Sex in the Sky

Gin and tonic was the best he could do at the moment; the drink burned its way down his throat, snapping him to attention momentarily before a pleasant numbness would take over. Letting his breath out in a quiet sigh, Marcel inhaled deeply, praying that the lack of sensation would free him from the coiling guilt at how much trouble he had caused the night before.

“He didn’t try to kill himself or anything, Damien would never.” Jumping at the first words the older wolf man spoke in over half an hour, the enforcer sneaked a glance at the broad-chested, intimidating figure who sat in one of his stools propped up against his kitchen counter table. Aware of how strongly this Ivan could convey his emotions, frightened of it too, Marcel looked away, palms sweating and unsuredly, a tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips. “Do I say anything in return to that? Does he-” “He’s narcoleptic, he probably hit his head on the way down.” There was no amusement in the other’s voice, only a statement spoken with that certain foreign lilt that reminded Marcel strongly of childhood neighbors and of older days.

“…That, explains why I found him on the floor…” Trailing off, daring to meet the other’s still steely gaze for but a second, he took his hands from the counter edge, stretching his arms and legs before leaning back, as if he could sink into the kitchen fixtures and disappear, hide away from here. A nearly tangible silence settled between them once more until he found the nerve to speak.

“I’m truly sorry for what I did last-”

“I don’t forgive you.” Snarling subtly, Ivan glared at the other wolf, baring his teeth for the single moment their gazes met. “You raped my lover, jaded his view on any kind of relationship, and will be the cause of months of nightmares. This is not the first time its happened to him, the only difference in this case is that he isn’t in a coma right now that will last a near year!” His quick eyes saw those minutely trembling lips begin to move in a probable phrase of sympathy - not wanting to hear it given so flippantly for the sake of hearing such a story, Ivan stalked from the kitchen, intent on visiting the bedroom where Damien was resting.

“That son of a bitch…” Scowling furiously at blue carpet, he let his stomping gradually decrease, not wanting to disturb his puppy’s sleep. A glance down the hall from which he tip-toed down confirmed that he was alone. Resting his cheek against the door, he heard the rustling of sheets, a wavering voice that begged for mercy. “It’s already started…” Leaning his forehead against the wood, Ivan clenched his hands into fists, anger boiling within his soul. A terrible wrong had been made, and given the chance, the wolf would’ve done anything to rewind the last twenty-four hours. Undo the events that led his lover to cry out while he slept, bear such horrible wounds that marred the younger’s beauty.

“No matter what, dearest, you’ll always be beautiful to me…” Whispering softly, he leaned over the bed, the back of his hand caressing a bruised, tear-streaked cheek. It had taken so much courage to enter the room after Damien’s heart-wrenching pleas for him to leave. To have the one he loved so much beg for him to avert his eyes, to expect him to turn his face away in shame and disgrace. Removing himself from the younger’s side for but a moment, Ivan pulled a chair from the corner of the spare bedroom and placed it by the bed. The smallest of sounds made Damien stir with a whimper, instinctively curling into a ball on his side. With a rapidly softening brow and moistening eyes, Ivan placed a hand on a slim shoulder and patted gently, shushing under his breath.

“This is not your fault, Damien, no…” Darkened lids from lack of sleep faltered, his gaze dropping to the thin sheets that covered his lover, “It was my fault. I took too long, you were waiting for me at our meeting place…” Easing his hand into the puppy’s hand, mottled with cuts and wounds, Ivan held it so carefully, raising it to his lips at times to press kisses between his rambling that would hopefully ease whatever nightmare Damien experienced while he slept.

*

“You’re a heartless bastard, did you know that, Marcel?” The alcohol he had downed earlier numbed his senses, his mind, so the fist he barely sensed before it met his cheekbone. Staggering away from his attacker, Marcel forced his vision to focus rather than stare and allow everything to blend into a color wheel. Glaring faces separated from looks of envy, of sadness and pouts. Most of the pack were here at the hidden cabin of the forest not half an hour from his home and town; they abandoned their usual conversations and stared down at him. Blinking wearily, Marcel held his temples,

“Lucien, I am pretty a heartless bastar–d, I concur…” Drawing out words, he rose a hand to gingerly touch the new bruise rapidly growing on his right cheek. With a brave attempt to laugh everything off, Marcel gave a faint grin and started for the deck stairs, stopped by the third in command of their pack.

