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Date Posted: 19:08:26 02/17/05 Thu
Author: Slally
Subject: "Blood Seduction" - Chapter 66 (NC-17)
In reply to: Slally 's message, ""Blood Seduction" - Chapter 61 (**** NC-17 ****)" on 21:35:30 10/29/04 Fri

Sorry for the cliffhanger and the delay. I would have posted the next chapter sooner but I was having trouble with the Board. But, look, I even got a response from dork this time. Now, where are soup and Anon? To the rest of you loyal readers (Thelma, Heather, Yar, Jaron) - thanks for sticking with me and letting me know you're there. Here's what was at the bottom of that cliff...

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Taking in the irritated frown of the Wielder and the tense postures of the Nottinghams sitting rigidly side by side, Dr. Immo realized that he had better get on with it if he valued his life. He cleared his throat and began wringing his hands as he searched for a way to begin. These nervous gestures which were not in the least characteristic of the normally placid old man only served to crank everybody’s anxiety up another notch. Finally, Devian exploded. “Jesus,” he snapped, “Will you just say something, you annoying old fart? If you were trying to press all of our buttons to jerk us around some more, then you succeeded. So you can stop now. Just tell us what the fuck you’ve done.” The doctor smiled dryly. “Of course,” he murmured, “You are exactly right. I will just tell you what was done.” That mild pronouncement confirmed his listeners’ nascent fears that something had indeed been done. Without even intending it, he had now added to their unease. Immo fixed his watery gray eyes first on Ian. “This does not concern you directly, my boy,” he began, “But I thought you might want to be here because what happens between the Wielder and your clone impacts you too. However, if you would rather…” He left the suggestion hanging. Ian immediately put any doubt to rest when he sharply replied, “I’ll stay.”

Dr. Immo inclined his head toward the original Nottingham and murmured, “As you wish.” His gaze shifted to the replica next. “There are some things that you should know about your physical nature and structure that I have not told you,” he said. Devian, who had recently watched “Blade Runner” with his buddy Gabe blurted, “Do I have an expiration date? Am I going to die soon?” The old man’s watery orbs opened wide and he reached across the table to still the clone’s jittery fingers in a steady grip. “Oh, my boy,” he said gently, “Of course not. You do not have an ‘expiration date.’ Unless you waste yourself foolishly, you should, in fact, have an abnormally long existence due to the Witchblade DNA that you now possess.” Because the old man’s touch always creeped him out, Dev quickly pulled his fingers free from Immo’s hands. The clone stifled a relieved sigh. That particular demon had been sitting on his shoulder, whispering nasty nothings in his ear, since the old man had told them that he had something of importance to impart. Immo drew back his gnarled hands and again cleared his throat. “This information relates more to the purpose for which you were created,” he continued and then, once again stopped. “Shit,” Sara objected, “This is like pulling teeth. He was created to replace Ian, wasn’t he? Irons intended to kidnap Ian and put one of the clones in his place if Ian balked at getting my blood for him. Wasn’t that the plan?”

Immo nodded, oddly grateful for the Wielder’s help in moving the tale along. “Yes,” he agreed, “The clones were designed to replace Ian. That is certainly part of it. But the goal was to have one of the Nottinghams become your lover so that he would have free access to you. He was to seduce you, to make you fall in love with him so that he could obtain your blood easily and regularly.” Now, his audience was watching him raptly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The doctor sighed and let it fall. “Devian was created with certain ‘enhancements’ that would make that scenario more likely, perhaps inevitable,” he said. The clone pinned the doctor with his huge, golden eyes. “Enhancements?” he questioned with soft trepidation, “What enhancements?”

