"I have a surprise for you." Aolani whispered as she strode for the erotic pallet, the adroit saunter adding to the appeal of viewing such an ambrosial derri?re. It struck Riley at that exact moment that her hostess was wearing nothing to cover her taut rear nor the span of her ascending torso. In fact, she was naked, save for the set of thigh-high stockings that were her lascivious emblem; sheer obsidian silk with caramel covered eyes half-lit and floating along the extent of their captivating duration.

Caution was there, though shoved so deep into the recesses of her mind that Riley barely recognized it at all. No, not caution, only enthusiastic pursuit. She moved behind the Siren, clenching hands to keep them at her sides, refusing to give into the instinctive plea for just a touch of Aolani's delicious flesh. "I don't like surprises." She forced the sentiment out with everything she could muster, though it sounded as more like a pule of hunger.

Aolani gave a perfected pirouette upon reaching the bed, a half twirl that returned her cat-green eyes to Riley, her dainty hand snagging the decorative braided cord that descended from above and hung alongside the gossamer shroud. Plush lips, stained in glossy red, peeled into a welcoming grin. "Oh, I think you'll like this one." The pulling of the cord drew the bed curtains apart like ebony eyelids, revealing what was inside.

Or in this case, who.

The smooth satiny sheets that devoured the bed were marred in the center by the sprawl of alabaster flesh and the rippling length of a physique honed by years of training and athleticism, as was to be expected of those akin to the shadows and murder. The Phantom laid flat on his back, one arm curled behind his head and legs half-cambered in easy repose. Dreaded eyes, normally lifeless in their wan hue, turned to a light on the duo and instantly were burned in a deviant flame. He greeted Aolani with a measured and controlled nod, the sight of his Mistress conjuring a quiver that ran the length of his spine, a hint at the desperation he had to gift her with pleasure. Eyes shifted to Riley, her appearance only adding to the inferno of craving that incinerated his ashen gaze. Slowly his stare lowered, drawing out a heated and weighted inspection of her female frame that covered every inch of her, rolling over swells and contours with hungry aspiration, until once again ascending to find caramel depths.

******************
The languid flicker of the candlelight caused the shadows to dance with hypnotic sway, periodically lapping at the blanched flesh of the Phantom with mindless inky tendrils. Even with the writhing darkness, the twin spheres of fire that peered out from his position upon the bed could not be obscured, knifing through the caramel gaze of Riley in search for something deeper and protected.

Twinges of arousal ran through her at the sight of him, remembering how those hands felt on her hips, breath on her flesh, unsure if it had been reality or dream...much like this. That touch of uncertainty summoned images of recent events, recalling the reality of the kiss they shared in the Red Dragon. How fierce and passionate it had been, beyond the capacity of one who appeared so haunting and grim.

Aolani stepped forward, into her, lips brushing her warm cheek. "It gets better." She promised in a whisper before turning back and crawling into the bed, the feral mount of the satin sheets taking her to all fours, offering a succulent display of her swishing backside as she prowled toward him.

"Now come," Aolani whispered, a turn of her head pouring her sweet, hot breath across the distended instrument she lovingly handled. "Drax is hungry, and there is only one thing that he wants to eat."

**********

Riley knelt above his head, swallowing hard as she looked down at his inverted visage. He hungrily arched his neck, exploring the air with tongue and lips for the nestled area between her thighs. He reached up, masculine arms curling so that hands - warrior hands calloused by the touch of leather-bound hilts and wooden shafts - could find her flesh and knead at it desperately.

Aolani watched from her prone position, enchanted features hovering above the length of the throbbing tool, cat-green eyes fixated upon the internal strife brewing within caramel depths. "There is no fear here. No trepidation. Only indulgence of the highest caliber."

"I just...can't." She whispered, the sight of his lashing tongue and the feel of his gripping hands coaxing her toward the sinful embrace that beckoned at her very soul.

"You can." Aolani reprised as the plush tier of her bottom lip slid across the tip of Drax's length. "You can without worry. It is a prelude of actuality, sweet Riley. It is a glimpse at what could be, without fear of what will happen. Only you will know."

Riley couldn't fight the moan that passed her lips at the feel of his hands on her thighs blended with the sight of watching Aolani divulge in such lewd pleasures. The craving was there. "But I'd know."

"Yes, you would." The Siren promised with inveigle allusion. "You would know, and understand, the pleasure derived from such surrender. You would know the euphoric release achieved by such sensuous endeavors. You would understand your own limits, and what it feels like to be thrust beyond them." The length of her enigmatic smile again brushing the heated phallic tip. "And then you would wake up, and relive only what you wanted."

