Steampunk Desires: An Erotic Romance (The Complete Collection)

by Wilde, Sophia

  “Why, yes, Harriet,” Edwin said, surprisingly enthusiastic, “I’d like to see the engine room.”

  She nodded, taking him by the hand, as if a child was walking her parent across a busy street, and she led him to the stairs. They went down two flights, passing the propulsion deck as they did, and came to a locked door with “Engine Room” stenciled on it. Harriet took a key from the pocket of her slacks; she had always hated dresses — society be damned — and preferred something with pockets. She turned the key in the lock and opened the door. A vast expanse of space stretched out before them, filled with machinery made of gleaming brass and highly polished wood. A deep humming rumbled in their chests as the machinery turned, keeping the airship aloft and moving.

  Harriet placed Edwin’s hand on the wall. “Can you feel its pulse?” she asked, her eyes lighting up as he’d never seen them before, with a deep sense of awe and wonder, as if she couldn’t believe she’d designed the ship’s power train herself. Or maybe she just couldn’t believe it worked so flawlessly. Or perhaps it had turned out better than she’d envisioned.

  Edwin felt the hum in his hand and nodded. He could indeed feel its pulse, and somehow it excited him, but he didn’t know why.

  “Come on,” Harriet said, tugging his hand lightly. They walked the length of the ship, slowly passing enormous motors and turbines that sat half-buried in the deck, the top half still standing ten feet above Edwin’s head, their blades turning too fast to see, but their hum omnipresent on the deck. A giant glass cylinder sat directly in front of them some distance. They came to it, and Harriet pointed. “This is the bipolar energy,” she said. It looked like a giant, empty mason jar, but the top was crowned by a brass fixture somewhat resembling a chandelier inside the cylinder, and a spire jutted above the lid, a huge metal plate that sealed the energy inside. A giant polished brass sphere, five feet in diameter, topped the spire, sitting easily twenty feet in the air. Inside, occasional sparks of energy traveled to or from the chandelier spikes and struck the bottom of the jar or traveled along the side.

  “That’s someone contributing,” Harriet said when one of the sparks, like a miniature lightning bolt, shot down into the jar. Edwin watched with fascination. While he’d heard of the engine room, he’d never seen it, and here was evidence that someone in his crew was doing his or her job.

  “Harriet,” Edwin asked, “where are the female and male energies?”

  Harriet pointed off into the distance at two other giant jars. “They’re right under the collection rooms,” she explained. “The shorter the distance the energy has to travel, the less waste there is.” Edwin nodded. He could see both jars flickering faintly in the distance.

  Harriet looked up at the nearest jar, serenity, satisfaction, and a hint of awe coloring her features. Edwin watched her expression, smiling faintly at seeing her showing an emotion other than ire, imperiousness, or impatience. She glanced over at him and timidly took his hand. The two stood, watching the sparks in the jar.

  “Edwin,” Harriet said quietly, “let’s do it right here, under the bipolar energy capacitor.”

  Edwin nodded slowly. “Do you have a brass sock?” he asked, and she winced.

  “Yes, I have a special power collection apparatus right here,” she said. She walked to the other side of the jar and returned carrying it. Edwin frowned. It had no cord.

  “How—how do you plug it in?” he asked.

  Harriet grinned gleefully. “It’s wireless,” she said triumphantly. “It’s something I’ve been working on. It still has to be brought down here to discharge, but it can hold the energy inside of it until it fills up.”

  “Fills up?” Edwin asked.

  “Yes,” Harriet said, a bit of impatience in her voice. “It can only hold so much, just like a glass can only hold so much water.”

  Edwin nodded, and Harriet, who had long dreamed of being with a man — the right man — could stand the anticipation no more. For over ten years, she’d put her libido second to her work. It was while she was making a vibrator to cure what the doctors called “hysteria” that she discovered the energy of sex, and her every waking moment ever since had been devoted to nothing else. She’d waited long enough.

