The Meeting Point (7 page)

“I need you in my mouth,” she said, moving her head against her arms, trying to free the sweat sticky hair from her face.

He stroked her cheek with his finger, sliding her hair away just enough to clear the way to her lips. Then the mattress dipped again as he knelt beside her face. He smelled divine. Oaky, musky male. Deborah twisted her head toward him, mouth gaping with lust and hunger for his taste. He leaned over, dangling his laden member right under her nose. Inhaling hard, she willed him to ball her hair in his fists and feed himself to her. He did. He pulled her head back and forced the shining head between her teeth, diving right into her wet, greedy face. She sucked hard, choking and winding her lips and tongue around him, devouring his manliness, eating him up. Her pussy throbbed with excitement and opened wider for him. He was groaning in that guttural, throaty way, the sound that drove her giddy with lust, and she undulated everything she had to give him sensations she hoped he'd never felt.

“No, no, stop, that's too much,” he cried out and pulled free from her jaws, leaving her empty and hungry for more.

“Marcus, I need to be stuffed full by you. Every part of me needs it. I need it. I'm so empty.” And that's how she felt. Like a series of vast caverns that had to be taken, filled, and owned by this mighty lover of hers.

In a second, Marcus had grabbed something and began ramming it in her mouth, stuffing her with some sort of fabric. She didn't care what it was and just let him shove it into her as she tried to accommodate it and still breath.

“You look so fucking sexy like that. All tied up, your hungry mouth open and plugged.” He stood at the side of the bed at eye level, with his cock in his fist and began to pump away with his right hand while his left roamed up the slope of her back and over the brow of her ass.

Deborah twisted her hips a little toward him, an invitation to do what he liked as she watched him masturbate. His expression changed as his fingertips reached the destination of her cleft. Lust and darkness swept through his eyes and he rammed her full of digits in time with the attentions on himself. Deborah yielded and opened herself to the thrusts, groaning and gagging, feeling sublime and climbing fast to that point of ultimate oblivion with her lover. He was stretching her, fucking her, taking her hard, but she wanted more.

The sex show stopped as he moved away, extracting his fingers and yanking her hair back over her eyes and obscuring her senses again. The bed dipped as he took his place behind her upturned ass and shifted her knees apart.

Yes, yes. This is it
, she thought as his palms pulled and stretched her cheeks apart. Now she truly felt wanton and on display for him. He bent into her upturned rump and the heat of his breath hit her first. He drew his tongue from her clit, past her pussy and up to her ass where he lingered, swirling and dipping his tongue in while she wriggled in delight. She was desperate for him to plunder her trembling, tight muscles, but couldn't help tensing as he pushed harder with the tip pressing insistently. She breathed hard through her nose, trying to relax and take the inquisitive muscle that lapped and prodded like a tiny battering ram. She could feel by the way his body quivered that he still had his cock in his hand and it turned her on immensely to imaging the scene. His tongue in her ass, his cock in his hands, and hopefully soon, his fingers in her cunt. No sooner had she thought it than pressure at her pussy signaled the invasion. Two—or was it three?—strong, hard digits slid right into her fiery depths, skewering her with bony-curling insistence.

She was getting so close now to the fullness she craved. His tongue pressed deeper and her clit almost exploded right then as the first wave of muscles gave in and opened. Sweat sprang from her pores across her shoulders and trickled to her neck. Wave after wave of sensations lifted her closer and deeper to that place of surrender.

Marcus withdrew everything and retreated just long enough for Deborah to panic. But then, as he plunged his cock in with one thick motion, she settled back to receive everything he could offer. Hands on her hips held her fast as he fucked harder and harder, slapping her flesh every now and then, squeezing and pummeling. Then he gripped her right ass cheek in his fingers and pressed at her readied anus with his thumb. She shivered with excitement as he slowly, so painfully slowly and at odds with the pace of his thrusting, pressed until she softened and let him into her most intimate space.

Blackness engulfed her as she fell through time and space and fought for that point in the vast nothingness. The point where everything converges. She saw it, a pinprick of light in the distance, and as soon as it was there, she careened toward it. Accelerating to dizzying speed, she sped across space as the white light slammed her soul and fucked her mind body and spirit. It was him. He was there beside her on this plane with his body sunk deep into hers, in her pussy, her ass, they became that one central point of climax and their orgasm rained down on them both, obliterating them with a million fractal fragments of themselves.

