Up Against the Wall Part 2
Uh sorry if I screwed up Rachel's age; I guessed.
Sorry it's been forever, I'm not dead, I'm in grad school, so it just feels like I'm dead. I feel suitably horrible for making people wait for so long, so I hope this chapter lives up to expectations because I wrote this instead of doing homework =/
I blinked dumbly at the empty bed, feeling cheated and pissed. I couldn't wait all day for him. Everything in his bedroom smelled like him, or sex, or aloe. There was no way my sanity would survive standing around waiting in there for an indeterminate span of time.
I jumped back to my room and locked anyone else out with my interface, though I wasn't sure if I was just feeling vulnerable or if I was truly pissed enough about his summoning that I wasn't going to let him in when he got back. If I was honest with myself, I knew it wasn't Al's fault. Hell, from the look of him he'd been just as frustrated as I by the horrendous timing. But he's made his name so damn available over the years and decades and centuries, of course he'd get summoned at inconvenient moments. And as he sometimes liked to remind me when attempting to bash down my so-called unrealistic morals, it was his job to snag unwary demon summoners. The growl that echoed in my room was impressive. Damn, why I couldn't I manage to sound so pissed when Al was actually around to witness it?
It was a toss-up between a cold shower that would clear my head or just the oblivion of sleep. I decided on the shower; it seemed there were too many surprises waiting for me whenever I woke-up in the ever after. And a cold, cold shower would be refreshing. I hoped whatever important crap was in the aloe was fast acting because I was going to be awhile in there, even if I could get the water down to an Antarctic level because that's how cold I was going to need it to convince my body to calm the hell down.
It was easier than I thought it would be to keep the water cold; apparently my skin still was burned enough that even lukewarm didn't feel appealing. Yet all of Al's caresses, most of which had been anything but gentle, had felt amazing, without a hint of soreness, well, not soreness that could be attributed to sunburn at least. I filed this information away in the growing category of "Crazy Shit I Still Didn't Know/Get About Demons" and tried to relax and enjoy my freezing shower. It was hard, even the cold water didn't feel good on my skin; even at the softest option the water still came down too hard and felt like sharp bits of ice pricking my skin. I gave up soon, feeling relatively clean but lacking the peace and centering often obtained from a good, long shower or bath.
I dressed in jeans and a plain tee faded to be more gray than black, feeling the need to dress plain and unsure whether I was pouting or genuinely pissed. I spent some time trying to get my hair tame, but promptly gave up since it was unmanageable when wet. With nothing much to do and an indeterminate span of time before me, I plucked up one of my school books, a relatively simple yet immensely boring volume on beginner ley line skills. I'd thought I at least had the basics down, but Al was making me reread it after I'd screwed something simple up...again. Honestly though, I was half-believing he'd just hadn't thought up anymore lessons for me, too distracted trying to get into my pants and getting Newt to pay restitutions for halting his advances into my pants and making everyone else believe he'd already gotten into my pants and trying to convince me what a good idea it was to pretend that as well. Yeah, I guess he'd been a rather busy demon, too bad it all seemed to involve my pants.
Spending as much time as one could in a single sitting with that book only accounted for about 40 minutes. Then I placed the book neatly back on my desk, conquering the strong desire to chuck the irritating thing against the wall. But Al had already caught me "disrespecting" his precious books, and had made sure he'd driven home the importance of the proper care of items from his library he so graciously lent to me.
I used the floor sigil to jump to the workroom. The room was unlit, creepy, and cold, so I almost immediately jumped to the mundane kitchen instead. The damn screaming faces were ugly and pointedly creepy, but at least they were a quick form of transportation. The kitchen was lit normally and warm enough. At home, this would have been a perfect time for some sugar and chocolate heavy baking. But Al's kitchen didn't feel like home, and I rarely baked in it without having first lost a bet. Without a real idea in mind, I began poking around, mindfully avoiding anything not labeled and the dark and unexplored backs of the cabinets and pantry. Careful pawing through Al's disorderly kitchen revealed a pound of baker's chocolate, powdered sugar, vanilla, but I couldn't find flour to save my life. So much for cookies. But a bag of walnuts and a half carton of chocolate flavored soy milk settled it: I was making fudge.