  She handed Edwin the power collection apparatus and removed her lab coat. She wore nothing beneath it, save her slacks. Her breasts were not large, nor were her areolae. Edwin watched her with interest. He had never imagined her in this capacity; it had been a completely foreign idea to him, yet now that the opportunity was upon him, he desired it. He took her lab coat and hung it loosely from a railing surrounding the jar. Before she could remove her pants, he returned to her and held her, her head fitting easily into his full-sized hands. He rubbed the back of her head gently with his fingertips, and she closed her eyes, sighing in pleasure and relaxation. He brought her closer to him. It was awkward on account of the differences in their size, but he rested her head against his thigh and continued to stroke the back of her head.

  She sighed again as he knelt, then sat beside her, his fingers trailing down her chest, grazing over her nipples. She felt them begin to harden and smiled. Edwin was a good choice. She sat next to him and reached up to caress his chin with her hands, slowly pulling him toward her. Their lips met, and she gasped. It was everything she’d hoped it would be. His lips were soft and gentle, yet firm and commanding. He lay her down on the metal deck. It was cool and hard, but not uncomfortable. The two continued their kiss, and he pulled her closer to him. His arms were strong and comforting.

  Edwin was feeling unsure of himself. Harriet was so tiny, and he was afraid he would hurt her. Her body responded as he thought it would, but still the concern was there. She seemed to sense his hesitation and stroked his face, smiling warmly, happily, and he felt reassured. She began to unbutton his shirt, and he rolled onto his back. She straddled him and continued loosening the buttons. At last his chest was visible, his pectorals well defined, his ribs peeking out below a thin layer of fat, his abdomen defined and slightly furry. With interest, she ran her hand through the fur on his belly and chest, and he sucked in his breath; it was a sensuous touch for him. Harriet smiled, beginning to see why people enjoyed sex together. Her hands trailed to the buttons of his slacks, but he reached up and stopped her, pulling her forward to lie on his chest.

  “You first,” he said teasingly into her ear. She grinned and sat up, her fingers on the front her waistband.

  “Do you want to see these removed?” she asked, echoing his teasing tone.

  “I don’t want to see them at all,” he retorted, grinning.

  She bit her lip seductively and unfastened the top button of her pants. Edwin sat up, resting back on his forearms, watching her as she peeled back the fabric and undid another button. Her breathing intensified; the idea of doing this was arousing her. She came to another button, and in her excitement, she fumbled a bit, a hint of frustration showing in her shoulders. Edwin sat up, placing one hand in the small of her back to support her while rubbing his other hand over the opened fabric. Even this far from her sex, the temperature was already rising. He let one of his fingers stray beneath the still-fastened fabric, and she took a sharp breath in anticipation, relaxing again when his finger retreated. She gave him a mischievous look and undid the next button. Two buttons remained. Beneath her, she could feel Edwin’s lap getting hard and beginning to strain under his slacks.

  “Still want me to go first?” she teased, reaching beneath her to squeeze the hardening lump. Edwin winced, but nodded. For somebody who’d never had sex before, she sure was good at taking her time, he thought, not realizing that she had spent countless hours in the observation room, watching numerous couples with a scientist’s eye, some more experienced than others, learning what worked and what didn’t. She might not have had much experience, but she had plenty of observational data. She undid the next button.

  The anticipation was killing Edwin. What had started as a desire to please someone he thought highly of had now deve
loped into a pressing need to fornicate with someone that aroused him. He moaned in anticipation, and Harriet gave a surprised-but-pleased look. Her hours of observation were paying off. At last she undid the fifth button, and he helped her to slide out of her slacks. Her white lace panties were dark underneath with moisture; apparently he wasn’t the only one enjoying her striptease. But now it was his turn, and he pressed his palm up against the wet spot, making his hand vibrate slightly — enough to stimulate her, but nowhere near enough to bring her to orgasm. She let out a little moan, but shook her head.

  “Oh, no,” she said, “Your pants first.” She crossed her arms in mock petulance and gave him a smug look.

  “I can’t take them off,” he said solemnly.