Immo picked his glasses up from where he had put them down on the kitchen table. He pulled an old, white linen handkerchief from his pocket and began to industriously wipe the smeared lenses. “We already had a sample of the Wielder’s blood that we had broken down, tested,” he explained, “Based on these analyses, we were able to distill certain pheromones that we knew would attract her sexually. Those pheromones were introduced as a natural part of the clones’ body chemistry. When they became…stimulated, they naturally secreted these pheromones.” Sara made a rude sound in the back of her throat. “Naturally,” she mumbled, “There is nothing ‘natural’ about that. So, what you’re saying, if I get you correctly is that when Sparky gets turned on he gives off some sort of chemical thingy that is designed to make me want him; that is specifically targeted to make my head spin so that I drag him to the nearest bed and jump his bones. Is that it?” The doctor’s face creased in a tired smile at her colorful verbiage. He nodded. “More or less,” he conceded, “Though the execution and effect are a bit more sophisticated than that.” Sara looked thoughtful. “What are the chances that I would resist?” she asked. The smile abruptly left the old man’s visage. “Small,” he replied, “Very, very small.”

Sara’s eyes flicked to Devian who was watching her raptly. She spared him no more than a glance before her accusing stare returned to Irons’ physician. “Well,” she hissed, “That certainly does explain a lot.” Dr. Immo shrugged a bit fatalistically and ventured, “There’s more.” Ian took a moment to sneak a glance at his brother to try to gauge how he was taking Immo’s news. The dialogue that they had had earlier that day about the clone’s relationship with Sara was still fresh in his mind. He vividly remembered Dev protesting that there was something tangible between him and the Wielder; that he could sense it, feel it. Now, the clone was learning that Sara was drawn to him because of a chemical abnormality rather than an emotional bond. How must that make him feel? Ian wondered. It was just one more blow that his brother would have to absorb somehow. Ian sighed softly and shifted his attention back to the conversation. Immo was saying, “In addition to the customized pheromones, all of the clones were designed and conditioned to be exceptional lovers. They emerged from their stasis chambers already knowledgeable in skills and techniques that most men never learn. In short, Devian was created to be your ideal lover; as were the other clones, of course.”

The Wielder glared at Dr. Immo with narrowed eyes. “Like I said,” she grated, “That explains a lot. It’s just one more way that you and that fucking pervert you worked for tried to manipulate me.” Immo looked down at his folded hands. “I did as I was told, Detective,” he replied, “For the most part.” Ian, who was always sensitive to the subtext in any discussion, zeroed in on the part of the doctor’s statement that he had almost thrown away. He studied the old man now with renewed interest. “What do you mean?” he asked. Immo shrugged, eyes still fixed on his knuckles. “The clones were conditioned as well in regard to the Wielder,” he said, “All of them.” The doctor lifted his head to glance at Devian. Ian tried to decipher the look in the old man’s eyes; he thought that it might be pride. “Devian, however, was my special project. I did work with him that Kenneth neither authorized nor knew about.” Before Ian could pursue that, Dev asked Immo, “Conditioned how in regard to the Wielder?” The doctor sighed and paused. The clone shifted anxiously in his chair, wanting to understand the extent of what had been done to him. Finally, the old man responded, “You were conditioned to want the Wielder above all other women, my boy; to be eager to please her. Time was at a premium and we could not afford to have you distracted in any way. All of you clones were trained to adhere rigidly to a dual purpose: loyalty to Kenneth and desire for the Wielder; an overwhelming need to possess her and win her love.”

Devian looked like he had been sucker punched. “Can I be fixed?” he asked plaintively, “Can you take away this need that I have to make her love me?” The look in Immo’s watery gray eyes was sympathetic even though his pronouncement was harsh. “You are not a cuckoo clock, my boy. I cannot simply adjust a spring to make you run properly again. I am afraid that you cannot be ‘fixed’ as you ask. I’m sorry.” As the full implication of what the doctor had just told them hit the clone, he dropped his shaggy head into his hands, hiding his face from their view. Ian stopped suddenly in the act of reaching out a hand to comfort his brother. He was frowning as he turned to face the doctor. “You said that the clones were conditioned to be loyal to my master,” he pointed out, “Devian exhibited no such loyalty.” Immo’s eyes lit up and he looked at Ian the way a professor might appreciate a particularly bright student. “No,” the doctor agreed, “He did not. That is because, as I noted, Devian was special. I wanted to work with one clone to see how far I could take the experiment. Devian is that clone.”
The clone in question finally lifted his head from his hands and fixed the doctor with tortured, golden eyes. “What do you mean?” he whispered huskily, “I don’t understand. What else did you do to me?”

