EHDAB: Beauty in the Darkness

EHDAB: Beauty in the Darkness

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Summary

Prove that you love me. Prove that you'll do anything for me. It won't be difficult. I'll even make it easy for you. But, you still have to prove it. One thousand times over, prove it. It's not about being worthy, it's about being committed. Can you do that for me? - Ehma

Summary

Prove that you love me. Prove that you'll do anything for me. It won't be difficult. I'll even make it easy for you. But, you still have to prove it. One thousand times over, prove it. It's not about being worthy, it's about being committed. Can you do that for me? - Ehma

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 25

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: December 28, 2018

Reads: 273

Comments: 1

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: December 28, 2018

A A A

A A A

Chapter 25

 

Ehma

 

Warm breath bathed her collar bone. The heat fought against the ocean breeze and for a moment she gave in to it. He was too persistent. Too obnoxiously persistent to ignore.

 

Thirsty lips drank from the curve of her neck.  His kisses were magnetic. The hunger in his motions demanded more. She could feel herself melting.

 

First her elbows into his chest. Then her hands that absently made their way to the back of his neck. The breeze kissed at her exposed thighs, but she was only vaguely aware of the back of her panties clenched in his fist.

 

There was a more pressing matter straddled between her legs. Pressing with its thick heat. Promising something she wanted.

 

The world around her was a mix of aftershave and seasalt. Of body soap and the faintest hint of cigarette. Of warm lips that eased their way onto the softest parts of her neck.

 

The only jarring sensation was the rough hand that slapped her ass and then glided up her waist.

 

More. Her body begged against her will, but she didn’t voice her interest. Not even her mind gave life to her silent approval.

 

There was a plan, or at least there had been one. A glimmer of its outline still echoed in her mind. She felt it was a good one. A sound decision.  An acceptable suggestion from Hecate herself. That alone was worth its weight.

 

Still, the moonlit beach was there’s. Something like that couldn’t be wasted. It didn’t seem fair. Not after what they had been through.

 

The words were on the tip of her tongue. The first domino ready to be set in motion and yet… And yet she could bring herself to ruin what he seemed to be enjoying so much.

 

He had brought all of the necessary items. She could feel the foil encased magnums in his pocket each time her hips shifted.

 

“You’re such a pervert, Bubbles,” she whispered as his tongue crept along the ridges of her ear. “Is this all you think about?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

The words came soft enough to send a shiver down her back. Soft enough to make her forget the plan, if only temporarily. His hips rose until a hard outline seated itself against her clit.

 

“Haven’t you had enough?” The act was getting difficult to maintain.

 

“Never.”

 

Her nostrils flared as the hard outline beyond the fabric of his jeans grated against her panties. That was good. Very good.

 

He should be hungry for her. He should be starving for her alone. Fantasizing about her.

 

She couldn’t always keep an eye on him, what with everything she had been setting in motion. Still, she knew what he did. When he was alone. When he gripped it while thinking about her.

 

She tried to make easy for him at first. A dream here and there. Something to remember her by. Feeling his warm nectar fill her mouth night after night.

 

How long had it been since her last visit? Over a week, maybe? After the first two or three uneventful nights he had resorted to the shower and that had been equally fun to watch.

 

Touching himself for her. Stroking it for her. Thinking about all the perverted things he wanted to do to her. All of the things he wanted her to do to him.

 

“You want this?” She let her hips slide deeper against him while enjoying the solid weight between them.

 

Karma’s cheek slid from her jawline until soft lips rested against hers. She forced her own closed. If he wanted that—if he wanted more, he’d have to take it. Her resolve lasted about as long as it took for the hand gripped at her waist to creep to her nipple and twist.

 

“This belongs to me,” he said with another pivot of his hips.

 

She almost believed him as the head bulged against her. “Is that so?”

 

“I’ll take it from you if I have to.”

 

Her body was the violin and he played it with aggressive tenderness. She wanted more of it. More empty promises that just might not be empty after all. “That sounds fun.”