I got the chocolate boiling in no time, added, stirred, hummed, and sashayed about the kitchen in an attempt to keep my mind occupied and convince myself I was having a good time. The chocolate smelled amazing, even with the hint of burnt amber that I could still make out. I added a few drops of vanilla to my ooey gooey mix then had to pause to sniff the bottle. It was just vanilla, but it smelled damn good to me. I dabbed a bit on my neck and wrists just for fun, got my concoction off the burner to add the soy and stirred it all into a puddle of dark chocolate bliss and before placing my pan of desperate-distraction fudge into the freezer to set. Now I had more wait time. Wonderful.
I guess I can't say I wandered back into the library. The sigils kind of require intent to move about, but I didn't have anything in mind though, really. I knew not to touch Al's books; he kept plenty of nasty things in his library and I had no interest in getting any fingers bitten off. It was chillier than the kitchen, and I made the fire up before draping myself in of the big chairs flanking the couch.
I didn't think, just buried my face into the chair and inhaled. God, what the hell was wrong with me? I could smell the burnt amber deeply ingrained in the fabric of chair and pillows, but under that was something else. Al's smell, musky and rich and sinfully delicious because I knew I should know better.
My jeans were looser than they should've been. Irregular dinner times and foraging in a demon's kitchen apparently makes a good diet plan. I slipped my hand down the front of my pants, my face still buried in the chair, pulling Al's scent deep into my lungs while I touched myself. God it felt like it had been forever, and I gasped and rubbed myself faster, trying to exhaust the burning need that had reawakened in me with just his smell and the fire flicking shadows across the library. I rose back up to my knees, grinding against the edge of the chair, trying to recapture just a hint of what I'd had before the stupid summoner had to go and summon away my stupid demon who spread his summoning name around like a stupid teenager writing phone numbers in the men's bathroom stall. I pushed a finger then another into myself, slowing down only to quicken my pace into a frenzy, and though I plenty wet and more than willing, I couldn't achieve what Al had done to me earlier, which is pretty screwed up since I was a twenty-six year old woman and should be able to manage to get myself off.
My moan of frustration was drowned out by the growl that echoed throughout the library. I froze with my hand down my pants, turned in the chair enough to see Al's silhouette beside the fireplace.
"Don't stop on my account, Rachel," Al's voice was dry and distant as if he couldn't care less that I was finger fucking myself in his chair, but I could see his red goat-slitted eyes glittering in the firelight. I pulled my face mere inches from the chair and breathed in, as if hoping to catch the scent of his own arousal. I could smell him, the burnt amber smell stronger now that he was present, and his own male muskiness with the lovely soft and sharp scents of his soap. But I couldn't ignore the metallic tang in the air around him, the reek of a good quantity of fresh blood.
I pulled my hand out of my pants, fiddled with my buttons even though they were fine and refused to meet Al's eyes again.
But Al had other ideas. He was beside the chair before my heart could jump into my throat. I tried to lunge away, really tripped over my own two feet and fell out of the chair, but I didn't want Al pinning me. Well, okay, maybe that's exactly what I wanted, but I wasn't going to let him do it covered in blood and smelling like a slaughter house.
"You stay the hell away from me," I shouted as I sprung to my feet and backed away from him, my voice quivering yet still not managing to sound very afraid. I sounded like a bad actress, like I was teasing, damn it.
But Al didn't move. He was kneeling by the chair and I felt like a moron; he hadn't been trying to pin me at all. Away from the fireplace, I could see him better, and didn't see any evidence of eviscerated summoners staining his velvet frock coat or marring his perfect face. But there was the undeniable smell of blood about him.