Dr. Immo frowned as he gathered his thoughts. When he began speaking again, he tone was hesitant, his words halting. In all truth, he was not sure that he could explain to them how and what he had done, let alone why he had done it. How could he when he had not yet even been able to satisfactorily justify it to himself? “If I had chosen to activate any of the other clones when Kenneth ordered that I wake one of them,” he began, “Any clone other than Devian, you would have met the engine of destruction that you feared. He would have been a remorseless killer with all of Ian’s looks and skills – perhaps even a trifle more adept – who would have also been a sensual, accomplished lover. The Wielder would have been strongly attracted to him in spite of herself. He would have functioned without feelings. He would have been a machine that was loyal to Irons and that had a single goal: to woo and win the Wielder so that he could conveniently drain her blood whenever it was required.” Ian’s golden eyes were bleak. “And he would have probably succeeded, wouldn’t he?” he asked quietly. Immo nodded. “Almost assuredly,” he confirmed. Dev cleared his throat and then shrank back a little when all eyes focused on him. Visibly, he gathered himself to ask, “How am I different than the others?”

The doctor’s eyes warmed as he studied his creation, as much his son as if he had actually sprung from the old man’s loins. Then, his focus grew hazy as memory took over. “Kenneth had no idea what I was doing,” Immo remembered, “He only wanted tools; sharp and exact instruments that would be able to get the job done.” Ian had a sudden recollection of his master likening him to a scalpel and drew in a sibilant breath. Sara turned to look at him, one brow raised. Ian blinked, looking back at her; then, shook his head. “I wanted to see how far I could go with the boys,” Immo continued, “How human a clone could become; whether I could create a truly new person in his own right.” Devian watched the old man, blinking rapidly. The clone looked so lost and disoriented that Ian reached out again to grip his brother’s hand. The long, slender artist’s fingers were ice cold. It was a measure of Dev’s internal upheaval that he did not shake off Ian’s hand. Ordinarily, the clone disliked being touched by men; women, of course, were another story. “I still don’t understand,” he whispered, “Exactly how am I different from my brothers?” Dr. Immo smiled at the clone and replied proudly, “You have free will, my boy.” After the briefest pause, he added, “Within certain constraints, of course.” They were all silent while that news sunk in. Then, Devian asked, “Constraints? What constraints?”

Dr. Immo shook his head, waving away the clone’s question. The boy was too pale, he thought; his cheeks too flushed. He was not taking these disclosures with equanimity. He was highly upset. Perhaps it was time to back down a bit, the old man thought, to underplay the effects of all this manipulation on the sensitive clone. He sighed. Going into the evening, the doctor had been most concerned about the Wielder and her reactions to his revelations. He saw now that his worry had been misplaced. Sara was actually gaining strength from his confession. She was able to dismiss her attraction to Devian as no fault of her own; she could view it as something that had been done to her, something that she had been infected with – like a virus. Dev, on the other hand, had had another of the foundations of his dreams ripped away from him. It turned out that even Sara’s sexual attraction to him was not real. His last remaining natural connection to the woman that he had been bred to enamor was yet another illusion. The doctor could see the clone’s quandary. Although he had been created with free will, he had no experience in life to guide him in how to use it. What’s more, the one grail that he had been conditioned to pursue only wanted him because he had been chemically altered to smell like hot sex to her. Where did that leave him?