“Drinking again! Fuck, that’s what got you in this mess in the first place! You made the twins cry! I was up all night calming them down, telling that everything will be alright. You really had to fuck Damien, didn’t you?” A fist rose once more, and with a wince, Marcel managed to throw an arm to block the blow that aborted itself in seconds. “I know what happened to Marie must have been hard,” Lucien’s voice, normally low and rough for anyone but the only twins of the pack, was almost sympathetic, the emotion not lost on Marcel’s foggy mind. “But to take out whatever feelings on a pup like Damien…”

“M-Marie? Why, what happened to her?” A huge amount of willpower forced the alochol affects away which left him looking around with increasing worry as faces turned away, not meeting his desperate gaze. A cold pit of fear grew in his stomach, “Where is she? Is she hurt?”

“Gods, he doesn’t remember…” A female wolf whispered quietly, sitting on a deck chair with her little one in her lap.

“Where the fuck is M-Marie? What-” His threatening growl was silenced, an older wolf with one blind eye stepping infront of Lucien, blocking him from Marcel’s raised fist.

“She was killed by the neighboring clan, Marcel! That vile human drink has poisoned your mind, you were told this yesterday evening.” The forest floor came into view, Marcel falling to his knees in shock. “What had been mere scuffles over territory has now turned to war. It is said that Marie gave them no reason to harm her, she wasn’t even trespassing their boundaries. I am sorry to have to tell you this twice.”

“We’re having her burial at sundown.”

*

Trembling, he held onto Ivan’s arm, his dulled brown orbs darting back and forth as they approached the cabin. Other wolves tapped their neighbors on their shoulders, gesturing towards him and Ivan, a few venturing forth towards them. With the tiniest of whimpers, he pressed himself into his older lover’s side, wanting nothing more than to disappear than be examined by those judging eyes.

“Out and about already, Damien…” Jessibel, mother to the twins Morokai and Nicolai, came forward in her slow walk. Her kind face, softer than ever, still scared him as did her hand, reaching out to touch some part of him; unable to stop himself, he whimpered pleadingly. She withdrew, giving a quiet apology,

“I’m glad to see you’re healing quickly. If you’d like, I’ll gladly find some herbs or medicines to ease any discomfort, Damien.” Nodding, not wanting to reply to the pack’s healer, he tugged Ivan’s arm and their progress to reach the cabin continued.

“Hey, nice run last night!”

“Yeah, I wish I was Marcel!”

The laughing and guffawing stopped after one stare from Ivan, the whole hidden glen fell silent. Wrapping an arm around Damien’s shoulders, he tugged him close, leaning quickly to press a kiss behind his ear before hurrying them up the stairs and entered the cabin. “If killing other pack members wasn’t a crime, by the Gods…” Growling low in his chest, he shut the door behind him, his eyes already searching in the darkness for a hint where the elders were. Arms wrapped around him, holding him tight - the bouquet of roses Damien held in a hand fell to the floor. Within seconds, his t-shirt became damp from the younger’s tears.

“Ivan, Ivan, did you see w-what was in their eyes? D-did you hear what Gabriel said? What Katrina said?” The frantic note in the younger’s raspy voice touched his heart for the worst for a familiar stinging began in Ivan’s eyes and without hesitation, he returned the embrace just as desperatly and tightly.

“Shhh, shhh…I saw and heard both, but most of the others were pained for what happened to you, sweetheart. Just the usual idiots were, weren’t…” Swaying them back and forth, he rested his cheek atop Damien’s head, “Now don’t you start asking again…I’m not angry with you, dearest, or disgusted or ashamed. I’m only hurt, because you’re hurt, baby. So don’t you worry, I’m not going to leave you, I’m not going to turn away and laugh at you like them, so let’s be on our way.” Bending, he picked up the bouquet of roses, his face turning in a merest hint of disdain before he returned the wrapped gift in the crook of Damien’s arm. Unable to say anything else, he intertwined his fingers with the other’s free hand, gently guiding him down the hallway.

“Tonight is not the time to play hide-and-seek, please have a seat. I expect this is about the events of last night.”

