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Untouchable

By: shortsharpblonde



Alicia stood in front of the full-length mirror, with the late afternoon sunlight from the nearby window falling on her. She began to take her clothes off slowly. Off came her gray tailored jacket, off the long gray skirt. She stood there in her cream satin lingerie, suspenders and silk stockings, and high-heeled shoes, her long blonde hair hanging down over her shoulders. 

She slid her fingers over the satin lingerie, feeling the warm, soft flesh through it, and then ran her hands down her silk-covered legs. She eased off her shoes, unhooked her suspenders and rolled down her stockings; unfastened her bra, and slowly pulled down her panties, stepping out of them. She stood there, naked, except for a gold chain with a small gold heart on it hanging around her neck. 

With her hands, she cupped her breasts, feeling the fullness of them, and then traced her fingers around her nipples until they hardened. She stared at herself for a moment in the mirror, then stepped closer, and slid her body up against it. The feeling of the cold glass pressing against her nipples sent shivers through her. She arched her back, rubbing herself against the mirror, till it was smeared with her juices. 

Stepping back, Alicia sank into a big old wooden rocking chair, still facing the mirror. She bent her head down and licked each nipple in turn. Then, raising one leg over the arm of the chair, she moved her hand downwards and began to rub gently at first, then more rapidly, until she felt her body stiffen and heard her own cries as she came. Afterwards, she looked into the mirror and saw her face flushed and her naked body sprawled. 

In the apartment block opposite, five men - two with telescopes, three with binoculars - had been watching Alicia, transfixed, their hands on their dicks. She smiled to herself and hoped they had enjoyed that day's performance.

Alicia loved the effect her body had on men. It turned on her to know she was turning men on. She sometimes wished she had become a stripper or a nude model. But growing up in an upper-middle class family, the only child of two lawyers, she had gone on to fulfill her parents' expectations by becoming a lawyer herself. 

Working for a law firm challenged her mentally and earned her a good salary. But it also meant she had to repress her strong exhibitionist streak. In the conservative environment she was working in, she had a reputation to uphold. Yet nothing gave her as much of a thrill as turning men on.

Alicia knew there was a fine line between sexiness and sluttiness, and she was clever enough to stay on the right side of it. Mini-skirts were slutty, but longer skirts with a split were sexy, and could show just as much leg. Lycra was slutty, but woolen fabrics, which clung to curves in the same way, were sexy. Shiny black stilettos were slutty, but high-heeled Italian leather shoes were sexy.

Even more important than her choice of clothes was the way she revealed her body. She knew that if men thought they were seeing something they weren't supposed to be seeing, they wouldn't make any moral judgments about her. They would just consider themselves lucky. 

Over the years, she had developed some highly-skilled techniques. She would explain a point by leaning over a man's desk at just the right angle, so that her jacket would fall open enough to reveal the curve of her breast and the edge of her pink nipple poking out from her cream satin camisole. She would bend down to pick up a pen or adjust her shoe just when a man's eye was on her, so that he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of stocking top. And it was far from accidental that she would walk up stairs or along corridors in front of men, so they frequently had the best view of her pert arse. Little did they know that she had planned it that way.

Alicia was the subject of an infinite number of fantasies at the law firm. Men who should have been drafting legal documents instead found their thoughts drifting to bending Alicia over the photocopier and taking her from behind or pushing her up against the wall and doing it there. And even away from the office, when the same men were lying in bed needing a fantasy to help them along, Alicia, in all sorts of positions, came to mind. They sometimes thought that if she knew, she'd be shocked. In fact, she would have been disappointed with anything less.

Then, of course, there were the growing audiences she had for her daily strip sessions. They watched, she knew they watched, but they didn't know she knew they watched. It was much more exciting for everyone that way.

All in all, Alicia had a very fulfilling sex life. But the only hands that ever touched her were her own. She needed men - to see the naked lust in their eyes and the uncomfortable-looking bulge in their trousers - but that was all she needed them for. 

She wasn't a virgin. In her late teens she'd had a couple of brief, unsatisfying relationships. But men had no idea. Their fumbling fingers were always too rough, and never gave her the pleasure she could give herself. When they clambered on top and somehow managed to find the right opening, it was all over within a few grunts.

She was lusted after, she was fantasised over, but she was untouchable. She liked it that way.

Late one Friday afternoon, after a week of demolishing legal arguments and creating erections, Alicia cleared the last of the paperwork on her desk and decided it was time to go home. Her audience would be waiting for her. 

She hurried into the nearly-full lift, just as the doors were closing. Dreaming of the evening that lay ahead, she was jolted when the lift stopped suddenly and the lights went out.

"The lift's stuck," murmured a voice.

"Shit," cursed Alicia. She knew how disappointed the men in the apartment block opposite would be if she didn't appear in front of her window at 7 pm sharp. 

"Shouldn't be long," said a calm voice. 

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," chimed in another. "Didn't you hear about Clayton and Pete being stuck in here for an hour last week?" 

"When are they going to get bloody lifts these fixed?" someone else demanded angrily. "It's just not good enough!"

Everyone was silent for a couple of minutes, then the calm voice said, "Well, there's not much point standing around. I'm going to sit down and at least be comfortable while I'm waiting."

There was movement as people found spaces to sit on the floor of the lift. Alicia stood stubbornly, sure the power would come on and the lift would start moving again, but it didn't. Eventually she heaved a sigh and sat on the floor. With the height of her heels, her legs were beginning to ache. And it had been a hard week. 

Alicia tried to work out who was in the lift with her. She'd been so preoccupied when she entered that she barely noticed the other people, only taking in a blur of suits. She thought maybe one of them was Harry, a partner at the firm, and another might have been Ed, a keen young lawyer who'd just joined them. And that calm voice she'd heard earlier - was that Calvin? How many others were in there? Two or three? 

She leaned her head back against the door of the lift and breathed in deeply. She could smell cigarettes, aftershave and male sweat. The atmosphere was close. She wondered how long she'd have to wait. 

Suddenly Alicia felt a hand on her thigh. She opened her mouth to scream, "Get your filthy hand off me, you pig!" but for some reason, the words didn't come out. She closed her mouth again. The hand rested for a moment on her thigh, then slowly slid down till it reached the split in her skirt, then slid upwards again, separated from her flesh only by her silk stocking. 

I should put a stop to this, Alicia told herself. She knew she could end it any time she wanted, by just speaking a word or brushing the hand away. But the sensation of someone else stroking her was so unexpectedly exciting that she didn't want to. 

Now the hand had reached the top of her stocking. Alicia gave a tiny gasp as the cool fingers connected with her bare skin. She found herself sliding towards the hand, to encourage it further up. But whoever the hand belonged to wouldn't be rushed. His fingers stroked the silken smoothness of her thigh, getting close but never quite touching that place between her legs which was rapidly growing wet. 

Alicia was finding it hard to keep her breathing quiet, but was determined that no one else in the lift should know what was going on. What would they think of her, letting someone - she didn't even know who - touch her body in the dark like this?

Then she felt someone else's hand on her other thigh. I've got to say something, she told herself fiercely, but the two hands gently stroking her were taking her to such a state of arousal that she felt quite weak and wondered if any voice would come out, even if she tried. 

A moment later, someone else removed one of her high-heeled shoes, first rubbing the sole of her foot, then taking her toes into his mouth and sucking them gently through the stocking. At that point, something inside her let go. The whole situation was so unreal that all the inhibitions that normally governed her behaviour no longer seemed to apply. She abandoned herself to the moment. 

Soon her other shoe was removed and the toes of her other foot were being sucked. By this stage, Alicia was no longer trying to keep silent, but letting out moans of pleasure. Now she felt fingers undoing the buttons of her jacket and then a hand creeping underneath her satin bra, caressing her right breast. A jolt of pleasure shot through her hardened nipple. Next, a mouth took the place of the hand. A tongue circled the nipple, then lips lightly tugged on it. Alicia cried out, yearning for another mouth to do the same to her other breast. She didn't have to wait long. 

Alicia was desperate for the hands gently stroking her thighs to find their way to her clit and her pussy, which was by now dripping wet. She wriggled downwards, and finally the hands were where she wanted them to be. She felt one finger thrust into her pussy - fuck, that felt good! - then another, then a third. Meanwhile, the other hand was working its magic on her clit, rubbing as surely as she herself would have done it. 

The excitement was building. The sensations she was experiencing all over her body were incredible, and although she tried to hold back from coming for as long as she could, it was impossible. She felt the orgasm approach from a distance - it was like watching a tidal wave from the shore - and then she let it wash over her, screaming in pure ecstasy. 

Alicia lay there for a moment, panting and helpless. Gradually, she regained her composure. She put her shoes back on, did up the buttons on her jacket, and stood up again, rearranging her clothing and brushing herself down. She stood facing the door of the lift. The men around her began to stand. As if by some signal, the lights came on again, and the lift continued on its way downwards. 

When the lift reached the ground floor, Alicia walked straight out, through the lobby and into the street, not turning around once.

Untouchable



"There's nothing to go on for. Nothing for my heart to cherish, but if that is true, why am I still here. Why do I still have existence? I did all I could. I still do all I can. But why? Why am I here? Do I still serve a purpose? I can't even see. I don't want to see. The pain it may bring me is too much. But if I am here I might as well look. No it hurts too much. It's like opening your eyes for the first time. Too much pain but I will try. Oh they opened a little. Oww Its to bright out there wherever there is. But I must, or I should just go back into darkness. I will try my hardest. But how did I get here anyway. Did I fall or get killed. Why did I do........oh that's right? I did it for her. Everything was for her. Ever since we met everything has been for her. I wonder how she is doing. Is she sick, hurt, ok. I don't know. And even if I wanted to find out I don't think I could. "No I will. She wouldn't give up on me. And I wont give up on her." 

The figure the voice is coming from tries to move and finds he can't. It's hard even to move his eyes under his eyelids. But suddenly he fills warmth. Starting at his feet it moves slowly up his whole body. With it he finds he can move his toes, his feet. It's like being unfrozen. Finally he can move his arms, but barely. Full strength hasn't returned. Up his neck and finally it leaves his head. He knows he can open his eyes but is afraid to. Finally he builds up enough courage to look out. 

***

The door of a two-story house suddenly opened into the bright morning. There stood a small boy no older than 14 with long metallic hair that he spiked up in every direction. He looked around for a second and dashed to an old well in the middle of the circle of houses. He didn't even bother to look up as he jumped 25 feet into the air right over the well and landing well beyond it. 

"Zidane, how many times do I have to tell you that you're supposed to walk around the well? Not jump over it." This made the boy turn around. Behind the voice was a beautiful woman with long metallic hair and the weirdest green eyes that seemed to glow with energy. The boy had the same eyes, which looked upon her in disbelief.

"But mom, it takes to long to walk around something so big. And besides, it's a lot more fun to jump. Makes me feel like I can fly. "As if to prove his point he jumped twice as high in the air landing right in front of his mom. "See what I mean."

His mom bent forward and kissed him on his forehead. "One day you will fly my son."

"Mom you always say that but I still haven't been able to." Zidane pulled an object from the back of his pants. "And you said that when the time comes I would be able to use this." His mom looked at the object. It was a sword handle that had ancient symbols of gods and beast on it. It had been passed down thru her whole family and now was his. "See I still can't get it to work."

"Son I told you that you would have to train to learn these things. Don't worry, your day will come. Soon you will be a great fighter and be able to protect everyone from what may come." Like she had to do it for her life, she looked up to the sky as if awaiting something. Although the boy didn't know he would soon meet lots of new people. All of them would not be friendly.

***

"Come on. That's it; you've almost got it. HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" A sudden burst of flame caught the mans hat on fire. "Ahhh, put it out, put it out. HELP!!!" He started running around in circles until a large wave of water from an unknown source splashed over him. He stood there drenched staring at the girl who was rolling on the ground laughing. Anger took over him.

"If I am not mistaken, I BELIEVE I SAID FIRE, NOT INFERNO." This made the girl laugh even harder. The man couldn't help but join her in laughter and after a while they were able to speak.

"I'm sorry dad I guess I just lost control." The girl smiled back at her father who was observing the hole in his hat.

"That's ok. Your powers are growing faster than your skill to control them. We will have to work on that. Now lets go get something to eat. Your choice, we can eat here or at the inn in Clefiro."

The girl observed to be giving it a lot of thought. "Well the inn does have some good soup so lets just go there. Ill go get my stuff." With that she ran into the stone house that was located atop a steep hill overlooking the village. She came out with a bag full of herbs, gems, and a dagger. On her back she carried a sword with a picture of a dragon attacked. After all, there were monsters that she couldn't beat with magic.

"Come on Naomi or the sun will set before we even get there." Even though Clefiro was a beautiful town at night with all the torches shining out side the stone buildings, the strongest monsters also came out at this time, and that was not a good thing. As she was running down the hill to her father she tripped on a root and landed scraping her legs very badly. "Naomi are you ok?" Her father seemed concerned.

"Yea. After all that is what they made cure magic for."

***

As his mother watched Zidane jumped around getting higher each time. Then on his highest jump yet, he suddenly gasped and started falling fast toward the ground. His mother jumped up and got there just in time to catch him. "Zidane are you al..." She lost here breath when she noticed the gashes in his leg. "Zidane how did you do this."

"I didn't do anything." He looked at her again. "Mom this is the third time this has happened. What is going on with me? OWW." He yelled as his mom put her hand on the wound. A green light settled around her hand and when she raised her hand it was gone and so was the gash. "Thank you. But I still don't get why it does this."

"Well it was inevitable. Son I have to tell you something. If I have ever told you anything, this is probably the most important. It will change your life forever as well as those around you. You must promise that you will do all you can do when the time comes. Work as hard as you can to improve and become a warrior. Will you do that for me." Zidane nodded not quite understanding what she meant. "Zidane remember I told you that you once had a father." Zidane nodded. "Well I know I said he died but he is actually still alive. And if that is not surprising enough you also have a sister. She is your twin." Zidane sat down as if he was going to faint. This was too much to take at one time. His mother sat down next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I know you are in disbelief but..."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He said still staring at the ground. 

"I couldn't. It wasn't the right time. But now I believe it is. Son I have told you everything I could, everything about our history and the world around you that I know. It is time for you to go find what you're looking for. Do you know what that is?" The boy shook his head. "Don't worry it will come to you. First you must find your sister and father. This will be the first step. It is possible that you may even learn something from them. After you go there it will be clear of what your next step is." She picked up the sword that was lying next to where Zidane. "I want you to take the Ultima sword and learn how to use it. Your sister should have one similar to it but if I know your father he has already taught her how to use it. Even though she does know that, she is a magic caster. You are the warrior. Become strong and after your journey is over, come back to me. Now go pack your stuff. You have to leave."

Zidane looked up to her. "Do I have to go right now?" She nodded. "I just have one question. Why did you two split up?"

"It was not our choice to make. A very powerful mage came to use one day when you were younger and told us what we had to do. But after he told use what would happen if we didn't, we complied. It was very hard to do. But we knew you would be to young to remember it so it would be alright."

"Mom what would have happened if you didn't do what you did?"

"The mage said that if we didn't separate you two that the entire planet would be destroyed. Your life power is great. If both of you were in the same place at the same time it would be like a beacon. So we separated you not wanting what ever was looking for you or the planet to find you." She stood up. Zidane soon followed. 

"But if that would happen why do you want me to meet her now. And what do they want with me anyway." His mom smiled back at him.

"You are very clever. Well the mage came back here a month ago. He said that they had found the planets location and it didn't matter anymore. It would take them some time to get here so I was to let you meet your sister and train with her. He said that maybe we would be strong enough to defend the planet from them. He didn't say why they wanted you but I don't think he knew."

Zidane hugged his mother. "Ill miss you mom." His mom gave an equal hug back. "I wish I didn't have to leave so soon"

"Ill miss you to. Now go inside gather your things. The map of where your sister and father are is under the stone that was cracked in the kitchen on the floor. Follow it and you will be there. I love you my son. And now I must go inform the mage of this. Be safe and return to me one day" They finally broke there hug and Zidane ran into the house. He gathered the cloths and money he would need. He went into the kitchen and grabbed the map, which was in exactly the place his mom had said it would. He ran outside and found that his mother had already left. Now it was time for him to start his journey. He hoped he could return here one day. He took one final look at his home and started walking away. One day he would see it again.

***

"Finally we made it." Naomi fell to the nearest seat she could find. Her father sat beside her. "There isn't usually that many monsters. I think I used all my energy on that last one." Naomi had fought every kind of monster in the area. They all seemed to be in a bad mood. She destroyed them all with no wound to show for it. She looked at her dad. "Dad why didn't you help some."

"You're in training. I'm not going to help you. You must learn the hard way if you want to become strong." He waved to a stout woman who was taking orders. When she arrived she wrote down their orders and went on with the other customers. 

"Well you still could have at least warned me if something was coming from behind." She pointed to the rip in her shirt. "That tarrisbeak didn't care if it was back attacking me."

"I'm sorry but you need to learn how do sense things like that. So that to is part of your training." With that he leaned back in his chair and relaxed. Naomi was still mad but was also getting really hungry. So she did the same as her father and waited for the food to arrive. When it did, it was gone in 10 seconds. Naomi's father looked at her amazed. "I have never seen anyone eat that fast."

"Well father if I wouldn't have had to fight so much I wouldn't be hungry." She pulled her backpack on and went out the door. "Are you coming father." Her father ate the last of his food and joined her outside the door. Just as they had feared it was dark. "Oh this is just great now I have to fight again." Her father just smiled at her as they continued on there way home.

***

"Now lets see. I should see a tree to my left...now." Zidane looked and there it was. I giant oak that looked big enough to live in. "Now I just keep going on this trail and I should be there in a snap." Just then 3 oglops jumped out. The oglops were big ugly toad\pig monsters that always attacked on sight. "Oh great. Now I have to fight them." He pulled out a staff that he had brought along with him. "Ok bring it on." And of course they attacked. The first one fell easily with just a swipe of the staff. The others took longer since they kept spraying acid at him. "Die dammit" He yelled as he brought the staff down crushing the monsters head. "They keep getting stronger and stronger." With that he put his staff back, checked his stuff, and walked on. He had been traveling for 3 days now and the map had pointed him directly on the path. He still had a day of travel left but had never felt closer to being in top shape. Zidane did not know what awaited him but he knew that what ever it was, it was going to be an adventure. And he was ready for it.

***

Naomi woke up from a terrible dream. Looking at her arm she noticed that she had been sweating. She got out of bed and went into the bath. There was no water there since her father was now putting her with all the chores so she just used a little magic and the bath filled with steaming water. She went into her room and found some underclothes and her armor and set them next to the bath. She then removed her nightdress to reveal a body of a goddess. At 14 she had still not had a period. But her body had not stopped to wait. Her chest had grown to a beautiful size with small pink nipples. Naomi had never been touched by any other than her father when she was young. He told her that her mom had given her baths before she died so he would help her until she could do it herself. He was always gentile with her and would always leave when she got out. So besides that she was probably the most full-blooded virgin in the whole town. 

Although every man wanted her for her beauty no one would dare touch her. She was off limits to anyone until she said so. So she had never had a boyfriend. But she didn't mind. She had no idea of the pleasures of intercourse since her father thought that when the time comes she would learn herself. This came as a problem to her. She had weird feelings in her stomach and in between her legs but never new what they were or what to do to make them stop.

She had the similar feeling in the tub but didn't do anything. But as she was washing we found that when she touched herself down there, it gave her serious pleasure. After rubbing it for a while she started to feel something building up. And then it happened. She climaxed and started screaming out loud, never removing her hand from her pussy.

