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Date Posted: 03:01:45 02/16/03 Sun
Author: Slally
Subject: "Breathing Space" - Chapter 64 (**** NC-17 ****)
In reply to: Slally 's message, ""Breathing Space"" on 13:24:17 02/15/03 Sat

When Sara shut the bedroom door and turned around, she saw that Ian had moved to the one small window and was staring out. She could see tension in his shoulders. Sara frowned. "Ian?" she said. He didn't move a muscle. "Ian," she said, a little louder this time. He jumped as the sound of her voice finally penetrated, startled. "What's wrong?" she asked. He turned just his head, his eyes gleaming in the dark room. "There's more to what you feel for me than liking the way that I look, isn't there, Sara?" he asked softly, "More than wanting me in bed." Her frowned deepened. "What the hell brought this on?" she thought. "Not really," she said flippantly, "You know that you're just a pretty sex toy to me. Right?"

He turned toward her so quickly that he almost lost his balance. The golden eyes looked huge in the moonlight spilling through the window. She went to him and touched his arm. It was shaking. "Hey, hey, ace," she said, "Settle down. Okay? I was just pulling your chain." She winced, realizing that was a poor choice of words. "How can you ask me that?" she continued, "Of course there's more to what I feel for you than just the physical." He studied her face intently in the dim light. "Are you sure?" he asked. He was starting to piss her off again. "What is with him tonight?" she thought. "Are you suggesting that I don't know how I really feel, Ian?" she asked, an edge creeping into her voice. He shrugged and turned back to stare out the window.

"That first time we were together," Ian continued, "You just wanted sex with me. You didn't want any emotional ties to bind you to me after we got out of bed." She walked around to his side so that she could see his face. It was closed, unreadable. "That first time, if you remember, we never made it to a bed," she said, smiling. He didn't answer, unresponsive to her teasing. She sighed. "I don't think I really knew what I wanted from you when we began," she said, "Yes, you turned me on physically. But even before we got back to the city, I knew that something more had happened between us than a passing romp in the hay. I knew that I cared about you – but I was still in denial. Even then, I wisely knew that being with you wasn't going to be easy. And here you are proving me right again." Ian dropped his head. "I'm sorry," he said.

She slid her hand up under his sweater to rub his warm back soothingly. "Baby, you've been a bit weird ever since you woke up this evening," she said, "Want to tell me what's going on with you? Did the jolt of power we took this afternoon short circuit something in that Machiavellian brain of yours or what?" He turned to her, giving a poor attempt at a smile. "Nerves maybe," he said, "I woke up with all these strange thoughts bouncing around in my head." "Like?" she asked. He shrugged again, apparently not wanting to venture any further down the tangled path of their relationship right now. "Why don't I give you that backrub now," he suggested. "You're changing the subject," she accused. "Yes, I am," he agreed, "Do you want your backrub?" Sara frowned, frustrated. She knew that look on his face. She'd get no more out of him right now. Sara gave in, defeated but determined to try to get to the bottom of his angst later. "Alright," she said.

Without another word to him, Sara peeled off her wrinkled sweats and underwear, and dropped them into the laundry basket. Shivering, she quickly went back to the bed and got under the covers. Ian took more time, removing his barely worn clothes, folding them neatly, and returning them to the bureau drawer. On impulse, he pulled a pair of clean black silk pajama pants from the drawer and slipped them on before returning to the bed. Sara took one look at the pajama bottoms and lifted an eyebrow. Ian blushed and said softly, "I'm cold." Sara's eyebrow stayed where it was. "Uh huh," she said.

Ian sat on the side of the bed and waited. Sara stared up at him. He broke first. "You need to turn over," he said. "Ian…," she started. "Enough, Sara," he said softly, "Please. Let it go." Hesitating briefly, she sighed and rolled over to lie on her stomach, resting her head on bent arms. She felt him move over on the bed to kneel next to her, the cool silk of his pajamas brushing against her hip. He touched her shoulder, pushing the tawny fall of her hair aside. His long, clever fingers started with her neck, massaging the tight muscles there using deep, skillful strokes. Sara couldn't help it. She turned to liquid under his magic fingers. She'd forgotten just how good Ian was at this. By the time he'd worked his way down her back to her waist, Sara was a puddle of molten lust waiting to erupt.

