Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
“Does it feel good?” Caspen asked quietly.
She looked up at him, and with a rush of epiphany, she saw he was hard again. Not all the way, like before, but he was partially raised, and Tem knew she had caused it.
“Yes,” she whispered.
They stared at each other for a long time, Tem sitting and Caspen standing. It felt like a significant moment, and Tem knew not to break it. She wondered if he would touch himself again, but he didn’t. He seemed to enjoy simply looking at her, and she enjoyed letting him.
The fire was burning low by the time Caspen finally murmured, “We are done for tonight. You may get dressed.”
Tem felt brave once more and said, “So can you.”
His mouth slid into a devious smile. “I appreciate your permission.”
“I gladly give it.”
Caspen’s smile widened. Tem noticed that he watched her even as she put her clothes back on, his eyes tracing over her body until the last possible second. She watched him too, seeing the muscles roll in his shoulders as he pulled on his shirt, observing the defined veins on his arms as he tied his trousers. She sensed a restrained energy in his body, and she couldn’t wait to feel it.
When they were both dressed, Caspen gestured gracefully.
“I will walk you out.”
Tem nodded, following him toward the cave entrance. She could feel the claw inside her and was sure she would never get used to it. It took effort to walk normally.
It was a shock to enter the cold evening air after the warm embrace of the cave, and Tem shivered as they stepped outside. The grass was wet beneath her feet; it had rained while they were inside. At the start of the path, Caspen looked at her. His face was attentive, his eyes flashing in the dark.
“You will return tomorrow night. Do not be late.”
Without another word, Caspen turned to leave.
“Wait,” she cried despite herself.
He stopped, his back to her.
“Will you think of me?” Tem whispered.
Caspen didn’t turn. She stared at his shoulders, broad and strong in the dark. His silence was absolute; she could hear nothing but the rustlings of the forest around them, overlaid by the pounding of her own heart. He stood there for so long she wondered if he had even heard her. Finally, he said, “I told you I would.”
“I know. I just…” Tem paused, crossing her arms and taking a deep breath before finishing, “I wanted to hear it again.”
Caspen still didn’t turn.
Instead, an aching pulse shot suddenly between her legs. It passed through her so sharply that she gasped, doubling over in surprise, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it. She had to cry out; the sensation was too strong. She had never felt anything so good-it eclipsed every sensation she had ever given herself; it made her entire insides unfold in a spiral of petals, like she had become one with the moon and the stars.
Tem could barely keep her balance as the pulse intensified, forcing her to her knees. She curled into herself, her fists gripping the grass. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think. She felt nothing but the most profound pleasure of her life. Tem knew in that moment without a shadow of a doubt that she was alive.
Then it was over.
By the time she looked up, Caspen was gone.
The next morning at breakfast, her mother fixed her eggs, as usual. Tem sliced an apple on the side and set the honey pot on the table, the way she did every morning. Everything was as it had always been-everything was exactly the same. Except for Tem.
She was forever changed by her time in the cave. She’d lain in bed all night, wide awake, replaying everything that had happened. She remembered what she saw when Caspen dropped his trousers. She remembered what it felt like to touch herself, to see Caspen grow hard at the sight of her, to finish in front of him.
Tem tried to eat but could not. The moment she raised her spoon, the claw pulsed, and she gasped.
When it pulses, you will know I am thinking of you.
The thought was like dewy grass on a spring morning. She could imagine nothing better than knowing she was on Caspen’s mind. She wished desperately for another pulse-she wanted him to think of her again-to think of her continually until they were reunited that evening.
But another pulse didn’t come.
Tem’s heart sank. Was that all she was worth to him? A single pulse-nothing more? What if it had been an accident, and he hadn’t been thinking of her at all? Shame flushed her cheeks, and she turned back to her plate.
Breakfast passed in silence. Tem knew her mother was dying to ask about her time in the caves, but every time she opened her mouth, Tem shot her a glance that made it clear she didn’t want to talk. She couldn’t possibly tell her what had happened. She’d need to come up with a story that didn’t involve her completely crossing every boundary the training was supposed to have in place.
In the meantime, it was Sunday, which meant the entire village went to church.