Then just as she was starting to calm down there was a nock on the door. It was her father coming to see if she was all right and to tell her he was going on a trip, he would be gone for a day or two. She said she was fine and when he went away swore that she would never do that again. Something such as that had to be forbidden. But now noticing that the feelings in her stomach were gone, she thought it was possible that it was ok to do it. But since she had swore she quickly got out of the tub and put her cloths on before she could think about it some more. She went out side and started with her training forgetting what had just happened.

***

Zidane however could not forget what just happened. He was just walking alone when his private just all of a sudden started feeling like someone was massaging it. He sat down by a tree and took it out. It was hard as a rock and very large for a boy his age. Probably at least 9 inches and very thick. It felt so good he just leaned his head back and let it go on. After a while the pleasure got more intense and for a minute he thought if he didn't stop it, it would start to hurt. 

Then he felt something rising and just then he started pumping out gobs of come. He didn't know what to do, so he just leaned it over to the side so it wouldn't land on him. After a moment the flow stopped as he laid back. He was in ecstasy as well as total exhaustion. He took a rag from his backpack and cleaned off the cum that remained on him. Zidane put his private back in his pants still trying to figure out what had just happened. It was still early in the day so Zidane kept marching along the path in search of his dad and sister still wearing the wounds and scars of his battles so far.

***

As Naomi was training, her father was on his way to Zion, the biggest city in the world, which surrounded the princess's castle. The princess was the key to everything. She supported the world by using her spiritual energy. If she died the whole world would collapse if someone was not there in her place. 

.He was on his way to talk to the mage who he had met all those years ago. He had to talk to him about the recent occurrences and about Naomi's progress. Luckily for him, Zion's guards patrolled this area so there were no monsters. It would make his journey much more acceptable and less tiresome. As he was on the trail, he was thinking about many things. It mainly was his wife and son. He had not seen either of them for years and wondered what they looked like now. Every time he looked at his daughters face with her glowing green eyes and that silver hair, it always made him think of his wife. 

He also wondered if she had told his son about him and his sister yet. He still hadn't told his daughter yet. He was waiting for the right time. Maybe the mage would tell him whether it was the time. He didn't know. While thinking about her he wondered what their son looked like now. When his children were born, they both had silver hair and those strange green eyes. They were never a burden to them. They always were calm and only cried when they were hungry or had a dirty diaper. The weird thing was, they always were hungry or needed to be changed at the same time. They cried at the same time, slept at the same time, always. 

As he came over a hill, he finally saw it, Zion. It is the most beautiful city I have ever seen, he thought. The castle stood in the middle with its great towers looming over the city. Stonewalls surrounded the city and the castle. The main gate was now in view as he started down the hill. Hopefully the mage is home, he thought.

***

"Damn they just keep coming," thought Zidane as he killed the 23rd monster in the last 3 hours. As soon as he put his staff back in its place a giant dragon appeared from behind him. Zidane turned around hearing it breathing. "What the fuck is that. There is no way I can beat it." 

With that Zidane took off into the woods. After a moment he thought he had lost the dragon so he stopped. The muscles in his legs were burning. He was bleeding really badly from the gashes all over himself. After he got his balance he started walking only to find that the dragon was right behind him and closing in fast. He started running again not sure where to go but at the moment, not really caring either.

***

Naomi finally finished her training with a final fire spell that hit the steel dummy tied to a pole. She started moving back to her home when she happened to feel dizzy and collapsed. Trying to get up she looked at her legs. They were bleeding, and so were her arms. "I couldn't of got this many wounds from training," she thought. She slowly raised herself to a sitting position and looked herself over. Then concentrating on her wounds she whispered a spell. They all closed up and the blood disappeared. But right after she did this, another appeared on her arm. It was small, the size of a thorn scrape. It just appeared with nothing to cause it.

Naomi was worried now. What was happening to her? She didn't have time to think because just then she spotted a dragon flying over the trees. She got to her feet and brought out her Ultima weapon which she called dragon's wing since its main picture was that of a dragon. Just when she was about to cast a spell she noticed someone coming out of the trees. It was a boy of her age. The first thing she noticed was his hair. It was the same as hers.

The boy was obviously running from the dragon. He was bleeding badly. Just when it looked like he was escaping from it, the dragon used a demi spell and hit him in his back. He fell to the ground scraping him up more. He wasn't moving.

After concluding that the dragon was going to eat him, Naomi ran up to the dragon attacking it with the dragon's wing. The dragon was fast for its size and dodged most of her attacks. After slashing its wing Naomi pulled back. To get her breath back. The dragon used a powerful spell called flare on her. It was like a giant fireball. It hit her directly and exploded on impact.




Untouchable



She was knocked unconscious and flew backwards. Just then the boy with the silver hair was starting to gain his strength back. He looked up and saw Naomi flying towards a tree. Noticing the color of the girl's hair and seeing she was young, he quickly realized who it was.

Using the first spell that came to his mind he concentrated and used it. "Winds of dormant". His mother hadn't taught him many spells but the ones she did teach him were so he could get away from an enemy fast. Green energy that looked like wind surrounded Naomi. She was stopped and gently put back on the ground. She lay there not moving. Zidane got to his feet. The dragon realized its chance and ran toward Naomi. 

Zidane realizing what the dragon had on its mind ran in front of Naomi to protect her. The dragon stopped in front of Zidane. He pulled out his staff and held it in front of himself in defense. "I wont let you hurt her". As if the dragon understood he started getting ready to attack. Right off the bat he used flame burst. A dragon's main attack. When it hit Zidane he slipped back a yard trying to hold the blast from hitting Naomi. Even though the staff had a high magic defense, it wasn't a low spark he was dealing with.

Just then the staff couldn't hold the pressure and snapped in two. It blast Zidane backwards into the tree that he had saved Naomi from. He fell down to the base ready to give up right then. Then he looked and saw the dragon was about to attack Naomi. He found out he couldn't move though. He just closed his eyes and hoped for it to end. Just then he heard her voice. "Please help me. Please someone." It was in his mind. He looked at the dragon and thought "Its to late, I cant reach you that fast." But then he thought of what his mother had told him. "Become a warrior. Be as strong as you can and never give up."

"No I wont give up. Ill never let anyone hurt her. ILL NEVER LET YOU HURT MY SISTER!!"

Feeling a power surge the dragon automatically looked up. There sat the boy yes but something was different. The boy's hair was glowing and looked more spiked up. His whole body was glowing. He opened his eyes and pulled out the Ultima weapon. "I will never let you hurt her. NEVER". Just then his sword started to glow and then a blade of pure energy shot out of it. He had finally found out how to use the sword. In a fit of rage he ran strait toward the dragon.

Realizing the boy was going to attack the dragon got ready to use flare again. At 20 feet, Zidane jumped into the air, barely missing the flare. And came down yelling," Ill never forgive you. RAZOKIN!!" The blade came down on the dragon's head exploding and slicing the whole dragon in half before destroying it completely. 

Zidane fell back down and landed on his feat. He ran over to Naomi and leaned down. "Are you ok?" Naomi started to stir and opened her eyes. "Are you ok?" The glow around Zidane was gone. As soon as Naomi got to her feat and said she was fine Zidane fell to the ground. "That's good," he said right before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

***

Zidane woke to the birds chirping outside. He found himself in a room that had defiantly been decorated by a female judging by the colors and cloths lying around. He tried to move but found he couldn't. He was bandaged heavily and he didn't have that much strength either which made it harder. Trying hard he managed to sit up in the bed. Looking around he wondered where he was.

Naomi walked in the room not even looking at the bed. She took what looked like a gem off the dresser and put it in her pocket. When she turned around she gasped when she realized Zidane was awake. "Wow you scared me. Are you feeling ok?" When he nodded his head she smiled. "That's good, thank you for saving me. I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it. Where is my bag?" She pointed to a chair in the corner. "Can you get it for me." She went to the corner, grabbed the bag, and gave it to him. He pulled out a glove and put it on. Then as though it was there the whole time his armor appeared on him. She stared at him.

"How did you do that?" Zidane pointed to the gem that was embedded in the glove.

"When I want it, it comes." He then got out of bed and started walking to the door. 

She got in front of him. "You can't go. You aren't strong enough yet." And with that she pushed him back on the bed. A sign of anger passed over him. 

"Listen, I don't want to hurt you but don't get in my way." She just stood there in his way. Then he remembered. This was his sister. "Where is your father?"

"He's outside." Zidane turned around. Naomi put her arms down. It didn't matter because Zidane ran and jumped out the window. Naomi followed after him but was not as fast. By the time she had caught up to him he had already started talking to her dad. Her father hugged him and started laughing and crying at the same time. This confused her. "Dad are you ok."

Her father turned to her. "Naomi have you been introduced." Naomi shook her head. "Well Naomi, this is Zidane, your twin brother." This hit her like a bolt of lightning. She just stood there in total shock.

"Father, maybe you should take her inside and set her down. This isn't easy news to take." His father nodded and started walking back to the home. "Father, do you know where my sword is?" He pointed to a shed near what looked like to be a training ground. He nodded and walked off towards it. 

"So that is my sister. She is beautiful. Probably got it from mom." He reaches the shed. Inside are all different kinds of weapons and armor. Lying on a table is my sword, which is next to what appears to be my sister's sword. I grab mine and go outside to the training ground. I look at the sword and try to remember what I did to get it to work. 

He tried holding it up. That didn't work. Then it hit him. "When I saved Naomi I was glowing. I must have been having a ZX reaction. According to the books I've read, if ones emotion is very high, that person has a ZX which causes the person's strength, magic power, and concentration to rise. So it must be the concentration I am missing", he thought.

He sat down on the ground, and started to meditate. His concentration was focused on the sword. Then he opened his eyes and just as he had expected, the blade was there. He stood up and swung it around. It was kind of heavy, it always had been but that's why it's a two handed sword. 

He noticed the dummy on the pole. He got into fighting position and charged it. He slashed and stabbed and then jumped back. The dummy fell onto the ground. The sword had barely resisted when he had cut it. "Pretty impressive." The voice from behind startled him. It was his father. "Did your mom teach you how to use that?" Zidane shook his head. "Then how did you figure out how to use it?"

Zidane shrugged. "I didn't know how until yesterday when I saved Naomi." His father walked up to him.

"Thank you for saving her. I don't think she would have been able to beat that dragon".

Zidane shook his head. "She wouldn't have had to fight it if I hadn't came along." It was his father's turn to shrug. 

"Your mother told you to come. And also you had to." He looked toward the house. "She is my pride and joy. And from what I hear your mother feels the same way about you. That is why I thank you." 

Zidane looked at him, "you saw mother?" He nodded.

"It was nice seeing her again. She said hi," he looked at the sword, " I think you need to grow into the sword. I wouldn't worry though. You should see your sister and her sword. She defiantly needs to grow." This made them both laugh. "Well it is starting to get late. Do you want to get something to eat?" Zidane nodded. "Come on then. We will go cook something. I wonder if Naomi has wore off the shock yet."

***

The next few days passed quickly. Zidane's father taught him more skills as a warrior and taught Naomi more magic. He told him as much as he could about what they were up againced although he really didn't know himself. Zidane didn't see much of Naomi and that was fine with him. Everyday after training and dinner Zidane would go walking, well actually it was more jumping, thru the forest. He would go to a small stream to wash and relax. He wasn't used to washing in a bath. As he relaxed he thought of his mother. She said that once he got here he would know where to go next. The obvious would be to go to other cities and train some more. But he didn't really know.

All of a sudden he heard some footsteps. Not knowing what it was he sunk beneath the water. He waited for three minutes. Right when he was about to get out he saw a face over the water. He couldn't tell who but since it was impossible to see him from the top, he stayed there. Whoever it was knew he was in there because it didn't leave.

Zidane couldn't wait any longer. Needing air he jumped out of the water.

***

Naomi was getting really bored. She had read every book she had at least twice. Then she looked out her window and saw her brother going into the forest. Not knowing what else to do she took off after him. He was a lot faster than her so she had to run as hard as she could just to keep him in sight. Finally he stopped at a stream. She hid behind some bushes and waited for him to move. He just dived into the water leaving his cloths on. She got a little closer so she could see.

When she looked at the stream he wasn't there. All she saw was her reflection. She knew he was there so she waited. All of a sudden Zidane jumped out of the water. She jumped back about to faint.

"WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR!" she screamed. Zidane just looked at her.

"Why were you following me?" She had to think of an answer.

"I was bored and didn't have anything better to do." She was sounding like a stuck up snob and she knew it.

"Well all you had to do is ask and I would of brought you along." Zidane jumped out on the other side of the stream. Naomi couldn't believe what she was seeing. He was completely naked in front of her and didn't even mind. It was then she noticed how many muscles he had. His whole body was in shape. She found her self wishing he would turn around so she could see the rest of him.

He still had the glove on though. Zidane looked at the gem and his cloths just appeared on him. 

"Ill never get how you do that." Zidane turned around and laughed.

"Maybe ill get you one later on. Well if you want to use the stream its all yours." He turned around and started walking away.

"Where are you going?" He stopped and turned his head.

"That is my business. But if you'd like to know, I advise you to hurry up." Zidane started walking again. Naomi ran after him. She finally caught up with him.

"Your supposed to be the same age as me yet your more athletic than me. And I train everyday. Why is that?" Naomi asked. Zidane stopped walking.

"Well I guess that you got moms looks and I got her agility."

"Do I really look like her?" Zidane nodded.

"Same hair, face, eyes, figure, and beauty." Zidane looked into her eyes. "Well I guess we both go the eyes." For some reason Zidane felt complete when he looked in her eyes. It was like they were supposed to be there. Right then. Knowing he couldn't keep staring at her, he turned his head and walked on.

Naomi had felt the same as Zidane did. The only thing that was different is she started getting those feelings again. They were 10 times worse than last time. It almost made her feel sick. "Come on Naomi or do you want to get left behind." Naomi noticed Zidane was way ahead of her and dashed after him. He was standing next to a giant tree. Naomi was running so fast she didn't even notice what was in front of her. She fell strait over the cliff. 

Zidane who had expected this already had his arms around her. "Better watch it, that first steps a doosy." He picked her up, put her over his shoulder, and jumped into the air.

"ZIDANE WHAT ARE YOU DOOOOINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG AHHHHHHHH!!!" The cliff was 20 feet across, an easy task for Zidane. When they landed on the other side Naomi jumped off and started yelling. "What are you doing, you almost got us killed!"

"I could of jumped a gap twice that big with three people on my shoulder. Don't worry about it. Even if I didn't make it I have ways of getting up safely." Again he started walking without her. She didn't notice he was gone yet and when she did look in that direction, it wasn't Zidane who was standing there. It was another dragon.

Knowing that she had forgot her sword she did the only logical thing. "ZIDANE HELP MEEEEEEEE." The dragon looked hungry and got ready to eat her. Just then Zidane appeared in front of her.

"Don't even think about it Gigas. How many times do I have to tell you. You eat monsters, not humans. Or do I have to do what I did last time." The dragons eyes changed from rage to fear as it turned around and walked away. 

"How....how did you do that Zidane"

"Well along time ago that dragon attacked me." Zidane pointed to the scares on its tail. "Every time it attacked me or another human I would cut of its tail. It isn't a fast learner but sooner or later it stopped. Now lets go. We don't have much farther." Zidane started walking some more. "I don't usually come here since it takes so long, but since I finished chores early I thought why not." Finally they came upon an old wood building. "This building used to be a shrine. It is said that if two people who have the same blood come in here together, they can accomplish whatever goals they set. When I was younger my mom had bought some farming land. It had been drained of its nutrients and didn't look like it could grow anything. So we came here and prayed to be able to farm the land and make healthy crops. That year we had the best crops in the whole village. Farmers were begging use to sell it to them. So we sold it to the highest bidder and we have been living off of the money from then on." Zidane started to walk into the building followed by Naomi.

The door pushed easily and they came upon an assortment of statues and scrolls. They went to the center circle and sat down facing each other. "What are we praying for", asked Naomi.

"Something my mom told me. Ok hold my hands and repeat everything I say. Concentrate on the words and your soul. Ok" Zidane cleared his throat and began. :: 

"Gods of the planet. Winds of the storm. Help us protect those we love, and destroy those who wish to harm us. Give us the strength to vanish evil, and anyone who wants to destroy our planet. We beg of you."

The whole shrine lit up with a brilliant light. And was gone just as soon as it came. They opened their eyes and looked around. "Our prayers were heard." Zidane got up and helped Naomi to her feat. "Now lets go home." Naomi hesitated.

"Zidane what are we fighting againced."

"I don't know but what ever it is, it must be a danger to the planet. I don't really understand any of this. I was leading a happy life with my mother and then I had to leave just like that. I didn't even know how to use the Ultima weapon yet. But now that I am here I will protect our planet from whatever wants to harm it." 

Naomi walked over and hugged her brother. "I'm proud of you." Zidane noticed he was starting to get the same feeling he had in the woods. Naomi started to feel like she had in the bath. Trying to get them to stop she backed away from here brother.

"Naomi are you ok?" She nodded and started walking with her head down. Zidane started to get curious to why she was acting this way. "Naomi are you sure you are ok?" She nodded again but Zidane knew she was lying. Trying to hear here thoughts like last time he closed his eyes and concentrated. Then he heard it.

"Why am I feeling this way? It never was this bad. Its like my body longs for him. But he's my own brother, that wouldn't be right. But when I look in those eyes, I want him so much. I want to touch him and hold him. But if I told him he would probably never talk to me again." Zidane couldn't believe what he was hearing. She had the same feelings as he did. He listened in again. "If I told him I loved him I wonder what he would say." Zidane got and idea. He tried talking to her with his mind.

"I would say I loved you too." As soon as Zidane thought it Naomi turned around. Zidane just kept walking like nothing had happened. He wasn't lying. After just spending a couple of days with her, he loved her. Although he wanted to talk to her, he didn't know what to say. So he kept his distance. "Maybe one day I can show her my feelings. But until then, ill keep quiet," Zidane thought to himself.

***

After hearing the way Naomi felt about him, Zidane tried to be around Naomi whenever he could. He helped her with her chores after he got done with his own. Then after supper Naomi would always come to his room which his father had made up, to talk. They talked about everything, learning what each others lives were like when they were young, about how there parents taught them to fight, anything that they could. They getting along very well and there father was pleased.

Then one day after everything was done, Naomi came to his room right on schedule, and they started talking. Naomi brought up the subject of past loves.

"So Zidane, have you ever had a girlfriend or courted anyone." Naomi thought if she asked, she could find out whether he had one right now. Zidane thought for a sec and realized he had never had a girlfriend. His mother had told him about how girls and boys get together and one day get married but he had never thought about it much.

"No actually, I have never had one." 

Naomi's mouth dropped. "You've never had a girlfriend ever?" Zidane shook his head. 

"I never really thought about it. The girls all acted as though I was different with my hair and eyes. So most just stayed away. I didn't have many friends. My mother was all I needed at the time." Zidane laid back on his bed. "Maybe I'm hopeless." Zidane looked at Naomi who still had her mouth dropped in disbelief. He reached up and closed it. "Wow is it that surprising. How many have you had." 

"Well I've never had a boyfriend either but I cant believe no girls liked you. I mean come on there must have been one. I cant even go into town without some boy asking me if I like to take a walk with him sometime or something like that." Zidane thought really hard. 

"Well there was one girl. When I was 7 I met a girl while I was picking apples. She just came out of nowhere and looked about my age. She had blond hair and was really cute. She asked me if she could have one. Of course I gave her one and we had a conversation. We talked until sunset. She said she had to go so I gave her another apple and she left. Well the next day I went again since I had nothing better to do and she was there again. She told me she lived with her father in the slums of Zion. It was a real poor community. She said her father didn't let her out much so she didn't have any friends." Zidane got off the bed and went to the door. 