  She frowned. That hadn’t ever happened in her observations. “Why not?” she asked, on the verge of upset.

  He grinned. “Oy, you’re sitting on ‘em.”

  She threw her head back and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Agh!” She’d show him ‘couldn’t take them off!’ With nimble fingers used to performing very delicate work, she had his pants unbuttoned before he could react. He sat there gaping. She gave him an expectant look. “Well?”

  He grinned ruefully. Remind him not to smart off to her again! She stood straddling him, and he wriggled out of his pants and kicked them aside. She sat back down on him, lower this time so that she could tease him through his underwear, rubbing the lump there and snickering as it struggled to get free. “I think he wants out,” she said mischievously.

  He raised his eyebrow and gave her crotch a significant look. “So does she,” he said knowingly, teasing his fingers over the lace.

  Harriet huffed. “Truce?”

  Edwin grinned and nodded. The two took off their underwear together and tossed them aside. Both grew natural tufts beneath their underwear: hers was dark blonde, and his was silver. Before things went any further, Harriet quickly inserted the power collection apparatus. She didn’t want to miss this opportunity. She gasped as it went in. It was a pleasant feeling, but always a little sudden. Admittedly, it wasn’t high on her list of priorities to make it a more gentle experience.

  Heat radiated from both of their groins as she sat on his lap, and their sexes pressed together. Edwin’s cock ached to be inside the warm, inviting entrance that called to him, but he resisted, lifting her up and leaning down to caress her sex instead with his lips. She squirmed. It was something she’d never felt before, but she desperately wanted him inside. She tugged gently on his chin, and when he looked up, she glanced significantly at his crotch. He took the hint. He lay back, his cock thrusting into the air in desperate need, and she backed slowly onto it, her eyes half-closed as she felt him part her lips. While her hymen had been broken years before by her prototypes, this was the first she’d ever felt a man inside of her. It was glorious. Her sensitive sex could feel the ridges of his cock-head, the vein on the back of his shaft, even the little capillaries as they bulged on all sides of his dick, filling it with blood and making it throb in anticipation. She could feel their juices intermingling, could feel him sliding easily into her. She shuddered. Maybe biology wasn’t so bad, after all.

  His cock could not detect the fine differences that her vagina could, but the heat that emanated from her welcomed him inside; her wetness and his pre-ejaculate mixed and eased his entry, and the slight contraction in her body when she shuddered made him gasp in pleasure. He stroked in and out a few times, aiming for the front side of her sex. She let out a moaning sigh; her observations had never prepared her for the sensations she’d feel. The heat in her sex grew, spreading like warm oil across a flat surface, filling her with both pleasure and with anticipation for something she had only ever watched in others but not experienced herself. He continued to thrust up into her, slowly building her anticipation to the point of the hysteria the doctors spoke of, and just as she was teetering on the edge of climax, he reached in with his fingers and stroked her aching clitoris.

  Something exploded inside her head, and she cried out in ecstasy. Her sex clenched repeatedly, the added stimulation sending him over the edge, too, and he grunted in pleasure as his testes drained themselves for the first time in many days, their contents mixing with her orgasmic fluids inside the brass sock. Spent, she collapsed on him, and the two lay resting quietly on the deck beneath the jar of energy, both thoroughly satisfied.

  “Oh, Ed,” Harriet said blissfully, her head resting on his chest, “that was everything I’d hoped it would be.” She turned to him, eyes alive with happiness. His face, which had only seconds ago registered the same bliss as hers, was now clouded and dark. “What is it?” she asked, concerned.

  “Don’t call me ‘Ed,’” he said unhappily.

  She frowned, then said softly, “I’m sorry, Edwin. It just slipped out.”

  He nodded slightly, his jaw tensing in thought, but he said nothing.

