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Tres
His cock is pressing against the soft part of me, the wet female part I had almost forgotten I owned until the rough rod of the alien hidden behind the illusion holding me found it. I hold back a moan as he pushes inside me, taking me with a single thrust and locking me against his hips with strong hands.
“We can’t…”
“We are,” he growls against my mouth, thrusting inside me with every step he takes as he turns around to face the faun-king.
“She’s mine,” he says. “She fits me like a glove, and she always will.”
“Fornicate all you please,” Lykar laughs. “Display your hapless rutting to all the world, there is still no way out of this place.”
“Sing,” he growls to me. “Sing, Tres!”
I sing. It is not the song I sang on the day we met. It is another song. A song of coming home. A beacon.
I see it rise from me. I see it pierce the cave and travel through to the beyond, a bright beam of aural light pulsing with the rise and fall of my song.
I feel the power in my voice, and I know this animal joining between Vulcan and I, this rutting which continues with every thrust is more than sex. It is the fire which stokes my cry, and my song is not just a sound. It is something far more powerful than that.
Trelok always silenced his women, saying their chattering was irritating. The faun-king tried to silence me too, but Vulcan will not allow me to be silenced. He amplifies my song. It gives him power and it unlocks the music which has always been hidden inside me, curled up in a tight little ball of hope and pain and power.
I writhe against Vulcan as I sing and he makes rough, alien love to me. We practiced this in life, this organic, relentless, boundless bonding, and I felt the power in it then, but the power I feel now is so much more intense for being freed from flesh. The song swells and rises as my pleasure grows, my body no longer half-human or half-faun, but instead entirely me.
We are two energies wrapped around one another, the dominant thrusting of the alien who owns me enhancing all that I ever was. I am coming closer to a peak which feels as though it might destroy us both. This is the way out. This is how we rise, with the pounding of rod and chalice, the eternal mating dance.
I cannot contain it anymore. I am glowing with energy, coming apart at the seams as the orgasm which has been building since his kiss claimed my lips bursts through me, the final note of the song an orgasmic shriek.
Vulcan
She collapses against me, entirely spent. She has used all her power. She has pulled me from the void, reached across time. She has given me wings. She has bested death. And now she is tired, too tired to do anything more.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lykar steps in front of me. Fool. He thinks he is stopping me by standing in front of me, but the way out is not through him. It is around him. He is so small, so pathetic, and like all weak men, he has found a tiny place in which his power might seem large.
“I’m taking her with me.”
“Where? She has no body in the world of the humans, and you have none either. Your flesh rots in a cave.”
“Flesh is just another word for a cluster of particles.”
“So?”
“So the universe is full of particles,” I laugh at him. “There is no such thing as death. There is just temporary disassembly.”
“I’ll add that to the list of ill-fated philosophies,” he smirks, arrogant. He truly believes that he has won, because in all of eternity, he has never been wrong. What happens next will be fascinating for him.
I have not abandoned Tres. And I have not been abandoned either. There is no coming back from death, that much is true. But I live in the future. It’s not possible for me to die in the past, not really. The strands of time are twisted and uncomfortable around me. They want to eject me back where I came from - and from the feeling I’m getting, they're not alone.
Tres and I are glowing with a light which does not come from within us. We have been lost, but now we are found. It was only a matter of time. The faun-king should have asked more questions. He should have wondered how it was a scythkin managed to penetrate his realm a little more deeply. If he had, he would have realized that I am not really dead, that death, as he knows it, is nothing more than a cheap magician’s trick.
“What is happening?” Lykar sounds half-panicked as I stride across the room. I have a flailing mate over one shoulder, but I need one more thing.
