The Artifact of Foex (9 page)

“You’ll have to forgive me," Journey murmured
as she reached over and touched Chet, stroking her fingers up his
arms. “I feel the need to take something for myself here.”

Chet mewled as she pulled him onto the other
side of the hefty bed. Luckily, Knife and Fenimore were standing up
as they did their—business. Journey stripped Chet with a
thoroughness and efficiency usually reserved for the armed forces.
She brushed his cock with her hand and he gasped, trying not to
come.

Journey frowned. “I think I’d best be on top.
We don’t want you spent too soon, do we? You are not to move
without permission, and that means no thrusting up into me. Do you
understand?”

He nodded frantically. She pulled off her
panties—her cunt was hairless, too—and mounted him as if she were
riding a ceros with one critical difference. Chet gasped as she
reached down and slipped him inside her. Oh, she was wet, and warm,
and tight, and... and perfect.
So
perfect. Chet began
moving instinctively, and she slapped his chest, a playful swat
rather than a real blow.

“I said hold
still,
boy. You are
inside me, and I’m in charge here. Do you copy?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he whispered, then put a hand
over his mouth, regretting the rude slip. Journey was not a ma’am,
she was Flame. But Journey didn’t withdraw. Indeed, she barely
seemed to have heard him at all.

Chet couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside
her, warm and wet as a tropical ocean. Journey rocked above him,
breathing in time with each scintillating movement. She threw back
her head and moaned. He wished he could touch her breasts, still
enclosed by the satin bra; they were the central focus of his
world. Chet bit his lip, hands outstretched without touching.

Journey seemed to have noticed, for she
reached back and unclasped the bra, tossing it away apparently
without a second thought. “There you go. Please, feel free.”

Oh, Pantheon, her breasts were huge. Chet had
never touched human breasts except through clothing. He couldn’t
believe he’d waited so long. They were soft, marvelous, the nipples
and areolas profoundly exciting. Journey’s bouncing movements
accentuated the luminosity and impact of her breasts. Even the snug
encompassing of his cock dimmed compared to this treat.

It occurred to him, somewhere in the back of
his head where he was still rational, that Journey had shaped her
breasts large on purpose. Like distracting a baby with a pretty
mobile? Journey had what she wanted, and she was willing to give
him something in exchange. The thought made him crumple inside. He
thrust up into her, blatantly disobeying her command.

Journey groaned and slapped his thighs. “Bad
boy," she moaned. “Bad, bad boy.”

Her movement, her words, her
tits—everything—filled him as he came, arching up into her.

Journey sighed and rolled off. “Shit. There
goes my fun, for the moment.”

Chet glanced past her and realized that
Fenimore and Knife were still in full coitus. Knife was on top,
Fenimore was on the bottom, writhing and giving Knife trouble.
Knife had him by the hair—such long hair—and was using it for
leverage. Knife was taking Fenimore almost violently. The sound of
their fucking filled the van.

Chet grabbed his own cock; he was getting
hard again. Journey stroked his shoulders absently but made no move
to mount him again. Was she angry? But no, she was smirking at
Knife, who was clearly on the verge of coming. Chet, seeking a
closer look, noticed that the base of Knife’s penis was now very
thick. Huge, in fact. Knife let loose a wild howl as he climaxed,
Fenimore snarling beneath him.

Knife and Fenimore parted. A thoughtful
silence followed as people cleaned up. The towels in the
organization rack were put to good use while Knife and Journey took
turns with the lighter. Chet looked once, then had to look away.
Even knowing that fire was their natural element, it still
seemed
painful.
Fire to genitals, ick.
Chet found
himself facing Fenimore, who shot him a sly smile.

Fenimore’s smile took on a predatory glint as
he studied Chet’s dick. “Ah, such a resoundingly fit model of the
flaxen race. I’m honored.”

Chet scowled. “Great good Pantheon, I wish
you’d knock that off. I’ve never met anyone so racist in all my
life.”

“He doesn’t know that word, Chet,” Knife said
from the other side of the van.

Chet glanced over at Knife. He and Journey
were cuddling together, spooning—Knife in the back, Journey in
front. They didn’t seem to be having intercourse. It looked...
comfortable, like old friends enjoying one another’s company. Her
tits were smaller now, Chet noticed regretfully.

