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by Josef Koelbl III
He lay on the
bed, sheet covering his stomach, arms up, head resting on his hands. He
turned his head to look out the large sliding glass door, over the
balcony and out into the night sky. He could see one of the horns of
the huge statue of Talos and beyond that the swirling blue-green force
field wall that separated Talos Island from Skyway City. He looked at
his ceiling, flame escaping from his eyes, and sighed as the
wall’s churning colors strayed through the open drapes.
unmoving, concerned but not worried. She had been gone most of the day,
attempting to make things right among her Sisters, to take back the
Knives from “one not worthy” as she was so fond of saying.
He frowned, noticing the time on the glowing clock by his bed. One a.m.
He exhaled heavily from his nose. He would wait until daybreak, then
investigate...discreetly. He did not wish to get involved but if she
were...well...worry about that when I need to, he thought.
The fiery hero
heard the click of the glass door in his living room and then the happy
yip from the little dog. He smiled quickly, his lips returning to their
usual grim set. She had returned. He lay still, unmoving.
The bedroom door
opened and she stepped in, all heat and anger and rage and power
wrapped within her small, hard body. She was barely five feet two, a
coiled spring of danger that thrilled him each time he saw her. Sister
Hecate walked to the bed and rested her sword against the wall. Her
skintight grey stealth suit was torn in several places and splotched
with fresh dark blood. Tropic stared intently for a moment, relieved to
see that none of it was hers.
“Its done, then?” he asked, turning his flaming eyes once more to the ceiling.
most part,” she nodded, bending to scratch the little dog behind
its ears. “There will be more to do...but things are set
right.” Hecate unbuckled her belt, crossing to the chair by the
door. The master bedroom was large, one wall dominated by the glass
door, the king sized bed against another, two white-washed wood night
stands on either side. A dresser with a large mirror, the chair next to
it where she placed her belt. A television in one corner, no pictures
on the walls, a door leading to a bathroom on the remaining side. She
unstrapped the sheathes and knives from her legs, placing them on the
chair. Her boots were tossed beside it.
She turned to him and smiled. “I need a shower. I stink.”
“I was too polite to say anything,” he answered.
“Ha...polite,” she grinned and headed toward the bathroom,
pulling the top of the suit over her head as she walked away from him.
her go. Her body was covered with fine white scars, the badges of a
thousand thousand battles fought and won. His face hardened as it
always did when he saw the others. Three deep, long, angry scars,
crossing her back by her shoulders. He had seen enough to know they
were the hard marks of a whip. Before the Goddess Artemis had given her
her long life, she had been severely beaten. Every time he saw the old
wounds he wished he could return in time to that moment and give her
tormentor a lesson in ‘torture’. He shook his head and
stared at the ceiling once more as she closed the door behind her. He
heard the water run, washing the grime, sweat and blood from her.
Silence, except for the rushing water, and he watched the aqua colors
dance over his walls.
“Una Paloma Blancaaaaa...aieeee...eeeee....”
The sound rent the air. Tropic and the little dog both started violently.
“I’m just a bird in the skyyyy”
They both turned
and looked at the closed door to the bathroom. She was singing in the
shower, loudly and horribly off key.
“Una Paloma Blanca....”
Tropic looked at
the dog. The little fellow stared at the bathroom door for a moment,
then at Tropic and then ran underneath the chair, covering his face
with his paws.
“Coward,” the fiery hero smirked. He winced as she began
the next stanza but mercifully the water shut off and the room was
filled once more with blessed silence. Tropic lay back again, hands
behind his head, fiery eyes staring upward.
The door opened
and he glanced over. She stood in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around
her, under her arms and touching the tops of her thighs, vigorously
drying her short blonde hair with another. She tossed the towel aside
out of view and walked slowly into the bedroom.
next to the bed, arms by her sides, a small half-grin twisting her
pouting lips. Tropic turned his head to her. Their eyes met, his full
of fire; hers hooded with desire. She grasped the towel covering her
lithe form and dropped it to the floor.
stood naked before him, her hands caressing her hard, tight skin,
moving down until they reached her muscled thighs. Her right hand
strayed to her sex, her finger dipping between her hairless folds,
slowly, gently stroking. Her other hand traveled up, cupping, squeezing
her left breast, her nipple now hard, her thumb and forefinger pinching
and pulling the taut, sensitive nub.
intently, expressionless, as she took the moist, glistening fingers
from her core and rubbed her right breast, her wetness now visible as
she covered her areola and nipple with her desire. She smiled, an evil
little grin which only served to highlight the need evident on her face.
into the bed, up on one elbow next to him and kissed him ruthlessly,
her soft full lips pressing hard, her tongue forcing itself into his
mouth. Tropic felt her teeth as they nipped at his lips, her tongue and
his entwined, together, joined. She pulled away and he felt her hand as
it traced its way down, under the sheet and over the hard defined
muscles of his abdomen.