Deborah opened her eyes and felt her body contract back into the physical. Wave after wave of buzzing pleasure washed through her electrified clit. The tight ring of muscles that still held his fingers throbbed and twitched and his softening cock gently slipped free of her quivering cunt. She squeezed tight, trying to hold him inside as long as she could, but he slipped out and flopped down beside her, delicately extricating the saliva-soaked fabric from her mouth. Every orifice felt raw and used in the best possible way.

Their connection was complete.

Marcus untied her and rubbed her wrists and hands to get the blood flowing. It rushed back in, thumping and coursing, and he kissed each fingertip back to normal.

“That was amazing,” Deborah said, feeling overwhelmed and whole.

“We did it. We made it happen.”

As they moved closer into a soothing embrace, the belt fell to the floor with a jingle and thump.

“Oh.” Deborah craned her neck to see the abandoned leather strap. “You didn't use it, did you?”

“Hmm, you're right. I got carried away with other things.” He grinned and pulled her back into his chest. “There'll be plenty of time for that later.” He kissed her on the forehead and Deborah closed her eyes, utterly believing he was telling the truth.

“We should send out the butterfly, shouldn't we?” Marcus nuzzled into her hair and Deborah smiled, nodding into the crook of his shoulder.

 

 

“We can't just guess the way. We've been over this already.”

Lena stared at Angelo, impatience an unfamiliar shadow over his face.

“I know,” she said softly, trying to calm him. “But the longer we stay put, the more likely we are to get caught.”

“I agree with Lena,” Mae said, wiping ash from her cheek as she tried to coax the smoldering fire back to life. “We really ought to make a move. The butterfly will find us wherever we end up, so we're not going to miss out.”

Angelo turned away from the women and shrugged. “Fine.”

Mae caught Lena's eye and mimed Angelo's actions, emphasizing the huff. Lena sniggered, trying to disguise it as a cough. He turned back, looking hurt, and Mae rolled her eyes. “For goodness sake, guys, we need to make decisions, there will probably always be one of us who doesn't agree, but this has to be some sort of democracy.”

Angelo walked toward them, his expression softening. “I know. Sorry.”

He grinned and crouched down beside the women, and Lena breathed out in relief. She had been terrified of an argument breaking out and had to give herself a shake. She was in love with these people; she knew they weren't like that. She needed to be more trusting, more confident of their solidarity. But something deep inside kept her cautious.

“It's just hard not knowing what to do for the best,” he continued. Taking the burnt stick Mae was using as a poker, he began to scrape dank soil over the ashes.

“Hey, you'll put it out,” cried Mae, trying to grasp the stick again. “I've spent ages on that.”

“I thought you wanted to make a move.”

“Well, yes, I guess so,” Mae said reluctantly, and looked over to Lena. “I just meant later, or something. Oh, I don't know either.”

“Listen.” Lena found her voice. “Angelo's right, if we're going to go, we have to do it soon. I don't want to get stuck sleeping out on the moors again, do you?”

“No,” Mae agreed, and started covering the fire more determinedly.

Lena and Angelo took down the shelter and packed their things away, fingers brushing against fingers as they did so.

They took a good look around the camp to make sure they'd barely left a trace and began their journey.

“I think we're headed in the right direction,” said Lena when they stood at the edge of the forest, ready to take a step out into the scrub beyond. They'd already been walking for hours on the edge of the woods, making sure they had places to duck into and hide if they needed. Now they were at the very last tree looking out to open land. “All we need to do is make it to that group of trees over there.” She pointed and put her other hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the glare of the midday sun.

“That's totally doable,” Mae said confidently, though her hand was shaking when they all linked arms.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

* * * *

Marcus stirred and gently pulled himself free from underneath Deborah. She looked like an ethereal being lost in the sweet oblivion of sleep. He still couldn't quite believe she was actually there. That she'd found him. He always knew she was so much more intelligent than he, but he had prided himself at one point on his ingenuity and practical ability.

He went over to the chest of drawers and picked up the battered metal butterfly. He couldn't help a pang of irrational envy as he studied the craftsmanship and remembered Deborah's tone of admiration as she'd talked of how the male had come and freed his lover.