 

What was she saying? This was going too far. She was enjoying it too much. She wanted more of those sweet, kissable lips. More of his cute nose brushing against hers, but—

 

Who was she kidding?  What she really wanted was her legs wrapped around his shoulders. Taking. Taking. Taking.

 

Or maybe just to see the appreciation in his eyes as his thirsty lips swam between her thighs. He wouldn’t stop there though. He wouldn’t and she wouldn’t let him.

 

Get it together girl, she commanded herself despite the fact her mind was inching towards the edge of reason. This was dangerous territory. She needed to compose herself. She needed to— “You’re a liability.”

 

She said it right? She hadn’t just thought it? Why wasn’t he listening then? Why was he—

 

An involuntary spasm pulsed through her as his hand relinquished the back of her panties and tickled their way to the front.

 

You want me, you pervert. You want this pussy wrapped around you. You want it. I know you want it, her brain screamed as his fingers sunk.

 

Give it to daddy, then. Be a good little slut just for me.

 

No.

 

Yes.

 

Her body was ready to give in. Giving in would benefit them both. But— But— The plan!

 

“God damn it, Bubbles. Listen to me.”

 

Was she really begging? The words had sounded stern in her head. They really had. Instead they came out a weak squeal.

 

“I’m listening.” Maybe he was, but a second finger joined the first in its search for her submission.

 

“I can’t think straight with you…”

 

“Should I stop?”

 

“No!” —God damnit— “Yes. I mean no.”

 

He covered her indecisive mouth with his lips and let his tongue ease her frustration. Which is it, then?

 

She had never been so thankful for the Spiritual Link and she expressed her gratitude by forcing her own tongue against his. I want you to do something for me.

 

You know, pulling out at the last second doesn’t guarantee anything. I can try though.

 

That would mean… She could almost imagine the liquid warmth seeping into her. Like Aloe vera for the soul. Like ice cream for her ovaries.

 

Please, just listen. I want you to be able to take care of yourself.

 

Well, you know, that’s what they make hot showers for.

 

Pervert! She smiled at the thought of him with his head tilted back and the veins in his neck bulging as he did just that. I mean with magic.

 

Aw, you’re not going to protect me anymore?

 

The world was moving. She held on tight against it. The opened wine bottle thunked into the sand and glugged its contents happily. The glassware followed with less enthusiasm.

 

He laid her on the hard table like a princess. She felt like a princess. She wanted to be his princess.

 

Slick fingers left her panties and travelled up her navel until departing for his lips. He savored her. He wanted more. He needed more of her.

 

“Don’t do this, Bubbles.”

 

Too late. Warm lips grazed the interior of one ankle and goose flesh spread from her legs to her shoulders. “Bubbles isn’t home right now.”

 

Who was home then? She studied him, mystified as each passionate kiss took his lips from her calve to her thigh. “You’re such a pervert… daddy.”

 

It was a mistake. She wasn’t thinking straight. He was corrupting her innocent heart with his pervertedness. That was the only possible reason for her heels digging into his back until the promise of his lips hung inches from her panties.

 

****

 

Tesafaye

 

There was a physical desperation to his steps. A swift clop on the cobblestone path. Faces passed. Faces. Faces.

 

None of them familiar. None of them even close to the harsh elegance— They were just people. People doing what people did when the sun crept in to oblivion.

 

Was it destiny or fate that brought him to the largest free city in the world? He didn’t believe in either, so his guess was as good anyone’s. Just another night. Another sight. Another…

 

This city had a different name once. Long, long ago. It had changed. Everything had changed.

 

What better place was there than this? What better place for a discarded miscreant, no better than rubbish in the bin. None. None better.

 

There was a place within this city’s borders. A place where the rules were different. A quarantine of sorts. Any could enter the scourge ridden pit. Only citizens could escape.

 

Escape? How quaint indeed. Like a coursing brook spurred by whispers in the hallow night, he had traversed the darkness to this one place. This one location.