"She came many times that week, I found out her name was Emerald. You know her as princess Emerald."

***

"Really, I didn't know that you lived with your mother." A girl of 7 stepped out from behind the tree. "You know what, I don't even know your name do I." A young boy of the same age jumped out from behind the tree.

"No I guess you don't. My names Zidane, what's yours."

"Everyone calls me Emerald." Zidane shook her hand and sat down with a bag of apples. "So you live with your mother, what's she like?" Zidane bit into an apple and thought about it.

"Well, she has hair the same as mine except its not spiky, her eyes are the same, and she is really nice. She lets me do almost anything I want. What about your parents, what are they like?"

"Well my mom died when I was 2, so I barely remember her. My dad is...well, he's nice but really strict. He had short dark hair and has lots of scares on his body from the war."




Untouchable



"Your dad was in the military when the great war was going on?" Emerald looked down at the ground.

"Well sort of. Well its about time for me to go. Ill see you later." She got up and started walking down the path toward Zion. She stopped and turned around. "Zidane?" Zidane turned toward her voice. "You are probably the best friend I have ever had."

"We barely know each other tho."

"Yea but I have never had many friends. You are probably the only one I felt close to." Zidane thought for a moment.

"Well, I feel the same way you do. I don't have many friends either."

"Well promise me something."

"What," Zidane asked.

"Promise me that whatever happens we will always be friends." 

Zidane smiled at the thought, a real friend. "Sure, I promise."

"I promise to, bye." Zidane waved at she walked out of sight. Wow, I finally have a friend. I can't wait to tell mom, Zidane thought as he ran home.

***

"So I went home and told her. But when I told her the name of my friend, you should of seen the look of shock that passed over her. She started asking all of these questions about her. What does she look like, how does she talk. She knew who it was, but she didn't tell me. I kept going to the tree, trying to meet her. We talked and messed around. I even gave a lesson on using magic." Zidane sighed and went back to his bed. "She was my best friend."

"Was? Why, aren't you still friends?" Zidane shook her head.

"One day her father, the king, found out about where his little girl was going. He got his guards to follow her everywhere and told them to not let her leave the city. I kept going to the tree, hoping she would be there, but she never came. Then I told my mom about her disappearance. She told me the truth about her. I couldn't believe what she was telling me. But later I got a letter from Emerald. She had got one of her servants to sneak it out. She told me the truth about who she really was." Zidane laid back on his bed. "After telling me about it, in the envelope she wrote me another letter. It said:

"Zidane, I'm sorry I made you worry. My father found out and wouldn't let me leave. Thank you for being my friend. Hope we meat again some day."

"After that, I became absorbed into myself. I didn't want to talk to my mom, I didn't eat, I even stopped training. She was my only friend, the only one I would ever have. Luckily for me, my mom started making me train hard. She can be persistent. I started training so hard that I forgot about her."

"Wow Zidane, you actually forgot about her."

Zidane nodded. "I didn't even remember it until you asked."

"I'm sorry." Zidane shook his head.

"No that's ok. I'm glad I remembered her. I don't know if you would of called her my girlfriend, but she was a really good friend. Anyway, what about you, have you had many good friends."

"No, I guess not. My training always got in the way. I have never had a really good friend except for my dad."

"Well just think, now you have a brother and a friend." Zidane smiled really big to prove his point. Naomi couldn't help laughing saying he looked like a evil clown. They talked into the night about past experiences and what they had to do in the future. They knew they had a long road in front of them.

***

Over the next 2 months, their father taught them all they would need to know about how to live away from home. How to cook, what monsters would be to dangerous to fight, how to address people. They also trained together. Zidane taught Naomi more sword skills since he had improved much faster than she had, and Naomi taught Zidane some spells so he could use magic with her.

One night, their father told them they had a visitor. When Zidane came out of his room he was surprised to find his mother sitting in a chair. Without hesitation he ran and hugged her. "Mom I missed you so much." Zidane had grew a lot and was taller than his mother now.

"I missed you too Zidane, you've grown a lot." She looked toward Naomi. "And this must be my daughter." She opened up her arms. "Do I get a hug from my daughter." Naomi's eyes got watery as she ran to her mother and hugged her.

"Well this is quite a reunion. Mom why did you come here?"

"Well, I came to tell your father its time for you to leave and go out into the world. You should have been training so you will be fine." She looked down at her daughter. "I'm sorry to rush you but you have to go tonight." 

Zidane's mouth dropped. "Tonight!!!. That's way to early. Plus you just got here. I wanted to talk to you about stuff." 

"I'm sorry Zidane, but you have to go right now. Don't worry your sister will keep you company." It was true. Zidane would be fine just having his sister, but he had to talk to her about how he kept feeling when she was around.

"Fine ill get packed." Zidane walked to his room and Naomi did the same. After a moment, Naomi called her father into her room. Zidane asked his mom to come in his room a moment later.

"Dad, I have to ask you something." Naomi fumbled around nervously.

"Go ahead." He sat on her bed.

"I've been having some strange feelings and I want to know what they mean."

"Do you feel sick or something?"

"Not really. See I have been getting a feeling like my stomach is in knots. And...I sometimes feel...something between my legs."

"Oh that's nothing, that just shows your turning into a woman. All women go through that at least once. Maybe I should get your mother." Naomi grabbed him before he could get up.

"No, don't do that. I feel like I can trust you more. The main thing I wanted to tell you is..."

"What is it? Spit it out" Naomi hesitated for a moment and continued.

"The thing is, I only get these feelings at certain times." Her dad did not see where she was going with this. 

"When is that?"

"I only get the feeling when I'm around Zidane, is that wrong. I've never been attracted to someone like him before. But its wrong to feel this way toward my brother even I know that."

Naomi's father listened carefully to all of this. When she looked at him he just smiled. "Don't worry Naomi. The thing is since you haven't had much contact with boys who are as nice as Zidane, your not used to it. Don't worry, once you start your journey, you'll meet lots of boys and you will not feel this way toward your brother. Now get packed." He left and closed the door. He got about half way to Zidane's room when he met his wife coming to Naomi's room.

"Your not going to believe what just came out of our sons mouth."

"Well if its anywhere close to what Naomi said, I guess I did. I cant believe it. They have been apart since birth, been here for a few months, and now they are falling in love with each other. Seems familiar doesn't it." They smiled at each other.

"I suppose we could push the envelope a little couldn't we."

"Are you sure you want them to be together like that?" She nodded.

"Who are we to break up love? Now, you know what to do." Both of them went into the opposite room and said," You dad/mom told me about what you said. Its not wrong, true love matters even if its family. She/he said they loved you too. Lets keep this between us. Love you."

They met in the middle of the house with smiles on their faces.

***

Just as planed, Naomi and Zidane left in a few minutes. Each one thinking about what there parents had told them. They were just bursting to tell the other how they felt. But they just kept walking. And walking. And walking.

It got dark quickly, so they set up camp. Naomi set up the tent while Zidane went looking for fire wood. Dinner was cooked and eaten in silence. Naomi got up and went to the tent first while Zidane sat beside the fire thinking. 

They both had never experienced true love before. It was killing them, not being able to express it. Even though they knew that the other loved them to, they didn't know how to act.

Zidane got into the tent, found a spot near the opening, and fell asleep.

***

Naomi couldn't move. She was frozen. She could move her eyes, that was it. But all she saw was darkness. Then appeared Zidane, barely five feet in front of her. He was smiling, just standing there. Then before him appeared a shadow. His blade that appeared longer and thinner than the Ultima weapon, stabbed right threw her brothers heart.

Blood shot across her face. She wanted to scream but found she couldn't. 

He dropped to the floor, lying in his own blood.

***

Suddenly everything became black as her brother waked her. She was crying out loud and found that she couldn't stop. Zidane held her tight to him, trying to calm her. But the first thing he noticed was that her breast were pressed agianced his chest. 

His pole started tingling and started to harden. Naomi who started to feel his dick stiffen slowly started to become aroused. She started to feel wetness dampening her lips. After a moment she stopped crying. He held on to her tight even then. They both were aroused and couldn't hold back. Zidane lifted her head and gently pressed his lips to hers. It was the kiss of true love, nothing sexual.

But slowly it started to speed up. Zidane started caressing her hair while Naomi felt down his body. Then she came upon something hard. She gently rubbed it as she broke the kiss. "What's that?" Zidane was in so much pleasure he couldn't answer.

Thinking she was causing him pain she stopped. "No, keep doing it." So she started again while he kissed her harder. Zidane started rubbing down her body. He grabbed one of her breast under her shirt and started twisting the nipple. This was driving Naomi wild, she was getting wetter and wetter. Zidane lifted her shirt off and started sucking the nipple. He didn't know if this was what he was supposed to do or not but the expression on Naomi's face said she was enjoying it. 

He slowly worked his way down until he was at her pants. He pulled them off and gazed at what was before him. She had silver hair running along it. There wasn't much at all, she might have well been shaved. Zidane didn't care, it was beautiful. He kissed her belly button and started moving down until he reached her cunt. Her excitement had made her wet. Zidane felt as if he knew what he had to do next. It was as though it was all coming to him. He reached down and slowly spread her lips. He leaned down and slowly licked up and down her slit. Naomi was in pure pleasure. Zidane then started putting his tongue in and out going faster and faster. Naomi was about to come and Zidane knew it.

He slowly started rubbing her clit with his thumb. She went over the edge and started screaming. Zidane held her tight thru the whole thing. She got control of herself and finally had enough breath to speak. "God that felt good, where did you learn that."


"I don't know, I just knew what to do when it was needed." He took the rest of his cloths off. Zidane crawled on top of Naomi and started kissing again. Just like Zidane had earlier, she knew exactly what to do. She grabbed his cock and aimed it for snatch. He pushed forward and reached her. She grabbed his ass with her other hand and pushed him forward. He was way to big for her, but somehow he managed to get the head in. He pushed forward and noticed she was in pain. "Are you ok."

"It hurts. Just push it in. Hard, all of it."

"I don't know, that could hurt you worse."

"Just do it," Zidane pulled out and plunged in as hard as he could. Naomi cried out in pain. He had put all 9 inches in her, going right through her hymen. Zidane held her tight until she stopped crying. 

"Are you ok." 

"Yea, start again but go slow." Zidane pulled out and pushed in slowly. Naomi's pain was replaced with pleasure as he stroked in and out of her. Zidane bent down and started biting her nipple. Naomi had another orgasm, scraping her nails into Zidane's back. Zidane was getting close. He started pumping in and out faster and faster, filling Naomi to the brink. Then Naomi climaxed again. Her muscles started contracting causing Zidane to lose control. He pushed in one final time and all 14 years of built up come flooded out. More and more hit the back of her pussy causing him to pass out.

***

Zidane was the first to awake, realizing he was still inside her. He pulled out and started to get dressed. "Good morning Zidane."

Zidane laid down next to her. They kissed and got up to pick up camp. Before going out of the tint, Zidane kissed her deep.

"I love you."

"I love you to."

"Well guess we better go, we have a long way to go to get to Zion."

To Be Continued...



Untouchable



Hola, my name is Gustavo, and I'm Puerto Rican. I live in New York City, albeit in a nicer part of town than before, and I am a successful executive for a major airline. I have a fat salary, expense accounts, etc., and I love to travel, taking advantage of the staff discount. 

However, I never forget the downtrodden, the poor, and the unjustly despised. I grew up poor, after all, and I know suffering. So, perhaps for that reason, I find myself especially attracted to the girls from the "wrong side of the tracks".

Yes, women living in poverty, who look for a man who will actually like them, want them, lust for them, and maybe even love them- those women appeal to me. 

Of course, I sleep with the corporate types too, but those women are often arrogant, stuffy prima donnas, who don't appreciate men, because they don't think that they need us.

I also love and remember the earthy sensuality of the girls from my old neighborhood, with their swarthy, sweaty skin that made them seem soft and natural. I am really attracted to that, for sure, and rarely find it in my jet-set lifestyle.

Well, all of that is preliminary to the story that I am about to tell. My wife and I have not really had a marriage of the happy, romantic, and sexually satisfied type for a long time, and I often look forward to my trips abroad, mostly due to the sexual solace I find with the legal prostitutes of many foreign countries. 

I also, however, look for girls who are just in need of a man's touch, and who feel, wrongly, that they are unacceptable for some reason.

That was literally true in New Delhi, the capital of India, one day, when I happened to find a young, sweet-looking girl serving tables for the foreigners (who to the locals just didn't "know better", and were therefore not held to caste rules). 

She had that dark, earthy quality, and was quite delightful in her exotic beauty, and yet she seemed downcast, and frankly unhappy. 

I thought that I would break the ice, "Miss, what's your name?".

I knew that English is a fairly common language in India, to bridge the many native peoples with their various tongues, so I naturally expected her to understand me.

"Devi, sir.", she nervously answered. 

"You don't need to call me 'sir', Devi. My name is Gustavo.", I told her.

"Thank you, Gustavo, but I am new here, and I'm not used to people speaking to me like that."

"Like what- like a person?", I replied.

"Yes- like a person. To them, I am just a beast, no better than any of those donkeys, and less than a cow, which is sacred."

I was angry now, as I couldn't understand. Hadn't the government abolished castes a long time ago- why did people break the law by discriminating on the basis of caste? I decided to inquire further.

"Devi, are you treated that way because of your caste?"

"No, Gustavo, I am treated this way because I have no caste- I am an 'untouchable', and they say that it is because I was bad in a past life- you know, really evil?"

I was horrified now. It's one thing to believe in karma, but to hold an imaginary karma against an innocent- that was awful! Here was a lovely young woman, who never deserved this kind of degradation, and she was subjected to it, solely because of her birth!

"Devi- look at me; you are not 'untouchable', or 'bad', or 'evil', for that matter, just unlucky enough to have been born into poverty, okay? I think of you as a person, and I want you to think of yourself the same way, alright?" 

She nodded, albeit nervously, as she was afraid of her parents, who worked there, too, and the owners of the place.

"Come with me, when your shift is done, and I will show you that you do have something to offer, and that some people do consider you a person."

She nodded again, agreeing to my plan, as I paid her and put the tip down on the table, and then headed to the bar of the restaurant, to drink a few before heading to my hotel suite that was in walking distance to the tavern. When her shift was over, I took her arm and led her to my hotel, to the shock of her parents and employers, who were nonetheless not about to thwart an affluent patron.

I took her to my suite, after checking in (and facing some looks from the hotel staff, who were clearly uncomfortable with an outcaste among them), and then I ran a bath, telling her to join me in it. She had never been invited to do that before, so my invitation was irresistible for her. 

I began to massage her swarthy flesh, getting it clean and wet, as her evident tension gradually disappeared, and she clearly felt comfortable and at ease with me. 

She knew by now, of course, that I wanted to fuck her, but she obviously didn't mind, because I had made it apparent that she was a human as far as I was concerned, not just some beast. She was little prepared, however, for what I did next.

I began to slowly, methodically kiss the back of her neck, and then move my tongue down her backbone, licking her spine, and then reaching her tailbone with my mouth. I lifted her up out of the bath as I did this, so that she was standing up while I ate her, rimming her ass to satisfaction.

The sudden sensation of my orifice on hers made her squeal with delight, as she started to feel things she had never even thought possible.

Her bottom was every bit as delicious as I expected it to be, and my tongue found itself savoring her sphincter for several lingering moments.

Her sweet buns were soft in my hands, and my lips often wandered over to them, to lick them as well. Soon, she strained to hold back her climax, but it was useless, as she came from her 1st ever anilingus.

"Oh, Gustavo, that is wonderful- no man has done that for me before!"

"What, Devi, licking your bottom, or making you orgasm?"

"Neither- they all have theirs, and leave me disappointed."

"What men are these?"

"My cousins- they all fuck me, because they're the only ones in this area who will have me- the other men pretend I don't exist."

"None of your cousins has tried to make it fun for both of you? To me, every sex act must be mutually satisfying, or it's not really that much fun. I like casual sex, don't get me wrong, but I make every encounter pleasant- that's what I'm saying. I don't just go through the motions, because if it's worth doing, it's worth doing well!"

"Oh, Gustavo, you are so great- how can I pleasure you, now?"

"Why, Devi, I thought you'd never ask! I want to 69 with you- do you know that is?"

"No, Gustavo, but it sounds like fun."

"Here," I said, as I pulled her onto my face, lowered her onto my face, and began eating her cunt like I had with her ass. She quickly got the picture, being no dunce, and started kissing, licking, and sucking my cock. She even moved further southward, tasting my balls, to my complete ecstasy. 

After several minutes of that, I told her to get on all fours, so I could fuck her pussy. She did as I said, and I started sliding into her sex, steadily increasing the pace of the penetration, until she began to scream from the joy of it.

"Oh, Gustavo, you made my pussy ready- none of my cousins do that! This is much more fun." 

I'll bet it is, I thought. Those cousins of hers sounded like lousy lovers to me, more of the "wham, bam, thank you, ma'am" type, that ruin sex for a lot of women, making them indifferent or even hostile to the idea of fucking.

That's what happened to my wife in her previous marriage, and it destroyed ours as well, because she never wanted it more than 3 or 4 times a year, even on a good year. This in turn had caused her to lose me, as I needed it more, and she never seemed to appreciate my best efforts at her pleasure.

Her mind was closed- to her, sex was only fun for men. She never relaxed enough to embrace it. This lady, however, was different- she was grasping the distinction between a good and a bad fuck (although even the worst is better than none).

Back to the present, I eased a few digits into her rectum, preparing her for anal sex, which I hoped that she would enjoy. If her reaction to the finger-fucking was any indication, she would love anal! She simply howled her pleasure at this point, and I knew that she was ready.

I withdrew from her cunt and entered her anus with little difficulty, as my fingers had blazed the trail for me. She grunted and groaned for a second or two, as she began to adjust to the feeling of my manhood lodged in her backdoor. 

I began to accelerate the momentum, steadily stepping up the pace, until at last she was fully participating, pushing back up against me with her hips and thighs, and taking my cock deeper into her bowels.

She tensed for a few moments, straining as she got my whole penis inside her butt, and then she released the kind of ear-piercing scream one associates with horror movies. 

Only this time, however, it was due to pleasure and excitement, not fear. It was the final catalyst needed by my balls, and I simply gushed my sperm into her backside, filling it with my essence.

I didn't withdraw just yet, rather letting adjust to the feeling of my dick inside her a bit more, as well as letting my phallus relish the wonderful feeling of her heinie.

When I did remove my penis from her bottom, she knelt and started sucking my toes, to thank me, she said, for "the most incredible sex of my life".

I raised her up on her feet, and planted a forceful kiss on her wet, sexy lips, telling her to quit her job, and travel with me. I said that I would arrange for her to get into the States, moving her into a place on Long Island, and visit her regularly, as she was now my mistress.

I also told her that I am married, but that my wife treats me no better (worse, in fact), than her cousins treated her. (That was no doubt indicated by her refusal to sleep with me before the wedding, but I failed to take the hint.)

As she looked at me, consenting non-verbally to my plan, I told her,"See, my love, you're not so untouchable after all!"

She beamed the prettiest smile and then kissed me back, just as passionately as I had her.



Untouchable



'Hello there – how's it going?'

I looked up from other thoughts, mostly to do with jiggling the new key into a position where it would do some good, my smile surfacing to acknowledge hers as I nodded back.

'So, are you fully settled into your place?' She'd slowed now on the broad stairwell's landing before my flat's door. In the two weeks of tenancy here, I'd seen her only once before, coming down the stairs from the loft apartment above mine – then as now, she'd seemed quiet, friendly and also shy with a glint of boldness, peeking at me from behind a partial curtain of long hair. But that could be just the effect my shaven head has on folks, until they get to know me.

