Apologies for the extended downtime. Hopefully that should be a one time only thing. Anyway, here’s a “prequel” story of Celia.
Figures lay entwined on the domed roof of the adobe brick hut. Two of them, in fact, though it took some work to sort out the writhing limbs. The sun-baked bricks were hot on the sun-baked skin of the lithe and limber pair of hairless and seemingly sexless lovers.
On the hard-packed ground at the base of the hemispherical hut were the remains of a purple potion bottle, discarded and shattered.
“Bite me,” Celia hissed, the sibilant sounds of her native language barely distinguishable from her breath. “Do it, before it wears off.”
“Talk dirty,” her lover hissed back.
“No. Bite me.”
“Talk dirty first.”
“Fuck me,” Celia said, in perfect imitation of the half-elf woman in the movie they’d just finished watching. “Fuck me hard, dungeon stud.”
“That is so hot,” the man hissed, though he had little idea what the grunting sounds actually meant. “Do some more.”
“This is seriously demeaning, Sid,” Celia hissed.
“I took your stupid potion. Do this for me.”
“You get the effects, too,” Celia hissed. “Isn’t it enough that I agreed to watch the movie with you?”
“The movie was for both of us, too,” Sid hissed back. “Didn’t you like it?”
“Mammal porn isn’t my idea of a good time,” Celia hissed. “Why do you always want me to talk in partialtongue when we’re making love?”
“Because it’s sexy,” Sid hissed.
“Proper speech isn’t?” Celia hissed.
“It’s ordinary. Say something else and I’ll bite you, I promise.”
Celia sighed.
“I want your pussy in my ass, right now,” she said. She didn’t think she’d quite got this one right, but Sid didn’t complain. As good as she was at imitating the sounds other races could make with their mouths, she wasn’t too up on mammalian anatomy.
Sid’s mouth opened wide. A pair of curved fangs penetrated the flesh of her neck where it joined her shoulder. Celia moaned and writhed, then was silent and still. He slipped his teeth out and his male equipment unfolded itself.
He penetrated her again, entering her cloaca. Her eyes were filmed over and her breathing shallow, but inside her head, Celia was singing. While many of her clutchmates had experimented with sex at the age of twelve, Celia had been so-so on the subject until a few years later. That had been when her aunt, in an attempt to curb her potion use, had told her that no alchemical high could compare to the natural euphoria of making love.
She’d been skeptical, but had located a lover and after a little experimenting, she’d realized that some potions’ effects could be shared through the bite, transferred with her partner’s venom.
When he was spent, Sid rolled off her. He felt his equipment deflating, retracting. Once it was properly tucked away, there was very little to distinguish him from the female beside him, at least not to the eyes of another race.
He laid beside Celia, his thin frame shaking and panting while her paralyzed form did no more than occasionally twitch. He turned his face to her.
“I hope that was good for you,” he hissed, noticing only as he finished saying this that she was sliding away from the crest of the hill-like structure. Before he had a chance to register what this meant, she’d passed the edge of the relatively flat portion and tumbled down onto the ground.
Fortunately, the glass bottle with the diluted water of ecstasy in it had landed on the other side when it had suffered the same fate.
“Hairballs!” Sid hissed. “Celia!”
She groaned and stirred a little.
He swung his legs around and slid down the artificial slope, feet-first. He landed beside her, and pulled her up to a sitting position.
“Are you okay?” he hissed when she’d come around more. One of her eyes was still completely covered by the membrane. The other was half open.
“Fuck… off,” she hissed in a sort of slur. She reached out one somewhat stiff arm and clubbed insensibly at the air around his head.
“Hey, it was an accident. You were the one who said we should do it on the roof.”
“Where… pants?”
“Did you hit your head?”
“Can’t… move… mouth,” Celia hissed. She did not have to open her mouth much to speak, but her inability to move her jaw made the sounds more than a little indistinct.
“I can’t let you go home like this,” Sid hissed. “You’ll fall off the path.”
“Get pants,” Celia hissed insistently.
Sid walked around to the hut’s entrance and went inside, where he gathered up their clothes. He set them down in a pile on the ground outside. Celia pulled herself over, dragging her lifeless legs behind her, and began pulling at the pocket of her knock-off jeans.
“Another potion?” Sid asked, flicking his eye-membranes closed and open again in a gesture of disapproval when he saw her pulling a little glass vial out. “You’ve got a problem, Cele.”
Celia ignored him, fumbling the cap off and raising the vial to her lips. She lost half the contents in the process and she had to tip her head back in order to pour the potion between her barely-open lips, but almost as soon as she did so she regained a measure of muscular control.
“It’s an antidote potion,” she hissed. “I can’t wait around for half an hour before I go home. The sun’ll be behind the mountains by then.”
“You’re not going to stick around, then? Maybe stay the night?”
Celia flicked her membranes at him.
“My mother would kill me,” she hissed. “After she killed you.” She reached up and felt the puncture marks on her neck. “Shitpiss. You bit me too high.” She pulled on her tight sweater, trying to pull the collar up so that it covered up the wounds.
“We could try it without the bite next time, if you’re worried about the marks.”
She glared at him.
“I am not a slut,” she hissed, saying the last word in human-speak, in Pax.
“I didn’t say you were! It’s just… you know… a modern thing.”
“It’s a mammal thing,” Celia hissed. “A human thing.”
“We are part human, Cele.”
“That’s what they say,” Celia hissed. “I’m not sure I believe it. And anyway, even if we are that doesn’t mean we have to sink to their level.”
“Three years of the same thing, though…”
“Are you saying I’m getting old?”
“No!” Sid hissed. “It’s just those human girls look pretty hot, thrashing around and moaning.”
“Flashing their breasts and their hair and their extra fun-holes around,” Celia added.