 

Guards stood ready for the exit inspection. None stood for the entry. Tesafaye passed through without a thought.

 

He had no papers. He had never needed them. His time was before the rules, before the regulations, before any of it was even a kernel in witchkind’s mind.

 

The domed sky bled of fire. Beautiful and volcanic. A barrier, and a powerful one at that.

 

The magineers had done well with this little pocket of inhumanity. He would like to thank them for it. Chances were the opportunity to do so had vanished the moment he crossed the borderline.

 

A land of perpetual night. A land of perpetual mischief. Those things he didn’t care for. It was the rules that interested him, or the lack thereof.

 

Simply put, there were none. Maybe guidelines at best. The colors dictated theme of the night. Red was a good color. It was the best color.

 

The purples of tomorrow belonged to the the 6th Dimension. A dark euphoria that he was perhaps more suited for than any other in this bleak and meaningless facade of a world.

 

But that wouldn’t do. That wasn’t why he was here. A sudden involuntary snap of his jaw drew him out of his introspection.

 

He could smell it now. The rich iron that filled the air. His feet had done the work and his current location was merely a byproduct of instinct.

 

Like a deep crimson, it circled him. Gnawed at him. Beckoned him like the lips of a raven haired woman too pure to touch.

 

She wasn’t here though. She wasn’t and that was why he was.

 

Neon signs lined the brick and concrete edifices. The buildings were open for business. Always open for business.

 

Booming frequencies on the lowest spectrum rattled his joints. Rattled his teeth. Rattled his rib cage. The heart within, though, never noticed.

 

Was it thirst or was it hunger? Maybe a curseologist would know. He certainly didn’t. Not that it mattered.

 

All that did matter was the rich iron. He feared the way his jaw was cinched tight. Feared that any more pressure would be his undoing.

 

He couldn’t think straight anymore. His vision was blurred. All the faces. All the people. He just wanted darkness. Darkness and…

 

The corridors were lined. Packed with— He had always considered himself a plague amongst witchkind. An ends to a means that never saw itself to fruition. That was his curse.

 

These things put his downtrodden existence to shame. That was good. It made him feel like all monsters belonged here.

 

Smiles. Grimaces. Utter indifference. He passed them all on his way to the crowded hall where the thudding made him feel woozy. Too many people. Too many bodies.

 

A haze of thrashing.

 

He skirted along the wall to where a dark corner waited. It pulsed in the light. Empty.

 

His hands were shaking as he gripped the pleather seat and eased himself down. There were no rules. Only guidelines. And yet the whispers of the night had told him the red night existed for one of his particular affliction.

 

A red night. A crimson night. A night where if one waited long enough...

 

A dark outline blocked the pulsing lights. The sound faded. Slender hands reached out for him and he grabbed them. Tore at them.

 

Skin like porcelain. Far from pure. Far from perfect. Blood marks up the arms. Blood marks up her neck.

 

She could be anyone. She could be anyone’s everything. He didn’t care. He couldn’t even see her anymore. All that mattered was what she offered.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said as much, but might have a lie. At least, his actions didn’t match his words.

 

She didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t even try to fight. How things had change so much, he couldn’t be sure.

 

All he knew as he tore the arteries from her neck like the ripest of plums was that it was a red night. A crimson night. A night where a woman of porcelain skin gave herself to him completely.

 

It wasn’t her. It would never be. For that alone, he was thankful.

 

****

 

Gina

 

The air in her chest clenched as the wine bottle romantically kissed the sand. She crept closer. Inch by inch through the weeded ridge.

 

The dark patch of silk expanded beneath the bottle’s gluttonous mouth in the moonlight, but that wasn’t why she was here. No. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

But was she the desperate one, or were they?

 

Tiny breaths came in through her nose and mouth. She took no more than needed. Even with that countermeasure it sounded heavy to her own ears. Thankfully, they were too preoccupied to hear her heart thudding in her temples.

 

She knew this was a mistake. She knew it was. Then why am I here?

