Friends...my friends, I have had a craptastic day. That's good for you because my craptastic day equals me needing to spend some time with Church and Shawn, and that means, another chapter for you. I hope you enjoy it. NOTE: When you start the paragraph that reads 'A NEW TUNE STARTED,' I recommend you play Joe Cocker's "You Can Leave Your Hat On" as you read. It's the tune that helped inspire the scene. I couldn't come up with a good reason for our other world friends to know the song, so I didn't write it in, but that shouldn't stop you from enjoying it.
If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please close up now and have a great day! If you are of legal age and are interested, by all means keep going. I'll be glad to have you along for the journey. Please donate to Nifty. This is a great resource for great stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.
41
Dull Planning and a Romp
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, I agree, I quite agree that he will likely be aware that you are coming, but what if he does not know?" Ars insisted for like the hundredth time. Neb, Bem, Shawn, Ars, and me were in the conference room. The Dux brothers took the day off to spend time with Cy's family. We'd been looking at a map of the land around the Demon's Citadel and Ars was playing devil's advocate on our transportation options. "Think of it, Warrant Officer, what if you did manage to surprise him?"
I broke into the back-and-forth that was getting us nowhere. "Neb, would you explain where we're going and what the trouble is?" I was standing in the back of the room as usual. The damn chairs were too narrow for me, despite my significant weight loss, and I was tired of forcing myself between the arms.
Neb stood next to the wall screen and used her pointer to illustrate the problem on the map. "The mining town of Oppidum is two-thousand miles west-north-west of here. It is the last outpost of civilization between us and the mountain. Between Oppidum and the mountain are four-hundred miles of the Patet Sine Nomine, literally the plains with no name, or the nameless plains. It's a wasteland; the soil too thin and too dry to sustain life for anything besides a hearty scrub that grows there and nowhere else. The plains are easily traversed by any standard vehicle, but all our vehicles are powered by magically converted electricity and therefore, they emit a small, but detectable magic signature. The Steward is concerned this will alert Pravus of our approach."
She glared at Ars. "This discussion is pointless. We either make the trip in one day in a modern vehicle or what, horses? Ridiculous! The trip would take weeks. We'd never be able to haul enough provisions to last out the journey. In addition, what about Church's magic? If Pravus can sense the signature of a vehicle, he will certainly sense Church."
"Not necessarily, no not necessarily at all." Ars insisted. "Mister Philips is unprecedented, an anomaly. It is extremely unlikely that Pravus would connect the magical presence of Mister Philips with a single individual. Very unlikely indeed. The vehicle signature is subtle, certain to draw attention. Mister Philips would show like a beacon on any sensing apparatus. Pravus would never believe we would be bold enough to approach him so...boldly."
Neb was at the edge of her patience. It was taking all her restraint not to fly off the handle at the intractable Ars. She drew a couple calming breaths before trying to make him see reason. "Steward...let's assume you're right. Let's assume Pravus would be suspicious of a vehicle signature but not, as you called it, Church's beacon. Church would be in the vehicle. His beacon would overshadow the vehicle signature."
Ars refused to be moved by logic. "Not necessarily, Warrant Officer, no, not necessarily at all. Different signatures entirely. Sensitive instrumentation would know the difference."
"WHAT INSTRUMENTATION?" Neb shouted, giving vent to her strong feelings.
"One-thousand-five-hundred years is a very long time, Warrant Officer. We have no inkling of what they may have developed in that time. No, every precaution must be taken. If I thought it was possible to send Mister Philips across the plains inside a reflection room, I would. Not practical, no, not practical at all. Failing that, we must eliminate the vehicle signature if we can."
Neb seemed to be filling her lungs for another blast when I waded into the argument with what I thought was a silly suggestion. "If we could get some gas, we could take the Vic."
Neb spent the breath on a noisy exhale instead of a shout and raised her angry gaze to me. "What is a Vic?" She asked.
I persuaded everyone to reconvene the meeting in the parking garage. In a dark corner, behind some strategically placed screens, sat the Vic. I slid the screens aside and proudly presented the ancient sedan. "This is a 1986 Ford Crown Victoria, known affectionately as `the Vic.' It runs on internal combustion. No magic required."