  “Why do you hate being called ‘Ed’ so much, Edwin?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  Edwin sighed, and then replied slowly. “My brother’s name is Ed. He’s a terrible sod.” He huffed, something Harriet had never seen him do, and his face slowly tensed itself into a scowl. “Overbearing to everyone around him, self-centered to the nines, callous to his wife and children.” Edwin’s speech grew increasingly animated as the tension spread to his shoulders. “A drunkard, a lout, dishonest in his transactions but the first to call someone else out for it.” Edwin took a breath, then continued, calmer. “Ed is a terrible excuse for a human being, and being called that is like the worst kind of insult.”

  Harriet nodded slowly. “You do realize that nobody in the crew knows that, that they all think the world of you, and that ‘Ed’ is a familiar way to address you, don’t you, dear?” Edwin raised his eyebrows slightly. “I am sorry you share a surname with such a rotten individual, but you are not him, and he is not you. Nobody thinks you’re a lout, Edwin,” Harriet finished, brushing her fingers over his temples.

  Edwin thought about it. “I suppose you’re right, Harriet,” he said at length, stroking her hair absent-mindedly with his fingertips. Maybe ‘Ed’ wasn’t such a bad name. Maybe he could get used to it. He rolled the idea over in his mind.

  She roused herself gently. “Where are you going?” Edwin asked, hoping she wasn’t leaving.

  “To change the room into something more comfortable,” she replied, a faint grin on her lips. She turned out the lights to the engine room, and then went to the collection capacitor. As she inserted her PCA into a special port on the side of the chamber and lay down next to Edwin, the energy they had made fired off its own little spark, joining the sparks of the others lovemaking on the deck above. Edwin held her close, and she sighed contentedly. Her other challenges could afford to wait until another day. Right now was perfect as it was.

  As the HMS Rapturion drifted silently through the night sky, the two snuggled together beneath the collection capacitor and drifted off to sleep, bathed in its soft, flickering glow.

  *****

  ~Volume Five~

  The passengers aboard the HMS Rapturion were all feeling rested and happy, yet for many of them, there was a sense of wistfulness: the luxury airship had been gone just shy of two weeks, and its round-trip voyage was a mere day from conclusion, which meant that the holiday was nearly over, and the day-to-day grind of real life was about to recommence. Certainly the third-class passengers would miss the finery of their accommodations that, although not as nice as the second– for first-class accommodations, were nicer than most could probably afford at home: the food was fresh, delicious, and readily available, delivered by waiters who provided service nonpareil by any restaurant, hotel, or cruise line anywhere, save the service provided to the first– and second-class passengers. The entertainment in the form of occasional performances by vocal quartets or four-piece chamber orchestras on loan from the decks above provided sweet music in a variety of genres, from sacred music by Handel and others to popular secular works of the da
y, including works by Mozart and Rossini, Sousa from across the pond, and Gilbert and Sullivan closer to home.

  But let’s not forget the views provided by the airship, the breathtaking reason for the cruise: the effortless feeling of floating hundreds of feet above the ground, the beaten pathways of roads and their travelers snaking their way across the countryside before disappearing on the horizon, the glimmer of the sea shining like a field of diamonds below the spectators, the aurora borealis when it came into view on cruises to the north. Hills and mountains promenaded alongside rivers and streams, dams and bridges, tall buildings and desolate deserts. Miracles of human engineering and examples of the Creator’s indefatigable sense of creativity presented themselves side-by-side for anyone willing to but cast a glance out one of the enormous windows on the port and starboard sides of the ship, or for a real treat, the floor-to-ceiling dome of glass that made up the bow of the ship and provided an unobstructed view above and below.

  Nora had been saving for the cruise for almost a year, and finally the time had come. She’d ascended the mahogany gangplank and had her breath taken away by the finery. And when the captain gave warning that the ship was about to lift off, she’d braced herself, yet no jarring ever occurred. It was several minutes later when she looked out the porthole and realized she was already high above the ground. The land snaked its way below her, reflecting green and white and brown in the pre-noon sunlight. That was days ago. She had thoroughly enjoyed her stay, enjoying the food and the live music, but most of all, the view. When she had first seen the world through the ship’s great glass window, it had been with awe. Now she viewed it wistfully, knowing that the privilege of seeing it was fleeting.