 

The answer was… complicated.

 

She should have claimed him then and there. He was ready. He was willing. She had seen the lust in his eyes. How the hell was she supposed to know their friendly neighborhood ghost was a freakin’ deity?

 

Soft murmurs filled the night. Too soft to discern. Nevertheless her thighs clenched along with them.

 

Gina strained her imagination. He was decent for a human, but something about him and Ehma together. Who woulda thought she was such a hot piece of work?

 

And she claimed him for herself. That made it worse. That made it unbearable. A human with magic. A human who was good enough to get a Realm Goddess’ attention.

 

“Oh, fuck!”

 

Granular sand bit into the fabric protecting her nipples, but if she raised herself any higher… Then again getting caught might be fun too. That would ruin their moment. Did she really want to though?

 

A burst of wind barely drowned out another string of moans.

 

Was that normal in his dimension? Were they really so eager to please?  She couldn’t imagine a world where men didn’t have to be bought for such things.

 

Right. It’s just research. That’s what this is, she told herself.Competitive analysis on the humans the 3rd Dimension produced. Nothing more.

 

Maybe men in his dimension were bred for such things. If so, she had found her own dimension’s fatal flaw. They had always bred for potency. Competency had never even made the list of qualifiers.

 

Only one person could be blamed for such short sightedness. One woman who made the rules. One woman who influenced the opinions of many.

 

She hated how witchkind bowed before that woman. Hated her so much that she felt it burned incandescent within her. Hated her so much that even now that same hate threatened to steal her enjoyment of the visual feast taking place.

 

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I’m cumming.”

 

Just from his mouth? The thought of it was too surreal. There had to be more to it. If she could just…

 

Cold sand slid through her fingers as she crawled closer. She drove her bare feet into the sand. Felt it slide against her tummy. Cold compared to the hot ache coursing through her.

 

Just a little... more.

 

She soaked in the sight. Ehma’s legs pinned at her sides. The wet, wet sound as Karma’s tongue bathed in her pussy. The approving look on Ehma’s face as she studied him and then fell back against the table.

 

“Oh, Gina. There you are. You left the stove on little witchling. Oh dear. Have they started already?”

 

Her eyes bulged. The voice. The voice of the Greek. Gina didn’t need to look. She didn’t need to see. She did anyway.

 

Sandals. Thin ankles. Thin calves. A hint of the rose gold dress almost ivory in the moonlight. Standing. Far enough away for Gina not to notice, but close enough that after her voice carried the love bird’s attention would be drawn to their exact position. Fuck.

 

Her balance on the ridge gave out just as she caught a glimpse of Hecate’s catlike smile. A mouthful of sand came next. A swift ride to the bottom. A shriek of surprise and then a flash of light.

 

She lifted her head. It wasn’t so much that she was scared of the consequences. No. She felt like she had a pretty good handle on the sweet little thing known as Ehma the 13th Realm Goddess. Still, a sudden shock could cause any number of magical maladies.

 

“Well, hello,” Gina said in an attempt to pretend like what had just happened hadn’t actually happened.

 

Ehma’s scared expression changed as she gratefully accepted the bait. “Hi.”

 

Their eyes met and only the ocean’s ambiance offered solace to the deadlocked silence. Ehma had drawn her knees sideways on the the table and was fidgeting with the hem of her dress.  Hiding herself. Preparing herself.

 

“Um…” —Think Gina, think— “Your dress is so cute.”

 

“Aw, thank you sweetie. It took almost a week to pick the right one.”

 

The immediate concern on Gina’s mind was whether to swallow the lingering sand in her mouth or spit it out. Not that she cared what Ehma thought or anything. It wasn’t like she suddenly felt compelled to take Karma’s place at the dinner table. Karma should have finished his meal before— “Um, where’s Karma?”

 

Silence. The look on Ehma’s face was almost too funny. Confusion. A pondering quirk of the lips. A dawning recognition. A sudden dismayed bow of the head. “Fuck.”

 


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