"Come now, Rachel, aren't we past playing these games?" Al said lightly, but the look on his face was anything but relaxed.
I tried to force my thundering heart back down into my chest cavity and watched him as he slowly came back up to his feet, his red eyes never leaving my face. It wasn't flattering, it was like being watched by the biggest lion at the waterhole.
"What happened?" I managed to ask.
Al turned his head to the side, watching me like I'd performed a new trick, or perhaps reached a new level of stupidity. "I told you, itchy witch. I was summoned. I had no choice."
"Don't give me that crap. It's your own fault for flinging your name all over the place," I shouted, like a street corner whore, I thought,but I gulped back the rest of that tirade under Al's unfaltering eyes, then asked what I really wanted to know. "Did you kill him?"
"Them, actually," Al said dryly, sniffed as if it was terrible manners for me to even ask who he'd recently murdered. The jerk.
"And some, yes. Others, I let get away," Al said with a shrug, as if it really didn't matter to him in the slightest. Which it probably didn't, he'd been doing it for so long.
"I can't believe I almost slept with you!" I shouted, angry at him but angrier at myself for being so dumb. God, I knew it was Al, my dastardly demon, but still, I couldn't stand to hear him talking so calmly about killing people, people who had just been dumb to summon him and terribly, ridiculously unlucky at choosing a very inopportune time to do it.
Al growled, and it wasn't the kind of growl he used to make my skin raise itself up to be caressed by the roughness his tone promised. No, it was a truly pissed off growl, and I shrank further away from him until the wall smacked my back.
"Why should it worry you? They were black witches, Rachel. Summoned me with cremation ashes and everything. I wouldn't be surprised if the blood they drew the circle with was from some defenseless, elderly old lady who had the simple misfortune of living next to them," Al said smoothly, though the anger was still there, hot and potent, in his eyes.
"That's not the point! You didn't kill them because they were black witches, you killed them because they summoned you in the middle…" here I stopped, my face flushed.
"Yes," Al said, no argument there. I tried to retrieve my wits, but Al's look kept me stammering. "You begged me not to go," he reminded me, and I felt my face flusher further and looked down at the coiling designs on the carpet instead.
And suddenly he was there, not pushing me or throwing himself on me the way I kind of wished he would. But standing in front of me, not touching, just close enough I could feel the heat of him. "You begged me, you loved it, and then you waited here, fucking yourself while tasting my scent," Al said, lowering his face to mine so his breath tickled my cheek, but nothing more.
"I didn't wait here the entire time," I complained, but didn't have any more argument for him. His eyes watched mine as his head dipped lower, his lips softly coming to rest on my lips.
"Rachel," he said simply, his lips gliding down my neck, softly tasting my skin.
"Al, you smell like blood," I said, needing something to get the fuzzy haze from my mind. God, I wanted him, even if he did smell.
Al's eyes widened a bit, like I had actually surprised him, but I felt the tug of the line, the quick wash of ley line energy going through him, even felt little ripples of it prickling against my skin. But then it was gone, and so was the smell. It was just Al and me and no more excuses or distractions.
As if reading me thoughts, Al leaned into me, and I gasped, wrapping my arms around him as he licked and nipped at my neck.
"You could get summoned again," I said breathlessly, and Al growled against my skin. Before I could protest or squirm away, he turned me to the wall and pinned me there with his body. Oh god, this was feeling somewhat familiar. I damn near felt my heart beat descend to my groin. I shuddered when Al rubbed teasingly against me.
"It's daytime, sweets. No worries about being interrupted again," Al purred in my ear, his breath burning against my bare skin, his hands rough and possessive on my hips.
"It's nighttime somewhere, Al," I said reasonably enough. After all, he seemed intent of making my dream reality, and I was doing damn good if words, let alone cognizant sentences, were still issuing from my mouth.