As those thoughts churned in Immo’s mind, Devian pushed a shaking hand through his tousled curls. His jungle-cat eyes had darkened to smoky amber and were troubled. He said aloud exactly what the doctor had been thinking. “Where does that leave us?” he asked. Dr. Immo sighed and then shrugged one hunched shoulder. “Between the two of you,” he admitted, “The options are few.” The old man turned to look at Ian. “You said that you expected that there would be more visions, did you not?” he asked the older Nottingham. Ian nodded, his eyes shifting to Sara. “It would be logical,” she murmured, “Based on our research, it looks like Banrighinn was the first recorded Wielder. If the Blade is using these visions to give the twins a history lesson, there would be a long way to go and a lot more visions to endure.” Immo tilted his head. “Not necessarily,” he offered, “Perhaps It will only show visions of those Wielders whose lives contain lessons that It wants to teach them.” This time, Ian answered. “Perhaps,” he conceded. The old man waved a hand to dismiss that train of thought. “In any case,” he continued, “We can assume that there will be some more visions and that the sexual energy generated by the three of you together is required to fuel those visions.”
Looking like she had swallowed a lemon, Sara confirmed that. “Yeah,” she responded grudgingly, “I think that we can probably assume that.”

“Then apply this new knowledge that I have given you,” Immo replied, looking directly at the clone, “When you are required to be lovers, indulge yourselves. You were designed to please the Wielder. Do it.” The doctor shifted to fix Sara with his rheumy eyes. “And let him give you pleasure,” he said to her, “Stop holding back. Enjoy the experience for what it is. There is no point is restraining yourselves because of some puritanical concept of guilt.” Sara blushed and dropped her eyes, but she didn’t contradict his advice. Into the sudden silence, Dev asked, “This thing that is between us, it will never go away?” The doctor sighed. “No,” he confirmed, “It will never go away. That leads me to my second piece of advice.” The Wielder pinned the doctor with narrowed, virulent green eyes. “Which is?” she asked. The old man sighed again; more deeply this time. “When all of this is over and the Witchblade no longer requires the energy provided by your combined sexual union,” he said, “You and Devian should avoid each other. You should never again be alone in each other’s company. If you are and the circumstances are right, the cycle will begin anew and neither of you will be able to resist it.” Sara turned to Ian and gave him a sour smile. “Well, ain’t that just swell,” she mumbled sarcastically, “It should make for interesting family events like birthday parties for the kiddies.”

“What about will power?” the clone asked, “Now that we know what’s driving us, shouldn’t we be able to resist?” Immo smiled at Dev sadly, spreading his hands wide. “You can try that I suppose, my boy,” he replied, “But primal urges are very strong and sexual need is a powerful thing. Do you truly want to take a chance on the outcome, considering the repercussions of such an act?” Into the considering silence that followed that question, Sara piped up. “I have no problem with avoiding him,” she stated baldly. Stark pain flashed briefly through his wide, golden eyes before Devian dropped his head. After a moment, he mumbled, “Yeah. I guess that’s probably best.” His head stayed down; his expression carefully hidden beneath tumbled waves of dark hair. Watching the latest struggle that his brother was waging, Ian made a promise to himself. He would add finding his brother a gentle and considerate lover to his list of “to do’s.” Leaving a man who was bred to be a sexual weapon at the mercy of his own hand or to a string of hired partners was ultimately a recipe for disaster. Dev needed to channel his desire to please, his sexual expertise, into a stable, reciprocal relationship that might at last give him something in return; that might allow him to grow and learn through it. The difficult part would, of course, be finding the right woman.

Sara broke the drawn out silence that followed by asking, “Is that it? Is that all of it?” Dr. Immo studied her quietly. In his judgment, Sara Pezzini was a very strong woman, tough and hard, full of sharp edges. He hoped that the children that she was soon to birth would awaken whatever innate softness there was left within her. He admired her strength but unless it could be tempered by gentleness when it was needed, she would eventually push away all those who tried to get close to her. That would be a pity. The old man sighed and replied, “Yes, Wielder. That is all of it.” Sara nodded stiffly. Idly rubbing her distended belly, she turned toward Ian. “All this excitement has done me in, baby,” she murmured, “I think that I’m going to head off to bed now. Will you come with me?” Ian reached down to cover the hand that Sara rested on her stomach with his own. Clasping her fingers in his, he lifted her hand to his mouth and, turning her hand, pressed his warm lips to her palm. After a moment or two, he lifted his head and met her eyes. “You go ahead, love,” he replied, “I’ll be up in just a few minutes.” And, Sara being Sara, had to push it to that extra degree. “Alone?” she asked, waiting for his confirmation.