“Last night *and* this morning…” Sitting down stiffly, he would’ve remained so if his lover hadn’t snuggled into his side once more, clinging onto him. “As you are aware, Marcel won last nights ritual, but-”

“He was intoxicated? Yes, Marcel was in here earlier this afternoon, asking if there was anything that could break the bond he formed with Damien here.” A flicker of surprise crossed Ivan’s face before it faded,

“And? Is there anything that can be done? Any sort of process to keep him and Damien from being lifemates?”

“There is nothing to erase what has been done, we are sorry, Ivan, Damien. However, we understand that you and Damien were hopeful to become true mates. Now, Damien is already claimed, to hold another run would be pointless, but another ritual can-”

“Are you suggesting that I mark Damien as well, share him with that raping bastard?”

“Yes, if you wish to go any further in your relationship with this young one here.”

*

The howls and cries comforted his wavering heart, a cool calmness flooding over him momentarily. It was terrible to lose a pack member and such a strong fighter as well. At Ivan’s side once more, hand holding the older’s calloused one, Damien barely raised his voice when the pack members continued to voice their mourning; not to be disrespectful but because his throat hurt much from the night before. It was tradition to not shift into their wolf forms during a burial so many showed their grief with sombre dark clothing. Marie was to be put to rest at the base of a lovely weeping willow, shadowed by great oaks and elms, enhanced by the beauty of a nearby pond.

And a man who was not at the front to view the service but behind them, stood alone, separated from the pack. Damien noticed this with a shiver of fear coursing through his body, telling Ivan that he was merely cold when questioned for the movement. It was the same man who’s hands had touched him everywhere, that were at this moment hiding a face, probably concealing tears. It was the same man who’s voice had called him filth and worthless the night before, that was now raised in a final cry of farewell. It was him. Turning away, Damien gripped at his lover’s hand, praying for strength.

It did not take long to find Marcel - all he had to do was follow the scent of alcohol and salt. Frowning in dislike, he gestured up at the figure outlined against the rising moon, sitting up the small crest by a large oak tree. Fingers squeezed around his, a timid request in those shining brown eyes; with a single nod, given with reluctance, not wanting to be civil towards the enforcer, Ivan led them up the hill.

He had heard them approach, could tell who it was with a small sniff to the air, and still did not turn to face them. Staring at the moon, Marcel limply held up a hand, shaking a half-empty bottle.

“Don’ worry, I won’t freak out…I’ve had some already, I’m real calm…” Vaguely, he sensed that Ivan wolf’s immediate anger, but beyond caring, he slurred on,

“What do’ya want?”

“H-Here, M-Marcel.”

A lovely bouquet of roses was pushed onto his lap, the young one scurrying around him quickly again, latching onto Ivan’s arm. The beautiful red flowers sparked a sadness within him as well as annoyance,

“I-I noticed, in your garden, you have many roses…I thought you might like them, a-and maybe-”

“Marie liked the ro–ses…I don’t care for them anymore.” Tossing the gift aside, he tipped back and took another swig, done talking forever, if possible. The sound of crying met his ears.

“Oh, baby, don’t waste your tears on this.” Supporting the younger one, who had swayed dangerously on the spot and then burst into tears, Ivan glared in hatred at Marcel. To even imagine sharing his beloved Damien with such a lowlife… Gathering his lover in his arms, he kissed away the tears, pleased to be allowed to do so and took Damien home with him for the night.

* * * * *

“Please, Ivan…”

He swallowed down that tightening feeling, warning him of oncoming tears. He couldn’t cry, not now while his Damien bared so much at this very moment. With shaking hands, he moved the black blindfold into place, hiding those gentle cinnamon eyes that held so trust it nearly hurt. Damien’s first had been terrible, painful, and never truly left the younger’s mind. Sometimes Damien trembled at a hand sweeping across his cheek, at an embrace, or a certain word. “And now he lets his mind see…Without actually seeing…” Tucking the strip of fabric over his puppy’s ears, Ivan knelt closer, dipping low his head, capturing pearly pink lips in a giving kiss. His fingers tied the blindfold knot slowly, careful not to catch any of the other’s long locks; with a soft chuckle, he parted their sweet kiss, untucking a few strands of hair free,

“Because you like to have bangs so much…”

Smiling faintly, Damien shivered, a hand wrapping around his side, massaging before drawing him closer. A fluttering began in his chest before it faded with another tender kiss; fear remained dormant for now. Kneeling before his lover, he tried to not fall limp in Ivan’s arms, every sensation so close to making him faint. He saw blackness, allowing him to imagine every little detail, constantly giving him the chance to compare. Tears gathered under the blindfold, his parted mouth leaving Ivan’s lips with a gasp. Fingers tugged down the zipper on the front of his shirt, slow, giving him time to recover.

