his cock.
“Jane, Jane, Jane…” he chanted
.
He stiffened, the muscles of his ass turning hard as steel under her fingers, as his come filled her mouth. Jane swallowed, reflex more than anything else.
Michael’s cock slid from her mouth.
He dropped to his knees, facing her. “Jane. Perfect, beautiful, wonderful, Jane.”
He kissed her, long and slow, then smiled. “Your turn.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
Chapter Thirteen
INT. LOS ANGELES — WAREHOUSE
The BLACK SPORTS CAR rumbles to a stop inside a large WAREHOUSE. The warehouse is empty except for the sports car and a MOTORCYCLE.
“Michael, what happened?”
Michael set down the slice of pizza in his hand, wiped his fingers on a napkin and finally leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“It took you a long time to ask.”
Jane forked up some linguini, twirling it against a spoon before answering. “I know.”
“Normally you have a million questions, right away. Why the wait?”
She looked him in the eye. “I’m not sure I want to know the answer to this question.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I’m not really sure, all I know is that it was like being high and drunk at the same time. I felt…free, and even as it started to wear off, I still felt free, like my inhibitions were stripped away.”
“Did you enjoy what happened?”
“The feeling? Or what we…did?”
“I meant the feeling, because I know you enjoyed what we did together.”
“You really are arrogant.”
“I’m wrong? You hate the way I touch you, what I do to you?”
“No, but what if I only liked it in the moment? What if, looking back, I had hated it?”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense. You humans. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it ‘looking back on it’. That’s your mind telling you that you shouldn’t like it, when clearly you did. What’s true, what’s real, is what you enjoy in the moment. The rest is a lie you tell yourself to pretend you’re something you’re not.”
“I’m not lying to myself.”
“You lie to yourself all the time. I only wish I knew why, because you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met.”
Jane sat back, running her fingers along the edge of the table. His eyes, his glorious, beautiful eyes, were on her, his sincerity clear. That sort of statement was hyperbole, common enough, and never meant to be taken literally, but the way he said it made her think it was pure truth.
“I wish I could see what you see.”
Michael picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. “I wish I had the words to tell you, a way to show you.”
They laced their fingers together, setting their joined hands on the table. His thumb stroked the side of her hand. The sounds of the other diners and the clinking dishes of the restaurant faded away. There was nothing but him, nothing but this moment, pregnant with things unsaid, mysteries unsolved and possibilities untouched.
Michael jerked his hand away from hers, sitting back and gulping some wine. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know… Don’t know what?”
What had just happened? Jane set her hand on her lap under the table, clenching her fingers so she wouldn’t feel the loss of his touch as keenly. His eyes, which had been watching her so earnestly and softly, were now hard, the eyes of a stranger. His eyes…
“You asked what happened,” he replied, picking up his pizza. “I don’t know.”
“You must have some idea.”
“Maybe, but it’s not going to be enough to satisfy your million questions.”
Jane gritted her teeth. He was being a jerk, deliberately so. “It’s not out of line for me to want some explanation of what happened. Perhaps you could tell me what you do know.”
Michael stuffed the rest of the pizza in his mouth and chewed leisurely.
Jane bared her teeth in an unfriendly smile. “Perhaps I should call someone else. If I describe what happened, they might be able to—”
Michael’s head jerked up, his expression stark, and lightning flashed in his eyes.
Streaks of white lightning in blue. Power and heat and electricity crackling around her. His eyes…
“Your eyes. I remember,” Jane whispered.
Jane bent her head as a multitude of images flashed behind her closed eyes, filling the gaps in her memory and filtering the blurry images to crystal clarity.
“You-you…were angry. No, not angry…scared?”
“I was,” he said, voice stark. “I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
“Michael, that’s not fair.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Michael stood, pulled out his wallet and threw twenties down. He grabbed Jane’s hand and pulled her to her feet, grabbing her coat and purse off the chair beside her.
“Michael, wait.” Jane snatched up the money, quickly guesstimated the bill and left the correct amount with a good tip, folding two of the twenties and handing them back to Michael. He impatiently stuffed them in his pocket.
“Leave the money. It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”
“Okay, okay, we’re going.”