Ian released her hand as if it had suddenly burned him. He couldn’t believe that she intended to force this issue now after what the clone had just been through, after what he had just learned. Ian narrowed golden eyes that were suddenly bright and icy. “Now is not the time to get into this, Sara,” he said, voice low and carefully controlled. Her full lips tightened stubbornly. “Why not?” she asked. Before he could answer her, Devian hissed, “It’s alright, Ian. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” Everyone at the table turned to look at the clone; but his attention was fully focused on the Wielder. His wide, tawny eyes were bent on her like laser beams. “What makes you think that I want to share your bed now unless I have to, Sara?” he asked, “Now that I know why I feel as I do, why would you think that I would willingly make love to a mean, nasty bitch like you?” Ian frowned. Standing up for himself was one thing but now the clone was carrying it too far. “Dev,” he said with soft warning in his voice. The clone shrugged and stood. “Those questions were rhetorical, Ian,” he replied mildly, “I’m not looking for a fight. I’m going to go watch a movie with my friend and then I’ll find a bed of my own. Your dubious charms are safe from the monster clone tonight, Wielder. Good night, all.” Devian turned sharply and, without another glance at any of them, left the room.

“Well,” Dr. Immo said. He was more than a bit surprised by the clone’s sharp words and aggressive attitude. The old man found that he was also rather proud of his boy. When Ian recovered enough to respond, he quickly turned to Sara to see how she was taking Devian’s verbal attack. The Wielder sat utterly still with her mouth open and her eyes wide with shock. Worried, he gently touched his mate’s shoulder and said, “Sara?” She surprised them both by laughing in an easy, natural manner that he had not seen from her for a long, long while. Ridiculously relieved and caught up in her unexpected good humor, Ian laughed with her. When she finally stopped, wiping her eyes, she said, “Wow. I guess I won’t have to worry about Sparky mooning around me any more. I guess he told me, didn’t he? It’s okay, Ian. He’s right. I have been a bitch.” As stunned as he was by her response to Devian’s outburst, he was too grateful that an armed truce might now be possible between his brother and his lover to question it. Ian desperately wanted them to all find some way to get along together – at least until the babies were born – without constantly ripping each other to pieces emotionally. If this was the shaky beginning of such a détente, he was not going to be the one to question it.

The doctor cleared his throat noisily and they both turned to look at him. “Unless you have more questions, I believe that I will also take my leave of you,” he said, “I have some things to clean up in my laboratory.” His companions shook their heads; no more questions. They said their goodnights and the old man shuffled off to his own safe haven. Ian and Sara were now alone in the quiet kitchen. The clock ticking on the wall suddenly seemed very loud. At that moment, one of the babies gave its mother a good kick. When Sara looked startled, Ian asked, “What now?” She grabbed his hand and dragged it down to her rambunctious tummy. After another strong jolt knocked against their joined hands, she actually giggled. “That’s got to be Maggie,” she suggested, “Putting her two cents in to support her Daddy. It looks like I’m outnumbered.” With his hand still resting on her bouncing belly, Ian lifted his head. Their eyes met. Although her green eyes were amused, his had turned dark amber and very serious. “You are outnumbered on this one,” he agreed, “All around.” Her cheeks flushed suddenly and, for a second or two, he thought a fresh battle might be in the offing; but she surprised him again. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, dropping her eyes, “I get the message.”