Except that she couldn't. She couldn't because she didn't want him to think that all she wanted was to jump his bones. Except that she did want to jump his bones – and all those muscles covering them – in the worst way. As his hands began to knead the small of her back, Sara took a deep breath and pictured herself standing under an icy shower. She was damned if she'd be the one to initiate sex between them now. If he wanted it, he was going to have to beg for it. "Oh, shit," she thought as he began to caress the taut muscles of her cheeks, "I hope he wants it enough to ask for it. God, that feels so good."

A few moments later, Ian gave Sara's bottom a gentle pat to signify that he was finished. Then, he slipped under the covers by her side and stretched out on his back. Sara stayed still, lying where he'd left her, waiting to see what he was going to do next. After several minutes had passed and nothing more had happened, she was forced to conclude that what he was going to do next was go to sleep. Now, she was both really annoyed and really aroused. "Okay," she thought, "I'll take care of this the way I did before I had Ian. Screw him." She quickly pushed away the image that thought engendered. She rolled on her side with her back to him. Shutting her eyes, she slipped her hand down her body and slowly began to stroke herself.

When Ian heard Sara's breathing quicken, he pulled himself out of the sleepy drowse that he'd been dropping into. Listening intently to the familiar sounds coming from the other side of the bed, he asked, "What are you doing?" "What you didn't care to do," she responded panting. Ian squirmed beside her. The sounds that she was making were exciting him and his body was responding. "I never said that," he objected. She let out a little cry and he moaned along with her, aching for her. "Sara," he said, reaching out to touch her hip. She pulled away from him and the bed started to seriously rock with her fevered strokes. "No," she managed to gasp. Ian rolled over to face her and gently pushed her onto her back. "Sara, please. I'm sorry," he said urgently. But Sara was oblivious. At that moment, her body arched up off the mattress and she cried out as she climaxed.

Lying quietly, Sara smiled into the dark. She was deliciously spent, sated. Conversely, she could now feel Ian coiled like a serpent ready to strike beside her. She sighed softly and said with languid ease, "Goodnight, Ian." Still smiling, she shut her eyes and curled on her side in her usual sleeping position. She felt his tentative fingers, light as a feather, slide from her shoulder to her breast where they seductively teased a nipple. "Don't even," she said with finality. The questing fingers froze and then withdrew. "Sara?" he whispered, voice strained, "I'm sorry." "Fine," she replied, "Go to sleep." She heard him sigh deeply before he stretched out on his back again beside her. As she drifted off, Sara could hear him still trying to get his ragged breathing under control.

When Mobius opened the cabin door, his arms filled with firewood, the kitchen was dark. He came into the living room to find Vicki finishing setting up the featherbed by the fireplace. Moby carefully circumvented the makeshift bed to stack wood in the box by the fireplace. His back to her, he added several logs to the dwindling flames, restoring the fire to a roaring blaze. Turning, he stood tall, silhouetted by firelight. "You should not have moved the table by yourself, Po," he admonished her, "It's too heavy." Vicki's lips turned up in her quirky smile. "I'm not as fragile as I look," she said. "Still," he said, glancing at the sofa. She had not yet arranged the throw and pillows as she usually did for sleeping. He pondered that for a moment and felt some faint stirrings of excitement that he immediately attempted to quell.

"Well," Vicki said, fidgeting nervously, "I guess I'll go get ready for bed. It's likely to be another long day tomorrow." "Assuredly so," Moby agreed. She dug in her overnight bag until she found her pajamas. Carrying them and her toothbrush, Vicki went into the bathroom. Doing a deep breathing exercise to calm himself, Moby stripped down to boxers and a tee shirt. He turned off the lights and slipped under the comforter on the featherbed. Lying there quietly and replaying the kiss that afternoon, Mobius realized that he was trembling. He was well into another series of deep breathing exercises when Vicki finally came out of the bathroom clad in the flannel bunny pajamas. He watched her cross the room and sit on the sofa, the sound of his heart beating wildly in his ears.

"Umm, I was wondering," Vicki said hesitantly, "Do you think I might sleep down there with you tonight? I'm not propositioning you or anything. I just think it would be a lot warmer and that I'd get a better night's sleep." Moby cleared his throat. "I would be most delighted to share the featherbed with you, Po," he replied a little hoarsely. He rolled on his side and turned back the quilt, inviting her to join him. Vicki dropped down to the spot he offered, turning on her side with her back to him. She left a small, decorous space between them. Mobius pulled the quilt up over her, tucking it in around her. In the process, he managed to pull her small form back to rest tightly against his body. They both stayed still, unmoving, hyperaware of the closeness of the other.