I must admit to having noticed more about her on that occasion, caught in a glance as she looked downwards with what I'd assumed was that shyness I'd mentioned – petite, slender and with the fullest young hips I'd seen on a woman in a long while; hips made to endure hours of slow, intense sex. Her breasts were in part hidden by hair and open jacket. I did not feel bad for so casually eyeing her up like that, for her own glance had gone straight for my crotch. A smile covered the memory signal, of my having slowly masturbated with her in mind that night.

That same look of shy boldness played about her features now, so I could not help wondering what it was she'd been looking at this time. By then she'd come to a stop, and I needed to order my thoughts back toward the now.

'Yeah, all's good now thanks. I like the place, and how it's been done – how long now since the renovation, six months?'

Her look shifted along with her eyes, focusing up and out onto a special distance, as if able to see the past there.

'Yeah, 'bout that.' Her belated nod confirmed the statement, giving certainty to her expression in a way that I found quite endearing. 'I'm Sara by the way.'

Her hand was stuck out uncompromisingly, time went slow: would my obvious surprise at such unexpectedness, mask this brief hesitation in responding straight away, like for like?

I came out of it: 'Hi – I'm Curt.' Smile broadening to cover clenching teeth before contact.

I felt the charged tingle preceding that sensory rush - it always came over me when there was any physical contact between myself and another. This time it was certain to be worse, with bare flesh on bare flesh...

Even prepared, I was caught by the blast as it came in an incredibly strong rush, so I concentrated underneath that unstoppable surge of emotional conduction, centring my attention on our hands calmly going through the whole perfunctory up and down bit of shaking and being shaken. I also was aware through the suffusing flood of contact, that a bit of the charge must have leaked back, as her pupils dilated noticeably – there had been a lot of juice in that touch.

I'd like to think that I showed no such overt signs myself, except for a possible slight flare of the nostrils, my lungs involuntarily spasming under the impacting shock.

I'm usually more careful about avoiding contact, especially the flesh-to-flesh variety – but this time I had no real choice, not unless I wanted to cause an awkward moment, which from experience I know is never truly explainable to the other's satisfaction. So I'd taken it, trusting to my years of experience in getting these hits, to mask the signs.

With pupils still widening, she broadened her smile in continued slow motion, possibly misinterpreting my own reaction as some subliminal, ancient animal response of deciphering her scent for readiness to mate.

A belated flush started to colour her face, and as real-time reasserted itself, she quickly pivoted away, giving a slight wave of trailing fingers as she started back on her way up the last two flights of stairs.

On automatic myself after taking that emotional surge, I turned and got myself inside somehow, under a haze of aftermath – that last sight of her taut, rounded behind climbing the stairs, hypnotically rolling, not helping matters with my erection already trying to rip its way out of my combats.

Once inside, I leaned the door shut and stayed there a moment, concentrating on calming breaths. Damn, but that discharge had been really heavy. A shock from someone so young!

By now, I can imagine that you dear reader, might well be quite thoroughly confused concerning what the hell I'm talking about...

...Well, I doubt you've heard of us, because of all the various documented and speculated upon psychic attenuations, you won't find ours amongst them. My own take upon it is, that we are extremely rare, possibly there are only a few of us in the whole world, I'm sure of it as I've been researching on the quiet for more than two decades, without encountering signs of another – although signs would be unexpected.

Staring with the fact that all things are proportional in nature, and with the world population growing the way it has been, there will be an increased chance for others amongst that number. History has hidden our predecessors, but lateral consideration of the facts, will bring you to surmise all this too, after all, most people seem to accept the related versions of this ability to some degree, even those which may not truly exist.

You will probably remember the film Unbreakable, where a touch is sufficient to impart a link to past emotional charges of dishonesty, from the one responsible for the act(s), to the one...gifted.

My hesitation was for a reason – but more of that later, I wouldn't want to spoil the story-flow.

The point under scrutiny here, is that the recipient can see and feel a past event experienced by another, directly, all through a touch. Such a contact also leaves no chance for lies or misinterpretation to colour judgement. Like Mr. Willis' character, I can do the same, but unlike him, it isn't the signatures of dishonesty that I receive, but levels of sexual bliss.

I'd make a great sexual counsellor, if I could stand the load, or the state of humanity's mind – but again, I'm going off the path, and I'm sure you didn't start reading this, to hear about all that.

At base level, the intensity of sexual release determines how much charge comes across in any contact; I can see the lot, but the strongest contacts do tend to come still from furtive pleasures taken. Great sex often comes from doing something forbidden, ergo furtively undertaken, and that creates guilt in most, to some degree or other – and this in turn enhances the act, boosting its psychic load to something unique. Like I said, I get the lot, but the strongest images and charges come from these upper guilt-pleasures, stored closer to the surface.

If you don't believe me, then draw from your own experiences and consider the times when you have had to slip away to the toilet, alone or together sometime during the day, or when out in a bar, going there to relieve that sudden and all absorbing pressure from being with someone, seeing some stranger or something happen that really turned you on – whatever the stimulus, it went straight for the hind brain, and left you with little choice. That orgasm reached furtively, stayed with you far longer and stronger than any other attained whilst alone.

There's no use denying it, I know they do, because when my arm brushes yours, I feel and see them there as peaks of bliss on your sexual psyche map – and I get this from both men and women.

That was exactly what I'd picked up, cresting the surge that poured into me from Sara just now – the most recent in a powerful collection of sexual moments – an intense orgasm had on the sly while at work, and stored there as psychic static under her skin.

I've no idea how she carries herself so calmly with all that inside her, charged and waiting, tingling under her skin for days, until it slowly dissipates under slow contact with others. All people vary in how much sensitivity they have, most are imperfect conductors for this charge, maybe just experiencing her touch as a mild sexual thrill upon contact, explicable only by the fact of contact with an attractive young woman. As a perfect conductor, her charge flipped polarity upon contact, discharging into my mind - which is why I'm staggered that she can walk around like that, without being constantly wet and not showing it. The melee of images from her now crowding my mind, tell me that she masturbates lots.

Above all that, the most recent...episode, sat there in every detail, lodged within me as if her body was mine, letting me see again and again, it as if I'd experienced everything myself. It can get confusing at times, but I am never short for a fantasy from this broad spectrum of sexual stimuli – I can be any gender or orientation I want.

And that brings with it problems that are as unique as the situation. Even after these moments of intervening calm, my erection is still granite hard, pushing without relent for release, first from all constriction by clothing, then from the imparted sexual tension, made worse by the knowledge that the fingers of the hand that had touched mine, had been slipping in and out of the wetness between her legs so readily, only an hour or so earlier.

Moving forward, I shed coat, keys and bag onto convenient surfaces, my combats already open in readiness as I dropped back onto the sofa. Inserting the same hand carefully, I encircled him with slow relish, delicately extricating him from his burrow down my trouser leg, drawing him out to stand free and ready, naked to the world of my front room.

Even though I knew she'd washed her hands of all evidence, I imagined that by proxy, her wetness and scent could be transferred by touch, and my hand could become something else of hers, that which I'd prefer to be sliding down over my penis.

I pulled back from the thought, needing to let the imagery from her own masturbatory fantasy unfold to conclusion first, before releasing mine – I found that doing this after such a contact, exorcised the charge from plaguing me all day and night, like a healer flicking the drawn negative energies away, out through their hands. I also knew that it wouldn't take much for me to come, as the tingling and tightness of imminent orgasm was all over, without adding further stimulation.

In her memory, I found the initial swell of pressure blossoming inside, a focus carried and maintained in the diamond-form sexual circuitry of mind, nipples and crotch, racing from point to point and refusing to die down.

Her need was a tangible thing, and wanted something similar in return.

The office and desk around her began to dissolve as details within resolved, focusing around a compact association of brief, sensory impressions that would not go away. She must have been daydreaming, her mind drifting back to a current fantasy, and now at her desk, body turned at work, triple beacons of heat lit her mind, blinding her thoughts from all else, as clothing slid and excited with each twist or turn.

Her thighs every movement against each other, had the weight of glacial pressure, and parting them just made the associations far worse – her mind was afire with all concentration gone.

Then she was walking quickly down a corridor, her full-bladder cramped gait showing urgency – a wider stride would have let the juices flow in a trickle down her legs.

Brief images of doors, harsh sounds of heels clacking on tile flooring and the give of a hard toilet cubicle door against the flesh of her hand as it swung inwards.

Upon calmly locking it behind her, continuity re-established itself, she turned and slid panties down carefully, feeling the slow peeling away sensation of wet fabric from wet, sensitive lips - stifling a gasp, not knowing if anyone were in the other cubicles to hear her, she rolled her skirt up high, sat, then opened her legs deliberately wide.

Leaning back slowly as her hand went down between them, body coming back up in an arch as questing fingers slid alongside her clitoris, brushing the swollen nub and flaring an orgasm loose across belly, sending a jolt directly up through her nipples.

This time her gasp got out, but she no longer cared, nor was the one orgasm enough, I could feel her need rising in response to a wash of montaged confusion, flooding her mind in successive waves, echoing the ripples through her body.

Hot wet silkiness under her fingers, oozed in a stream while time adjusted to capture the images that has fired her up, and she continued to spread it in broad, tight paced strokes over lips and around a clit now stood fully clear of its retracted hood, hard as her nipples and pulsing to the same beat of fired blood.

My own erectile tissue, grown ready and hard from that same root, throbbed in sympathetic need – this was the beautiful part of being someone else for a few moments. I knew all their intimate touches, and had instant memory of how it felt when others touched them. In this way, I had shared sex with thousands of partners, both male and female, gay and hetro – it was something else, and possibly the thing that kept me going during the times when the downside became too much.

Stretching herself more open, Sara inserted three fingers and began to slip them uncompromisingly in and out, her thoughts becoming clearer as the object of her desire took form in longer snippets of imagery. It still had the sparsity of cohesive detail common to fantasy, but at least there was a focus in the swirl of emotional atmosphere.

I saw piercing eyes contacting with hers, cutting through the blur of irrelevance that was a party full of sketchy mannequins around her – then came a slow sequence of held moments, capturing a slim male body, from all the angles that mattered – taut belly glimpsed under his shrouding, loose t-shirt, his hand moving under it, over smooth skin – his firm ass moving in slow, suggestive gyration to the music – then an arm stretched, muscular in a naturally wiry way, combining with shoulder and back in a twist that she could feel herself wrapped into, her legs clamped around his waist as he thrust himself into her.

Sara's glanced down at her fingers moving rapidly in and out between her thighs, the wet sucking sounds of what she was doing clearly audible in the toilets' quiet. She did not care, just angled their thrust upwards to catch her ready g-spot.

Back in her mind they were naked and on her bed in the same posture, but now she was on her back, him in her arms, and his hard, long dick filled her deep inside. All the while he gyrated himself against her clit with unstoppable motion.

The imagery dissolved into a flurry of past sensations, specifics that caressed all her buttons with sweet urgency.

On the toilet seat, she sagged, stomach flexing in undulation after undulation as the orgasm washed her clean of all tensions.

Like a struggling pilot of old, I was gripping my cock like the joystick I was unable to control, shuddering while fighting to keep it upright, and therefore the sperm pumping out from flying everywhere.

Joystick...? My thought coming from total stage left, dominated the moment, as it had a habit of doing at inappropriate times. Is that then where the term came from, a simple euphemism?

I mulled over that for the moment it took me to clean up, walking penguin like to the bathroom to wash-up. I hated leaving it all until everything had cooled - I just couldn't help it, not after all the images I'd seen of flaccid penises, a curl of sperm congealed and forlorn, leading across the body directly to the scene of the crime – and that was it, invariably the trousers would still be tangled down around the ankles, crumpled and looking like there had been a struggle. Those moments always reminded me of the Police photos taken after they'd found the body, suggesting a story you were not sure you'd want to probe into any further.

Clothes readjusted and back on track, I poured myself a clinking juice from the fridge, and focused instead on the fantasy store behind the one involuntarily just shared by my new neighbour. Young Sara certainly had a wealth of sexual highs to pull her orgasm inducing images from – not only did she play with herself a lot, but she also seemed to find time for a multitude of lovers, both male and female.

Sensuous black women had licked her to a frenzy, guys of all sizes and types had held her hard and pumped themselves dry inside her, in all the available places. The cocks and cunts she'd sucked and nibbled, the piercings she'd toyed with, the places she'd done all these things, fast fucks in lifts, and all the toys she'd used, alone or in company.

I felt too exhausted to explore all that in much more detail just now, knowing I'd be horny and masturbating all night if I did – it could wait, the main charge had been safely dissipated for now. The secondary charge from all her other activities, wouldn't start bothering me for a day or two yet, so I had the time. It should not have surprise me though, the libido of a youthful generation grown up under other mores, though it invariably did – she is lively, in her early twenties, and living in a city with opportunity in plenty, on all sides – so why not?

Even after the juice, I was still feeling sleepy, and was already contemplating a short sleep to bring me whole through the evening, yet I knew that wasn't a viable option as I had things to do – and with no coffee in the place, I'd need to go back out and get some soon. Masturbating always did this to me, although it hadn't apparently affected Sara, she was still full of life after those two strong orgasm had over an hour ago.

Pouring another juice, I sat back, wondering if she had some secret remedy for this. Of course I didn't find any, my curiosity, despite the above, lead me deeper into her via the surface links of that most recent experience.

After a bit of interconnected roaming, I saw that she had been as busy with her thoughts, as with her fingers, she was currently unattached, and had indeed been playing with herself a lot, more so than could be accounted for by the burgeoning spring season. It wasn't record-breaking stuff, I had encountered others who masturbated far more, nevertheless I felt myself stirring again. I suppose I can't help it, but I like the feeling of being within another's private thoughts, although not for the reasons that most would suspect.

It isn't the simple fact that watching a woman touching herself turns me on, because it does – most of the porn I have centres around that, and I know a lot of other people like it too – no crime there. But the 'gift' – there are those inverted commas again – this gift that I have, gives a different slant to it all.

Through it, I can see and feel that which is denied me as an individual – I can be someone for a moment, a person who has only their own thoughts and feelings running around in their head, and that engenders a coziness that for me is unique. It must be like how a telepath might crave silence in their head, something only reachable through regular, heavy drinking. At least I attain moments of release from the multitude in mine, without needing to resort to such drastic measures. So that is why I enjoy these sojourns – sure I get off on all the women working themselves off alone, but that is just a bonus to me.

There is of course the down side that I mentioned earlier, the bane and thing that keeps me single, and perforce an outsider – this also comes from the 'gift'.

I have had relationships, although few, and none with someone who knew of my ability – the witch-burner in us all is something barely suppressed, and I am no fool. Maybe I will one day grow too weary to care, and try to tell someone whom I like enough, but that person will have to be an intrinsically honest soul, if it is to work beyond a simple unburdening of what this gift brings.




Untouchable



Most of those others I'd trusted enough to share a part of my life with, were all honest enough in their way, but all it took was a single touch, and any evidence of infidelity would be right there along with me, in my mind, as reminder for a long time.

I didn't count thoughts for others as evidence, the lusts for the randoms passing across the screen of my partners' lives – but people are as they are, and temptations can be hard to deny. It's one thing to be told or know how a partner has been unfaithful with whomever, but to see the images as they actually happened, is a very different thing...

Picking up the long empty glass, I decided enough time had been wasted on grim thoughts, certainly as such hadn't afflicted me in a decade now, and tonight I had Sara's plethora of masturbatory fantasies to explore – letting myself become her. I knew that I was in for a treat, as she had a big mirror fixed to the ceiling, and loved watching herself as she played – she also seemed to enjoy watching other women masturbate too, the memories were right there in her head, and therefore now in mine.

Gathering my coat and keys back up, I was busily dreaming away and not really paying attention as I went about leaving and locking up, my thoughts as usual, elsewhere. In turning, I bumped into her, literally not having heard her on the carpeted stairs – and had another flash of contact. It wasn't as powerful as the first, but it had enough clout.

She smiled at me again, a little flush touching her cheeks as our eyes met before she was upon her way again downstairs.

I smiled back automatically, but remained stood by the door, not wanting to give my new erection away as I watched her go – definitely a fine ass. In my mind I was reviewing the latest charged memory she's passed me, so she was still present, but lain on her bed, naked except for pale panties, her legs parted wide to accommodate both hands inside the cotton, filling the fabric delightfully. She was looking up at herself in the mirror, and it was my turn to flush a little – it was as if she had read my thoughts of a moment ago.

A busy lass indeed...Her head turned to look back up at me before the stairwell's turn took her from sight, and I got another smile. My thoughts causing an easy smile in return. Had she been fantasising about me?

I looked deeper, feeling for the images in her head between those of her gazing up at herself, masturbating to her mirror image movements.

Yes, there I am...the time earlier on the stair, my eyes...her eyes seeing the line of my cock clearly in tight jeans...then the handshake...there came a fast rush of imagery like she'd used before, but this time more followed, all jumbled together as she neared orgasm, some hers...but the rest were from me on the couch, cock in hand, and some of my memories...

It all came together just then, how her apparently busy life fitted into such a short span, the massive charge when we'd touched – all of it was as borrowed as my own store of imagery. She too had the gift.

I saw her reappear up the stairs, slowly, looking at me with eyes wide.

Life was about to become very interesting.



Untouchable



Many, many thanks to Xie_Lei, whose help with editing, pacing and figuring out a title can't be overstated. You did a wonderful job putting up with me. :) This is my first one-shot story for Literotica—no interminable, long-awaited chapters, yay! I'm sure my regular readers will appreciate not having to wait. Thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to comment and vote.

***

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

--Shakespeare, Hamlet

***

"Rakshasa." I typed the word into Google and waited for my slow connection to come up with something.

"Oh, come on," Sy said from where he was lounging on my bed. "That's a Hindu demon. Since when have you been Hindu?"

"Shut up." I tried to ignore him as I browsed through the Wikipedia article. "It says here that they can possess humans and have the ability to shape shift."

"Yeah?" He got up and looked over my shoulder at the computer. "It also says that they're cannibals who desecrate graves. Seen me eat anyone lately?"

"If you're a demon, maybe you eat other demons."

"Then maybe you should be kneeling at my feet and singing my praises for protecting you and the rest of humanity from the evil demon horde."

"You're such an ass sometimes." I typed in something else.

"Fallen angel?" Sy groaned. "Jesus Christ, will you get a grip? Do I look like a representative of God, fallen or otherwise?" He punched me lightly on the shoulder. "What's got you in such an inquisitive mood, anyway?"

"Never mind, Sy."

"I have to mind, Michael. I live with you; I can't just ignore your weirdness. Talk to me."

"I talk to you way too much," I told him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I have a motherfucking psych review tomorrow, Sy, and it's all your fault." I didn't bother hiding the anger in my voice. Sy never paid much attention to my mood.

"I didn't make you talk to me at work, Michael."

"Like I can ignore you when you pour coffee all over my boss."

"He thought he did that himself," Sy pointed out. "You were nowhere near him and he couldn't see me. Then you start shouting at nothing and go and ruin the fun. Besides, your boss deserved more than coffee on his pants after treating you like shit for the past two weeks."

I sighed. "He doesn't mean anything by it."

"Yes, he goddamn well does, Michael. That fucking prick makes you work harder and longer than anyone else in the fucking department because he knows he can get away with it." Sy flopped down on my bed again, but his eyes were hard. "And you let him walk all over you. Do you have the hots for him?"