It took a moment for the words to be understood, befuddled by the tornadic haze of lust and craving that occupied her mind. Slowly, though, comprehension would be achieved. It was the preview before the show, the summary on the back of the book, the sample bite before purchasing the meal. If what the Siren said was true, it was the indulgence without the consequence. The urging squeeze of fingers on her thighs brought her back to the sight of him - of them, back to her decision.

And quickly, before she was able to retract or deny to her own resolution, she surged forward.

The Oedipa Endeavor
(The follow is 18+ and Intended for Mature Audiences only due to Graphic and Explicit Content. Please be advised. )

Frustration mounted as her fingers clenched the quill, scribbling across the open parchment at the desk where she sat. It was a trivial procedure, or at least it should have been, as Oedipa was accustomed to jotting down her thoughts and reflections daily. This time, though, she could not make out the written words, instead finding nothing but shapes and squiggles. To any other it might have been disenchanting or even amusing, but to her, one renowned for a sturdy innate ennui, it was, perhaps, the most frustrating thing she had ever dealt with. Even the ink was off; appearing more as cruor than obsidian.

Oedipa steeled herself, forcing the pen into literary swirls and sweeps, determined not to be outdone by the irritation. She had overcome so much, and would be damned if this blank paper got the best of her.
The words came into focus - a written question four words in length, and more than just blots of ink, but actual, comprehensible, lexis.

Do you want it?

Her gasp was audible, her eyes widened with a hot surge of unwarranted arousal as she read the question - the same one posed by the Lady of the Shaitan, her wielded quill falling to the wayside unexpectedly. She stared at the words, an island of locution amongst an ocean of smirches and smears, and swallowed back the soft moan that rose through her slender throat.

Motion caught her attention, and drew her stare from the page, scouring the depths of the antiquated study that she occupied. Fine bookshelves, enriched and cultured in their architecture, lined the walls of the room, with tables spattered across the floor available for use by those seeking the knowledge and information of the dimly lit chamber. It was a familiar locale, though she couldn't put her finger upon its exact whereabouts.

The hearth crackled and burned, partially veiling internal details in dancing shadow, and from this conglomerate of darkness she watched as a tendril of umbrage was born slowly, a stygian tongue extending outward from an oral oblivion to begin a languorous slither across the air toward her, its aerial glide wafting as though propelled by a random wind, yet not the slightest breeze could be felt. Oedipa couldn't help but stare at the sable strand, a jolt of caution riding the length of her spine and drawing shoulders tensely taut.

It traveled through the air, and while leisurely, it moved with an inconspicuous quickness, dipping beneath the table she sat at to twine around her delicate ankles. The urge to withdraw was cajoled by the familiarity of the touch, and even when the slithering vein slid beneath the hem of her skirts?starting upward along the span of supple legs?she remained still.

Along the calf and above the knee, the vine coiled around in a continuum of caressing wisps, its insubstantial form somehow tangible against her limbs, licking along the delectable expanse of flesh just above the tops of her stockings, wedging between clenched thighs to subtly, gently, pry them apart.

"Indeed you are." Eyes half-lit and glazed with desire as they reemerged. She turned, drawing her body around to square up on Oedpia's naturally impassive vigil, impossibly long legs bending at the knee and falling apart to open up the delicious valley between, bare flesh damp with craving. "Care for a kiss?"

Oedpia's eyes fell to the offered sight and before she could harness the gasp, it expelled into the silent air, the room they occupied amplifying even the softest sound into a strident echo. She stared at the exposed nether threshold, a covetous yearn spreading through her like wild fire, filling her with need to touch it, taste it, and possess it.

Recognizing the internal voracity, Aolani slithered her dainty hand down the swell of ripe breasts and along the duration of her flat stomach to dip between spread thighs, teasing the tender entry with polished blood red nails. "See anything...appetizing?"

"I...yes." Comprehension was something Oedipa normally had mastery over, but the sight before her spun her mind in tornadic chaos, causing dry lips, parched with illicit hunger, to speak even at the most random of times.

Aolani's finger strummed the carnal entry, culling dampness with every penetrating circuit as feline emeralds scrutinized Oedipa with prurient mirth. "Then come taste it." The instruction purred as the slick digit extended toward her and beckoned her closer with a fluid curl, a honeyed sheen coating its length.

Oedipa stepped forward subconsciously, the desire that burned within sweltering, and reached out to take the offered hand with her own.