"Combustion?" Bem asked as he walked around the car. "It runs on fire?"
I tried to explain but it was harder than I thought. Solum wasn't a world that understood fossil fuels. I opened the hood and started the car. It came to life with a clatter of collapsed lifters, the dull thunk of worn bearings, and a cloud of blue smoke, all of which dissipated as it warmed.
Bem seemed interested like an adolescent would be interested. "Is everything on Earth big like you? This thing is the size of a bus!"
Neb was more business-like. She asked questions about range, cargo capacity, seating arrangements, achievable speed, and the like. She didn't like the reduced cargo space, as compared to the transport van we'd been using, but she approved of everything else. She asked for a sample of the fuel. I took the empty whiskey bottle from the glove box and filled it from a bleed port in the fuel line that I'd long ago installed upstream of the fuel filter. I handed it over with some basic safety precautions and we trooped back to the conference room.
Neb set the bottle of gas on the table. "It's an option." She said of the Vic. "I wish we could carry more gear, but we're only planning to camp for one night. There will be enough space for rations, tents, and basic necessities only. I don't think repelling gear will fit. That means free climbing both ways."
"No," I corrected, "it means free climbing for ME both ways. Fuck." I leaned against the wall, sulked, and muttered obscenities to myself. "Fucking goddamned demon king...fucking goddamned mountain...jerkoff, asshole...I wonder if I've got enough juice to knock his fucking goddamned mountain over. Then we could kill the shit out of him on the ground."
"CHURCH!" Neb called. She sounded exasperated. I guessed she'd called me several times before I heard. "How much does your Vic weigh?"
"Four thousand pounds...that's with nothing in it...loaded, a little over five."
All eyes in the room turned to me. "Five thousand pounds...really?" Neb asked.
I assumed from her reaction that the plumb-purple plastic vehicles on Solum were far lighter. "Yeah...that's pretty standard for a vehicle from that era. The decade prior, some were as heavy as six thousand."
Neb, Bem, and Ars conferred in hushed voices. I heard enough to understand they thought the weight of the vehicle was astonishing.' Despite that, Ars thought a city bus could be converted to transport the Vic to Oppidum, but the great weight of the car made it just barely possible.'
"Don't forget the width." I reminded. "I've been on your busses. The car is as wide if not wider than they are."
The shocked expressions turned to me again. They hadn't considered it possible. "What about a freight truck?" I asked. "Or wrap a tarp around it and tow it. You can flat tow it if you have to. I just need to drop the driveshaft and wire it up."
The conference resumed. It was tentatively decided to tow the car. The three came up for air and we moved on to other topics. One of these was Personal Protective Equipment. It was quickly decided that, since we would have Shawn the physician along, and we were planning on using overwhelming force, full body armor was unnecessary, perhaps even a liability due to the limitation it put on movement.
Instead, we would be issued protective vests. They would be bullet proof up to a fifty-caliber rifle round. The impact would hurt like hell and possibly crack ribs, but it wouldn't kill the wearer. The other piece of PPE would be a helmet to protect the crown and back of the head only. A face shield limited peripheral vision, something else that was considered more dangerous than leaving the face unprotected.
In that manner, the meeting wound its ponderous way from one subject to the next, mostly inane logistics. I was in the middle of questioning my sanity for deciding to attend the incredibly dull meeting, when it ended. It was just before lunch as the last dry topic had been introduced, hashed out, and settled.
I hadn't been paying attention for a while. Suddenly the drone of conversation silenced and the meeting was over. Bem appeared in the path of my downcast eyes. He grinned up at me and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, back and forth in rapid fashion like he was running in place without lifting his feet. "What?" I asked. The dim bulb in my head lit before he answered. I remembered the promise Shawn and I had made for a matinee romp with Bem. "Oh, right."
I looked up to find Shawn. He was speaking with his uncle. "Shawn...will you be much longer?" I asked across the small room.
Shawn said a few more words to Ars before he made the motions of taking his leave, then he came to join us. "You in a hurry?" He asked.
"No, but he is." I nodded at Bem. Shawn remembered faster than I had. He laughed and led us from the room.