"What? No!" I protested. For Mr. Klein? Pot belly, thinning hair and a nose the size of the Hindenburg? "Hell no. But he's my boss, and I need to make a good impression. I'm the newest employee, who do you think they're going to fire first when the cuts come?"

"You need an infusion of self-respect in the worst way, Michael."

"I need an infusion of time without you."

Sy laughed. "Better start wishing on a star, Tinkerbell."

"That's Pinocchio, not Tinkerbell," I muttered.

"Whatever." He got up again and watched me type in the next word. "Incubus?" His sensual lips broke into a wide smile. "That might be the closest yet, except I don't do the ladies, babe. Just you."

"It says they can be bisexual."

"It also says they can't," he pointed out. "That's Wikipedia for you. Your problem is that you don't have a concrete belief system, Michael. Nothing to lay your blame and shame on. Nothing to feel really guilty about. If your mom had known you were going to be such a leaf in the wind she would have raised you Catholic; at least then you'd have a great mythology to pin your angst on."

"Why are you so afraid for me to find out what you are?"

"Why do you want to?" he countered. "We've been good for almost twenty years, Michael. Why mess with perfection?"

"I can't talk to you about this."

"Why not?"

"Because you're some bizarre figment of my imagination and it's crazy for me to be talking to you," I snapped.

"Now you're just being inconsistent," Sy pointed out with a lazy grin. "How could a figment of your imagination pour coffee all over your boss? Either I'm real or I'm not. Pick one and go with it, man."

"I just have to figure out what you are," I said, more to myself than to him. I needed to know, now more than ever.

"Why?" 

"Because I'm almost twenty five years old," I exclaimed, "and I've never had a relationship with anyone real. I've never been kissed, I've never been fucked, I've never been loved, Sy! I need something real, and to get that I need to figure out what to do with you." How to get rid of you, I thought.

If Sy heard that thought, as he sometimes did, he didn't let on. "You've been kissed before," he pointed out. "Megan Harper, third grade."

"She just did that on a dare, and anyway it doesn't count."

"Set your parameters a little more specifically then, babe."

I felt him move behind me. I felt warm hands cup my head, right at the base of my skull, and a gentle kiss was pressed to my temple. "Feel real yet, Michael?"

"Stop," I groaned, more because I knew how it would make me feel later than for how it made me feel now.

"Say it like you mean it and I will." His hands rubbed down my neck and across my shoulders, passing right through my shirt to caress the skin beneath it. 

"Stop," I whispered, almost silently. I could feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes, but I already knew it was worthless. I wanted this. Right now, this was all I had, and I wanted it.

"I want you too," he murmured against my ear before running his tongue lightly around the edge of it. I shuddered helplessly and closed my eyes to block out the glaring light of the computer screen. I didn't want to think about searching for answers right now.

"Come to bed, baby."

I stood up on shaky legs and let Sy take my hand, leading me over to my bed. It was a double, barely big enough for two but more than enough for just me. I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on the feel of his hand in mine, the firm press of flesh and the creases across his palms. I lay down on the bed, loosening my collar and undoing the zipper on my pants. I didn't like making a mess of my work clothes.

"Look at me, Michael." His voice was sweeter than honey and softer than silk. I'd been hearing that voice for years. It lived in my head, narrated my dreams and haunted my soul. "Michael..." He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, first softly and then harder. "Michael, look at me. Look at me, feel me, know that I'm real."

"I don't know that you're real."

"Well, something thinks I'm real," he said as he reached down and stroked my growing erection. "That feels real to me, too. Look at me, baby, don't shut me out."

I couldn't resist his pleading. I'd never been able to resist Sy for long. I opened my eyes and he was there, lying on top of me, smiling sweetly. I could feel the weight of his body against mine, and he was hotter than a furnace. His sandy blond hair fell forward over his face, brushing his sculpted cheekbones. His eyes were hazel, bright and mischievous, and his perfect lips were just inches away from mine. He was as handsome as he had always been, built on a slightly larger scale than me, strong and muscular. My perfect dream man.

"Don't think that," he whispered, and his sweet breath touched my lips. "Take what you're given, love. Take it and be happy, like I'm happy." He kissed me again, one hand running through the glossy brown curls of my hair. "You're beautiful," he told me as he began to slide down my body. "So beautiful."

I wanted to say it back, but I didn't have the breath for it. His warm, wet mouth reached my groin, and before I could even get my underwear off he was sucking me deep.

"Oh..." I gasped, my voice hitching as I inhaled. "Sy..."

One hand played across my chest while the other gripped my hip, rubbing in small, tight circles. He slid it beneath my body to cup my ass, pressing my hips further towards his mouth. God, the things he could do with his mouth...there was less finesse than usual this time, he wanted to get me off fast, to tire me out and get my mind off of uncomfortable subjects. It had worked before. It always worked in the beginning, because I wanted him so badly and because I was so alone, otherwise.

Sy drew my cock to the back of his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of it while keeping the pressure amazingly tight. He shifted his head back up, then down again, pressing me into his throat and humming a little on every down stroke. His hand gripped my ass hard, fingers digging into my crevice and rubbing against my tight, furled flesh. As soon as he touched me there, it was over. I felt my orgasm begin and I couldn't help it, I couldn't help what I did next. I reached down, hands desperate and groping, and grabbed for his thick, shining hair.

My hands passed right through.

I came hard, moaning Sy's name, but the pain was almost as sharp as the pleasure. My hands kept falling, grabbing the bedspread beneath me and wrenching at it in frustration as the feelings began to ebb. My breathing slowed, steadied for a moment and then became ragged again as I started to cry.

Sy lifted himself back up my body in an instant. I curled away from him but he just moved in behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest as he held me close. "Baby," he whispered in my ear. His voice was sad and hurt. "Baby, don't cry. Michael, please don't."

"Go," I mumbled, pressing my face into the pillow. "Just go, Sy."

"Michael, no."

"Yes." My throat closed against a sob and my whole body tensed as I fought it. I didn't want him to be there when I broke down. "Go, please. Please."

He sighed. He kissed the back of my head one last time, stroked my abdomen comfortingly, and then he was gone. The pressure, the warmth, the sensation all disappeared. I was alone. Or had I always been alone? I rolled onto my stomach, buried my face deep in the pillow and let out the sobs that had been building in me since he first touched me.

***

Sy had been with me ever since my fifth birthday. My mother had taken me to the beach that day. She set up her umbrella, got out her wine cooler and laid back on her towel, eyes closed. No one else was around. I took my red plastic shovel and bucket down to the edge of the wet sand and started to build. I scooped sand into the bucket, fishing out small pieces of shell as I did. I patted down the sand once the bucket was full and then turned it over, making a perfect cylinder. I set my tools down and began to draw windows on the outside of it with my index finger. By the time I was done, the waves had washed back in. I protected my sand house by sitting in front of it, but it was only after the biggest wave had receded that I noticed it took my shovel with it.

I jumped up in distress, watching my bright red shovel disappear into the ocean. "Mommy!" She didn't hear me, or didn't want to hear. I couldn't wait for her to notice me, my shovel would be lost by then. I'd have to retrieve it myself.

I ran down the foamy beach and into the water. I didn't know how to swim. Swimming hadn't even occurred to me. I just needed my shovel back. The waves were easy for a bit and I went in as deep as my chest, looking for my shovel. It had sunk, but I managed to find it through the silt. I held my breath and bent down, reaching for it.

A large wave broke over my body, tumbling me head over heels and knocking the air from my lungs. I inhaled sea water and began choking. It was terrifying, I didn't know up from down and all around me was cloudy nothingness. I felt myself vomit water and silt and the vague light began to go dark. A warm hand grasped my own, and I lost consciousness.

When I came to I was lying flat on my stomach on the coarse sand. My little house had melted in the waves, and all that was left of it were a few misshapen lumps. I coughed and turned my head. Lying beside me was a boy about my age. His skin was tanned and his hair was sandy blonde. He was looking at me. "Hi."

"Hi," I croaked.

"I got your shovel." He pointed at the little red implement above his head.

"Thank you."

"My name's Sy, what's yours?"

"Michael."

He smiled, and his smile renewed a little of my earlier happiness. "Let's make a new one."

"A new what?"

"A sand castle." He sat up. "I'll hold the bucket, you scoop."

I sat up too. I was a little dizzy, but not too bad. We spent the rest of the afternoon building castles in the sand, and I knew I had found my best friend.

Sy came home with me. It didn't seem strange to me at the time. He was my friend; of course he should come home with me. My mother didn't seem to see him, but then she barely saw me most of the time, so that didn't seem strange either. It was when I brought him to kindergarten with me the next day and tried to introduce him to the other kids that I first got the idea he wasn't just as real to everyone else as he was to me.

My teacher, a sweet-faced woman named Mrs. Honeycutt, took me aside after I yelled at a kid named Johnny who teased me about Sy. I would have done more than just yell, but our teacher was vigilant. She took me out of the group, walked me over to her office and sat me down on a little wooden stool. "Michael? Why did you get mad at Johnny?"

"Because Johnny says Sy isn't real," I said grumpily.

"Is Sy your friend?"

"Yes." I pointed to Sy, who smiled at me. "He's right there. He came with me to school today."

"Michael, I can't see Sy either." Her tone was gentle but I took offense anyway.

"He's real! He's right there!"

"I know he is," she said agreeably. No one could lie like Mrs. Honeycutt. "I'm not saying he's imaginary, Michael. He's just invisible. I don't think the rest of us will be able to hear or see him. He's going to be your special friend, okay?"

"Oh." It made sense to me, more sense than the explanation deserved, but I was only five. "Okay." I turned and looked at Sy. "Sorry, you have to play with just me."

"That's okay," he shrugged. "I like you best anyway."

I took Sy's presence for granted after a while. He seemed so real, it was impossible for me to think of him otherwise. I didn't have many friends and it didn't bother me, because I had Sy. My mom never cared about it, so it just became the norm.

Our relationship didn't start to change until I began masturbating. I got into it later than most kids, probably; I was a little slow in the physical arena. I was a computer nerd, not a jock. The Internet opened my eyes to all sorts of things, however. The first night I made myself come, Sy watched me the whole time. His eyes were fixed on my cock and when I came, spraying my seed up against my chest and stomach, his mouth opened as though he was hungry. "Does that feel good?" he asked me.

"It feels awesome," I replied with a hazy grin. "Try it."

I had seen Sy naked before, but he'd never been hard. As soon as I laid eyes on his cock, I felt a stir inside myself that the naked woman I'd just jacked off to while looking at hadn't even come close to matching. I wanted Sy. I wanted to touch him. He stroked himself, his hand wrapped tight around his dick. I went over to his side. "Let me try it."

He moved his hand, but I couldn't grab him. I frowned in annoyance. "Can't you make me feel it?"

"No," he told me. "But I bet I can feel yours." When he reached out and touched me, I almost blacked out. His hand felt so good against my slick, hard skin. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. "Like it?" he asked me with a smile.

"Yeah," I moaned.

"Then I bet you'll love this." He let go of me, leaned over and swallowed my cock. No prelude, no build-up; just opened his mouth and closed his lips around the base, his tongue working against me the whole time. I came instantly, all hail the recuperative powers of youth. I came in his mouth, but I felt the warmth splash on my thighs. Still, when he let go of me and looked up, Sy looked like a satiated cat who'd found the cream. "Like it?"

"Love it," I gasped as I fell back against my bed. After a moment, his arm crept tentatively around my waist as he settled in next to me. I turned my head to bury it against his chest, but suddenly I couldn't feel it. When I turned away, though, I felt him scoot in behind me. It was the first time I fell asleep with him holding me, and it soon became a habit.

He could touch me, but I couldn't touch him. I could respond to his touch, but I couldn't initiate it. It was fine all through high school. When I got to college though, everything fell apart.

My nerves were stretched thin. Classes stressed me out, studying was a waste of time and being so far from home transformed me into a grouch. I don't know why; it wasn't like I had any real connection to my mother's home, but the lack of freedom was stifling. I hated having a roommate. A roommate other than Sy, that is. Sy came with me of course, and the first semester way okay. After winter break, though, I came back and found out that my roommate had moved. The RA told me he'd requested a switch because he thought he'd do better with someone more compatible, but I heard the murmurs in the halls. I knew the real reason.

"He talks to himself, like, all the time."

"He's got some sort of complex."

"Is he on drugs? What's he on, can I try it?"

So I spent the second half of my freshman year alone, ostracized in my own dorm and by most of my fellow classmates. Apparently I talked to Sy a lot more than I realized. Not that it bothered him.

"Fuck 'em," he shrugged one evening when I confessed how awkward I felt. "You don't have to pretend just to make them happy. As long as you know I'm real, that's all that matters."

"Are you real?" It was the first time I had ever asked that question, and I found myself dreading the answer. Sy just scoffed and punched me on the shoulder.

"That feel real enough to you? Come on, let's go for a run."

Things were good again between us, but the seed of doubt had been planted. I was fine as long as my world remained steady. When my mother shot up too many drugs during my senior year and went through a psychotic episode, I had to leave school and supervise her removal to a secure facility. The heavy drinking she'd been doing for the last twenty years hadn't helped her body, and between liver failure and brain damage there was no way she'd ever be able to take care of herself again. 

My mother and I didn't really know each other, but I was all she had. I moved her things and made arrangements with the doctors. The CNAs were sweet, but I didn't understand the really sympathetic looks until one of them, a cute girl with curly red hair, said to me, "It's too bad you don't have anyone to help you through this. If you need to talk to someone, I'm a really good listener." She'd left me staring at her as she walked out of my mother's room and closed the door.

"I'm alone."

I didn't even realize I'd spoken until Sy said, "You're not alone, Michael. Hello?" He spread his hands. "I'm with you. I'll always be with you."

"You're not...I mean, it's not..." I didn't know quite how to say it. "It's not the same, Sy." It wasn't the same. I'd seen people in the hallways embracing, lovers kissing and holding hands. I'd blocked it out for years, not realizing how badly I'd wanted to be part of a couple until my last real human connection was severed, lost with my mother's sanity.

"We can kiss," Sy said, reading my mind. He moved in close to me and touched his lips to mine. They were warm and soft. "We can hold hands." He took my dangling hand in a firm grip.

"I can't." I tried to grip his hand in return, but the pressure disappeared and my fingers balled into a fist. "You can touch me, but I can't touch you back."




Untouchable



"Do you need to?"

"I don't know yet." It was a lie as soon as I said it. I did know.

"I love you, Michael." Sy's voice was low and intense, utterly serious. It was out of character for him. "I love you more than anything."

"I know," I said softly. "I love you, too." And I did. But love just wasn't enough.

I got through college and my first few jobs. It was a bit of a fumbling start to my career, but I had a hard time focusing. My rock, the one person I could always turn to in times of crisis, was no longer reliable. My best friend and lover's existence had been brought into question, and I needed more than his word to make it better. I tried to date a little, having come out of the closet to no great fanfare, but with Sy around it was impossible to get close to anyone else, even when he wasn't in the room. I loved him too much to get serious with another.

Now I was less than a month away from my twenty-fifth birthday, and I had never gone beyond first base with someone I could touch. Fucking ridiculous. I knew if I didn't make it happen now, while I was still young and pretty good-looking, it wouldn't happen. I would resign myself to a one-sided relationship with Sy and that would be my fate. To that end, I started investigating. Ghosts, demons, hallucinations and everything in-between. My looking both amused and annoyed Sy. Things were tense between us like they'd never been before, and I knew that it was all my fault. Then again, for all I knew it was a split-personality thing and I was just tense and angry at myself. Not knowing was driving me crazy. Love him or not, I had to figure out the truth.

***

I met up with the counselor the following morning. Most companies probably wouldn't bother, but I worked for the Department of Defense. They were involved employers.

We met in her office, an airy place three stories above my own hole in the wall. She was a small, very neat woman, dressed in a sharp black pantsuit and with her hair pulled back in a bun. She didn't radiate a severe aura; not quite, but I found myself straightening my posture when I sat down across from her.

"Good morning, Mr. Easton," she said in friendly tones. "I'm Claire Metzger, and I'll be updating your psychological profile today. Please, call me Claire."

"She didn't introduce herself as "doctor"," Sy said from somewhere behind me. "That's a bad sign. Get ready for the trivia version of twenty questions."

"Nice to meet you," I said, doing my best to ignore Sy.

"I realize that this is a little unusual, Mr. Easton, but all the DODs departments are doing employee check-ups these days, since so many servicemen and women have been coming back from overseas."

Sy snickered. "She thinks you have PTSD."

"So," Claire began, glancing down at her notes, "let's get started. Have you ever served in an overseas conflict, Mr. Easton?"

"No."

"She already knows that."

I wanted to tell Sy to shut up, but that would not help my cause right now. I thought it very hard at him instead, hoping his mind-reading switch was flipped on.

"Have you ever been a member of the armed forces, Mr. Easton?" Claire continued.

"No."

"Any particular reason why not?"

"My interests led me in a different direction."

"Mmhm." She marked something off on the paper. "Have you ever been involved in a serious accident, Mr. Easton?"

"No."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Sy stepped around the table and looked over her shoulder, leaning forward onto one hand. "Oh boy, here comes a question about your mom."

"Would you give me some more details about your mother's current condition?"

"How is my mother relevant?" I asked. I didn't like talking about her.

"She's your only living relative, and some insight into her state of being could help." Claire didn't elaborate past 'help', but I knew what she was angling for.

"You're asking if I use drugs."

She paused, then said, "Yes."

"I don't. I took a drug test when I got this job and am willing to take another if you think it necessary."

"I appreciate your willingness, but I'm ready to take your word for it." Claire set her papers down on her lap. "Tell me what happened the other day with Mr. Klein."

"He was pouring coffee and it spilled. I mistakenly thought I saw someone I know in the room. Someone other than Mr. Klein, that is."

"Mr. Klein said you started yelling."

"I did." I closed my eyes briefly. "It was just stress."

"Whatever."

/Shut up, Sy!/ "I'm still adjusting to the new job."

"Our records show that you've been working more hours than you should be."

Her records shouldn't be showing that. The extra work was off the books, I was only allowed forty hours a week. "They must be wrong."

Claire shook her head. "No, I checked the video surveillance footage. You've been staying late a lot. Why is that?"

Sy grinned at me. "Someone's about to get busted, and it isn't you."

"Projects need finishing," I extemporized.

"It's your manager's job to allocate tasks and resources fairly and see to it that projects get done on time. It isn't his job to make you feel like you have to do unpaid labor to garner the same effect."

An uncomfortable thought struck me. "What happened the other day wasn't a way for me to get your attention so I could complain to you about my boss. What I did was out of line."

She smiled. "It's not your fault that certain discrepancies came to our attention anyway. Upper management has had difficulties with Mr. Klein's interpersonal behavior before. Think of our findings concerning you as the icing on the cake. Mr. Klein will be leaving this office for good at the end of the day. I'd appreciate you keeping that to yourself."

"Of course."

"Hopefully your stress level will go down with less pressure here at work, Mr. Easton. In case it doesn't, may I recommend Dr. Anderson?" She passed me a card. "He's got a lot of experience working with government employees, particularly people suffering from anxiety and depression. It's just something to consider." 

"Thank you." That was it? "Is that it?"

"That's all." Claire smiled at me. "You're doing very good work. Have a nice day."

"Um...thank you." We shook hands, I stood up and left her office. Sy appeared beside me a moment later.

"Good little prole Mikey gets a pat on the back from Big Sister."

"Better than a smack on the ass."

"Maybe. She was kind of cute." He shrugged. "Not my type, but shiny. And hey, at least she doesn't think you're crazy."

"Yeah, which is why she gave me a psychiatrist's office information."

"She just wants to cover her ass so that if you go postal later, she can say she tried. Good news is it looks like your bastard of a boss is getting fired."