"No." Aolani said, denying her touch with a withdrawal of the glazed bestowal. " Only your mouth."

Oedipa recoiled, bringing her hand back down to her side, eyes intently covetous upon the finger, starved for its taste. With Aolani's reclined position upon the desk she would have to bend over it to reach her with her mouth, though the craving that churned inside kept reason from refuting such measures. She placed her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned as far forward as she could, chin and neck stretching forth as her mouth parted and tongue expelled, needing that finger, the desperate camber crushing her breasts through her clothing against the hard wood of the tabletop.

Aolani did not make her wait long, and when Oedipa was there, straining in anxious need, she reached forward and placed the tip of her finger upon her lower lip, brushing it with a light sweep, painting it with her dampness, before pushing inward, accessing her mouth.

What she couldn't do was see it. At least not in the reflection. The space behind her was absent of residency, showing nothing but emptiness, appearing alone within the confines of the chamber even though she could still feel those lethal hands manipulating the swell of her hips.

"Oedipa." Came the husky purr of the Sirene, plush lips parting around the name as though tasting the sweetness of it. Her fingers caressed the exposed pink flesh in delicate circles, every shiver and shudder that ran its way through her a visible display of her eagerness for another. "Do you want it?"

Oedipa turned back, once again looking at the succulent offering as she sucked her bottom lip between teeth, nibbling softly. "Yes."

The response she received came not from the Lady, but from the masculine form behind her. Hips surged forward, grinding a thick hilt of torrid flesh against delicate feminine apertures, causing fingers to tighten their grip, holding her steady against the licentious strain.

The charged moan that spewed forth caught in Oedipa's throat, expelling as more of a desperate wheeze with the undulation administered by the form behind her. Fingers dug at the smooth surface of the table she laid against, searching for some sort of handhold or grip for support. There was nothing though, only the table.

"Show me." Aolani whispered, and while the dulcet mewl was surprisingly sequestered, the challenge within her inflection could not be denied.

"I've never..." Oedipa again bit her lip, unable to admit natural puerility amongst such potent, unchaste, expertise.

"We know." Aolani clarified, lips quivering and eyes falling closed heavily with the insertion of those fingers, a pair of thin digits splitting tender, damp, folds to dip deeply within. "That makes it so much better."

The sight of Aolani's self-invasion was nothing compared to the burning sensation that gripped her at the very core - which was now saturated with a honeyed released from the lascivious display. The untouched nether portal was pressed upon by the heavy, wide tip of erect torrid flesh, the slick dampness aiding in the spearing plunge that followed, spreading her open and pushing within, filling her virgin conduit with the swollen length of viral valor until hips were flush, embedded fully to the base.

Breath was stolen and time stopped as previously untouched flesh molded and adjusted to engulf such ample girth, tingling surges of euphoric pain sweeping through suddenly numb limbs. The flesh that touched her was as cool and solid as smooth stone, and yet pliable to the molding convergence of her perched backside.

Y...

The pace quickened, drilling into her with wanton velocity, hands gripping her hips like handles, holding her fast against the violent invasion.

...E...

Oedipa fought with internal muster to keep her eyes open, muscles clenched in defiance of melting away beneath the brutal assailing, even when he reached down and scooped up one of her thighs to lay her leg across the table, stretching her lambasted flesh even more. The explosive surge seethed inside, pulsating toward molten eruption.

......S...

Just as the last letter was written her body was possessed by the convulsing rupture of absolute delirium, bathing the lodged alabaster pillar with the deliquescent testimony of savage felicity - and in return it spewed forth a gout of seething seed to deluge her clenching chasm to form a comingled meeting of rapture and release.

Function returned as the explosive jolt startled her awake, sitting straight up from the desk where she had fallen asleep, eyes darting across the library with panic, though finding none other than she residing within.

It had all been a dream.

Save for the sticky secretion that melded her thighs together, and the four little words that stained her otherwise blank parchment.

Do you want it?

(This scene is cross-posted with characters from the The de Montesquieu Estate SL )


Through the Soul of a Ghost...


The drizzle that fell across Rhy'din obscured the silvery moonlight into a dreary haze, casting a mystical miasma that made everything appear just a touch out of focus. Red brick and black rock alike were glazed with the reflective glimmer of moisture, and each stone of the cobbled avenues and boulevards was glossed with a tawny hue born of flickering streetlights. The light wind was fickle in its mischief, disrupting any sense of focus by rousing in random directions between passing seconds, and sometimes in every direction at once.