We'd taken the bus to The HALL that morning. It was a strategy to keep Shawn and me safe from Bem's advances. We assumed if Shawn drove us, Bem would try to maul me on the way to the apartment. This was especially true since, if we took the two-seat egg, Bem and I would be sitting together, basically on top of one another. With the link that Shawn and I shared, if Bem got me too worked up, there was the risk that Shawn would crash the car.
The idea of taking the bus had seemed like a good one in theory, but it worked only partially. Bem sat between us and went out of his way to prove he had no shame. I kept having to remove his roaming hands from my crotch, my inner thigh, from inside my shirt, and several other places as we rode along. Shawn had similar trouble on his side. The trip started with just Bem simmering. With Bem's constant groping, we were all simmering by the time it ended.
We made it home and into Shawn's apartment, embarrassed but without incident. Bem started stripping his clothes as soon as he was inside. "BEM!" Shawn shouted. The volume from the normally-quiet Shawn startled him into listening. Shawn pushed Bem to the kitchen island and sat him in a chair. "I know you're excited. We are to. We need to eat. We have the rest of the day and all night. Please, calm down. Let's have lunch. After, I think we'll have a shower, then playtime until dinner. After dinner, we'll have more playtime until it's time to sleep."
A question formed in Bem's mind and displayed itself on his face. "How long do you expect this to last? I mean, I've got some decent staying power, but you're talking about a marathon on top of a marathon."
Shawn moved to the culinarian side of the counter to program lunch and elaborated as he went. "We, that is, Church and I, have discovered something. The power that Church has, all that magic his body makes, supports his stamina and the stamina of those closest to him. The day we met you, when we got back to the hotel, we had a session with four completions each."
Bem slid to the edge of his seat and leaned across the island like he was trying to get closer to Shawn's words. Shawn continued his explanation of my special ability and what it meant for our romp. "The day we came back from the canyon, I stopped us after six completions...each, then we went out to dinner." Bem pushed himself back into the chair wearing a dumbfounded look.
"What's the limit for tonight?" I asked.
Shawn finished his programming. The culinarian made some small noises as it processed the order. "I think six is enough for anyone." He decreed.
"Awwww...come on," I wheedled, "it's a special occasion."
"Yes, it is," Shawn agreed, "but we've added a person. Six each is eighteen total. I think that's plenty."
"Fine, killjoy!" I sulked like I'd given a major concession.
Bem shared his dumbfounded expression between us. "You're not kidding, are you?" He whispered. "Nope," I admitted, "the truth is stranger than fiction my friend." I settled into the chair next to Bem at the island and turned to face him. "Bem, you seem tense. How about I rub your shoulders while we wait for the food." I wrapped his shoulders and upper back with my magic and worked the knots out of his muscles. His sinewy body felt good through my magic.
He rolled his head back into the sensation and groaned. "Feels sooooo gooooood. How are you doing that?"
"The telekinesis you stood on today...the same thing is working your shoulders."
"What else can you do?" Bem asked.
"I think I can do a lot more, but Shawn's afraid." I shot an indignant scowl at Shawn that he ignored. "He won't let me use it on his sensitive bits."
Bem groaned again as I worked out some knots between his shoulder blades. "I'm not afraid...incredible."
"This is gonna be fun!" I cheered. The culinarian chimed and it was time to eat.
We ate a light meal that wouldn't hinder performance and loaded the dishwasher. Bem started peeling his clothes off again, but Shawn stopped him. Shawn seemed to have a plan for us, and I knew enough not to argue. He turned the television on to a music channel. The wall display showed bars of rising and falling colors, like a combination between a test pattern and an electronic VU meter. The music he picked was a brassy instrumental with a ton of suggestive sax and a deep percussive beat. He turned it up loud enough to fill the apartment with rich sound.
Shawn made Bem and I sit on the edge of the bed, fully clothed and facing the bathroom. He went in to `get things ready,' closing the door behind him. I could feel Shawn bursting with anticipation and excitement. I didn't know what he planned to do, but I knew it would be good. As soon as he shut the door on us, Bem started groping me again. I was looking forward to exploring the smaller man but didn't want to get ahead of Shawn. I cocooned Bem's body in my magic, from his feet to his shoulders, to stop him. He struggled with single-minded purpose.