Awake, they were held in check by their inhibitions. In sleep, they were less cautious. Perhaps an hour later, Vicki suddenly woke to find that she was now facing Moby with her leg wedged between his and her arm draped around his neck. Her head rested against his muscled chest. She could feel his warm, even breath against her hair. One of his long arms was twined tightly around her waist. They were so close it would have been hard to slip a sigh between them. Vicki froze, aware of every nuance of the warm male pressed against her. She knew that, if she moved, she'd likely wake him. "Don't want to do that," she thought a bit wildly. "He's so big and hard," her mind added. Those words suddenly reverberated in her head and she barely stifled a mad urge to giggle.

The quality of the breath ruffling her hair changed slightly and Vicki tilted back her head. Luminous rich chocolate eyes stared back at her. "Oh, god. He's awake," she thought, panic and passion fighting for control over her. Vicki shifted her leg a little and, as she watched, saw his eyes darken and heat. She only had a moment to think that "big and hard" was by way of being a premonition, before his lips pressed firmly against hers. A hazy red flared behind her eyes and, of its own volition, her tongue found its way into his mouth. As their tongues played tag, she felt his large, warm hand slide up the bare skin of her back under her pajama top. With a will of its own, her body strained against his until his desire also became very obvious to her.

Vicki suddenly felt out of control and all of her old, tried and true warning signals kicked in. Her mind began to repeat the mantra – "too fast, too fast, too fast" – even as she pulled back from Moby's intoxicating kiss. Her head dropped to his shoulder and she struggled to catch her breath. Mobius, sensing her hesitation, slipped his hand out from under her pajama top to rest back on her flannel-covered hip. He shut his eyes and fought desperately to regain control of his highly aroused body. He didn't want to scare her. "I'm sorry," Vicki mumbled into the hot skin of his neck, "I think that I need to slow down a little here."

When he felt able to speak, Moby whispered, "No apology is required, Po. You can have all the time in the world. I will be waiting yet." Charmed by his sweetness, Vicki lifted her head to look in his eyes. "Will you?" she asked. He nodded, caught and held by the light in her eyes. She let out a shaky breath and moved back from him a bit, putting a safe distance between them. "Maybe we could just cuddle a little tonight," she suggested. "Of course," he answered, giving her some space. She sighed and shut her eyes again, soon falling back to sleep in the safe circle of his arms. It took Moby a bit longer.

As he came awake, the first sensation that penetrated Ian's consciousness was cold. He was freezing. Groggy, he glanced toward the window to see whether it was open. No. It was still shut, but something about it seemed wrong. It seemed higher on the wall or the slant of moonlight pouring through the glass seemed wrong or…He gasped softly as Sara's warm hand slipped inside the silk pajama bottoms to grasp him firmly. The cold receded as she pulled the blankets closer around them. The blanket felt rougher than he remembered. He started to raise his head to look at it; then curiosity fled as Sara began to stroke him. "Who gives a damn about the blanket?" he thought, "She's touching me again. She's not mad at me any more."

Ian turned toward her, lifting his hips to push the pajama bottoms down and kick them off. "Don't stop," he begged breathlessly. "Don't worry," she replied, smiling. He didn't remember Sara's lips being so red. He wondered when she had put on lipstick. Ian leaned down to lick her nipple with his tongue and she arched her body against him, hissing. He tweaked her other nipple between his fingers, teasing it to hard arousal. She put her free hand behind his neck and raised his lips to hers, kissing him passionately. Her tongue pushed past his, delving into his mouth so deeply he thought she might brush his throat with it.

Ian pulled away a little, startled and needing air. She drew him back, kissing him again and taking his hand to lead it down her to rest in the wet folds below. Knowing what Sara liked, he began caressing her, only to have her cover his hand with hers and change the rhythm. He did what she wanted. He'd do anything to please her. Ian moaned deeply as she began stroking him so hard and fast that it was almost painful. It was also incredibly exciting. His body started to arch and she sensed that he was wavering on the edge of control. Sara pushed him on his back and straddled his hips, leaning forward to guide him inside her. She rode him roughly, with abandon, and he pushed himself up into her with each of her deep plunges onto him. Their coupling became frenzied, intense and wild. It kept spiraling up to burst in a shattering climax that made Ian scream her name, and left him limp and trembling beneath her.