Marcus decided he would fix the creature himself and set it free. He needed to feel like he was in some part responsible for his destiny and escape, even if it was only this. Lifting the butterfly close to his face, he was amazed at the beauty and intricacy of the mechanism. He could see what he needed to do to strengthen the beast and wind it up but his thick, rounded fingers were clumsy and uncoordinated. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself and tried again. The coppery proboscis was just like the probes jutting from his forearm and he silently filled the creature with hopes and dreams for this male to be real and come to them. At last, the filament winder sprung out and he managed to catch it in the very tips of his thumb and finger. Was it clockwise or counter-clockwise? Sweat gathered on his lip and forehead as he tried to decide.

Clockwise.

With a tiny
click, click, click
, he turned the key once and set the butterfly on his palm. With a purr, the wings fell open then snapped shut again. Marcus was elated. He'd got the thing working. With more confidence this time, he turned the key...five, six, seven times. How many should he do? He didn't want to over-wind it and break it, or worse, have it run out of steam halfway there.

He chanced it and did one more revolution. A
click
made his heart stutter. Banishing doubts from his mind, he held the butterfly by its clamped shut wings and climbed up to the window, trying to be as quiet as he could. He pushed on the glass and held the butterfly out.

Three, two, one. He let go and watched in horror as the wings beat chaotically, trying to catch a rhythm, then sputtered to a halt, tumbling to the gravely knot of weeds below.

Nausea lurched through his belly and he stared in despair out of the open slit of the window.

What had he done?

* * * *

Deborah stretched out languid as a cat on a sunny ledge. Her body was aching in that well used way, and she hugged her arms around herself and squeezed, grinning into her shoulder.

The bed felt cool where Marcus should have been. A slight clatter made her look up to where he balanced precariously on the chest of drawers near the window. The look on his face made her stomach tighten. She was about to jump to him when his eyes darted frantically to the door. Deborah instinctively threw herself off the bed and scrambled beneath it, her hair getting tangled in the springs, wrenching her head back. Tears blurred the sight of trolley wheels and white sensible shoes making their way toward her.

“Whatever are you doing up there, 832?” The voice was authoritative yet amused, and Deborah used the sound of crockery clattering to pull her hair free and ease further into the shadows.

“Just, you know, trying to escape,” he said, and Deborah's body went cold. What was he doing? The sickening feeling had returned and all she could do was try and block out the image she'd made of Marcus trying to free the butterfly. Her gut told her something had happened and now he was acting strange with the guard, or nurse, or whoever it was.

“Well,” the voice returned, with a warmth to it this time, “you won't get far trying to squeeze through that tiny thing.” She laughed and there was a thump and shudder as Marcus jumped to the floor.

“I certainly won't if you keep serving meals like this.”

They both chuckled.

Deborah exhaled with relief. His easy banter had soothed the situation beautifully.

“I'll be back in a bit to clear up.”

“Thanks,” said Marcus with his mouth obviously full as the woman padded away on her rubber soles.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Deborah sprang up on to the bed beside him, massaging her scalp where the hair had been torn out. The feast looked delicious. Fresh fruit and bread made her mouth water, and she reached for some sliced apple.

“Do you always get fed like this?”

Marcus smiled. “Not quite as well as this, but yes, one of the perks of being the top servicer is good, nutritious food. Got to keep my strength up,” he said jovially while tucking into a warm, brown bread roll.

A lump swelled in Deborah's throat at his words. The food went around in her mouth and she tried to swallow, but couldn't. His flippant way stirred deep sorrow and emotion in her chest and she began to weep, choking indelicately while mucus dripped from her nose.

“Come on, it's okay,” Marcus whispered, putting down his food and drawing her close. “I'm sorry, that was insensitive.”

“No, it's all right.” Deborah managed to snivel after finally swallowing her mouthful. “I'm not sure where that came from. I know what you've been doing, I just… It's tough sometimes. That's all.”

“I know, I know.” Marcus lifted her face to his and kissed away her tears as she wiped her nose on her robe. Marcus made a face and Deborah smiled.

“Sorry, not a pretty sight,” she said, trying to wipe a little more discreetly.

“You're the most beautiful thing in the whole world to me.” He squeezed her. “You and your snot.”

As they sat in companionable silence munching the goodies, Deborah looked up to the window which was still ajar. She didn't want to spoil the moment, but she had to know.

“What were you doing up there, babe?” She phrased the question as lightly as she could, but it hung heavy and thick in the air.

