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Escape from Xanadu

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She watches the side of his neck as a small vein pulses with either the rhythm of the unfamiliar music or the strobing light, she's not sure which. All she knows is that she's suddenly very aware of his proximity and she's fairly sure she can smell him -- not his perspiration or the lingering scent of his aftershave -- but his unique chemistry that she's known for some time perfectly complements her own. Before she met him, she never really believed in the pheromone theory of attraction, but now she's not so sure, especially since the low level buzz she's felt between her legs from the moment they walked in has increased exponentially since he's pulled her closer.

They're standing in a dark corner of an alien lounge, and she realizes that she can't quite remember why. That should bother her, but he's got one hand at the small of her back and the other at her shoulder, and all she can think about is how he would taste if she licked the throbbing spot on his neck that is still keeping time with the odd music.

She gives herself a mental shake and tears her eyes away. Something about this is wrong, she's certain of it, but ever since they entered, she hasn't been able to focus on anything but him. She deliberately turns her head to the side, a feat that requires a puzzling amount of effort.

Despite the strange lighting that permeates the space in fluid, pulsating undulations, it's difficult to see much beyond their immediate surroundings. She catches a rhythmic movement to her right and knows she should be surprised to find the couple nearest them having sex, but she's not. Instead, she simply watches them without any attempt to mask her curiosity whatsoever.

The dark haired woman is naked and stretched over a table, her large breasts pressed flat against the surface, her body moving back and forth as her partner takes her from behind. She should be embarrassed to have this happening so close, especially when she's standing there with him, but she's not. No, rather than turn away, she continues watching, until the woman's eyes unexpectedly snap to hers, and a spark of recognition passes between them. She knows she should try to figure out what that might mean, but she's too distracted by the way the woman's face suddenly flushes and her mouth opens in a cry of ecstasy that she can't hear over the incessant music.

By now, the tension in her core has ratcheted up several notches. She turns back to face her own partner only to find him staring down at her with a look so intense it steals her breath away. At some point, they've moved such that one of his thighs is nestled between hers. She realizes without any self-recrimination at all that she's been pressing herself against it.

The hand that was previously at her back is now touching the bare skin underneath her robe just where her narrow waist begins to flare at the hip. She closes her eyes and focuses on how the rough pad of his thumb catches a little as he rubs it back and forth across her delicate skin. That sensation alone is enough to make her noticeably wet. He must feel it too, because the moment she opens her eyes, he threads his fingers though her hair and brings his lips down to meet hers.

His mouth claims hers completely, as the hand that was at her hip slides around and down to cusp her smooth backside and hold her firmly against his thigh, encouraging her to continue what she's started. She is more than happy to oblige, and so she shamelessly rocks against him, letting her own hand wander across his chest and down his abdomen until she finds what she's looking for. He lets out a ragged breath as she pushes his robes aside and takes his hard length in her firm grasp and begins to stroke him slowly from base to tip and back again.

By now his hand is on her breast, and his lips are trailing fire down her neck to meet it. He takes one stiff nipple in his mouth and sucks, and she can't help the way her back involuntarily arches as a spike of pleasure shoots through her body.

For a moment, she lets her unfocussed gaze wander, but all she can see is the fluid blue light enveloping their entwined bodies, the rippling effect making the way they move together appear disjointed. She finds it disquieting, so she determines to keep her eyes on him, but not before she notices that her robe has fallen open and her breasts are completely exposed. She knows there are other people in the lounge, perhaps watching her the way she watched the dark haired woman. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realizes this should bother her, but all she can think it is that she doesn't want him to stop what he's doing with his mouth.

God, all she wants is more. She needs more.

She hadn't realized she vocalized that thought, but she must have because he immediately shifts so that he's standing between her legs, his hard cock trailing pre-seminal fluid across her lower belly as he presses it against her. In one movement, he lifts her leg over his hip and spins them so that her back is now to the wall. She feels her body release another rush of wet warmth in anticipation of what's to come, and in the next second, all she can do is gasp as he shifts again and slides inside her on a low groan. The motion is sudden and had she not been so aroused, it might not have been entirely pleasurable. But the feeling of his large cock moving deep inside her while his lithe body presses her against the wall is almost more stimulation than she can take.

They move like that for awhile, with hands and lips and tongues and teeth engaging in their own erotic exploration, but soon the throbbing of the music is nothing compared to the throbbing between her thighs, and she is already tightening around him. His breaths are coming in short huffs, and she knows by the way every muscle in his body is drawn taut that he's trying to hold himself back. It's a losing battle, of course, for both of them.

He begins to whisper a desperate apology in her ear, something about not being able to last much longer, his voice gruff and low and full of need, but she cuts him off quickly with her own breathy assurance that she's about to come. With that, he increases both speed and pressure, his rhythm becoming erratic. She hears/sees/feels his release only seconds before her entire body shudders with its own, and she is overwhelmed by a rapture so intense, she forgets everything but her body's fervent response to the way he's still moving inside her, over her, around her. Just like the light.

Like a moth to a flame, she thinks.

It's her last coherent thought, because she's not sure if it's been minutes or hours or days since they walked into that dark and alien lounge. But how long she's been there, who she is, and why she's there are no longer relevant. The only thing that matters now is that he is there with her, and she will never, ever leave.