Ian ran his hand slowly up her damp back to push his fingers through her hair. Her body still lay draped on top of his. He breathed in deeply and whispered, "I love you, Sara." "Do you?" she asked, lifting her head from his chest. His eyes flew open. Golden eyes met eyes that were midnight blue. For one moment, then another, everything stopped. Ian's mind refused to process what his eyes were telling him was true. The woman that he was holding, the woman that he was still buried deep within, was X, not Sara. He screamed, "No," and pushed her from him so strongly that they parted with a wet smacking noise and she was flung to the other side of the shed. She righted herself and sat there watching him with unmitigated glee, laughing softly.

Ian dragged himself back against a rough wall, part of his mind registering that he was in the shed behind the cabin. He pulled his discarded pajama pants in front of him in a pathetic attempt to cover himself. His whole body shivered uncontrollably before he turned to the side and got violently sick in the dirt. He kept heaving until there was nothing left inside him but agonized denial. X, tucking her silk shirt back into her leather pants, looked down at him and wrinkled her nose slightly in disgust. Ian raised his head to look at her, his face white as parchment. "How?" he rasped. She shrugged one elegant shoulder. "Your mind's very malleable, Ian," she said, "It was a simple thing to get you out here. You never woke. When you did, I used a simple glamour to make you think you were in bed with your precious Sara. It was easy. I never broke a sweat." He shut his eyes and moaned softly. X grinned and added, "At least not from the illusion. You're a wonderful fuck, Ian. Just like I knew you'd be."

Suddenly, X lifted her head and seemed to be listening to something. She shifted her gaze back to Ian, lying in a broken heap on the dirt at her feet. "Well," she said with great good humor, "I hate to fuck and run but duty calls. Have to go." A moment later, she was gone and he was alone. Ian was shaking so hard now that his teeth were chattering. Moving like an old man, he managed to get to his feet and pull the filthy pajama pants back on. He was still wet with her juices. That made his stomach cramp tight and he bent over again but there was nothing left inside him. Ian slid back down to the floor of the shed, drew his knees tight against his chest, and put his head in his hands.

Vicki wasn't sure what had woken her the second time. But, once she was awake, she realized that she needed to use the bathroom. She'd managed to disentangle herself from Moby without waking him. Now, coming back out of the bathroom, she was aware that her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness. The fire had burned down low, leaving little ambient light. She headed toward the featherbed. Just as she was about to climb back in, Vicki heard Sara calling her. The weird thing was that it wasn't coming from the bedroom – from where she thought Sara had been. Sara's voice seemed to be coming from right outside the front door. "What the hell is she doing outside in the middle of the night?" Vicki thought.

There it was again. And now, it sounded like Sara was calling for help. Drawn by the urgent need of her friend, Vicki immediately headed to the front door, opened it, and stepped out into the darkness. A moment later, she knew that Sara was probably still asleep in the bedroom and that she was in big trouble. Directly before her and to each side of her, advanced a nasty, scaly demon thing like the one Sara had killed climbing up the tree. Red eyes glowed in the inky blackness and they were making soft hissing noises as they closed in. Vicki carefully reached behind her to find the doorknob, trying to fight the panic bubbling up within her and not to make any sudden moves. Her fingers closed around the doorknob and she readied to fling herself back inside, slamming the door behind her. She mentally counted to three and pushed backwards, twisting the knob. Nothing happened. "Oh, Shit," she thought.

Relief suddenly flooded through Vicki as a tall, dark-haired woman came walking casually around the side of the cabin. "If nothing else," Vicki thought, "She'll split their attention and maybe I'll have enough time to call for help." Her relief was short-lived. As the woman approached Vicki, she raised one languid hand to stop the demons in their tracks. It was a gesture of command. The demons stopped advancing and dropped to a crouch, snuffling the ground and softly hissing. Vicki figured that anyone who could control those loathsome creatures would probably be no friend of hers.

Vicki's mind started to run in circles. "Please, god, please god," a little voice prayed in her head, "Don't do this to me now. Not when I've just found someone good and strong who wants me too. Don't do this to me now." She blinked her eyes rapidly and started to shake. "Who are you?" Vicki asked the woman, stalling for time. The beautiful woman smiled back at Vicki, her eyes shining with malice. "I'm the angel of death, little girl," she replied. Then, she lifted her hand and the crouching demons leaped high into the air. Vicki screamed.

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