I was sitting to Bem's right. I put my left arm around him and pulled him against me. "Slow down." I instructed. "Shawn is the master of sensuality. Whatever he has planned, it will be worth your undivided attention." Bem stopped struggling...reluctantly.
A NEW TUNE STARTED with a swelling of brass and percussion. The bathroom door swung open revealing Shawn wearing his big, white bathrobe. He'd pulled his long hair back tight and put something in it, so it looked wet. The sash of the robe was tied, his hands were in his pockets. The only skin visible were his feet and ankles, the hollow of his throat, and the inner extreme of his collar bones. He tilted his head down, pushed his full, pink lips into a pout, and hit me with the up-from-under look from his big frozen eyes.
It was all I could do not to pounce on him. Bem's outsized baritone said what I was thinking. "Fuck that's so fucking hot."
Shawn's hips picked up the beat of the music, tilting forward and back in time to the bass drum. The movement spread to the rest of his body like ripples on a pond. He danced in the doorway, never moving beyond its confines. He reminded me of a cage dancer in a strip club. The music intensified and he cranked up his act to match. He turned his back to us and flipped the robe down, showing off his strong shoulders. He flipped it up and turned his right side toward us. His right leg separated the bottom of the robe, he held it straight out from his body. He flexed it and quickly lowered it to slip back inside the robe.
Bem struggled against the magic restraining him and whimpered. I lifted him into my lap, wrapped my arms around him, and released the magic. He scooted around enough to pull me into a deep, full-tongue kiss. I savored the unfamiliar flavor of Bem's salty mouth but kept my eyes on Shawn. Having Bem in my arms drove my lust and excited Shawn. It excited him emotionally and physically, and added a layer to his act.
Shawn opened the top of his robe to show off his rippling torso and closed it back. He opened the bottom to show off his dancing legs, stopping short of the tented fabric over his crotch. He spun away from us again and dropped the robe to the floor to reveal the whole of his amazing body. I pulled my tongue from Bem's sucking mouth and forced his head around to the sight. He tried to jump out of my lap. I held him tight and whispered in his ear. "No, it's not over."
Bem made an angry, frustrated noise in his throat that I ignored. Shawn's hips started grinding in time to the music, his every muscle flexed as he danced. Bem's lust was in high gear, his breathing fast and ragged. "So HOT!" He rasped.
Shawn raised his arms above his head, like an extension of the V of his back, his hands closed in fists. He leaned his head and shoulders toward us, far enough to lock his upside-down eyes on mine. He tilted his right fist down. Something in his hand released a stream of clear fluid onto his chest. Shawn lowered his arms to run his hands over his body. The music swelled again; he righted himself and did a smooth about-face. His whole torso was slick with oil. My brain screamed with raw lust. I tightened my grip around Bem who was keeping time with the music by chanting, `so hot, so hot, so hot, so hot.'
Shawn gyrated and slicked himself; his arms, his hips, each leg. I almost came out of my skin when he did his legs. He coated his throbbing manhood then reached behind to oil his upper back as he rhythmically thrust his erection into the air. He spun on the balls of his feet, ran his slick hands down the small of his back, and over the round firmness of his ass.
His hands moved to his front. They slid sensuously up his undulating torso. He coated his face and pirouetted to look at us; bedroom eyes and pouty mouth, his glistening body flexing and pounding to the music. He'd driven us almost beyond rational thought and he knew it. His face creased in a seductive grin. He turned away and eyed us over his right shoulder while he rubbed circles on his right ass cheek with a flat palm and wide-spread fingers. He slapped it once on the beat of the music. He slapped it again with the crash of cymbals. His left hand reached around his body until it appeared next to his right arm. A crooked finger beckoned us. He strutted into the shower stall, slamming his feet down to make his muscles quiver with his steps.
Bem growled and struggled in my arms. If I let him go, he would have left my lap like a bullet from a gun. I manhandled him to face me, held him against my body, and kissed him as hard as I knew how. I ran my hands over his lean body and under his clothes while we made out, his hairy body a new sensation for hands used to Shawn's smoothness. We pulled apart, red-faced, breathing hard. My words came out in shouted barks. It was taking all my self-control to even use words. "LET HIM...SET PACE...TRUST...ME!"