Lifting his hand, Ian tucked one long finger under her chin to raise her face and make her meet his gaze again. She did. “I do,” she confirmed, “I know that I’ve been unfair to him. I know that I’ve hurt him – a lot. I know that sometimes I’ve even done it on purpose. It’s just that my feelings for him have been confusing. He scares me because my response to him can be so strong, beyond my control. Until tonight, I never understood why. It was like he had some weird power over me and I hated that. It terrified me because I didn’t understand it. I’ve never felt anything like it before.” She suddenly stopped, pushing a hand roughly through her thick, honey-brown hair. This time, her smile was rueful. “And I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Ian smiled back at her and gave a tiny hitch with one shoulder. “That’s okay,” he responded, “Ramble away. I’m listening.” Now she shrugged. “I don’t know what else to say,” she continued, “It’s different when the Witchblade is driving us, you know? I may not like it but at least I understand what’s happening. But there were other times with Sparky where I knew the Blade wasn’t pushing me and I still couldn’t keep my hands off of him. I had no control over my own desires. It frightened me badly. At the same time, it was incredibly exciting – and that scared me even more. Logically, I know that it’s not his fault but the whole relationship with him has been so disturbing. I needed to punish someone or something for taking my own will away from me. I chose him because he was the obvious target; and, okay, also because he was so easy.”

Sara wouldn’t look at him and Ian lifted her chin again to force her to meet his eyes. She flinched a little but quickly found her spirit, gazing back at him boldly. That made him grin because it was so quintessentially Sara. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” he asked. She shrugged again. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, “I don’t think I ever really let myself think a lot of it through before tonight. And, of course, until Immo came clean, a big piece of the puzzle was missing for me. I didn’t know why I responded to Sparky the way that I did. I think that I was ashamed of myself for wanting him so much. Part of me hated him for being able to control me that way. I didn’t want to admit any of that to myself, let alone to you.” Ian nodded. He got that; however, there was another part of this that he wanted to be sure that she understood as well. “You do realize that Dev was as much a victim here as you were, don’t you?” he asked, “He was manipulated by my mas…by Mr. Irons just as surely as you were. I need to know that you see that, Sara.” There was a long pause before she responded. When she did, her head was tilted challengingly and her chin jutted out a little. “Yes. I do understand that,” she agreed, “But it doesn’t change anything. Sparky and I need to stay away from each other for everyone’s sanity. Because we have been designed to mix too well it is best that we don’t mix at all.”

“Unless the Witchblade pulls us together to generate another vision,” Ian reminded her. Her green gaze turned speculative. “Yeah,” Sara agreed, “Then, there’s no choice. If It is crossed, the Blade would make our lives a living hell until we complied. And then…” She stopped and Ian saw her view turn inward. Her imagination was playing out some scenario that only she could see. It was unnerving. With some trepidation, he asked, “And then what?” Sara blinked a couple of times, coming back slowly. She smiled and the raw sensuality in her expression sent a completely unexpected jolt of sexual heat straight to his groin. He gasped as he suddenly started growing hard. Unaware of the affect that she had just had on her lover, Sara replied huskily, “And then I might have to take Sparky out for a test drive the way Immo suggested.” While one part of Ian’s mind wondered whether he would be able to handle being part of that sexual trio, another part of him just wanted to get Sara upstairs and into bed. If he didn’t, he figured that he might be in danger of pushing her flat across the kitchen table and going at it right here and now. The staid, conservative part of his brain jumped in, appalled, hissing, “Jesus, Nottingham, what the hell is the matter with you? It must be all this talk of sex. Get a grip!” And that, of course, only brought other lascivious thoughts to mind. Aloud, he asked breathlessly, “Are you ready for bed?”