"Yes, but no where I'm likely to be summoned to," Al said between his licks and bites, mostly bites though. He worried my skin with his teeth, and I wondered if he hadn't taken all his frustrations out on the poor dumb summoners.
"Playing around in the kitchen again?" he asked, his tongue darting out to taste my pulse, lingering where I'd scented myself with vanilla. "After what happened last time, my fluff-headed itchy witch?" He pulled my mass of tangled red curls aside.
"Wasn't my fault," I managed to mumble, pushing back against him when he nibbled at the nape of my neck.
"I know how to keep you from straying," Al growled into my ear, pushing harder, forcing me nearly flat against the wall, his muscled body and hard groin molded to my back and tight against my ass.
"Oh. God. Al." I managed between clenched teeth. One hand released its grip to snake higher and cup my breast. Then he ripped my shirt, right down the middle, and tugged the rest of it off me while grinding his hips against me. I gasped and pushed back against him, all reservations dead again when his body was flush against mine and his mouth sucking at my skin like I was coated in chocolate.
Which reminded me. "I didn't sit around the whole time. I made fudge," I said, my words mumbled against the wall.
Al paused for a moment, and I tried to take the opportunity to turn back and face him. But kept me pinned and ran one large, warm hand over my stomach, leaving a rippling wave of line energy in his wake and making me shiver. "Excellent. We'll have it with our coffee. Or maybe as a snack, later, when you need a reprieve," Al said in my ear, and I sighed my agreement, too distracted for words as one of his hands was finally working at my fly, pushing my jeans and panties down and giving me enough room to awkwardly kick them off. But then he was back up against my naked flesh, keeping me mostly immobile as he spread me, his fingers stroking and circling before pushing into me, picking back up the rhythm as if we'd never been interrupted in the first place.
But he didn't keep it soft and slow for long. "Al!" I cried out, fingernails digging into the wall, my nipples damn near bruising as I jerked about between the hard wall and harder demon. His teeth closed on the side of my neck, hard enough to bruise, damn near sharp enough to draw blood, and I felt the line inside me as much as his fingers were. The line energy was torrid and wild and smelled like Al as it pulsed through my body. Whimpering and moaning, I came, rocking my hips as much as I could and clenching so tight I was surprised Al could get his fingers free.
Suddenly it wasn't the feeling of his velvet coat and hard erection against tight fabric anymore. He was as naked as I was, but I hadn't even felt the ripple of the line at the spell he used. But then again I was still panting and plenty distracted.
I wanted to collapse for a bit, feeling the heat of his skin burning against mine, letting him damn near hold all my weight as I slumped, boneless between my demon and the wall. But Al was anything except boneless and he had other ideas.
Al pushed a leg in between mine, and I had to hold myself up again to spread further for him. He gave me a smidgen of room, letting me angle my hips. But then I felt him, hard and huge, sliding past my lips, pushing at my entrance, and I tensed up.
"God damn, Al," I said. I knew demons could spell their appearances, and sure, every guy wanted to be big. But there were limits on such things.
"Relax, Rachel," Al chuckled, and didn't give me a chance to do anything else. He pushed inside me, and something between a gasp and a cry emerged from my mouth. God damn. I clawed at the wall, wishing some of him was available for me to hold onto and scratch the hell out of. He grunted behind me, continuing to work himself in while I writhed. I knew I was more than ready and plenty wet, but he damn near felt like he was burning inside me as he thrust and pushed, forcing my flesh to accommodate his huge cock.
I shouted when he pulled all the way out, though I wasn't sure if it was more protest or relief.
"Can't you size it down or something?" I asked between pants. Al chuckled and closed his mouth at the base of my neck and I shuddered at the wet kisses he laid there. Serves me right for asking a guy to use a shrinking spell on his junk.