“Ivan…” He whispered the name, reminding himself who it was that touched him. It could’ve been his first, Marcel. Biting his lip, he arched forwards, drawing his back his shoulders, allowing Ivan to ease off his top. Lips met his, making their way down to his neck, nipping gently here and there.

“Shhh…I don’t mind, sweetheart…” He held the other’s shoulders, thumbs stroking gently to ease the trembling as he brushed his lips against the healing bitemark, the claim bite. It was a lie - he minded so much it defied words - but it was best to leave it to a lie. Damien always feared disappointment, and had always expected to earn it, even more so from the night before. “No doubt…” His lover still hadn’t reacted aside from gasps and the pressing forward; he sought for Damien’s outstretched arms, freeing them from the aborted try to embrace, and guided them to hold his sides.

“You can touch me, it’ll help you remember it’s me here with you. Sweetheart, we take off the blindfold anytime, just say it and I’ll take it off…” The blindfold wasn’t a good idea, Ivan thought, it wouldn’t allow his lover to connect memories and reality - maybe that was the point. But it was Damien’s request, his choice, something he never had with bedmates before. A grateful thank you was his answer, nothing else. Running his hands over the younger’s torso, Ivan reached around, fingertips tracing the fine line of Damien’s spine, kissing towards a lightly panting mouth.

Hands ran down his sides, pushing aside his shirt, caressing his smooth stomach. Catching his breath, the younger nearly sat up, aborted the attempt and tried to not imagine it was another. It was so hard not to, last night, earlier that morning still fresh in his mind. The button to his jeans was being freed slowly, a shushing sound reaching his ears. Panic started within him, the horrible sound of his heartbeat grew louder, nearly blocking out the-

*

“”-don’t struggle soo much, sure are feisty, aren’tcha?” A palm was forced over his mouth, keeping him from screaming. He still screamed, crying from the intensity. Everywhere hurt, things being crushed, torn, bruised. The bed was shaking, squeaking horribly…”

*

“I-Ivan?” Thin and high, Damien tried to sit up; Ivan paused, pressing his lips onto the younger’s stomach,

“Yes, baby?” Voice quiet, sure that anything louder would frighten his lover, especially at a time like this, he let his accent be more noticeable, hoping it’d help his lover remember it was him here in the room. Hesitant green eyes looked up to Damien’s face, watching the way the younger nibbled at his lower lip, opening his mouth then closing it, repeating the action as if unsure he should speak. Growing uneasy, he righted himself - before he had been kneeling over the other - and brushed the back of his hand against a bruised cheek.

“Damien, are you alright?”

He nodded, mumuring an apology. Ivan. It was Ivan here. It was Ivan’s voice, his thick accent calming and relaxing him - believing it so much, Damien almost felt that way. Hiding the shaking of his hands, he guided Ivan’s to take hold of his sides, patting them a few times before he let them fall against the bed.

*

“-that was stained, bloody and dirtied. Just like the sock stuffed into his mouth, nearly choking him.”

*

Fisting them into the clean, neat sheets, Damien lowered himself onto the bed, feeling Ivan shush him quietly, pressing him gently down, resuming his loveplay. A spark of warmth, tiny, began to grow. Times like this always touched him to the point of tears, Ivan being so loving with him. He stifled a sob, at the way his zipper was parting, and also at the fact that he and Ivan had a few spontaneous loveplay sessions. Without the gentleness, without the sweet words. Just a sudden desire and want to be fill and be filled. Raw passion. “A-and now back to this…” Constant reassurances, slow paces, needs he had to have even with a kiss. Ivan would surely grow tired, bored with this stupid problem of his; one could only put up with so much.

He gasped, nearly sitting up again at the way Ivan started to tug down his jeans. His older lover told it him was alright, and hands completely left him. Fear gripped at him - did Ivan not want to bother with this much trouble?