Back from her own digression, Sara had been watching the rapid play of emotions across Ian’s face with some interest. After all that they had been through by now, she had become fairly adept at reading her lover. The signs were not lost on her. The smile that had sent his system into overdrive a few moments before was now entirely for him. When it was leveled at him directly, the effect was even more devastating. “Oh, god,” Ian hissed softly. He arched back in the chair uncomfortably and her eyes were drawn like a magnet to the straining fabric at his crotch. Her smile blossomed into a grin as she bent forward, asking, “Problem? Can I help?” Watching his face, she slowly ran the fingernails of one hand from balls to tip along the packed surface of his tight jeans. He had dropped his head back and shut his eyes. When she stroked him, a deep, aching moan escaped from his tight throat. Her grin got wider. Sara hadn’t seen Ian this worked up in quite a while. In passing, she thought that maybe they should talk about sex out loud more often if this was what it did to him. Now, her smile turned sly. “That looks a bit constraining,” she murmured, “Can I loosen things up for you?” She popped the snap on his jeans and carefully eased down the zipper. The sounds seemed loud and incredibly erotic in the quiet kitchen. The straining white of his briefs appeared. It occurred to her that it was a shame that Ian didn’t hate underwear the way that Devian did.

“Immo…” Ian gasped. Sara chuckled. “Do you really think that sounds of passion would bring him running to the kitchen rather than heading farther away from it?” she asked. The part of his brain that was still able to reason realized that she was right. She turned in her chair and got a good grip on the waistband of his briefs. “Lift your bottom,” she directed. Her hand had been brushing against his erection through the abused fabric of his briefs and he didn’t want her to stop. He was so focused on that that he didn’t hear her. He was about to move his hand from where it held on to the chair, white-knuckled, to bring her back to where he wanted her, when he realized that she had spoken to him. He hadn’t a clue what she had said. Fortunately, she said it again. OH! His hips pumped up off the chair so fast that she almost lost her balance. She laughed at his eagerness and whispered, “Easy, big boy. Just take it easy. We’ll get there.” He made another one of those sounds from deep in his throat. Sara thought it might have been skeptical; she supposed that she might not be moving fast enough to suit him. When she finally got the briefs down, freeing him, and she could see how ready he was, Sara whispered an awed, “Goodness!” Ian opened one golden eye and mumbled, “Goodness has nothing to do with it. Hurry!” She laughed and finished pushing his briefs and jeans off his long legs so that he would have more mobility. She definitely did not want anything hindering his ability to move.

One aspect of her uncomfortable pregnancy now turned out to be an advantage. Sara had taken to wearing large, loose dresses with nothing underneath them. That meant all that she had to do was straddle his lap and position herself. As she eyed her lover’s substantial sex jutting boldly up from his lap, Sara felt her breathing begin to quicken as she went wet with arousal. She realized that she wanted Ian badly, very badly. She stood up and faced him. Their eyes met and she could hear that he was panting too. “Lordy,” she thought, “We’re like a couple of horny teenagers. We can’t even wait to make it to the bedroom. We’re going to do it right here in the kitchen.” With her cheeks flushed crimson and her breath coming in quick, little gasps, Sara lifted her dress and straddled him. She reached down to grasp his large, warm hands. Pulling them up under her loose dress, she placed one of his hands on each of her swollen, sensitive breasts. He grinned at her and started to move those magic fingers. Bending forward, Sara put her left hand on his broad shoulder for balance. She reached down and grasped him in her right hand. Ian hissed through clenched teeth when her fingers closed around his engorged shaft. Sara gave him a couple of long, hard strokes that sent delicate shudders coursing through his long body. Then, she guided him inside her as she settled her bulk down on to his lap.

For a moment, they just sat there with Ian settled deep within her, filling her, as they looked into each other’s eyes. They were both panting like they had just run up and down the stairs several times. Then, as if they had the same thought in the same second, their faces came together and their lips locked in a long, steamy, slippery kiss with lots of tricky tongue. Just as their mouths parted, Sara tightened her muscles around him and started to move her hips. She could not believe how good he felt inside her. She shut her eyes, clenched her arms around his shoulders for support, and began to move like a maniac, letting out a deep, thrumming, “Mmmmmmmm. Gooooooood.” Ian still had his hands on her breasts; massaging, tweaking, and rubbing both nipples and mounds. Now, he slowly slipped his right hand down between them. When she felt his hand begin to move down their tightly joined torsos, Sara’s eyes opened wide to stare directly into his. His eyes always turned rich, smoky gold when they made love and she had grown to prize that color above all others. When his long finger finally found its target and began rubbing a slow and sensuous circle around her swollen clit, she let out the first in a series of soft cries that she tried unsuccessfully to stifle.

