Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers

It was light and cool there; another bank of shutters let in the night breeze. The room was uncluttered, and like all Lilith’s rooms, neither feminine nor masculine. There were a couple of low bureaus, a table with papers and books stacked on it. The bed was a wide four-poster with clean white cotton sheets and a lemon-colored thermal blanket neatly folded at the bottom. He shivered, and although she knew quite well why he did, she closed some of the shutters and lit a hurricane lamp. The light flickered over her face and his throat went dry.

She pulled him over to the bed, sat down on the edge, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her fingers caressed his skin as she undid each one, and he stood there, still dreamlike, watching as she bent her head to his chest and placed her lips where a button had been. Her tongue flicked out and back. She looked up at him.

“I never forget your taste,” she said. He felt himself sigh.

The shirt went onto the floor. She unzipped his trousers and gave a brief stroke, through his shorts, to the erection already there. “Always so timely, Bailey,” she said, amused; and then she moved back in one quick motion, took his arms and pulled him onto the bed with her the way a cat might lift a mouse.

It broke the spell. He laughed and was suddenly aware again, behind the sound, of how long he’d waited. Desire, always breathing down the back of his neck, moved for the reins. It was good that she was against him right then, her thigh between his and her arms curled round him like a leaf, but he wanted her closer still. He tried to roll them both over, needing to press the whole weight of his body into her. She halted the roll while she was on top and pinned him down effortlessly. “We have to be careful,” she rebuked. “You know that.”

He nodded, breathing hard. He did know. It was dangerous to provoke Lilith to lose control; it was fatal, in fact. Fortunately that had never happened, or he wouldn’t have lasted a night, let alone six weeks. He pushed back a handful of her hair and found his mouth conveniently near her ear.

“Please don’t leave your tour guide,” he said, the first thing that came into his head. “We cannot be responsible for any accidents. Hand in all waivers before boarding the bus.”

He felt chuckles shaking her body as he kissed her, and wondered at his own flippancy. How could he want something this badly and still be making fun of himself?

He tasted her then, kissing her face all over, unbuttoning the white blouse, moving his hands under her skirt. Lilith would stop him if he pushed it too hard, if it got dangerous. She gasped and then, abruptly, shoved him back on the bed.

He heard his own breath. Now.

Her lips touched the side of his neck and he felt the familiar tingle that went right down into his brain and his cock. Then came the nick and the first sharp pain. It was brief, just another tease, accustoming him to the start of the dance, then leaving off to let it be swallowed up in the haze of pleasure that surrounded it.

She moved back to see how he’d taken it. He smiled.

She lifted one hand to stroke the side of his cheek and he flinched; then he deliberately took the hand that had reached for him and kissed it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You know what it’s like the first time.”

“I know,” she replied.

The first time was always the sweetest, before his body’s reaction kicked in. And the scariest, in some ways; there was always that sharp blossom of pain, at least in the beginning; and although once his nervous system had relearned its lessons, it wouldn’t care, that didn’t apply to tonight. The addictive process had to be re-started.

She slid her hand from his and a second later he felt her stroke his cock, as though she were petting a housecat. He closed his eyes.

His breathing became ragged. Out of his hands, now, literally.

The rhythm built; he opened his eyes to find hers directly above his, dark and intent. Running an equation while he spiraled out of control. He was panting, on the edge of desperation, and she was judging that edge to a fraction. He felt like a deer after a long run through the forest. He nodded.

The teeth penetrated his skin deeply this time. It was like a tidal pull, lifting out his soul.

He closed his eyes, shuddering. There were no defenses against pleasure like this; go with it, or it would tear you to shreds.

Then he felt his body pumping from both ends, as wave after wave of pure sensation swallowed him, pulling him helplessly down to the ocean floor, and she took him into herself. His soul stretched apart, unable to contain the unbearable sharpness of the delight. His brain told him that nothing human could live through this, or maybe without this; it was impossible to tell.

And then he seemed to be getting weaker. He wondered, vaguely, if he were dying; it seemed only logical. Then awareness left him.