"That is good news," I said absently, looking down at the card in my hands. A psychiatrist. Huh, what could it hurt? Maybe Sy really was all in my head.

"I'm not." He reached out and laid a hand on my arm. "I'm not all in your head, Michael. What will it take for you to believe that?"

"I don't know." 

I made an appointment with the psychiatrist for Friday. It was the earliest he had available. By the end of the work day word had gotten around, completely independent of me, that Mr. Klein was going to be fired. Claire paid him a brief visit in his office, which quickly became a loud visit, and told him to get his things together.

Mr. Klein was a terrible boss. He was rude to the women and dismissive to the men, and to those of us he really didn't like he could be downright cruel. I hated being around him, and Sy knew it. He always stayed with me when I had to deal with him, and today I was glad he did.

I had an office. Okay, so it had once been a closet probably, but it was my own office. I kept the door shut at all times. There were no windows so I couldn't look out into the hall, but I didn't need them to know whose heavy step was coming my way. He didn't even pause outside my door. He just shoved it open and barged right it.

"You think this is funny, Easton?"

"What?"

"This!" He threw his pink slip down on my desk. "I know this is your fucking fault, faggot."

"I didn't talk to them about you..." I couldn't help it. I glanced nervously over at Sy.

"What, looking for your imaginary friend?" He sneered at me, his thick red face bright and sweating. "The one you were screaming at last Thursday, you little freak show?"

Why was the insulation in this place so good? Why wasn't anyone coming? "I..."

"Fuck this," Sy muttered. He stepped forward and into Mr. Klein. I mean completely into him, so that I couldn't see him anymore, and yet I knew he was still there. The change in my former boss was immediate. His breathing stopped for a moment, and when it started again it was relaxed instead of hard and heavy. His bulging blue eyes glinted hazel, and he winked at me. Then he walked away.

"Holy shit," I whispered. "Holy shit." I had no idea Sy could do that. I knew he could mess with people, but I didn't know he could completely take them over.

In a few minutes Sy came back. He looked pretty pleased. "I dropped him off in his office."

"How did you do that?" I asked faintly.

"What?"

"Take...take him over. You can possess people?"

"No," he scoffed. "I can't stay with anyone else for long. You're the only one I can really be with, Michael. I just...redirected him momentarily."

"Did you hurt him?"

"Why the hell do you care?" Sy exclaimed. "Where did this fucking boy scout mentality come from? He's a dick, Michael. Klein is a big fucking dick, and if I'd been really motivated I would have left him with more than a headache. As it is, he'll probably be better off for my little visit. He was getting close to blowing a fuse and adding assault to his list of federal sins wouldn't be very good for him." He cocked his head towards the door. "Take the rest of the day off. Let's go home."

***

"You could be a ghost."

"Really." Sy traced swirls across my back. We were lying on the bed together, naked. As long as I didn't look at him, I could control my impulse to touch him.

"Sure. A spirit haunting me, keeping me safe. It explains the whole people-possession thing."

"I didn't possess him, Michael. Ghosts generally don't possess, do they? That seems more like a demonic thing to do. And I'm not haunting you, either."

"But it would explain how you can move objects."

"Don't ghosts seem to have something particular in mind, though?" Sy smoothed his palm across my back. "Something that they want the people they manifest around to do for them? Unfinished business? When have I ever bothered you about anything?"

"Never," I sighed. His fingers dug into a spot at the base of my neck that always bothered me after staring at computer screens for a while, and I groaned in response. 

"Besides, I've grown up with you. So ghosts age? Sounds more like a hallucination to me."

"Damn it, Sy. Stop screwing around with me."

He kissed me, his lips hot against my skin. "But I love screwing around with you."

"You might be a fetch."

"Been reading your mythology books lately, babe? Or was it the Almighty Google? Fetches and doppelgangers are supposed to be harbingers of bad luck. Have I ever brought you bad luck?" he demanded.

"Hard to say. Should we count my lack of actual sex as bad luck?"

"You're getting plenty of actual sex," Sy growled as he levered himself up onto my body and straddled my hips, rubbing my back with both hands. I closed my eyes tightly, preserving his touch. I had to strain not to press back into him.

"So you're not a ghost. You're not a demon. You're not some sort of spirit or fallen angel. What are you?" I knew already he wouldn't give me a straight answer.

"I don't like to be pigeonholed."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"I don't know why you think I know, Michael." I could hear tension in his voice, overlaid by long-suffering annoyance. "Even if I did, what would knowing tell you? Seriously?"

"Knowing would give me options," I insisted.

"What sort of options do you want?"

"I just...I just want to know what sort of things you can do. I want to know what you are so I know how to deal with you. I want to know how real you actually are."

"Baby, you need to subscribe to the philosophy of the direct realists." He pressed his chest against my back, covering me completely. "If you can perceive it, it's there. It's real to you, no matter what its origin is and whether or not anyone else can see it." 

"You're putting me off."

"Oh, and I was hoping to be turning you on." He sank his teeth into the top of my shoulder, just deep enough to sting a little. "I can make you happy, Michael. Why won't you just let me make you happy?"

"Because I can't reciprocate, I can't return the favor."

"You do make me happy, baby." He kissed over where he'd just bitten me. "You make me deliriously, deliciously, delightfully happy."

"But you've never been with anyone else, or at least you don't remember being with anyone else. So how do you really know?"

"Michael..." He sighed. "Why do you do this to yourself? Why did you ever start?"

"It was inevitable." I felt my throat begin to close again. "I grew up. I grew out of fantasies and left wishful thinking behind. I'm a computer scientist; I like things to be rational, and what I have with you isn't rational. You defy explanation, and that makes me feel..." I couldn't go on. It was inexplicable, it was bizarre. Everything between Sy and me was bizarre, and I desperately wanted logic and lucidity. Sy couldn't give me that.

This time he spared me the pain of asking him to leave. One moment he was there and the next he was gone, and I was left alone with the ice-cold comfort of my rationalizations. 

***

I got through the rest of the week okay. At work things were fine, Sy wasn't going with me now, but at home things were tense. It was the first time in my life I had ever been uncomfortable around Sy, and I didn't know how to make it better without lying to him. I knew it was shitty of me to doubt him, but just feeling bad about it wouldn't bring me any sort of resolution. I needed to learn how to live a real life. To do that I needed a real partner or no partner, otherwise I was just deluding myself.

Sy and I didn't talk about it. He didn't go with me to the psychiatrist's appointment on Friday either, which kind of surprised me. Maybe he thought I needed the space so I could be totally honest. Maybe he didn't think it was worth his time. I was never as good at reading Sy as he was with me.

Dr. Gregory Anderson was a heavyset white man with a graying Santa beard that made his round face look even rounder, and oddly comforting. He asked me basic questions to start with, about my life, my family, my friends and my work. We went over the incident at the office—he'd gotten a lot of referrals from Claire, apparently. Then he put down his pen.

"Tell me what really prompted you to come to here today, Michael. One little incident at work usually isn't enough to get a person into psychotherapy unless it's mandated by the employer. Go ahead. Everything you say will be completely confidential."

I sighed, trying to get up the courage to tell him, trying to feel like I wasn't betraying my best friend. This was why I was here, wasn't it? To get help? "I see things." He didn't say anything, just nodded. "I see things that other people can't see. One thing in particular. A person. I first started seeing him when I was just a kid, and he's been with me ever since then."

"How does this person make you feel?"

"Good, usually." I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "He's been my best friend for most of my life."

"What's his name?"

"Sy." He looked like he was waiting for something. "Just Sy."

"I see." Dr. Anderson took a moment to write some things down. "Do you think Sy is a hallucination?"

"I don't know." I shook my head. "Could I have a hallucination that lasts twenty years? Can a person have tactile hallucinations? I feel him. He can touch me and I feel him like he's really there, like he's as real as you are. But I can't touch him back."

"What else can Sy do?"

"He can influence people." I didn't really want to go into much greater detail about how. 

"What do people do when he's influencing them?"

"Usually when he does it it's to keep them from hurting me, I think."

"So Sy acts as your protector."

"Yes."

"Is Sy here now?"

"No. I don't think he's comfortable with what I'm doing. He thinks things are fine the way they are."

"But clearly you don't." He made a few more notes. "Does Sy come and go when you tell him to?"

"Not all the time. He'll leave if I really want him to, usually, but he keeps his own schedule. We're together pretty much all day, although he avoided my office this last week."

"Do you want him to avoid you?"

I grimaced. "I don't know. It's—it's very hard to explain all this and not make it sound like I'm a nutcase."

"Michael, whatever else is going on with you, I don't think you're insane," Dr. Anderson said soothingly. "You're a very normal individual trying to explain something you find abnormal. Just keep going, you're doing very well."

"Fine." I took a deep breath. "I love Sy. I've been in love with him for years. He's my best friend and the only person I really trust, and now I don't know if I can trust him any more. It's not that he isn't reliable, it's me. I'm falling apart and I don't know what to do about it. I don't know if he's real and it's shadowing everything we do together."

"I see. Thank you for that explanation, I know it was difficult for you." He glanced at his watch. "Our time is up for today, Michael. I have a few ideas about what could be going on, but I want some time to mull them over before I share them with you. Can you come back next week?"

"Sure." We both stood up and shook hands. I wanted to say something, to thank him for listening somehow, but it wouldn't have made any sense. He had to listen to me, I was paying him. I turned and walked out of his office, booked another appointment with his secretary, and left.

Sy was waiting for me outside the building, leaning casually against the white stucco wall. He was dressed in a dark, casual suit with the jacket open and the collar of his shirt unbuttoned. His hands were deep in his pockets, his eyes covered by sunglasses. I would never have thought to put sunglasses on him; his eyes were so beautiful. Creepy as hell when they'd stared out at me from another man's face, but beautiful. He had to be more than just a figment of my imagination...didn't he?

"Hey."

"Hey." I stopped beside him, looking around first to see if anyone was watching me. 

"Surprised to see me here?"

"I was surprised you didn't go in there with me."

"I didn't want to hear you go off about me to a total stranger." He shrugged. "Not the sort of thing that makes a person feel good."

It hadn't really made me feel good either, but I already felt guilty enough without arguing with Sy about it. We stood there are stared at each other for another minute or so before Sy pressed off the wall. "It's Friday. Want to go catch a movie?"

"Sure."

We went out to see the newest thoughtless, gun-blazing action flick. Sy liked them more than I did, but a loud and thoughtless movie was exactly the sort of thing I needed to take my mind off of my troubles. Our troubles. It was almost like old times, sitting side by side in the theater. Sy held my hand through the whole show. 

He kept holding it after we left the theater. We walked for a ways, not talking. I couldn't stop glancing at him, and he noticed it. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like you have something to say."

"I don't." Not yet, anyway. "It's dark out. Why are you wearing sunglasses?"

Sy smiled slightly. "Can't I be a little different?"




Untouchable



"Of course." It was strange, though. Sy was never different. He was wonderful, he was fun, he knew me inside and out, but through all that he tended to keep to a particular look and act a particular way. He had never worn sunglasses before.

My lover looked over at me. "Let's go home."

We went. I sat in my computer chair but left the machine off, staring down at the day timer on my desk. Sy stood behind me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders. He still had the sunglasses on. "Visit with your mom tomorrow."

"Yeah." I sighed. "The nurse wanted to talk over some changes to her treatment."

"I remember."

Of course he did. "I hope she's lucid. I have a hard time dealing with her when she isn't."

"You have a hard time with that sort of thing generally." His fingers wove into my hair, tugging lightly at the curls. 

"I didn't use to."

"I know." He sighed deeply. "Will you turn off the light?"

"Sure." I reached over and flicked off the switch on the wall. My bedroom went dark, the only faint light filtering in through the window. Sy moved around and faced me, kneeling down in front of my chair. He took off the sunglasses, finally, but I couldn't make out any of the details of his face. 

"Michael." Sy leaned forward and rested his forehead on my knees. "Baby. Will you let me be with you tonight?"

"Of course." He didn't usually ask; it simply wasn't his way. I couldn't say no. "Sy...you know I'm sorry, right?"

"Please don't talk about that right now, baby." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my thigh. "Just relax." He smoothed his hands up my legs. "Just feel."

My hands clenched on the chair's armrests. I wanted him so much, but I wanted so much more at the same time. More for him. More for us. Thoughts dissolved into a pleasurable mist as he kissed my stomach. "Strip and come over to the bed."

I didn't have to strip to feel him on my bare skin, but he knew it enhanced the experience for me. I took off my clothes, threw them over the back of the chair, then went over to my bed. I started to lie down.

"Face down, babe."

A frisson of excitement went through me, despite all the baggage I was carrying. I rolled over onto my stomach, lifting my hips up with a pillow. Goosebumps broke out over my skin when nothing happened. "Sy?"

"I just wanted to look at you for a moment," he said quietly. Then his body was lying against mine, and he was so incredibly warm that my shivers vanished in an instant and blood began to rush into my groin. Sy kissed me, over and over, slowly and methodically working his way from the top of my head down to my ass. His tongue dipped between my cheeks, licking me delicately. "Spread your legs, Michael." 

I did what Sy said, eager to feel what he wanted to give me. His hands cupped my ass, caressing it as he gently spread it apart with his thumbs. He lowered his mouth to my hole, nuzzling it for a moment before kissing me there.

"Sy..." It was so hard for me to stay still, but I didn't want to break the spell. "Sy, yes. Please."

Sy began to rim me, slowly, taking his time. He licked all around my opening, making it twitch and my breathing go shallow. It felt so good, the way he touched me. So incredibly good. It felt even better when one of his hands slipped around my hips and grabbed my cock. His touch was light to start, but as he continued to open me up with his tongue he held me tighter and tighter, moving his hand faster against my flesh until I couldn't help moving, slightly back and slightly forward. The pressure of his touch faded in and out, but it was still enough to get me off. "Sy, oh God..." I thrust my hips against the pillow and came with a breathless groan, pulsing over and over again into my lover's hand.

Sy held me until my shuddering died down, just working his tongue soothingly over my skin as my orgasm subsided. Then he lifted his head and crawled back up my body. I had just enough energy to throw the soiled pillow out from under my hips before collapsing completely. Sy held me close, his face buried against my shoulder. Neither of us said anything, but I didn't move. I just let him hold me.

***

My mother lived in a secure facility on the outskirts of the city. Sy and I arrived just in time for lunch. Sy was wearing his sunglasses again, and I was amazed at how much I missed the sight of his eyes. We sat down at the table next to my mother, who was staring straight forward at nothing. An aide sat down with us and began to cut her meal into bite-sized pieces.

"You have to feed her?"

"Usually." The aide paid no attention to my discomfort. "Some days she's got more motivation than others."

"Not today, I guess."

"She didn't sleep so well last night." She lifted the spoon to my mother's lips. Soup went in, then dribbled out again and ran down her chin. "Marie, you've got to swallow." The aide glanced over at me and had pity. "I think the nurse has some free time now that we've given out the afternoon meds, if you want to have a chat with her."

"Thank you." I got up from the table and walked out of the dining room quickly.

My meeting with the nurse lasted a half hour. I authorized a few changes to my mom's care and medication, smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments and prayed like hell for her to let me go so I could get out of there. I walked to my mother's room to say goodbye to her before leaving.

She'd finished lunch, apparently, and the aide had cleaned her up some. She sat in a chair by the window, her face blank and serene. "Mom." I crouched down next to her and tentatively took one of her hands. "Mom, I've got to go."

"Michael?"

I was astonished she was speaking. She looked right at me, the blank stare still there but my name on her lips. "Mom?"

"Michael, do you remember your little friend? The one you called Sy?"

Oh, god. "Yeah, Mom."

"Is he still with you?"

"Yes."

"Good." Her eyes were dark, vacant holes that stared right through me. "Everybody should have someone, Michael. Even someone like that."

I can't remember the last time I felt so uncomfortable. It was worse than being shouted down by Mr. Klein. My mother had never cared much about me before she overdosed, and since then she hadn't spoken two words together to me. This...this made me feel sick.

I left the room in a hurry, left the locked ward and the building, all of it tainted with the scent of illness and sorrow, and almost ran to my car.

"Michael, stop."

I fumbled with my keys at the door, trying to get in and failing. My keys slid out from my fingers and onto the ground.

"Michael!" I turned around and Sy was there, his arms framing my chest and his hands pressed against the roof of my car. He didn't even pause; as soon as I was facing him he dove against my mouth, kissing me with bruising strength and savagery. He kissed me so hard it left me breathless

"It doesn't mean anything," he ground out as soon as he let me go. "Nothing. Michael, don't go back to that shrink. He won't give you the answers you want."

I stared into Sy's face, partially hidden by those damn sunglasses. If I could have, I would have ripped them off. "Maybe he can give me an answer I need."

Sy's lips curled in a snarl. Abruptly he turned from me and stalked away. After a second he was gone completely. I stared at the place where he disappeared, still shell-shocked from the brutal, possessive kiss and the aftereffects of my visit with my mother. Eventually I put myself together enough to pick my keys up off the ground and get into my car. I drove back to my apartment alone.

***

I didn't see Sy again until Wednesday, the day of my next appointment with Dr. Anderson. I was driving up to the office building and suddenly he was there beside me in the car.

"Holy shit!" I almost slammed on the brakes. "Don't just appear out of nowhere, damn it, you're going to get me killed."

"Drama queen."

I frowned at Sy as I pulled into a parking space. I didn't want to tell him how much I had missed him over the past four days, so if he was waiting for an admission he'd be waiting a while. On the other hand, it eased something inside of me to see him again. I hadn't called for him while he'd been gone, in part because I was petrified at the thought that he might not show up. "What, you want to come with me now?"

"I thought I'd sit in on this one," he said calmly.

"Why are you wearing those damn sunglasses?" I burst out. I hadn't intended to ask that question, but I couldn't stop it.

"Good question." He turned to look at me. "Why would something that isn't real actively work at pissing you off? If I'm all in your mind, why can't you just wish them away?"

"Don't turn this on me, Sy."

"It's all about you right now though, isn't it Michael? You don't like them, do something about it. If you can."

I stared at Sy, so furious I was speechless. Did he think this was fucking easy for me? Did he think I enjoyed doubting his existence? That I liked all the difficulties we were having? And now he was adding to them? "Fuck you," I said, then got out of the car.

He got out as well, completely unruffled, and walked beside me into the psychiatrist's office. I signed in and waited to be let into his office, doing my best to ignore Sy, who just stared at me. Continually.

"Asshole," I muttered under my breath. The secretary gave me a weird look and I was grateful that Dr. Anderson came to usher me in just then. We sat down across from each other, and Sy sat on the other side of the couch I was on, setting his feet up on the coffee table and crossing his ankles.

"Hello, Michael."

"Hey."

Dr. Anderson looked a little closer at me. "You seem unsettled today, Michael. What's happened since we last met?"

Where to start? I decided the sanest interaction I'd had lately was the one with me mother, which struck me as ironic, and described it to him.

"Did your mother see Sy?"

"Not that I know. She was just glad I had him."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Kind of worried," I confessed. "My mom...I mean, we were never close, and she did some really screwed up things to herself and now she can't even feed herself lunch. What does it say that the first nice thing she has to tell me is that she's glad I have Sy? When she doesn't even know what he is?"

"It seems she was just grateful that you have a friend."

"Exactly."

I shut my eyes for a moment. Why did he have to be here? For this, of all things?

Dr. Anderson was watching me closely. "Is something wrong?"

"It's Sy..."

"Is Sy here today?"

The moment of truth rose up and slapped me in the face. I swallowed hard. "Yes," I whispered.

He just nodded as though he'd expected it. "How would you characterize his attitude?"