Bem shivered in my arms and nodded. I set him on his feet and made him strip me to slow him down. I stripped him at the same time. When we were both nude and had a chance to admire each other's nakedness, we joined a gloriously shimmering, wet, slick, oily Shawn under the hot water.
"You two could sell tickets to that ride." Bem said as we sat at the kitchen island over dinner. "I've had a lot of it, but I have NEVER had it like that."
We were each in various stages of undress. I wore briefs and a t-shirt. Even though I'd lost weight, my body still embarrassed me enough that I preferred to have it covered when we weren't engaged. Bem wore briefs only. I enjoyed his sinewy leanness, and the implied masculinity of the fact that he was completely coated with straight, blond body hair, but he didn't test my self-control very much. Shawn on the other hand; we made him put his robe on as he was the most distracting to both of us. Of course, after the striptease he'd treated us to, the robe was less effective than it used to be.
Bem was praising the experience between bites. "I've been with strong guys, but I've never been manhandled the way you do, Big Guy. It's fuckin' hot. How much do you weigh?"
"Around two-forty now, when I got here, I was two-eighty."
"No wonder you can toss me around. You're literally twice my size...and those hands of yours," Bem shivered with an erotic thrill, "so rough."
I looked at my hands and worried about them. I hadn't even thought about how my hands would feel to Shawn and Bem. The ugliness of the scars and permanently swollen knuckles was one thing, but I'd forgotten about the callouses on my fingers and palms. As I looked at my clumsy paws, I hated them. I wished I would have let Shawn fix them. I was ashamed I'd touched Shawn with them, ashamed of touching his perfection with the mangled ugliness at the end of my arms.
My self-loathing was getting ready to spiral out of control when Shawn closed his perfect hands around mine to stop me. I had a fleeting impulse to jerk my hands out of his to hide them, but he tightened his grip like he sensed my intention. "There is nothing wrong with them." Shawn reassured me. "I like the way they feel on my body. They're big and manly and strong, like you. The scratch of them...it lets me know I'm being held by you, touched by you. I wouldn't change them for anything. Do you believe me?"
"Yes." I gasped, on the verge of tears.
"Big Guy," Bem entered the conversation with some reinforcement of his own, "I like `em to. Like Shawn says, they're just like you. Don't be sad about them."
"I'm sorry," I apologized and took one of my hands from Shawn to wipe my damp eyes, "I hope I didn't ruin the mood."
"Not fucking possible, Big Guy." Bem added through a devilish grin. "The way you guys go at it...not possible. Between you and this guy," Bem shifted his comments to Shawn but spoke to me, "did you notice he fucks like he climbs? He is right there, in the moment, and nowhere else. That's why it's so intense."
Shawn went back to his meal and colored slightly from Bem's praise. I hadn't thought about the way Shawn made love in the terms Bem mentioned, but he was right. Shawn had none of the internal monologue or anxiety that plagued me during our sessions. That's what made every session with him, no matter the style of sex, as mind-blowing as the last.
"And those legs...I mean...FUCK, right Church?"
"God yes. They're perfect." I repeated what I'd said and thought countless times. "Speaking of perfect, Neb was right when she said you were skilled. You could teach a class. I'm learning shit I didn't think was possible."
Bem bashfully averted his eyes. I suspected it was an act. The man didn't have a bashful bone in his body. "Sweet of her. She's fun, you'd like her, if you liked women." Bem finished his grilled-chicken salad and slugged down a sports drink. "I can't believe I'm ready for more. I thought you were kidding about the stamina, but we've been going at it for hours and I feel like I could start from the beginning and do it all again."
"Speaking of which," Shawn said as he added his plates to the dishwasher, "we've got some choices for what comes next. We could shower again, we're all pretty well coated with sex, not that it bothers me in the least, but I don't know Bem's tastes."
Bem leered at Shawn. "You must know what I taste like by now. Church does, don't you?" Bem leaned in for a kiss and ran his tongue over my lips. "Mmmmmm." He hummed like he was enjoying dessert.
"OR," Shawn went on like he hadn't been interrupted, "we could keep going and plan to shower at the end, or we could fuck until we collapse in a sweaty pile and shower in the morning."