As Tem climbed the church steps, she looked at the stone statues of the gods-the ones whose anatomy was so staggeringly inferior to Caspen’s. If these were the gods, then what did that make him?
They were late, and the church was already full. Tem followed her mother to the back row, sliding into the pew after her. When she sat on the hard wooden bench, the claw pressed against her insistently. She was immediately warm between her legs and wished she were alone. She had to sit delicately, her thighs tensed on the hard wooden bench, her hands gripping her knees.
“Something wrong, my dear?” her mother asked.
Tem shook her head. There were no words for the experience. “Nothing, Mother.”
She looked around the church, trying to locate Gabriel as a way to distract herself. He was sitting at the end of their row, his arm around a boy who was decidedly not Peter. She couldn’t help but smile.
The service began. They prayed to Kora, goddess of fertility. It was Kora’s benevolence that influenced the training, that blessed the girls with fertility, that ensured the prince would bear a male heir. It was in Kora’s name that Tem was to offer her body as an option for the prince. Kora was a mother to all, and it was said she visited new mothers the night before they gave birth to bless them with a safe delivery. Tem wasn’t sure she believed it. There were plenty of women who died in childbirth. The queen herself, for instance. Everyone knew that the prince had grown up without a mother. Had Kora forgotten to visit her?
It was halfway through the service when the first pulse came.
Before Tem had a chance to catch her breath, a second one quickly followed. But this couldn’t be happening right now. Not now, not next to her mother, not in church. Sitting still was impossible. Tem clutched the pew with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to control her breathing.
Another pulse came, and Tem let out the tiniest whimper.
Do not make a sound.
Tem froze. The voice was Caspen’s, and it had come from inside her mind. But how was that possible? Before she could wonder further, another pulse came, this one so strong that Tem had to grab the pew in front of her to keep from crying out. Her mother looked over with a frown.
“Cramps,” Tem mouthed.
Her mother nodded.
It was the only thing she could think of to explain the way she was leaning forward, trying desperately to find a way to sit that didn’t accentuate the pulses, which were coming in increasing frequency. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to them. They varied in intensity and duration, sometimes quick and sharp, sometimes slow and lingering, each one leaving her more breathless than the last. They were so chaotic that Tem almost wondered if they were accidental. She couldn’t believe the basilisk was thinking about her at all, much less thinking about her for this long. Tem looked around for something-anything-to distract her.
Her eyes landed on Vera.
She was at the end of a pew, leaning against Jonathan. Her shoulder looked like it was twitching, her arm jerking up and down in a steady rhythm. Whenever she sped up, Jonathan’s head would roll back, and every time it did, Vera’s shoulder would stop moving. Then it would resume a moment later with renewed vigor.
With a jolt, Tem realized what she was watching.
Tem looked around in bewilderment. Surely someone would see-surely someone would notice. But Vera and Jonathan were at the very end of a nearly empty pew, at an angle that hid Jonathan’s lap. Anyone who glanced at them wouldn’t know she was pleasuring him. Tem only knew because she knew Vera and also because she was so painfully turned on from the pulses that she felt as if she had suddenly acquired some inhuman ability to spot sexual activity from a mile away.
Whether out of sick fascination or latent jealousy, Tem couldn’t look away. The pulses seemed to sense her arousal, somehow syncing to the motion of Vera’s arm. They were purposeful now; Tem had no doubt that Caspen was thinking of her, and he must know she was thinking of him. The pulses were building, building, building. Even as the rest of the church started to sing a hymn, Tem couldn’t join in. All she could do was stare at Vera’s arm pumping up and down, imagining it was her arm instead, imagining it was Caspen’s cock instead of Jonathan’s.
Tem clamped her mouth shut as the final pulse came.
But it was impossible not to cry out. The hymn had reached a crescendo, and so had Tem, and just as the final note ended, Tem watched as Vera’s head dipped beneath the pew, remaining in Jonathan’s lap for a brief moment before rising again. She licked her lips in triumph.
The pulses lingered, drawing a residual moan out of Tem, which she didn’t bother trying to silence. She was so wet, she could only hope it hadn’t soaked through her dress.