Fenimore stepped closer, grabbed Chet’s
shoulders and reeled him in. Chet froze, all thought of the Flame
evaporating from his mind. Fenimore’s penis touched Chet’s, like
two swords crossing. Chet gasped, overtaken by the sublime
sensation. Then Fenimore threw him to the bed. Chet instinctively
rolled over and tried to scramble away. He was stopped, locked down
by rock-hard arms. With languid movements, Fenimore sank on top of
him, pinning him to the mattress. It wasn’t even a contest. Knife
could play these games, but Chet was nothing in comparison. He was
soft, a rag doll for Fenimore’s pleasure.

Fenimore licked his ear. “Now, my little
friend, I am going to explore your sweet arse and take you
hard.”

Chet couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He
didn’t know how to react, or indeed, whether there was any reaction
he should be having. It was so strange to be lying face down and
naked under a forceful man, about to be penetrated, trapped inside
a prostitute’s van with Flame looking on. Let alone bound to a lost
magical object of vast power. If someone had told Chet that he
would be doing this a week ago, he’d have never believed it. He
would have laughed.

He wasn’t laughing now.

“For Pantheon’s sake, LaDaven, ask for Chet’s
consent first,” Journey said. Chet looked up. Though she was only a
foot away, it might as well have been miles across the mattress.
“He’s not a servant for you to plunder.”

“Don’t dare judge me, Flame. I notice
you
didn’t ask the boy’s consent before you took him. You
had your pleasure as he whimpered beneath you, demolishing his
virginity without a second thought. Now I seek to do the same, and
you speak out on his behalf?”

Journey reddened and looked away. Chet
blinked, utterly shocked at the insinuation that Journey had raped
him. After all, she was a woma—no. She was Flame. Was Fenimore
right? She’d certainly ordered him around, but he’d
enjoyed
it. She’d given him something in return. Would
Fenimore?

Chet cleared his throat. “Could I, um, please
sit up, Fenimore? I can’t see you at all like this.”

Chet felt Fenimore sigh as he rolled off.
Chet sat up and folded his legs beneath him. He looked at Fenimore.
He had the same bottle in hand that Knife had used and was
squirting out the thick contents into his palm, giving it an extra
squeeze as if marveling at the bottle’s construction. Chet gasped
as Fenimore wrapped one hand around Chet’s waist, his wet hand
disappearing under him. The oily fingers found Chet’s ass and
penetrated him. Chet gasped, his eyes shut tight. The pain was
worse than he’d imagined. Oooh, that was a tender spot. How could
Fenimore’s entire dick possibly fit inside him?

“There you are,” Fenimore whispered in his
ear. “Such a beautiful virgin boy.”

“I—I’m not a boy. I’m twenty-four years old!”
He’d just turned twenty-four a few weeks ago, a fact he didn’t
point out.

Fenimore grinned. “I’m three hundred and
thirty two, and you just serviced a god affiliate a few thousand
years old, minus a century or two while she was dead. Brings this
into perspective, doesn’t it?”

Chet stilled at the thought. All his life
he’d longed for the past with an obsessive persistence that had
baffled his family. Now the past was all around him. The past was
about to penetrate him. Would Fenimore back off if Chet asked? It
seemed unlikely. Chet didn’t doubt that Knife and Journey could
stop Fenimore, but at what cost? They were all bound together by
the Raptus. Even now Chet could feel the invisible cord binding
them together to the relic. Though he could endure rainfall—unlike
the Flame—he still couldn’t go anywhere without these people, and
who knew how long this condition would last? If the Raptus had
never done anything like this before, there was no precedent. They
had
to work together. It was like being a... a team. Chet
knew all about taking one for the team; he’d been doing it all his
life.

He bowed his head and, ever so slowly, sank
to his hands and knees. Then he lowered his elbows to the mattress
so that his ass was sticking out. Waiting for Fenimore’s
ministrations, tender or otherwise.

Chet didn’t need to see Fenimore’s grin to
know it existed. A second finger wiggled its way into Chet’s ass,
then a third. Chet writhed, facing the pain with deep breaths.
Sodomy was something he’d always sort of dreamed about in the back
of his mind, but had never actually considered trying. He envied
the Flame with their gift of being able to
relax
those
muscles at will.