"Insolent."

"Oh, please," Sy sneered. "How is agreeing with your shrink insolent?"

"Not the way you act towards him," I muttered. "The way you're being with me."

"Poor precious baby, are your feelings hurt?"

"Fuck!" I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. "Sorry, Dr. Anderson. Things have been pretty difficult lately."

"He's making you uncomfortable?"

"He says I'm being a baby."

"You are being a baby," Sy said.

"Tell me about the first time you met Sy."

That shut both of us up for a moment. "My fifth birthday," I said after a moment. "He...well, I'm not exactly sure what happened. I had a bad experience at the beach, and at the time I thought he pulled me out of the water before I could drown."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Sy exploded. "I did pull you out of that water before you could fucking drown! What do you mean 'at the time'? Don't be such a fucking tool, Michael."

"Leave, Sy!"

"No."

"Get out!" I screamed. I actually screamed it. The girl out in the lobby must have been wondering if she should call the cops. Even Dr. Anderson looked taken aback. Sy sat perfectly still for a long moment, then disappeared. I stared at the place where he'd sat, so angry I couldn't even feel the tears rolling down my cheeks at first. It wasn't until Dr. Anderson handed me a tissue that I realized I was crying.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, wiping my face dry. It just kept getting wet. "I'm really sorry. Things have been rough between us for a while."

"Why is that?"

I half-sobbed and half-laughed. "Because he hates that I'm questioning his reality. I hate it, too. I love him. But I can't touch him and I can't stand it anymore, I have to touch someone or I'll go insane."

"It's all right to be confused, Michael." Dr. Anderson's voice was soothing. "Let me tell you a few of the things I think might be contributing to this. You come from a broken home, never knowing your father. Your mother neglected you and abused drugs. You had a traumatic near-death experience as a child. You could be suffering from a lot of things: depression, anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder, or even a mild form of bipolar disease. I don't know yet, and it will take more sessions for us to figure that out. However, I would like you to try a medication to help with depression and anxiety. If Sy is something that you construct in times of crisis to make sense of the situation, like he did at work, then relaxing those defensive mechanisms might reduce his appearance. Similarly, if he's someone you envision when you're feeling lonely, an antidepressant and something to help with anxiety could mitigate those feelings as well. What do you think?"

Drugs. Could drugs really help me with this? I suppose that was one of the questions I wanted answered. "I'll try it."

"Good." He wrote out a prescription. "This is for Paxil. Your pharmacy can fill it whenever you want."

"So you don't think I'm schizophrenic or something like that?"

"Michael, we've just started really getting into your issues. Let's give this a try before we come to conclusions with greater consequences." We spent the rest of the session with me trying to remember the last time I'd gone out with someone other than Sy. In the end, I couldn't.

***

I started on the meds that evening. Sy didn't show. In fact, he didn't show up for days. After a week I was beginning to wonder if maybe the medication wasn't doing the trick. I felt mellow, more relaxed than I had for months. I also felt worse than I had in months. Humans are so fucked up. We can be getting what we want and feel miserable about it, or despise our lives and yet not want them to change. Guilt, shame, uncertainty and fear. The four horsemen of the mental apocalypse.

I lay awake the night before my twenty-fifth birthday, which was on a Saturday this year. I stared at the ceiling, trying not to think, trying not to feel. 

"It's not working, Michael."

Tears immediately filled my eyes, and I felt like my heart was being torn in two. Half of me wanted to laugh with joy that Sy was still with me, and the other half wanted to shrivel under the weight of frustration and exhausted hope. "Guess not," I whispered.

"I'm sorry."

I laughed weakly. "Why are you sorry? It's good news for you."

"I'm sorry for you, Michael. I hate..." His voice trailed off for a moment. "I hate seeing you like this. I hate the fact that you hurt and that I can't do anything to help you. And I hate..."

"What?"

"I hate you sometimes."

Oh. Oh, kill me now. "Yeah?" My voice was thready, thin and overwhelmed.

"Yeah. I hate your need to quantify and box things up. I hate how you refuse to let yourself see the good in your life. I hate that I'm not enough for you."

"I hate it too."

"I've only ever been yours, Michael. Only yours."

"I know."

"You went shopping today." He said this in a much harder tone than the beginning of our conversation.

"Yeah."

"For slut clothes."

I grimaced. "Don't even think about judging me right now, Sy."

"I can't help it. Tomorrow is your birthday and you want to spend it trolling for anonymous cock instead of with me. Makes a guy kind of bitter. And the polyester shirt, babe? So not you."

"Are you done critiquing my decisions and fashion sense?" I asked him.

"Guess so."

"And are you telling me not to go?"

"I'm asking you not to go, Michael. You're only going to get hurt."

"Hurt's all I know right now, Sy. At least it'll hurt in a different way. I need to do this." I rolled over onto my stomach, still not looking towards him. I think he left. I know he didn't come to me.

I was going trolling for my birthday. Twenty five and never fucked or been fucked. Time to put an end to that. Was the ability to touch someone else really all I needed to make myself happy, or was Dr. Anderson right about my problems coming from a lot of different directions? Or was Sy right, preaching to me about acceptance? I didn't know. Rationally, hypotheses needed to be tested. Then they could either be affirmed or discarded based upon the test. I needed to test myself with another person.

I didn't see Sy all day. The evening of my birthday I took care getting dressed. Polyester or not, the shirt was hot on me. I was slender and wiry from running, and the clinging dark brown fabric matched my eyes. My skin was a little paler than I liked, but I still looked good. If only I could meet my own eyes in the bathroom mirror.

I went to one of the gay bars downtown. I had been there a few times before in college, mostly just to be a part of a group. This was more of a club, and the music was loud enough to make me wince. I felt like a fish out of water, and to cover up my shyness I made my way to the bar for a drink, ordering a rum and coke. I drank it down fast, probably too fast but it was hot and nervousness made me want any sort of help to get past it.

"Want another?" the bartender asked.

"Yes." Did I ever.

"I'll buy." A man in a white t-shirt and leather vest appeared on my right. He was smiling, looking at me with interest. I smiled back, or tried to. I think my lips twitched. "I'm Adam."

"Michael."

"Nice to meet you, Michael." His eyes glinted as they crawled over my body. I looked away for a moment, my first drink not quite able to overcome the awkwardness I felt. When I looked back, he was handing me the second one.

"Thanks." I sipped it a little slower this time, casting my eyes around the room. The lights were low and the air was a little hazy. I missed the question Adam asked the first time.

"Excuse me?"

"Have you been here before, Michael?"

"A few years ago. Not since I got out of college."

"I see." He sized me up. "Getting out of a relationship?"

I shrugged awkwardly. "Maybe."

"This is a good place to forget about things. Now finish that drink and come dance with me."

Guess I'd been told. I downed the rest of the rum and coke, laid the glass on the counter and took the hand that Adam offered me. I took his hand. A small thrill passed through my body. Touching someone. Touching him. Except my stomach twisted when I remembered who he wasn't.

Adam didn't waste any time. He pulled me against his body and immediately began to feel me up. I started off shying away a little, but by the end of the first song I was pressing back into him. I felt relaxed, drowsy almost. Those drinks must have been mixed really strong. After three songs I had to rely on Adam to keep me from falling down as I pressed my ass back against his crotch. I could feel his erection and figured I'd be getting my wish of a birthday fuck before much longer.

Thirty minutes in the club and I was smashed, completely loopy. Maybe the alcohol was reacting badly with the Paxil? Adam noticed my languor and bared his teeth in something like a grin. "You need some fresh air."

"Okay," I agreed. His arm around my waist, we made our way to the door and out into the night air. I did start to feel a little better, but he didn't stop there. Adam hauled me down the sidewalk until we were a few blocks away from the club, then turned us down an alley. A dark, dirty cliché of an alley. Panic rose in my mind, but I couldn't seem to coordinate my lips well enough to express it. A fog seemed to blanket my mind and I couldn't push through it.




Untouchable



Fuck. Oh, fuck. I had to have been drugged; two drinks didn't have this great an effect on me. I pushed away weakly.

"Please," Adam laughed. His voice was rougher now, tinged with excitement and...something. Something dark. "You wanted this the moment you stepped inside, bitch. Your ass is mine." Turning me around, he shoved me against the wall, scraping my cheek against the broken edge of a brick.

"No." It was all I could say, and even then it was just a whisper. "No."

He slammed my head against the wall, hard and deliberate. "Shut your face, bitch." One big hand fumbled at my crotch, reaching for the zipper.

This wasn't what I wanted. I was a stupid fucking idiot, and it was probably too late to get away, but I managed to push off the wall and spun around, leading with my elbow. Adam was close, and it cracked him just below the left ear. He swore and pulled away for a moment, but I couldn't run. I slumped back against the wall, and as soon as he recovered Adam drove one heavy fist up and into my abdomen. I grunted, all the air leaving my lungs, and fell down to my knees. If I could have breathed just then, I probably would have thrown up. As it was, all I could do was hold my stomach and see stars.

"You little fucker," my assailant hissed. He grabbed my head and forced my eyes up to look at him. "I'll hurt you before I fuck you for that, bitch. I'll hurt you good."

"Not as good as this."

I started, recognizing Sy's voice. The really amazing thing was that Adam seemed to hear him as well. He scowled and began to turn, but by then Sy had stepped into his body. 

This was no gentle guidance like he'd done with Mr. Klein. This was a full-out assault on my attacker. For a moment Sy's eyes glared from Adam's face, not a mischievous hazel but burning with vengeful fire, and then blood began to seep from every pore in Adam's body. Sy stepped the rest of the way through and Adam collapsed to the ground, face a gory mess and his body beginning to convulse like he was having a seizure. Then Sy stepped into me.

I felt hot, like I had a raging fever. My legs straightened out, forcing me jerkily to my feet. I still felt nauseous and was definitely in pain, but it faded beneath the fury of Sy's will. He marched my body out of the alley, down the street and to my car. Driving home was a perilous experience, out of body as it was, but considering how my evening had been going it was actually one of the least frightening things to happen to me since I'd stepped out.

We made it to my apartment building without crashing. Sy piloted my body up the stairs to our floor and opened the door. Once we were inside, he marched me to the bedroom, stepped out of me and shoved me towards the bed. I stumbled forward, falling onto it. Strangely, I felt better. My body still hurt, but the fog had been burned out of my mind. I could think clearly. I could see clearly. And what I was seeing now wasn't exactly comforting.

Sy was standing in the middle of the bedroom, arms folded, his expression so angry and contemptuous I could barely recognize his face. It wasn't just the look. His eyes, sunglasses-free, glowed like coals in a fire, and his entire body seemed to subtly glimmer, as though I was looking into a mirage over a hot road. He didn't feel like a mirage when he shoved me though, and as soon as he opened his mouth I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt he was actually there. Illusions do not make that kind of noise.

"You idiot! Do you have a motherfucking death wish?" His voice seemed to crackle with the heat of his fury.

"Sy..." I began. I didn't know what I was going to say, but he took that indecision out of my hands.

"No, it's your turn to shut the fuck up for a minute, Michael. Are you trying to get yourself killed? It's one thing to reject me, it's another to pick up a motherfucking rapist in a bar; a rapist who played you like a fucking flute and got you so tripped out on Rohypnol he could have had you unconscious if he'd bothered to wait an extra five fucking minutes." He started pacing, flinging his hands around in wild gesticulations. 

"You didn't even have any protection on you, Michael! What if you got a disease? How awesome a birthday present would that be, rape and a permanent souvenir all in one go? Or what if he didn't stop at raping you? What if he'd killed you? Where the fuck would that leave me?"

Sy laughed bitterly at my shocked expression. "Sounds selfish? Get used to it. Whether you can take it or not, I'm here, Michael. I'm here, and even though we're connected, we're not the same. If you'd died, what would happen to me? Would I die as well? Would I remain here alone and have to remember you forever? Do you really want to speed up that hell for me? How long do you think I can suffer before I snap? Whatever else I am, I'm not kind, Michael. The quality of mercy is not me. Without you, I..." He stopped moving, pressing a hand to his eyes. When he took it away, they were hazel again. He looked bleak, though.

"I love you, Michael. I don't remember anything before you and without you I just don't work. I become something I don't even recognize. I know you have this whole picket-fence ideal in your mind, and I know that with me that isn't in your cards. But I need you, and I need you to be safe. So please." He came over to me suddenly and knelt down, taking my hands in a painfully hard grasp. "Please. If you're going to fuck around on me, do it safely. I can bear anything except losing you." He reached a hand up to my face and brushed one of the cuts lightly, his face totally vulnerable.

Unthinkingly I turned my cheek into his touch, wanting the good feelings to replace the bad ones that lurked just under the surface of my skin. The increased pressure of his fingers stung a little, and I didn't even realize the significance of that until Sy began to tremble. "Michael..." he stammered. "You're...how are you...

"Touching you," I breathed. I turned my lips towards his palm and felt the warmth of his skin increase as my breath touched him. I closed my eyes for a moment and kissed him there. I could kiss Sy. Holy shit.

I must have hauled him up onto the bed in less than a second, because before he could blink he was beside me and I was squeezing him half to death, my arms like a vice grip around his shoulders. He held me too, but the feeling it gave me, while tender, didn't even compare what I felt from holding him. I had my love in my arms. I could feel him, and I could initiate a touch. I could give back. I could be for him what he already was for me. I thought my heart would explode from joy. Until...

"How long?" I gasped, unable to keep from kissing his neck even as worry flooded through me. "How long will you be like this?"

"I don't know." Sy sounded completely dumbfounded. "I don't know how this happened, I don't know what changed." 

"Me neither." I did have an inkling, but there was no way I had the patience to think a theory out right now. I needed Sy. I needed to run my hands all over his body and reassure myself time and time again that he was solid. Pulling my head back, I leaned in and kissed his lips.

The carnality of the connection amazed me. It's one thing to be kissed; it's another thing entirely to kiss someone back. At first it was almost like a fight, all lips and tongue and teeth and the sharpness of desperation. After a few minutes though, I figured he wouldn't be going intangible right this second and I eased back a little, no less passionate but a little less intense. I ran my fingers into his silky blond hair, scratching lightly against his scalp with my nails. I felt a tremor go through Sy and grinned against his lips. "Like it?"

"Love it," he groaned, trembling and jerking lightly. He was going through sensory overload and his hands just clutched at my shoulders, holding himself steady enough to stay upright as I teased him. "Oh god, Michael..."

"Yeah," I murmured. "I know." Just touching him the way I was, not even particularly intimately, sent such a powerful surge of satisfaction through me that I thought smugness must be seeping out of my eyes. I could give love as well as receive it, and it was more than just words. My hands roamed their way across his back and up to caress his chest, the same chest that had lain against me a thousand times, and yet it was like I'd never encountered it before. I broke free from our kiss and nuzzled down his neck until my lips caressed his collarbone.

Sy had the advantage of me here. He scooted back so he was lying fully on the bed and pulled me down against him. I stretched out over his long body, slipping one palm up beneath his shirt as I did so. And then suddenly he was naked.

I jumped, just a little bit. It still worried me, him disappearing bits and pieces of himself. "Stay," I whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby. I swear it."

"You'd better not be," I growled at him. It was nice to have him naked, though. I couldn't take my eyes off his cock, the long, thick muscle that I had been dying to touch for so many years. I reached down with my hand and caressed him, very gently at first. He felt so similar and yet so different to me. He made a lot more noise, too.

"Michael, oh fuck, just take it, just take it, hold it, take it Michael..."

"Beg me," I said as I ran my tongue over a hard nipple. Truthfully I was absolutely dying to do more, but the perverse part of me wanted to draw this out. I wanted to make every touch last a lifetime and drive home all the incredible sensation that we had been missing out on.

Sy laughed. "Please, please, please grab my cock and stroke it like you mean it." He pulled me off of his chest and back up to his face again, kissing me hungrily. "And get out of these clothes while you're at it. Actually..." Reaching behind me, he tore my polyester shirt in half, from the collar to the hem. "There." He grinned as he pulled the remnants off my torso. "Much better."

I should have said something smart or funny, but speech had deserted me the moment I felt our bare chests press together. I fumbled my pants and shoes off, leaned back in against Sy, and then felt a sudden shame as our bodies met. I had almost been raped tonight, and he had saved me. Miserable, stupid me. "I'm sorry," I said, hiding my face against his neck. "About tonight."

"I'm sorry, too." Sy kissed the top of my head. "I tried to come sooner, but I couldn't manifest until he hit you. Watching that made the anger I'd been feeling jump into overdrive, and all of a sudden I was there. There's nothing I wouldn't have done to keep you safe."

"Did you kill him?" I wasn't sure I really wanted to know the answer to that, but it was important.

"Maybe. I know I damaged him, badly, but I'm not sure about the extent of it." Sy exhaled heavily, cradling me in his embrace. "Does that bother you?"

"Not too much." Actually, a little bit. I sighed. "Way to kill the mood, huh?"

"Let me manage the mood for a while, baby." Sy rolled us over so that he was on top. Our erections rubbed against each other, and the heat began to flow back into my groin as he soothed away my fears. Jesus, how had I been living without touching him? I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. At the same time his hand slid down between us and wrapped around both of our cocks. Mine was flowing with precum and Sy's wasn't, but it was still enough lubrication for him to move his hand tightly over the two of us without any discomfort. I canted my hips against his hand, keeping his mouth against mine as he stroked me quickly to completion. My plans to drag the moment out had shattered, and only a few minutes after he began I was moaning into his mouth and digging my nails into his shoulders as I came across our bodies. 

Sy followed me moments after, and his seed was incredibly hot against my skin. He distracted me from that slight discomfort by collapsing into my embrace, trembling and quaking like he'd just sprinted a mile. Weariness pulled at my eyes and the cuts on my face were stinging, but it was still the best orgasm of my life, because I'd shared it with Sy. 

Eventually Sy calmed down, his expression shifting back into sexy confidence, but I knew he'd been shaken. He got up and grabbed a few things out of the bathroom, then came back and cleaned us up, finishing by wiping my cuts with rubbing alcohol. I winced and he gently kissed each one, then dabbed on some antiseptic cream. "Time to rest, babe."

"I know," I mumbled around a yawn. Sy put the washcloth and the cream down on the floor and lay down next to me, sliding the rumpled blanket up and over us. He nestled in behind me, chest to my back, and I grabbed his arm and draped it over my waist. With my lover's breath warming the back of my neck, I fell asleep.

***

I slept so deeply that night that I didn't even dream. I didn't need to dream, my dream was reality now. I only woke up when I did because my leg was falling asleep. Sy had rolled even further against me during the night, and one of his legs was draped across my own. When he felt me stir he pulled it back, then said, "We need a bigger bed."

"I don't know," I replied, turning to face him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "I kind of like forcing you to cuddle up with me."

"Baby, I am more than willing to cuddle, but having my ass hanging off the bed for half the night is less than ideal." Sy was smiling though, and he leaned in and kissed me a moment later. "Or you could cuddle up to me tonight. I think I like being held."

"I'm glad," I said earnestly. "Sy, what do you think changed? How did this happen?"

He gave me a half-shrug. "I'm not as good at introspection as you are, Michael. I'm not sure what changed. Maybe it was because I got so angry."

"You've been angry before," I reminded him.

"Not like this. This was a murderous rage that would have done Titus Andronicus proud."

"You and your Shakespeare." I ran my thumb over his lower lip and smiled when Sy closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. "I think it was something else."

"Mmm?" Sy flicked his tongue out and brushed it lightly over my thumb.

"I think it's because you needed me."

"Couldn't be," he replied languorously, raking his bottom teeth across the pad of my finger. "I needed you before."