“Here, it’s only fair,” That british accent abandoned the usual proper tone he’d always hear on english shows with a light chuckle that was only Ivan’s. A hand took his, and set it on a bare shoulder; had Ivan taken his shirt off? “Thank the Gods…” He thanked Ivan too, it was almost as if the other knew what would help him stay in the present. His rapists, he felt his heart leap in his throat at the word, both of them had kept their shirts on for a time. Marcel hadn’t after the fifth time of dragging him into “action”. Having laid back down again, he stared up at where he knew the ceiling would be; he looked up at the ceiling too a few times, no where else to look, not wanting to look at a face he knew or saw before.

I paused for breath, then went ahead with what was struggling to be let out of my head. “Face it: They all wanted me to be a certain way, and I became that way so they would stop telling me I was awful for being who I was. I just want to please everyone so they stop yelling at me for being imperfect and wrong and awful…”

I melted into quiet sobs, and tears continued to stream down my reddened face, coming so fast I couldn’t wipe them away fast enough.

“I think we’ve had a major breakthrough,” Patrick said quietly, stroking my left shoulder delicately. “This is why you are depressed and anxious—you’re trying to be something you’re not and never will be, which is perfect.”

“But life’s so hard if you’re not perfect,” I said plaintively, my voice strained from crying. “People all the time up in your face telling you what’s wrong with yourself and how you can change it and why you need to change and all this other mess…it’s just impossible to deal with!” I stood up suddenly, and Patrick rose with me. He knew my routine: I was taking a ‘think walk,’ which I do instinctively when trying to sort through something very difficult and frightening.

“People throughout my life have shown me that I’m not what they want me to be, Patrick,” I said, facing the window, looking out at nothing as he was wont to do in sessions. “By being as close to perfect as I can be, I get them to shut the hell up about me, because they can’t find any flaws to gripe about. Damn it, I’ve worked all my life to be what everyone wants, and that other self would wreck everything if she came out. Even once. I can’t risk letting that other side of me out. She’s not what anyone else wants, and so I can’t show her.”

“But are you what YOU want?” Patrick asked, coming up behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders protectively. “Is the Lily that you are in normal life what you want yourself to be?”

“Well, I like the benefits it brings—-good friends, good family relations, strong business partnerships, and basically a good image to everyone who knows me,” I said conversationally, my head cocking to the left slightly in thought. “But I’m not always the perfect little angel—-I’m seventy percent angel and thirty percent devil, I guess. Everyone knows about the perfect Lily, but they have no idea what’s hiding beneath the calm surface of my soul’s oceans.”

I could feel Patrick pressing against me from behind, and I thought I could detect his erection pressing into the soft flesh of my butt.

“I want to be free, but I can’t be,” I said, more to myself than to Patrick. “I want to let myself out, but I’m scared of what will happen.” I turned, freeing myself of Patrick’s grasp on my shoulders, and tears came to my eyes again. “I just don’t want to let people down by being anything less than what they expect of me. I want to be what people need, not something they just throw aside because it doesn’t suit them. I want to be needed and loved—-” My words died away in my throat as I started to cry again, and my shoulders curled inwards as I hugged myself, trying to stop crying.

Patrick moved in front of me. “Lily…look at me.” He raised my chin with one finger, so that I was forced to look him in the eyes. His blue eyes, so intensely focused and piercing, turned my lower body to utter weakness, and I sniffled in spite of myself.

“You are beautiful to me. You should be beautiful to you.” He leaned in and kissed me, and then I melted for real. Melted right into Patrick’s arms. The feel of another person loving me enough to see me as beautiful and wonderful even through my flaws truly touched my heart, and awakened a part of me that had been long dormant.

We stood there kissing for the longest, until he finally broke our lips’ bond and led me over to the couch, where I lay down obediently. I watched him strip, vaguely understanding that I was about to have my first sexual experience, but my mind was too clouded by lust and confusion to understand it fully.

Once he was completely naked, he knelt beside the couch and undid my jeans, undoing the fastenings carefully and quickly. “Lift your hips,” he instructed gently, and I did so, allowing him to slide the jeans from my body. Then he lifted my shirt over my head, revealing my large breasts, which had been shown only to the mirror in my bedroom before.

“God, you’re beautiful, Lily,” Patrick breathed as he traced his fingers over the exposed tops of my sensitive breasts.

“I—I am?” I asked, snapping out of my dream world just enough to understand.

“Yes, Lily…you are,” he replied softly. “Now, sit up a minute.” I did so, and he deftly unhooked my bra and slid it off my shoulders, down my arms, and laid it aside.