She smiled as her
hand closed around him, thrilling to his hardness. Hecate grasped him
tightly, feeling the hot thrumming of his heartbeat as she stroked him
slowly. She looked at him from the corners of her eyes, her breath
catching as she felt him grow harder in her hand.
“C’mon,” she whispered, “you can’t tell
me you don’t want to.”
motionless, staring into her half closed pale blue eyes. Then,
suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders, lifting and pulling her over him to
the other side of the bed. Hecate flew through the air with a squeal,
laughing as she landed next to him. Tropic kissed her, the fire flowing
from his eyes lighting her face. They lay facing each other, side by
side, and his leg came up between hers, his thigh bumping heavily into
her hot center. Hecate moaned as she felt the weight pressing into her
sex and her hips moved involuntarily, rhythmically, feeling the
pleasure spread throughout her body. The assassin moaned again as she
pressed her smooth womanhood into him, her desire wet between her legs
and smearing onto his muscular thigh.
mouth was still clamped to hers, letting her pleasure herself, enjoying
the feel of her. He broke the kiss and rolled over her, spreading her
legs wide and kneeling between them. He looked down at her, her short,
spiky blonde hair still damp, her lips parted. Her small breasts rose
and fell with each heavy breath, her nipples hard and tight with need.
She was spread wide before him, her beautiful center hot and wet in her
him closely, her eyes sensually caressing his red skin, seeing his
erect member bounce with each pulse of his heart. She reached for him,
closing her hand around him once more, squeezing tightly and fondling
him with long, hard, deliberate strokes. His lips parted, the pleasure
evident on his face as he watched her. Her hand stroked him once more
and she let it trail away, her fingertips tracing up his length to the
tip, already glistening with his clear, slippery ardor.
“C’mon,” she whispered hoarsely.
forward, bending over her, hot tongue licking over her belly, between
her breasts, her neck and finally over her lips. Then he was on top of
her, pressing himself into her with one long, slow, deep thrust. She
gasped as he filled her and moaned as he began to move inside her,
feeling him not only at her Venus but throughout her body. Hecate
wrapped her legs around him, her heels pressing against him, trying to
pull him in further, deeper. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her mouth
kissing his chest, his neck, his face.
“C’mon,” she grunted urgently, her hips grinding faster.
his pace, faster, deeper, driving himself forcefully into her velvet
center. Her arms went around his back, her legs wrapping completely
about him. She buried her head in his shoulder as her hips gyrated
Her body tensed,
pushing hard against him. Her head flew back, eyes half closed, mouth
open and her body jerking involuntarily as she peaked, the massive
spasm rocking her senses. Tropic continued ruthlessly, unrelentingly
pounding into her, feeling the bands of her sex tighten and release and
tighten again with her pleasure.
“Wait...wait...slow...,” she breathed, still twitching beneath him.
He slowed but did
not stop. His warm hardness moving gently inside her as she rode the
waves of her orgasm. The assassin lay before him, her arms dropping
away from his shoulders, her breath coming in great gulps as her body
still shook every few moments with the receding tide of her manumit.
deep into the flaming orbs of her lover and smiled a feral little grin,
her flashing white teeth showing. “C’mon,” she
grunted again, kissing him so hard it almost hurt, her tongue forcing
itself deep into his mouth.
into her mouth and plunged deep into her. She squealed again at the
suddenness of his entry, at the feeling of his hard length inside her.
He banged into her, faster and faster, and she could feel him grow
larger inside her wet canal. She felt the wave beginning again, rising
from her toes to her stomach and she whispered against him,
Tropic drove into
her faster, deeper, harder, feeling the warm bubble of his desire
nearing its destination. With one final thrust he clamped his lips to
hers and released himself within her, pulsing again and again, groaning
against her mouth. She peaked again as she felt his thick fluid fill
her and she pressed tightly against him, trying to force him deeper.
together, kissing lightly, holding each other close, their bodies still
joined, one inside the other. Tropic still moved slowly within her,
Hecate still trembled beneath him, both thrilling in the feel of the
rolled to his side, his arm under her holding her close, his spent
member slipping from her wet folds. Hecate curled up beside him, her
head resting on his shoulder, one hand gently caressing his chest. He
stared at the ceiling, the churning blue-green of the force field wall
still dancing overhead.
And as they drifted off to sleep, he heard her say softly, “See...I told you you wanted to.”
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