"I pick `C.'" I said and looked to Bem for confirmation. "Bem?" I asked.
He nodded rapidly up and down like a bobble-head during an earthquake. "Yes, `C' please."
Shawn chuckled but signaled his agreement by slipping out of his robe and draping it on the wide back of the couch. He sat on the white terry cloth, rotated on his ass, and stretched his entire length out on his back like a cat sunning himself in a window. "What will you have?" He asked us both.
I elbowed our special guest. "Bem, quick, heads or tails?"
The lean man licked his lips. "ASS!" Bem shouted with enthusiasm, then he shook his head as he faked realizing that what he'd said wasn't one of the choices. He rushed to correct himself. "I mean tails...definitely tails."
"Fine with me. Tag me when you want to switch." We peeled our clothes off and dove in like starving men at a buffet.
I woke early the next morning, nude on a bare mattress. The sheets had been stripped in the tumult of what Shawn would later refer to as `the second act.' The first light of pre-dawn filtered through the window curtains. I was closest to the outside wall, flat on my back. To my right, Shawn slept flat on his back. To his right, predatory cobalt eyes under tousled blond hair peered at me over the even rise and fall of Shawn's chest.
The heavy, cloying fragrance of marathon sex filled my nose and sent images of the night before flashing through my mind like an erotic slide show. Ghosts of sensations and flavors skittered across my skin, my fingertips, my lips, my tongue, and many more-intimate places. I breathed the sex into my nose and glanced down at my straining morning wood. I flicked my eyes back to Bem's gaze and saw that his attention had shifted to my cock.
I looked down at myself again and thought about the possibilities, but had second thoughts almost immediately. Shawn was still asleep and I wanted to let him rest. I also didn't want to start anything before breakfast, so I got up. I eased out of bed, found my briefs, and put them on. I tucked my cock away as best I could, letting it point to the right like a shelf hiding in the soft fabric. I figured it would settle down in time. I glanced around for my shirt, but it wasn't immediately visible, and I didn't hunt for it.
I fiddled with the culinarian until it made coffee and leaned on the counter to drink the first black cup of the day. Bem joined me without bothering to see to his modesty. He stood close enough to me that the tip of his morning-hard cock pressed against my thigh as he pushed himself up on his toes and pursed his lips at me. "Do I get a good morning kiss?"
"Not until you brush your teeth."
He `humphed' but didn't argue further. He went to the culinarian for coffee, took his cup and moved to stand against the island. He faced me, deliberately I thought, so I'd have to either look at his nudity, and his arousal, or turn away. I didn't bother to turn away. "You've had your first threesome." He prompted to start conversation. "How was it?"
I thought about that for a second. I'd had a few worries leading up to the event; the normal performance anxiety and some deeper concerns about sharing Shawn with another person, especially another person as experienced as I assumed that Bem was. None of it had been an issue, though. I'd had a blast and I got the impression my bedmates had a blast as well. It seemed the experience was equally good for each of us and that made me happy. "It was really good. I expected to be intimidated, but I wasn't."
"Intimidated, by who?"
"You." I admitted to Bem. "I expected it to be a competition, but it wasn't. You didn't take anything away. The whole experience was really great."
"I really like doing couples." Bem said over his coffee. "One on one is great, but couples...it adds something. I like helping them shake things up, forcing them to deal with a third person. It really teaches you about people. You guys...Shawn is so attentive and you...I think because you're so new at this, you don't have any...opinions, I guess. You just go with everything."
"Well, you didn't do anything I didn't like."
Bem grinned at me with what looked like joy and false modesty. "You're easy to please."
"And you're very talented." I countered.
Bem's grin widened at my compliment, then his face scrunched as he seemed to think of something. "Big Guy, how much do you feel when you touch things with your magic."
I knew he was asking more than what the words of his question said. I didn't mind explaining. "Anything man-sized or smaller, I feel every nuance."
"Really?" He looked at me over his cup of black coffee and his eyes flashed in the low light. "So last night when you used your power on Shawn and me at the same time, you felt all of that?"
I sipped my coffee and nodded.
"Everything?" He pressed.