My underwear was now the only thing left on me, and obediently I raised my hips again, still in a mental fog. I could feel Patrick’s fingertips brushing lightly over my slightly rounded stomach and curved hips, and could feel the silky fabric sliding gently down my legs and off my body. Only when he moved to settle on top of me did my rational mind make a final sharp protest.

“Oh…wait, Patrick,” I said, feeling his weight pressing on top of me. My mental fog cleared a bit as I felt him settle between my legs, and my eyes went wide.

“Oh, no, we can’t…I can’t risk it…” I mumbled incoherently. “I can’t lose my virginity this way…”

“Think of it as…a different type of therapy,” Patrick said quietly, grazing his lips over my neck. I shuddered under his gentle touch, and he smiled down at me.

“I’ve never taken a virgin before…hmm, I wonder what it will feel like?” His smile seemed to grow a little bit devilish as I looked up at him, and a little fearful gasp started up in my throat.

“You wouldn’t.” My heart felt as if it quivered in my chest.

“Of course I wouldn’t, Lily,” he said, quelling my fear of him taking me by force. “I will try to make it as painless as possible. Just trust me. I know you have trouble with trusting, but all you have to do is relax and know that you are putting the well-being of your body in good hands.” He caressed my hips gently, smiling to himself.

“And they are good hands…” he murmured softly. I giggled playfully, my fear gone for the moment.

“All right, Lily, just relax, close your eyes…you will feel some pain, but it won’t last long,” he said reassuringly. I tried to lie back and relax, but it was still a bit difficult.

“What if…what if I turn into that…that woman that I became last time?” I asked softly, my worry making my voice sound like a little girl’s.

“Then let yourself become her. Let her sexuality flow through you. I don’t mind if she comes out a little bit,” he said, chuckling softly, and I knew he was referring to the previous session’s ‘activities.’

I felt him shift slightly on top of me, and his penis pressed against me, not enough to penetrate inside me, but enough to startle me. I whimpered slightly, the fear within me still present, if faded.

“Be still, and it’ll be all right,” he whispered gently, and I felt him push forward, the head of his penis separating my inner lips and resting just inside me.

“Holy shit, that thing feels really big,” I thought to myself. I’d always wondered how I’d accommodate a man when my own fingers wouldn’t even fit inside me. “I guess I’m going to find out soon,” I thought in response to my logic.

“Good girl…just let it happen,” Patrick whispered reassuringly, and his body tensed as he prepared to push forward again. This time I felt a little pain as his penis slid farther inside me. My inner walls were beginning to stretch, and this made me quite uncomfortable, to say the least. He must have felt my inner muscles clench around him, because he looked down at me and smiled.

“It’s okay. Just relax. It won’t be any fun if you don’t,” he said kindly. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, and Patrick picked that moment to thrust forward sharply.

Instant, hot pain coursed through my body, but died away before I could react, replaced by a wonderful feeling of fullness within me.

“Mmmmm…that feels fuckin’ awesome,” I said, but not in my normal voice. I realized that my other self was taking me over, and fear began to rise in my chest.

“Patrick…I’m not myself…I’m her, but I know I’m her.” Of course, this sounded very confusing, but I was aware of being two people at once. It was frightening and new to be aware of both personalities at the same time.

“You sound so sexy, Lily,” Patrick said in that same dreamy, strange tone he had taken on earlier. “It’s hard to imagine that you are so innocent when I hear that sexy voice of yours.” He thrust deeper inside me, and my other self’s voice moaned.

“Yeah, Patrick, baby…yeah, you feel so damn good inside me.”

I was horrified. My other self was saying all these terrible, lustful things, and I had no control over her! I could only lie back and observe and feel. But the pure feelings of sex were pretty awesome, of course. I could feel Patrick thrusting inside me, filling me completely. The initial pain of his entry had given way to a throbbing, pulsating arousal that centered around my clitoris and vibrated outwards.

“Mmmm…” my other self moaned as Patrick kissed my neck gently. “Fuck me. Damn, you feel so…hard. Did I do all that for you?” she purred in Patrick’s ear, eliciting an affirmative grunt from him. His kisses fell lightly and gently on my neck like rainfall, and I knew he was trying to be gentle with me, even though my other self had control of my body for the time being and needed no initiation, evidently.