Completely unexpectedly, his heavy ring brushed against her sensitized nub and Sara felt such a blinding erotic rush that she almost blacked out. She also wailed like a banshee. Ian pulled his hand back immediately, afraid that he had hurt her. Of course, one good look at the expression on her face told him otherwise. They both waited a couple of tense seconds to see whether her cry would make anyone come running. When it didn’t, their eyes met again and the unspoken, “Not in this house,” was apparent on both their faces. Experimentally, Ian touched her with his ring again – and got the same reaction – along with a counter-spasm around his thrusting shaft. It was much too good to stop; so, he didn’t. He kept caressing her clit with Excalibur, all the while being careful not to damage her with any sharp edges. Sara went wild. In response, she pumped along his rigid length like a madwoman. In this manner, their coupling escalated until they were going at each other almost frantically. Sara was yelping like she was being pummeled, and Ian was groaning and panting like a bellows channeling too much steam. When their climax finally hit them, they were straining together with so much force that it was nearly brutal. They came painfully hard, collapsing against each other afterward; spent, sweaty, and shaking. Barely aware of her surroundings, Sara managed to grip the chair and push down when she felt Ian start to slide out from under her toward the floor.

She dropped her head on his shoulder and turned her lips toward his ear. “Hey, Nottingham,” she whispered raggedly, “Don’t fall off the chair. Okay?” There was no answer. Her cheek rested on the tee shirt that he still wore and she realized that it was soaked through with sweat. “Ian?” she tried again. He made a sound that did not fit any language that she knew. She cleared her throat, suddenly wondering if she was coherent herself. “Are you alright?” she asked. He made that sound again and she realized that he was laughing. First things first, she decided. “Are you going to fall off the chair?” she wanted to know; although he seemed to have stabilized his boneless body. There was a pause before he managed, “No,” in a soft, raspy whisper. A moment later, he started to slip downward and she sat up, reflexively clamping her muscles around him. Ian hissed sharply. His long body suddenly acquired bones again and he wasn’t what you might describe as limp any longer. Sara tried an experimental wiggle as she shifted her body on his lap. The response beneath her was gratifying. “Oh my,” she breathed. When he chuckled this time, she recognized the sound. “You seem to be recovering,” she observed. His hands moved and he shifted forward. Ian’s whole head was now up under her voluminous dress. She mewled softly when his teeth grazed her nipple. “Mmmmm,” she whispered, shutting her eyes, “You are so good for such a bad, bad boy.” His soft laugh was muted by the fabric of the dress. It was followed by a husky suggestion, “Why don’t you stand up and turn around and I’ll show you just how bad I can be?”

In the hallway upstairs, Devian had finally pulled his frayed edges together enough to get ready to join Gabriel. He wasn’t sure whether any of them had believed the little performance he had put on in the kitchen. Although he had given it his best shot, he, of course, knew better. In spite of everything, what he still really wanted was to curl into Sara’s arms and sleep away the pain. He wanted her to hold him, stroke his hair, and tell him that everything was going to be alright. The clone knew now and even accepted that that would never happen. Unfortunately, that knowledge did nothing to stop him from wanting it. Balling his hands into fists, he bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood. He wanted to be touched so badly that he ached with it. Dev sighed softly, shivering. The sharp pain in his mouth helped a little. It gave him something real to focus on. He rubbed his tired eyes thinking that he was so sick of all this emotional, human crap inside him. It had to be easier once they moved back to the mansion and he had Vorschlag to occupy him. If it wasn’t, the clone was not sure that he was going to make it for the long haul. For tonight though, he had had enough. He just wanted to turn off his brain, sit down with his friend, and watch a film. Tomorrow was soon enough to pick up the pain again; he had no doubt that it would be patiently waiting for him to awake the next morning. Pulling himself up to his full height, Devian steadied himself, took a deep breath, and knocked on Gabriel’s door.

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