“Exactly,” Sid hissed.
“Good night, Sid.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. I just meant it’s, you know, exotic.”
“I’ll come back up tomorrow,” Celia hissed. “Maybe.”
“You know you will,” Sid hissed.
“If I do, it’ll only be because I landed on my head.”
“Love you, Cele.”
“I love you, too,” Celia hissed.
Sid was a childless widower, and the hut he dwelled in had been built by him and his late wife. His open interest in Celia had begun three years ago, a year after the death of his wife in a giant condor attack.
Celia was eleven years his junior… slightly scandalous, but not entirely unheard of in the village. That Sid came from a family of some means and Celia did not was cause for more remark than the difference in their age.
Where Sid lived atop the plateau, Celia lived with her mother in a cave in the cliff wall with a built-up front. As she hurried down the narrow path which led from the plateau to the cluster of cliff-dwellings, Celia ran her fingers around the outlines of the figures which past generations had carved and painted onto the rock face.
There were many different things depicted, but her favorite were the snake-bodied Ancestors. That was what her own kind called them. The first humans to explore the area had identified them as nagas, an almost-extinct race which the explorers said dwelt somewhere east of where they themselves had come from.
By extension, they gave the cliff-dwellers the name “nagakin”, though the only name they’d ever had or needed for themselves before was “people.”
The humans had brought more than names for the newly discovered nagakin. Under the reasoning that they were the offspring of nagas and other humans, they’d done their best to eradicate the people’s ancestral religion and instill in them a love of Khersis, mankind’s champion.
They’d met with only limited success in this venture, in large part because it had been impossible for them to eradicate the native language… only one nagakin in twenty could mimic the half-tongued grunting and groaning of humankind and other mammalian races.
These “partialmouths”, as they were called, often found their ability to be a mixed blessing. It opened doors in the wider world, but was often viewed with suspicion and distrust among the people.
Celia planned on getting as much wriggle out of her linguistic talents as she could, and if Sid kept up his end of their bargain and helped her get into a human school, that would be quite a lot of wriggle indeed.
Unlike some of her kin, her plan was not to shed her heritage like a skin and never look back. She wouldn’t be leaving the mesa forever. She would get an education. The old sorcerers had told her she had a talent for illusion. She’d nurture that, and specialize in animation…
“Cecelia, is that you?” her mother hissed as Celia slipped inside the cave. The sun was setting, and the older woman had just opened the magic lantern which had replaced their oil lamp gourds three years before.
“Yes, mother,” Celia replied. “Has the mail come yet?”
“Not yet this week. I know you’re excited about your prospects but you mustn’t get your hopes up… none of the people have ever been accepted to a major university before.”
“If we don’t apply, then we never will,” Celia hissed. “Anyway, they have rules.”
“Their rules don’t always apply to us,” her mother hissed. “I wish it wasn’t… what is that?” She stared at Celia’s neck.
“This?” Celia asked, trying to hitch her sweater up. “You got it for me, last year.”
“Not the sweater… what you’re trying to hide with it. Cecelia, you are far too young!” her mother hissed angrily.
“I’m an adult now!” Celia hissed back. “You said I could go with Sid!”
“I said you could date him, not writhe with him!”
“What am I supposed to do, let him tickle my neck for another three years?”
“So you want me to believe this was the first time?” her mother hissed. “Do you expect Sid to twine with you if you give yourself away? Nobody buys the bird when they get the eggs for free!”
“You’re so old-fashioned,” Celia hissed.
“I’m traditional,” her mother retorted. “I thought you cared about tradition.”
That cut Celia short.
“I do,” Celia hissed softly. “But I love Sid, and he loves me… and he’s going to pay for my education.”
“It’s easy for him to promise that when you haven’t even been accepted yet.”
“I will be, and he will,” Celia hissed. “And we’ll be able to move out of this hole, and you’ll be so proud of me…”
Her mother flicked her membranes.
“Cecelia, dear, a mother’s pride should never be contingent on her child selling herself to a rich man,” she hissed. “But, if you say you love him…”
“I do.”
“Then I’m proud of you for knowing what you want and going after it,” she hissed. “Did I ever tell you how I met your father at the sun festival?”
“Only about a dozen times…”
“Respect for your mother is another important tradition, you know.”
Have been poking around this site – this sort of thing is usually sort of something I intrinsically avoid, for personal reasons having nothing to do with the writing.
I just cannot help but associate “Magical Collegiate Sex Fantasy”–as a sort of genre I suppose Ms. Rowling caused unintentionally–with someone who replaced me in a longterm relationship that I did not want to have end. Yuckiness ensued and it was anything but minor in scale for me. Sometime in 2010, I realized I may never “get over it” but that I had gone THROUGH it, which is all I can really do, until/unless someone else got my attention, which just hasn’t happened to me yet.
I used to think the same thing of others in love-end trauma that some of my friends had judged me for; when younger, I’d see people behave as if their emotional hurts felt like a knife in the chest, and I’d thought that they were just being drama queens or attention whores. Then it happened, and my opinion changed fast, since that’s exactly how it does feel–and not just for a week, a month, even a year.
Fortunately, after five years, what counts is I may still be alone, but I’ve got happiness capacity again. Not sure exactly how it happened…and maybe it doesn’t matter.
Anyway, now I can read this kind of story without insta-mega-emo-freakout. That’s a good thing too, because THIS character really hits me where I live on multiple levels.
The Cecelia character sold me on reading more of this. I’m a fanatic for anything serpentine. The fact that she’s big on chemicals resonates hugely with me too.
When you can impress someone with my feelings about this kind of fantasy having been so negative for so long, you’ve done real magick, I think.
Groan. Partial tongue.
Yes, and “water of ecstasy” as a sex enhancing drug. I mean potion.