“God, Lily, you certainly know how to…take a man’s breath away,” he panted. I could see that he was trying to control himself for fear of being too rough with me, but he was barely succeeding.

“Good,” my other self said, her voice sultry. “I told you that you’d enjoy me once I was let out, didn’t I, baby?” she said, reaching up and stroking Patrick’s left shoulder affectionately. She shifted underneath him, and I felt him suddenly penetrate inside me more deeply. Patrick’s breathing became more rapid and shallow as my other self somehow managed to take all of him inside. His size stretched me to the limit, but it was such a glorious feeling of being completed and fulfilled that the pain did not matter in the least.

“Yes, baby, yes,” my other self cried out softly as his thrusts sped up. I could feel him pounding inside me, could feel his fast heartbeat when our bodies met. My other self, still commanding my muscles, raised my legs and wrapped them around him, creating her own thrusting rhythm in time with Patrick’s.

My entire body pulsed with my desire, and I started to feel the loss of control with my sensations that usually preceded a gigantic orgasm. My breathing grew heavier—I strained to gain control, since I had none over my body. My other self still wielded power over me, which was evident as she timed her thrusts to match with Patrick’s. His face was flush, and a light sheen of sweat had appeared on his brow. My pleasure heightened in intensity, and I struggled with my other self for control of my fully aroused body. Suddenly, I got my wish.

“Ohhhhh, God, Patrick, you feel so…big inside me,” I said without thinking, not realizing at first that I had regained control over my body. Then the revelation sunk in. My other self had not disappeared, but we had somehow…blended. We were one person again, and I had control and yet still the desires of my once-hidden persona.

“Lily, is that you?” Patrick panted out, his climax obviously close.

“Yes, Patrick…it’s me.” Confusion swept into joy. “It’s me! I’m not two people anymore!” It was happiness that I didn’t think could be made better, until I felt the involuntary quivers in my lower body that gave way to the most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced.

“Oh, yes, Patrick, yes!” I cried aloud, feeling the sensations pulsing within me. Patrick shuddered and groaned, and I felt him explode in climax, buried deep within my flesh. My body continued to quiver as the orgasm washed over me and slowly faded, leaving us both breathless and sated, and Patrick collapsed on top of me.

***

I got myself dressed again, slowly, since my muscles were beginning to ache a bit from my “different” kind of therapy. Needless to say, I was still a bit shaken from my experience, but it was a good kind of shaken.

“Not just shaken—shaken and stirred,” I thought to myself with a mental giggle, as I watched Patrick dress out of the corner of my eye. I was right—he had a really nice ass.

I sighed softly, and Patrick turned around, in the midst of buttoning his shirt.

“Are you all right, Lily?”

“Yeah…I think so,” I said. My mind was still abuzz with the shock of not being a virgin anymore. But I strangely didn’t feel any different or felt wrong or dirty for it—-I actually felt fulfilled, like a deep need within my soul had finally been granted me.

“I’m glad,” he replied, smoothing out his clothes on that sexy body of his. “You seemed all right when we were…in therapy,” he said with a little wink.

“Hey, I don’t mind that kind of therapy. Heck, if all therapists offered it, the whole world would suddenly need therapy, ya know?” I grinned broadly and winked back at him, the double entendre obvious.

I finished dressing myself and gathered my things, and was about to head out when Patrick stopped me.

“Leaving without a kiss?”

“Oh…of course not, sweetheart,” I replied, my face blushing. I was still quite innocent to the ways of love, even if my body was no longer innocent in the ways of sex. I leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, and he smiled as I pulled away.

“You’re still the Lily you were before…innocent and gentle. And beautiful, of course,” he added with a deep chuckle.

“Was there ever any doubt?” I quipped, smiling sweetly. Then I grew serious for a moment. “Really…thank you so much, Patrick. I was scared, and you helped me through it. Maybe I’ll finally get over this terrible time in my life and start living again, huh?”

“Any time, Lily,” he said, his blue eyes as soft and gentle as his slight smile. “And…uh…I’ll be seeing you next week, right?”

“You bet,” I said, walking out the door. Then I turned back to look at him.

“I think I’ll probably need another prescription for that wonderful…ahem, therapy.” A mischievious grin spread across my face slowly as I looked back at him, and he returned my confident smile with a wink that only the two of us understood in full.