I elaborated. "I don't feel heat or cold, but texture, movement, and resistance come through clearly. Having both of you wrapped in my magic and moaning...it was pretty incredible."
"It wasn't bad on my end either." Bem muttered and sipped his coffee. He grinned, I assumed reliving an amusing memory. "Shawn was so mad when you first started, but he didn't complain for long."
I chuckled at the same memory. Shawn had stopped us after the prescribed number of orgasms, but I wanted more. Bem wanted more. Deep down, Shawn also wanted more. To satisfy the two of them and to give myself one hell of a hot time, I cocooned them both in my power. Instead of holding them still, I teased the least sensitive of their erogenous zones first, then progressed to the most sensitive, adding as I went, until I was pressing all their buttons at once. Shawn yelled at me when I first started, but Bem immediately gave himself over to the experience. They screamed and thrashed as I magic-fucked them both. Despite receiving no direct physical stimulation from the act, for me, it was the highlight of the entire session. Knowing I could pleasure them to the point of complete loss of control, was exhilarating.
Bem set his cup down, his left hand went to knead his right shoulder. His right hand reached instinctively for his pants pocket until the hand realized he wasn't wearing any. "How do you feel?"
"Good...rested and ready to get cleaned up and start the day."
"Yeah, me to. How is that possible? I mean, what we did should have been impossible. The fact that I'm awake and on my feet is a miracle. I'm not even sore."
I drained my coffee and programmed another. I tried to explain as much as I understood while I made my selection. "Shawn says it's my magic overflow. He says we have to be careful because the long-term effects could be dangerous. He also thinks it would be possible to overdo it. Like if we didn't stop last night, he thinks we could push past what our bodies can handle and cause serious damage. That's why he was so adamant about stopping when we did. He wants to do more research, to see if my power is dangerous, but he said he wouldn't worry about it until after we save the world."
Bem grinned in genuine pleasure. "I like the way you said that, `after we save the world.' Sounds confident."
The culinarian chimed. I accepted my coffee from it and leaned on the counter to taste the second cup. "I waffle between cautious confidence in success and mortal terror of failure. I mean, I...am...scared."
"Death?" He asked.
"No, I don't care so much about that. I'm afraid for him." I tilted my head to the bed. "The month I've been here, with a lover like him and friends like you and Neb...I hope we're friends...that's how I think of us. Even with all the work and worry, this has been the happiest time of my life. If this month is all I get...that's fine as long as he gets to live."
Bem stared at me for a long time, so long it made me nervous. "What?" I asked.
"Uh...nothing," he dragged his eyes away and looked at the floor, "we have more in common than I thought is all."
I took a breath to ask him what he meant when I felt Shawn come awake. I raised my voice in a stage whisper, "we have to stop talking about him now, he's awake."
Bem automatically played along and helped me tease Shawn a little. "I was just saying I've had better. That's not an insult, it's a statement of fact."
Shawn sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What's that?"
"Nothing," I said, "Bem was wishing you good morning is all."
Shawn smacked his lips and looked around the room. He wrinkled his nose. "It smells like a locker room in here."
Bem took a deep breath through his nose and broke into a dreamy grin. "Yeah, isn't it great?"
Shawn got out of bed and opened a window. "It was great last night. Now it's time to clean up and air out." Shawn looked for and found his robe and carried it to the bathroom. He left the door open, and we heard the shower come on. I went back to sipping my coffee. Bem took his cup from the island and drained it. Shawn poked his head from the open bathroom door to get our attention. "Hey!" He called and clapped his hands. "I said it's time to clean up. Get in here."
Bem's grin widened, and his cock that had been deflating, seemed to stand up like a begging dog at the implication of Shawn's words. "Is he always bossy in the morning?" He asked.
"Most times." I teased.
"I don't know why you put up with it."
I raised my hands in a defeated gesture. "It can be difficult. I've found the best thing is to let him have his way."
"Well, I'm your guest," Bem reasoned, "so it seems I have no choice."
We both laughed and almost tripped over each other trying to be the first to get to the bathroom. We horse-played our way into the shower stall. Shawn looked down his nose at both of us and handed over two soapy washcloths. "About time. Church, you may wash my back. Bem, you may wash my front."
We did what we were told, and quite a bit more. It was a very good morning.