"And what would be the fun in that?" Al teased when he'd lifted his mouth far enough from my skin. Without warning his teeth were in my neck and the line energy he'd kept in his chi that I'd been too distracted to sense filled me up like liquid lightning. I threw my head back and moaned as the ley line energy coursed through me, jolting awake every neuron, filling every synapse. Al entered me again, and the ache of his size was muted by the sizzling energy. I tried to turn again, to grip him and hold him and bite him back, but Al gripped my waist and held me there against the wall as he worked his cock all the way inside me. This was beyond how even a non-witch could fill me, and Al grunted in my hair when he got to the end of me. I pushed back against him, loving the feel of his burning skin sliding against mine and how his hips tightly cupped my ass when he had his huge cock buried as deep in me as it would go.
With the ley line energy coursing between us he started to move, his hips a slow, rolling caress, his thrusts both gentle and punishing in his thorough, deep penetrations. I shuddered, clenching tight enough around him to make him moan in my hair. His hips thrust against my ass a little more quickly, pinning me firmly against the wall with nowhere to go, though I'd be lying if I said I minded. The line energy was fizzling out between us, draining out like sand in a sieve but there was still enough of it pooled in my groin to make me feel aflame and aching as the sluggish sparks passed from his skin to mine everywhere we touched.
This time I felt the imbalance as he tapped a line and filled his chi again. I dug my nails into the wall, trying to find something to hold onto, something to ground myself from the sensations, feeling adrift and unreal with Al's hot pants tickling my ear, his chest slick against my back, his hips pinning me as his thrusts pummeled me and thick cock filled me and damn near burned inside me in the most exquisite, aching feeling that I knew I'd be feeling the bruising from tomorrow morning. Or tonight. Whatever. Al moaned again in my hair and that was all the warning I got. Everything his chi was holding and then some came rushing into me, and I screamed as I came again, ripping furrows in the wood paneling, shoving myself back against him hard enough to almost make him stumble, and somehow getting a hand between me and the wall as leverage to help him fuck me. Al even held still for a moment, letting me set the pace before catching me and upping the ante. He slammed into me, fast and bruising, and I couldn't do anything but moan and pant and continue shoving back against him despite the throb that had nothing to do with orgasm tightening in my groin and lower stomach. With the line burning through us, even the rough stuff was amazing, and I didn't want it to stop.
But at the pace, there was no way we could go on forever. I felt Al's whole body rigid and taut like stone behind me, felt his hard thrusts becoming wild, desperate as he fucked me raw. I knew I was damn close again, felt flutters of warmth escaping from the knot of ache and need at my core. I tried to call out to him, to let him know, but he shoved into me brutally, tearing a scream from my mouth that curled up on itself into a drawn out moan when he slowed enough to do it again, and a third time before returning to the desperate, frenzied movements, plunging in and tearing out of me, making me clench and shudder and cry out for more. Moans and curses in a language I didn't know were spilling from his lips, his breath burning on my bare neck almost as much as his cock ramming inside me. I felt him gather the line into himself again, and cried out in anticipation. But my orgasm beat him to it. I hadn't realized how much I was holding, didn't even have time to pull any of it back. The world was white and rushing, my body struggling against him of its own accord. I screamed and came, and Al's roar echoed hard and harsh against the walls of the library as I poured everything he'd given me back into him in one blinding rush of energy. I felt his teeth enter the nape of my neck, felt him seize and spurt inside me, his seed even hotter than our burning skins. My body reacted, gripping him tighter, keeping him in me as we finished together.
I sagged against the wall, letting him take my weight, hold me crushed against him, and let the world dissolve into ache and satisfaction, relearning how to breathe with the little aftershocks of pleasure still dancing up and down my nerves. His lips were soft against my neck, my cheek, his hands tracing up my sides, soothing, questioning, but I had no response for him right now. His whisper of my name was just another buzz in my ringing ears. I let go of it all and drifted with the scents of sex and burnt amber.
There will be no other updates until school finishes second week of December. I only finished it now out of overwhelming guilt =/