He sighed. “Can I show you later?”

* * * *

Lena's lungs were burning and her eyes stung with the scrubby dust they kicked up with every step.

“I can't see. I can't even see where we're going,” howled Mae as she tripped over a root and went tumbling to the ground. They had ran flat-out since leaving the cover of the forest and at first Lena had felt as if she were flying, but now the adrenalin had subsided, leaving lactic acid and exhaustion in its wake. She slumped down beside Mae in the little barren dip she'd created.

“Everything's just dead.” Lena wiped her streaming eyes, wincing at the grit that scratched beneath the lids. “It's all turning to dust.” She picked up a sprig of heather and rubbed it between her fingers. It dispersed into the air in a flurry of ash-like flakes.

“Don't worry,” Angelo said, sounding pretty sure of himself. “There are places that are still clean.”

“How do you know that?” Mae's face was filthy and contorted, and Lena thought she looked like she was at breaking point. “How can you fucking know that, Angelo?”

“Didn't you tell me once,” he said tenderly, reaching out and lifting her face, “that you'd heard the Archmatrias talking of such places? Where everything was still healthy and grew strong?”

“Angelo, surely you've known me long enough to realize I'm a manipulating, lying bitch.”

“They were lies?”

“Of course they were fucking lies.” She was crying now, fighting to drop her chin despite Angelo's grip. “I just tell you things to keep you happy—to keep you mine.” She wailed and sobbed and, for a second, Lena thought they'd surely be heard, and she quickly looked around for trackers.

When she was sure no one was about, she said, “Listen, Mae, we know the things you've done, but we love you. Doesn't that give you some idea about how we think of you? You are the one that brought us all together, so please, stop this self-doubt. It's not like you, and I won't have it.” Lena was actually trembling. She was useless at this sort of thing, especially with Mae who was the most domineering person she'd met—after The Wasp. “But I'll tell you something, you are right about the clean places. I overheard whisperings of them too. The woman we're going to find—The Wasp—she used to be a scientist who researched toxins. Her assistant Cheryl said she talked sometimes about places high in the woods, above the toxin level where things were healthy, so it might be true.”

“Well, let's hope so.” Marcus stood and held his hand out to Mae. “And let's believe that this Wasp and her male can lead the way.”

Lena grabbed Mae's other hand and hoisted her to standing between her and Marcus.

“Come on,” Lena said. “Let's find this bloody farm. We're nearly at the woods.”

They trooped up arm in arm and skirted around the edge of another smaller wooded area to the brow of the hill. Near the summit, the ground had been seriously disturbed.

“Hey, look at this,” Mae said, brightening. “It looks like horses have been here.” She pointed to the scuffled mossy floor and sure enough there were hoof indents in the undergrowth.

“Maybe they stopped here.” Lena bounced in excitement, picturing the scene of her other two lovers sharing a kiss or more at this point. The top of the hill was only a few paces away and the trio walked toward it, scanning the ground all the way to find evidence of the path taken by those they tracked.

“Doesn't make sense, one horse definitely went into the forest, but the other and a human came this way.”

“Maybe they split up.” Lena was using a fern to gently brush at the grasses and shrubs to see if they'd left any clues.

A little further up she could see a decaying fence post with something dangling from it. As she walked toward it she saw it was a bridle. Her heart jumped and she picked it up, seeing it was in good condition—old, yes, but not worn and rotten as if it had been lying there for a while. There was clumps of horse hair entangled in the fencing too, and Lena could also make out hoof marks where the beast must have been trying to break free from its bonds. Lifting the bridle to her face to inspect it, she could see that whoever had tied the horse there had left it on the loosest setting, barely gripping it at all. Lena wondered if the horse was tied loosely to make sure it could escape if the rider didn't come back. The rider being The Wasp. A shiver ran through Lena as she looked out over the hill to a large group of buildings in the valley below.

It must be. It must be the farm. They'd found it!

“Over here,” she called to the others who were sharing a moment of tenderness by a large tree. They broke their embrace and came running to where Lena stood. “I think that's it. I think that's the farm.” She passed the bridle to Mae who fed it through her fingers, carefully checking it over. “Recognize that?”

“Yes,” she said, passing the tack to Angelo who nodded. “Yes, that's from the horse I rode to your prison.”

The three of them beamed at each other until their jaws ached.