Draxcilian stood high above the Marketplace, nuzzled between a pair of vicious looking gargoyles atop one of the nearby buildings, observing those who sought to endure the unsavory elements and continue their browsing and purchasing. From his vantage point the people below were minute by comparison, and the details of their person were ambiguous at best. For many, the clientele would have been nothing more than featureless figurines set in calculated motion, entering and exiting shops and boutiques all along the square, their anonymity amplified by the sparse mist.

But not him.

Draxcilian's gaze was as keen as his blade, and even though the distance between should have made discerning details utterly impossible, his ashen eyes were more than capable of surveying every facet and aspect as though those who occupied the marketplace were standing just a few feet away. There was no movement from him; as still, cold, and lifeless as the predatory statues that surrounded him, content to merely watch ... and think.

Nights had become endless, and the longing for Aolani's touch had intensified beyond unbearable. Covenant business had drawn her attention elsewhere, and while Draxcillian understood her desire to achieve whatever Shaitan goals were set before her, it did nothing to lessen the ache that her absence stirred. Fingertips yearned behind leather gloves to feel her flesh, and lips felt useless and dead without the taste of her kiss upon them. Calculated intentions were slowly becoming replaced with idle complacency. He was becoming a shadow without her in every sense of the word-- nothing more than a depthless silhouette.

A hard blink drew his attention back to his surroundings, revealing that his astute awareness had failed beneath the heavy burden of his internal contemplations. He turned and moved across the rooftop, quick steps carrying him to the high ledge. Without pause he sprung from the edge, the trail of his cloak flaring out behind him as the wind caught hold to forge what onlookers might mistake as wings, and landed upon a nearby building. He continued on, and one by one made his way east toward the Red Dragon Inn high above the streets. He needed to return.

He had completed Aolani's training without getting the answer as to why she was so determined to learn the blade. While it wasn't his place to question her methods or reasoning, he desperately wanted to know why she desired for him to teach her. Perhaps this need to know revolved around his undying loyalty and need to protect her, but as far as he was concerned, if she wanted to learn how to use a blade it was because she intended to wield it, and he was much more comfortable with him being her weapon than actual steel. Still, he complied, and within a few weeks she had become rather adept, surpassing even his expectations.

Thoughts drifted to the last time he had seen her. A fierce and violent spar concluded with their intertwined forms sprawled upon the mats, clothing torn and jerked away with frantic need. Straddling his hips, she clawed into the sinewy fabric of his chest as she rocked intensely upon him, plunging him eagerly into her again and again until cruel culmination had been screamingly achieved. He had carried her to the boudoir afterwards and offered her slumber upon his chest, amidst the bed full of Sovereign daughters. When he had awoken, she was gone, having left him with nothing but a note...



My dark Sentinel,

Take care of my sisters. I'll return soon.

A~


Again he blinked away the thoughts as he crossed the Mallorek Holdings and came to a halt upon the roof of Amber's Cottage. From where he stood he could see the Inn just across the street, its windows a sporadic patchwork of candle light and hearth-glow. The rain was left behind at the Teas'n Tomes, though clouds were rolling in and encroaching on the white light of the moon. Soon the city would be blanketed in darkness, as well as danger.

He could see the window of Room 16 from where he stood, the soft glow of golden radiance staining the frosted panes from within. He had left Fawne to her reading inside with specific instructions to keep the door closed. The young lady was a rather adamant reader, but more than that an astute listener, and Draxcilian was certain that she would obey his commands to the letter. She had been alone long enough.
Before the step to launch himself to the window was taken, instinct took hold and stilled his leap. With a sharp snap of his drawn cowl he turned his attention toward the door of the Inn and the woman who cautiously made her way toward it.

Meleigh de Montesquieu.

He recognized her instantly, though had never seen her with his eyes before that moment. The mistress had shown her to him upon the Dreamscape, and had explained who she was and the purpose of her pursuit. She was there, now, just a dozen feet below him, making her way toward doors. She was not a dream any more, but flesh...

...flesh and blood.

His hand fell to the hilt of his sword and with a soft click he began to draw it from the scabbard.

She turned then and cast her eyes down the road she had just traversed, the one leading to the Red Dragon Inn, and in that moment he caught sight of her gaze. In those icy shards of swirling blue he could see concern, and fear veiled by conviction. She was not there for leisure nor camaraderie. She was there with a purpose.

Again his eyes drifted upward to the frosted window of Room 16.

The blade slowly returned, and the Phantom watched.