"No, you loved me before. You wanted me to be happy and you gave me everything you had, but I couldn't touch you until you needed me back. Until you needed me like I need you."

Sy gave me a smoldering look. "I always needed you, Michael."

"But you didn't say so until last night."

"Yes, I..." He thought about it for a moment. "Maybe not. Fuck, I don't know, maybe that's the reason, maybe it isn't. It doesn't matter. If it is because I need you, then that's never going to change. If it's something else, then we'll figure it out. Either way you're stuck with me, babe. Think you can deal with that?"

"I suppose so," I replied with mock-reluctance.

"And can you deal with never knowing what I am?" His look was more serious this time. "Honest to God, Michael, I can't tell you. What I was before I met you, what I am without you, I just don't know. I've felt presences like mine a couple times before, but we never interacted."

"I guess there's no support group, then."

"No." Sy chuckled, but it was a little forced. "Seriously, though. Can you be all right with ignorance?"

"As long as you stay where I can feel you." I squeezed him slightly for emphasis. "I looked for answers because I was looking for, I don't know, some way to make you more solid in my mind. If I couldn't touch you, I at least had to know that you were real. Now I know."

"Aha. All becomes clear." He kissed me again, then pulled back and bounced out of bed. "Let's go test the theory, then."

"What?"

"Let's go test my reality. See if someone else knows I'm real."

"Oh." It made sense, but all I really wanted right now was for Sy to come back to bed. "Wait! We already know other people can detect you. Adam started turning around when he heard your voice last night."

Sy rolled his eyes. "Well, let's go see if someone who isn't a fucking psychopathic asshole can detect me. We're going out. We're redoing your birthday, Michael. Let's get you some lunch."

"Is it lunchtime already?" I craned my neck to see my alarm clock. "Whoa. I really slept in."

"You had a late night," Sy replied. In an instant he was fully dressed, in the same casual suit he'd worn earlier but with a pale green shirt this time. It made his bright eyes stand out. "Let's go, sleepy head, you're holding up the works."

"Just because you keep your clothes clean and pressed in some alternate dimension," I grumbled as I got out of bed. "And if you put those fucking sunglasses on, I will rip them off of you."

"Excellent motivation," Sy said with a grin. "What else can I persuade you to rip off?"

The temptation to jump him, haul him back to bed and start ripping things off was almost overwhelming, but I really needed to eat something. I hadn't had anything last night except for booze and drugs, and I probably didn't smell very fresh either. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then looked at myself in the mirror. Lovely. I had a scrape running from just above my right eyebrow to my ear, and several deeper cuts along my cheekbone. It looked like I'd haphazardly smudged purple eye shadow across my right eye, and there were four closely-spaced, slender purple lines surrounded by brown and yellow on my stomach. It took a moment, but I eventually recognized the shape. It was Adam's fist.

I closed my eyes and swallowed against the sudden nausea I felt, and in an instant Sy was behind me, holding me close. I leaned into him gratefully. "You're okay," he murmured in my ear. "You're okay now, baby. I've got you."

"I know," I whispered. 

"Come on now, love, you're hungry. Let's shower fast." Sy held me until I felt steady again, then pointed me towards the shower. I scoured myself with the rag, using up almost half a bar of soap, but by the time I finished I felt clean again. I got out and dried off, brushed my teeth, reapplied the antiseptic ointment to my face and pulled on the clothes that Sy had placed beside the sink. Black trousers over silk boxers, a black leather belt and a caramel-colored linen shirt went on. I brushed a hand through my wild hair, then stepped out into our bedroom and directly into Sy's arms.

"You look yummy," he purred.

"I know what you are now," I laughed as I cupped the back of his head with my hands.

"And what's that?"

"A vampire."

Sy looked startled for a moment, then grinned. "Whatever. I could be a zombie, zombies like to eat people."

"No, I don't think you have any interest in my brains."

"Not true!" he replied, innocently batting his eyelashes. "I'm very interested in your brain! I'm just more interested in your cock. And right now, I'm interested in getting you fed so I can bring you back home and fuck the living daylights out of you."

"Sounds like a plan." I pulled Sy in for a deep, intense kiss that left both of us breathless once it ended.

"If we don't leave now the plan will change and you'll just have to starve," he growled.

"Fine. But I'm driving." 

***

Di Napoli's was my favorite Italian restaurant. With only fifteen tables it filled up fast in the evenings, but during the lunch hours it had a much more private atmosphere. We walked in and the hostess greeted us with a cheery smile. "Hi, guys! Two for lunch?"

My grin should have split my face. She could see Sy. "Yes, thanks." She sat us in the corner next to the open window. A warm breeze blew gently, and I was so relaxed and happy I felt my bones might melt. Sy was smiling too, bemusedly, like he couldn't quite believe it. "She doesn't seem like a psychopath," I drawled.

"Looks can be deceiving," he said, but his voice was bright with excitement. "Holy shit. I'm glad we came."




Untouchable



"Are you hungry too?"

"Not for food," Sy replied, searing me with his look. 

The waiter brought over water and breadsticks and took our order. I didn't bother looking at the menu, I just ordered fast so he'd leave us alone again. Hopefully he didn't think we were complete jerks. The smell of food reminded me that I was ravenous. I reached for a breadstick, but Sy forestalled me. 

"Ah-ah." He picked up the breadstick instead and extended it towards me, waggling it slightly. I bit. The hot, buttery bread tasted like the best thing I'd ever eaten. I barely pulled my mouth back, chewing just enough to be able to swallow before taking another bite. In no time the bread was gone, but I didn't let Sy take his hand back. I latched on to his index finger, sliding my tongue across it as I licked away the remnants of butter and parmesan. His lips parted and his face flushed slightly as I cleaned him off. I did his middle finger and finally his thumb, sucking on it like a baby. Eventually I drew back and grinned at him.

"I am so hungry right now," he said, and I could see the faint glow glimmering in the depths of his eyes. "You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do, but we should save it. We're going to give the poor hostess a stroke." We both looked over at her. Her face was beet red and one hand was pressed to her mouth, but she was smiling. "Or maybe an orgasm."

"Nobody is allowed to get orgasms from you but me." Sighing, he lowered his hand. "I guess I'll just have to let you eat and suffer in silence."

"Poor baby."

The meal was excellent, but my attention really wasn't on it. I ate about half of my tortellini boscaiola before I couldn't take Sy playing footsie with me under the table any more. The waiter boxed the rest up, I paid and left a huge tip and we managed to make it back to the car before really starting to make out.

"Sy," I moaned after a few minutes, "We need to get home."

"But home is where the heart is," he replied glibly, sliding a hand past my belt and rubbing my inner thigh. "Home is right here, with you."

"Maybe it is, but I'm not losing my virginity in a car."

Sy stilled against me for a moment. "You really want to be first?" he said at last. "After what happened last night?"

"Yes." I was determined. Nervous, but determined. "I really want to be first, and I want it as soon as humanly possible."

"That makes you the limiting factor, babe."

"No, I think you squashing me against the gear shift is the limiting factor, Sy." He immediately pulled back and I sat up, wincing a little, then shifted over into the driver's seat. "Come on, let's go home. The home with the bed."

"The tiny bed."

"The soft and comfortable bed," I corrected. 

"That's what I meant to say."

We drove home in comfortable silence. Sy looked at me and I kept my eyes on the road. I was driving over-cautiously. It would just figure that today of all days might be the day Fate handed me a traffic violation. Yes, that explained the cold feeling of anxiety in my gut and the sharp pricking of nerves across my skin. It was the traffic. The lazy Sunday afternoon traffic.

We got home without me rear-ending anyone, hurray, and I parked the car. "So...upstairs then."

"That's where the bed is," Sy said quietly. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Michael, I don't know why you even try lying to me. I always know when you do." His hand covered my own as he said it, taking any sting out of the gentle reproof. "You're cold."

"Not really."

"Your hand feels like you stuck it in a bucket of ice water for a few minutes, Michael. What's wrong, baby?"

I shook my head. "I really don't know. I'm not lying to you, I just don't know. I'm excited, I want this, I want you, but...I just don't know."

Sy brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. "Let's go up."

We went. I locked the door, kicked my shoes off and put the food away, then stood awkwardly in the living room, waiting for some kind of sign from Sy. He was sitting on the couch, looking totally chill. "Well?" I said finally.

"Well, come and sit with me."

"You want me to sit with you." Where was the tenacity, where was the 'let's get this party started' kind of control he liked?

"Yes. Sit with me. For fuck's sake Michael, I won't bite you."

"Huh." I sat down, a little nonplussed and a little relieved simultaneously. "And here I thought you wanted to devour me."

"Oh, I do," he said agreeably, propping his suddenly shoeless feet up on my lap and tugging at the buttons on my shirt with his toes. "But I don't want to do it like this, with you worried and tense and afraid of letting me down in some way." I blushed. He really could read my mind, the jerk. "Nothing between us should ever happen just because you think it's the thing to do whether we're ready for it or not. That includes everything from dinner and a movie to fucking each other senseless."

"I don't think restraint is really in character for you," I said, remembering a few times he'd very insistently gotten me into bed.

"It's not. Being good to you is. Or haven't you figured that yet?"

"I figured." I moved his feet aside, leaned in against him and pushed him back onto the arm of the couch, absorbing his heat as I stretched myself over him. My fingers traced the edges of his nose, his lips and eyes. His skin was completely smooth, no hint of stubble. I caressed the edge of his jaw and Sy's pupils dilated, blotting out the hazel with warmth and desire. "How can you be so patient?" I asked, honestly curious. "How do you make sense out of all my inconsistencies? Why don't you hate me for trying to get rid of you?"

"Trying to hate you is a losing battle, Michael. Even when I was so angry I thought I'd explode, even when I actually tried, I never managed to hate you. I don't try to make sense out of you, I just love you the way you are." He smiled slowly. "I'm very Zen, honestly."

"There was nothing Zen about what you did last night."

"There was nothing about that fucker that deserved my consideration, Michael. Think of it as karma actively catching up with him. Or better yet, don't think of it at all. Just think about us." He nuzzled his nose against the base of my throat. "Think about how incredibly lucky we are."

He was right, we were lucky. I had exactly what I wanted, against all the odds and mine and Sy's hang-ups. Warmth flooded through me, tinged with a giddiness I hadn't felt since I was a kid. Not even last night, when I first found out I could touch him, had I felt so blissfully joyful. I tilted my head back and bared more of my throat to Sy, and he kissed and nipped from my collarbone to my jaw. His breath was so hot... My body felt like it was on fire, and I needed to get rid of my clothes before I combusted.

I stood up, dragged Sy off the couch and walked us firmly back to the bedroom. He was grinning, and as soon as I turned towards him his clothes vanished.

"Put those back on."

"Excuse me?"

"I want to rip them off you," I replied matter-of-factly, but my hands were itching to touch him now. "Clothes, Sy. Now."

They were back, a little rumpled but all in place. "Good." I kissed his lips tenderly, then said, "Don't touch me, and don't touch yourself."

"I thought this was all about touch, baby."

"It is." I smiled sweetly. "Right now it's about me touching you. So hands off." He nodded and I got started, undoing the top button of his shirt. I didn't tear at it. I slowly, methodically pushed the button through the hole, taking time to spread my fingers across the base of his throat before moving on to the next one. Every new inch of skin I exposed I caressed, first just with my hands and eventually with my mouth, unable to resist his golden flesh.

"Michael, dammit," Sy breathed, "you said you were going to rip it off!"

"I will," I said around a kiss, "just not yet."

"Why did I pick a shirt with so many fucking buttons?" he groaned, clenching and unclenching his dangling hands. "Why?"

"Try to enjoy it, love."

"I do, I just—" I dipped my tongue into his belly button and his tirade cut off abruptly. "Michael, baby..."

"Mm?" I sank down to my knees in front of him, undoing the last button. I dropped my hands to his pants and teased him a little, unzipping him one metal tooth at a time.

"Michael, you fucker." His voice was strained but one quick glance reassured me that it was because he was exercising desperate restraint, not because he was unhappy. "You're evil, you're fucking evil, and I'll make you pay for every second of this, I swear to God—aah!" I couldn't wait for him to finish threatening me; I had to get him into my mouth. I pulled his fly apart and his cock, unfettered by underwear, sprang free. I barely paused to admire it before sinking my mouth over it.

I'd never sucked a cock before. Sy had gotten me off that way so many times, but this was the first time I'd ever gone down on anyone. Pulsing hot satin rubbed against my tongue and it felt so, so good. I pulled back a little and swirled my tongue around the head, then slowly drifted down his pole. I couldn't get all the way to the base, Sy was just too long and I was too inexperienced, but I tried damn hard. I gripped his hips and bobbed gently while he moaned. Once his hands touched my hair, but I batted them away and kept going, lost in the feeling of pleasure and control I got from sucking him. It felt vulnerable to be on my knees, but the submissiveness of the position contrasted to the sense of power I got as I gave my lover satisfaction. Unease had completely vanished and all that was left was the need to get Sy off.

It didn't take as long as I thought. Admittedly Sy hadn't received a blowjob before as far as I knew, but I figured a whatever-he-was would be able to control himself better than a lovesick human. I was wrong. After a few minutes he stiffened, grew even harder and let out a guttural groan as he came into my mouth. His load was hot but not scalding against my tongue and I swallowed as fast as he spurted, desperate to drink everything.

Once my lover was done, barely able to stand and gulping air, I gave his cock one last kiss, then tucked it back into his pants and zipped him up. I then stood and began to rebutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Give me a minute," I said, not meeting his gaze. I buttoned the last button, then looked straight at his face. "Now I'll rip it off you." And I did. I yanked his shirt apart and buttons flew off, but they never hit the ground. I spun him around, jerked his jacket to the floor and shoved him hard towards the bed. He fell onto it and turned around just in time to catch me as I slammed into his arms, driving him onto his back. I straddled Sy's hips and ground against him, relishing the feel of our cocks rubbing together.

Sy had had quite enough of being controlled, though. His natural dominance reasserted itself and he switched our positions, rolling us over and pinning me beneath him. His mouth was hard and demanding on mine, and I didn't have the breath to object when he ripped my own clothes off of me. He literally ripped them, not just the buttons but the whole shirt, like he was jerking the tablecloth out from under a place setting on a table. I barely felt it fly off of me, and then my pants and underwear were gone in short order and I was wrapping my legs around Sy's bare waist; his own clothes had long since vanished.

I wanted him so badly. "Sy, fuck me." The thought of him stretching my hole and piercing to my very core made me tremble with need, and the head of my cock glistened with precum. "Fuck me now."

"Oh no," he grinned wickedly. "After the stunt you pulled? Hell no, you'll be lucky to come by nightfall."

"Sy, don't be a bitch, just give it to me!"

"I love it when you act all tough," he said, nibbling at my ear. "But I love making you beg even more. And you're going to be begging me to fuck you by the time I'm ready to, Michael. Roll over."

Oh god, I loved that, I wanted that, but I was so hard and ready right now. "Sy..."

"Over. Now."

Resistance continued to prove futile, and I wanted him to take me as soon as possible, so I released my hold around his waist and turned onto my stomach. He pressed a pillow beneath my hips, then drew back until only his fingertips were touching me, sliding lightly down the crack of my ass and up again. I spread my legs apart and he settled between my knees, but didn't stop teasing. A drawer opened and shut, and a few moments later I felt cool liquid drip against my skin and across Sy's fingertips. I exhaled harshly, then bit my lower lip. 

The questing fingers moved against my perineum, just below my twitching, needy entrance. Sy stroked the smooth skin, circling closer and closer to my hole, playing with me by almost touching it and then slipping down again towards my tight, drawn-up balls. I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped my lips when he finally touched me where I wanted it, where I needed it.

"That's a good start, but I don't hear begging yet."

"Please, just fuck me!"

"Nope," he said cheerfully, "not desperate enough yet." And then his smallest finger slipped inside of me.

I had played around with toys before. I'd had things bigger than Sy's little finger in me, but nothing had affected me like he was right now. I raised my hips to press back towards him and he smacked my ass. "Down boy, or I take your plaything away."

Eventually he traded his little finger for a larger one, and after a few more minutes added another. I was drenched in sweat and very quickly losing my mind. Every so often he brushed a spot inside of me that sent thrills up my spine, and my pleading was becoming more desperate by the moment.

Finally Sy poured more lube across my crevice, then removed his fingers, making me cry out with inarticulate frustration. He pressed in close behind me and I stopped everything, stopped moving, stopped breathing as I felt his cock against my ass, felt him tuck its length between my cheeks and begin to slide back and forth and...not enter me.

"Goddamn it!" I shouted hoarsely as he tormented me. "Sy! I need you now, please, just take me, just take me, please!" I went on for a while longer, eventually becoming incoherent, and that's when he stopped moving.

"Now you're begging, baby," he whispered as he lined his cock up against my hole. "Good boy." And then he pushed inside.

Tight hot sexy mine mine mine...my thoughts were as incoherent as my speech. All I felt was Sy penetrating me, sliding slowly home until our bodies were flush and I was filled with every inch of him. It was heaven, it was bliss, and he hadn't even moved yet. And when he did move...

Slowly out, slowly back in. The sick, sweet torment hadn't stopped; he was prolonging it. My body cried out for release and he postponed it, as patient as anything now, willing to move at a crawl to draw it out for me. As my need for instant gratification ebbed the pleasure grew, until every slow stroke was exponentially better than the last. I think I was chanting his name, I think he was groaning mine as he pressed deep into me, the deepest thrust yet. Then Sy's groan became a scream and he came inside of me and finally triggered my own orgasm. It exploded through my body like a firework and sent sizzling sparks radiating into every corner of my being. The fire consumed me and I lost myself to the bright, blistering ecstasy.

When I opened my eyes again, tiny sparks were still playing across my vision. Sy had collapsed onto me, his arms tight around my waist and his cock still buried in my ass. I felt exhausted, physically and mentally, and so blissed out that I almost asked Sy to pinch me, just to verify I hadn't died and gone to heaven. He was heavy, but before I could complain he rolled to the side, taking me with him. We lay together quietly for a while before he finally broke the silence.

"Like it, baby?"

"Love it," I murmured, swallowing to soothe my poor abused vocal cords. "Perfect. It was perfect." I flexed my internal muscles against him and Sy groaned, then slowly pulled out of me.

"No more, you'll kill me."

"Oh please," I smiled. "I'm the human element, remember?"

"Doesn't matter, I'll die anyway." He kissed my damp curls.

"You can't die until I return the favor, which gives us at least a few hours."

"Thank god."

"I love you, Sy."

He sighed contentedly. "I know. I love you too."

"But..."

"But?" A faint note of worry crept into his voice. "But what? What could possibly be wrong right now?"

"Well, I know this will make you unhappy, but..."

"Michael, just tell me!"

"There's no way we're getting rid of this bed now. Too many good memories."

Sy was quiet for a long moment. Then he snorted. "You can be such a jackass sometimes, you know that?"

"Yeah, but I'm right, aren't I?"

"Fine. We're keeping the tiny bed until we wear the freaking springs out and are forced to replace it." He kissed me again. "Which if I have things my way will be very, very soon."

I did take Sy later, and it was as incredible as I had always imagined. I had to go to work the next day, and we had to be more careful about his presence now that other people could see and hear him. For the first time I was grateful for my little hole of an office and the freedom anonymity afforded me. Even when they promoted me a month later, I was able to wrangle a new office that was out of the way, so we'd have enough warning for him to disappear before anyone entered.

I kept seeing Dr. Anderson. He said I had personal demons to work through, and he was right. I went off the Paxil though, and gradually our sessions drifted away from Sy to other topics. I had personal demons, but Sy was the one that I could never get over, and the one I'd never want to.