Tags: li blaine, microfiction
Awake in the Darkness
by Li Blaine
His heartbeat quickened as the lock fell to the ground and door creaked open. He raised his flame high, giving life to shadows in the depths of his holdfast. Water trickled down the cold cell walls, leaving puddles on the cracked stone floor. The straw that lined it was damp and rotten. His robe danced in the drafty air and he shivered as he stepped into the darkness.
He heard her before he saw her. The rhythmic breathing of the prisoner echoed against the stone and mixed with the haunting clatter of chains. Old tales filled his mind, as torchlight found her face; stories of harpies, wise-women, desire and dread. He did not know the truth, but bright green eyes reflected the flame’s flicker in the darkness. This woman wore chains—a steel collar that pulled when she moved—but that was her only mark of imprisonment. Her naked frame was perfect and pale without bruise or blemish. She stood tall, her lips were full, and her eyes watched him with a glint of curiosity, of amusement maybe, but not fear. She was beautiful but it was the softness that surprised. She did not have the look of a harlot and even less the look of a sorcerer.
“You seek me,” she said, stepping into the light. Her voice was a whisper.
He nodded as his words became thick in his throat. She moistened her lips, letting her brown curls fall across her breast and graze the tip of her budded nipple. Her body swayed ever so slightly, carelessly, like a trail of smoke. He swallowed.
“I have come—” he began.
“I know why you have come.” She spoke sweetly but her eyes narrowed. “You want pleasure. You wish to relive your every moment of passion. You want me to give you everything you desire.”
She took a step back, closing her eyes. For a moment he thought she had refused him. As he moved toward the door, he tossed his torch to the ground. It hissed as it hit the stagnant water. He would have left but the skin on the back of his neck prickled. A wave of heat ran through him as he turned back to her. Her eyes snapped open and those bright green orbs burned in the darkness, brighter than any candle and hotter than any flame.
Her red-hot gaze moved over every inch of him; crawling down his neck as beads of sweat followed, and lingering over his shoulders before studying his trembling lips. Her hands never moved, and yet he could feel her touch with every glance. His chest tightened as he shrugged off his robes. Her lips curled into a smile as she trailed down his chest and across the soft flesh of his thigh. She stroked him gently with her stare as phantom fingertips teased the thickness between his legs. His face flushed as his body responded to her gift.
Her hips swayed to a beat he could not hear and he gasped as her imaginary grip tightened around him. She began to hum and he felt the weight of her voice wash over him like agony and desire. As he closed his eyes, the sensation deepened and he was drowning in her passion. He gasped but she continued. With every murmur his cock pulse. His legs trembled as she pushed him further. Her chest heaved with effort. Back and forth went her hips. Back and forth went her hands. It was only magic but his body didn’t care and his ragged breath kept time with hers. He squeezed his eyes tighter as his back arched and his fingers dug into his palms. Redness coloured his chest and cheeks and sweat dappled his skin as his body begged for release. His faced twisted in pleasure and pain…
And then he felt it, a simple kiss—the brush of thin lips on his own. He knew those lips. He loved them. His cock throbbed and tears tricked down his chin as the phantom tasted him. Her soft cheek pressed against him and for a moment she was real.
“Sarah…” he whispered into the darkness.
“It is time,” she said softly in a voice that wasn’t all her own.
His mind swam as reality and dreams collided. He dropped to his knees. She urged him to his back and straddled him, her sex wet and waiting as she lowered herself onto his swollen shaft. He groaned as she began to rock. Slowly. Gently. Sarah’s hands explored his chest; Sarah’s tongue parted his lips and filled his mouth. He dug his fingers into the cobbled floor as she quickened her pace. He could see her clearly—pale blonde hair, dark blue eyes. His hips worked with her, meeting her every motion. His need overwhelmed him. Panting, he threw back his head and she tightened as he drove towards ecstasy.
“Sarah,” He choked, his body quaking.
“I am yours,” she whispered back, kissing him hard. He would have stayed in that moment forever but his body betrayed him and the perfect agony of release pulled him from his illusion. His seed filled her and her wetness cover him. His body trembled. When he looked up, only the woman stared down at him. Her face was awe and sadness as she pulled away.
“Who was she?”
“My wife.” He slipped his robe back on and ran a hand through his sweat drenched hair.
“Then the gods were good.”
She nodded, her hips swayed as she slunk back into the shadows.
He locked the cell but hesitated, turning to her. “They say there is always a price for your comfort. What is mine?”
“She was your price, my lord. And your prize.”
He nodded. A light breeze caressed his neck and stroked his dampened cheeks. For a moment he felt fingers intertwined with his own. A sad smile graced his lips as the moment passed and he remembered the girl he loved.
Li Blaine is one of many names with the same voice, and dreams of telling you stories.