Knife said, “Fenimore, you
will
wrap
your penis in the modern equivalent of a glans bladder. Pantheon
knows what diseases you carry. Miss," he called to the front,
“where do you keep your condoms?”

“In one of the little drawers under the bed.
Third from the left. See it?”

Fenimore scowled as Knife knelt to riffle
through her drawers. “Lucid mud should have killed off anything
I—”

“Lucid mud is a preservative," Journey
interrupted, eyes narrow.

“I don’t have the clap!”

“Didn’t say you did," Knife said steadily as
he tossed a few rubber condoms onto the bed. “Yet you had
intercourse ten times a week with six different people, back in
Konstantine’s court. Chet doesn’t need to share anything you do
have.”

Fenimore swore at him. Knife simply looked at
him, and Journey had the same expression on her face. Chet wondered
why Knife hadn’t brought this up earlier... neither had Journey,
for that matter.

Chet looked at her; she seemed to take in his
bewilderment. Journey leaned closer and murmured, “You couldn’t
possibly catch anything from me, Chet. Flame are sterile in more
ways than one. We do not contract or spread disease, including
venereal disease. Nor could you get me pregnant," she added, as if
an afterthought.

Pregnancy had been the last thing on his
mind. Apparently, it had been the last thing on her mind as well,
with reason. Chet glanced back at Fenimore, who was rolling on a
rubber condom with the expression of a heckled husband nagged by
his wife into taking out the trash.

Fenimore slopped more of the oil solution
atop the rubber and slapped Chet on the ass. “Down, boy.”

Chet complied, lying upon his belly. He
spread himself and waited.
Now for it.
Yet... nothing
happened. He wondered whether Fenimore was standing behind him,
stroking himself and enjoying the view of Chet’s unencumbered rear.
Chet was about to look over his shoulder when Fenimore settled on
top of him. Chet cried out as his ass was forced open. Oh,
Pantheon, it hurt, it
hurt
. Fenimore began thrusting
gently, belying his earlier violence. After a while, Chet
remembered to breathe. It felt—oh. When the pain had faded a bit,
it... actually felt fantastic. Chet had never even guessed his anus
could be so sensitive. Chet’s pleasure grew as Fenimore caressed
him.

“There you are—you have me now. Such a good
boy, taking my sausage without a sound. I love that you aren’t even
whimpering.”

Chet couldn’t help but be pleased. He
was
taking Fen’s cock. He
was
. Only minutes ago
he’d thought it impossible, yet he was doing it. Chet began moving
beneath him, writhing. In response, Fenimore quickened his pace,
thrusting with more intensity. What had been bearable swiftly
devolved into more sensation than Chet had been prepared to deal
with. Chet shuddered and gasped. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t
understand anything but the dick inside of him, splitting him
thoroughly. It was messy and scary, yet terribly important, the
most important thing on Uos. He was crying and laughing at the same
time.

Then Fenimore reached around and grabbed
Chet’s cock. Chet arched upwards, bucking. He came in a flurry of
internal lightning and thunder, semen poured into Fenimore’s hand.
Fenimore grabbed his hips and increased his pounding to a staccato
tempo. Oh,
Pantheon
. Chet moaned, yelled, screamed.
Fenimore’s frantic intensity was torturous, and Chet could only
take it.

Fenimore thrust one final time and came deep
inside him.

Chet’s body felt lighter than air, a balloon
filled with helium. Only Fenimore’s weight pinned him to the
mattress. Then Fenimore pulled away, grumbling as he took off the
condom. Chet flopped onto his back—a sensual being set free upon
the prostitute’s bed. He laughed, delighted at his body. Delighted
at the whole
world
.

“Rain’s just about stopped," Knife said after
a while.

Chet opened his eyes. The others had begun
putting themselves back together. Journey winced as she shook out
damp clothing, Knife was again grooming himself with the lighter,
and Fenimore—half dressed—handled the Raptus with a studious
frown.

“I don’t feel the invisible tether as
strongly, now. I wonder how far apart we can stretch
ourselves.”

“There’s one way to find out. Get your
trousers and boots on, Fen.” Knife held out his hands for the
Raptus and Fenimore tossed it to him—gently, Chet noticed.