They weaved through the restaurant, moving fast. Out in the parking lot they jumped into Jane’s car and she stuck the key in the ignition, turning it on before her door was fully closed. Michael’s sense of urgency had infected her, combining with her own itchy impatience for an explanation, now that she remembered exactly what had happened.
They drove home in tense silence, the lights and noise of Los Angeles unable to penetrate the barrier they’d erected around themselves. It wasn’t until they walked into Jane’s apartment, the scene of the crime, that they spoke.
“Explain it to me, please, as much as you can,” Jane said.
“I spoke in an old language. I don’t even know what it’s called—”
“No.” Jane put her hand on Michael’s chest. “Not what you did, but why you did it.”
Michael looked at her in astonishment, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “That’s what you want to know?”
“Yes.”
He looked to the side, mouth twisted. “They wanted to take you away from me, and I can’t allow that. You’re mine.”
“They who?”
“Lena said that if we don’t get the screenplay done she’ll send Henry to you.”
“Send him…for me to sleep with? She’s not my pimp.”
“Send him to help you with the screenplay. But you might be attracted to him. He might touch you.”
“So what if he did?”
“You’re mine.”
“No!” Jane pounded her fist on his chest, as if she could hammer this point home. “You can’t claim me. I’m not yours. You want me for sex, nothing more, and once that sex is done you’ll be gone.”
“No. No. You’re mine.”
Jane had never been as angry with another person as she was with Michael at that moment. His arrogance and illogical demands were driving her mad. It wasn’t fair that he treated her this way. It wasn’t fair that he touched her with skill and intensity while he bargained with sex as if it were no more important than matchsticks. It wasn’t fair that he claimed her, said she belonged to him, at the same time he denied wanting her for anything more than sex.
Jane had never been a violent person, but she drew back her arm and punched him square in the nose.
Michael’s head snapped back, his eyes watered and he sat. Hard.
“That’s what you get you…you…sex bully!”
Jane stepped over his legs and marched into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Chapter Fourteen
INT. LOS ANGELES — WAREHOUSE
The MAN exists the car. His black BOOT hits the ground first. He rolls out of the car, stands tall and pulls his sunglasses off.
A second MAN emerges from
the shadows of the warehouse. His is Native American, with dark skin and eyes.
His FOOTSTEPS echo as he walks towards the blond man.
“Can we please have a conversation like grown-ups?”
“You started it,” Michael mumbled through the door, voice muffled.
“That’s not exactly a grown-up comment.”
“You punched me.”
“Get over it.”
“You’re all remarkably violent. At least you didn’t stab me.”
“A stabbing can be arranged,” Jane warned.
“Fine. Fine. A grown-up conversation.”
“Thank you.” Jane, seated on the floor, back to her bedroom door, pulled her laptop onto her knees. “I’m not coming out, and you’re not coming in, until we get this done. Every time we try to talk about something we get sidetracked. Now, tell me what happened.”
“You mean what actually happened? Not why?”
“Yes, what happened.”
Michael sighed, and it was audible through the door. “I lost control. That’s what caused this. Lena made me angry, I was…scared, as you said. I thought I would lose you. I reacted. It was instinct. I am more powerful, have more control, in my real body. I started to change—it was out of my control.”
She knew this was hard for him, could hear the struggle in his voice, so Jane ignored his comment about losing her and focused on puzzling out exactly what had happened.
“I remember your eyes. There appeared to be lightning, flashes of jagged lightning, actually in your eyes.”
“That’s what my eyes are like in my monster form.”
“What is that called? Lightning doesn’t seem like the right word.”
“It is called Spirit Eye.”
“Spirit Eye.” Jane typed that, loving the mystery of the phrase. “Why is it called that?”
“It is a human term.”
“Really? Did your clan have a lot of contact with humans?”
“Some.”
“Michael…” she warned.
“I don’t know when the term started or why we use it, but it is called Spirit Eye, and it’s a trait in my clan.”
Jane’s writer spidey-senses were humming again. There was a mystery here, something he didn’t want her to know, something about him and the humans, about his kind of monster and humans. She remembered the story he’d told, the one he seduced her with, of the dragon.
