Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’ll be a full moon tomorrow. Fitting, for Halloween. I heard once that they used to call it a Hunter’s Moon this time of year, although I don’t know why. Maybe they were hunting ghosts. Hard to tell. A great deal of the past is lost to us.

I’m in a relaxed kind of mood as I watch Sora diligently portioning candy into little paper bags. All of them, she insists, must be exactly equal, so nobody feels left out. She takes holidays and special occasions very seriously, so much so that I used to wonder if she was even having fun. But I think that, for her, taking it seriously is what makes it fun. Going through all the preparations, getting absorbed in the atmosphere, making sure everything’s just so… for her, it adds to the experience. It’s part of the appeal.

Of course, that means we’ve spent most of the day gathering supplies and perfecting our costumes. My apartment has been fastidiously hung with little cotton spider webs, and there’s a family of jack o’ lanterns keeping watch on the balcony. One of them is a cat, or supposed to be. I did that one. My carving is as wobbly as you might expect of a woman whose hands come with a warranty.

Another mandate from Sora is that we’ve not shown each other our costumes. Mine’s hanging up in the closet – a classic witch’s robe, complete with a wide-brimmed hat. It’s not the most inventive costume, but it’s easy to put on and it works well with my height. Besides, I am – by technicality, of course – one of the oldest living women on Earth, so pretending to be an old crone should be well within my capabilities. The thought amuses me a little.

Sora’s costume is a mystery. I honestly can’t imagine what she’ll have picked. I had quite a bit of fun earlier in the day, modelling different costumes on her in my mind’s eye – and then subtracting pieces of them little by little. I get to do that. It’s one of the perks of being her girlfriend.

Truth be told, I’ve been missing her recently. Things have kept her busy since we got back from the beach house, and she hasn’t been able to stay over for a while. Her ducks recently flew south for the winter, and she went with them to teach them the migration route; when she got back, she spent the next few days looking… well, lost. I don’t blame her. If I had to say goodbye to my cat with no guarantee I’d see him again, I’d feel pretty lost too.

We’ve all been trying to keep her active, where we can. To keep her thoughts off it so her brain can work through it all. It seems to be working, but between Sham, Suguri, Hime and I, we’ve run her so ragged that she has no energy for sleeping over at my house (which, to be fair, usually involves a limited amount of sleep, although we spend plenty of time in bed).

It’s for the best. It’s for the best, but… Our trip to the beach house gave me a taste of what it’d be like if we actually lived together, and having tasted it, I can’t help but want more. I miss that closeness, both physically and emotionally. I miss waking up to her, eating with her, and cuddling up to her before I go to sleep. I adored that.

I’d offer to let her stay here whenever she wants, but this little apartment is too small for two if you don’t have any notice. I feel like soon – not right now, since there’s no sense in rushing anything, but soon – I’ll have to start looking for a bigger one.

“Okay. I’ve completed the candy preparations. I made enough to supply fifty people,” Sora says. She’s tied off the last bag with glossy red ribbon, and put it with the rest of the pile (which I am sure the cat will sleep on if we don’t move it). She stands up and stretches, pleased with her handiwork.

“This is a top floor apartment,” I point out. “We’ll be lucky to get five people.”

“I don’t know. Hime and Suguri are trick or treating this year. Hime’s worth five by herself.”

I’m not sure if that’s a complement or yet another manifestation of their sisterly habit of taking cheap shots at each other whenever appropriate. Regardless, while I think that Hime is capable of eating five bags of candy in a sitting, I honestly don’t know where she’d put it. They’re generous bags, and Hime doesn’t have a generous stomach.

“Hey,” I scold her gently, wrapping my arms around her from behind and letting my hands fall at her waist. “That could be my future sister-in-law you’re talking about.”

She wriggles happily, leaning back against my chest and embracing her inner cuddlebug. After rigorous scientific testing, we’ve discovered that this is one of her favourite configurations of hug. “Mm. That’s why I have to tell you about all her tricks ahead of time.”

If eating five bags of candy is the worst trick Hime has in store, I think we’ll be fine. I keep the thought to myself, and instead nuzzle the top of her head. Her hair smells of honey and vanilla again today. My eyes catch the nape of her neck, and I feel my cheeks flushing a little.

“Is that the last of the preparations?” I ask.

“Almost. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I was thinking,” Sora says slowly, “that we could maybe look around in the closet. For spooky stuff.”

I have a fairly big closet, considering the size of the apartment. Given that I’m not particularly in touch with fashion and don’t have that many clothes, I’ve found other uses for it. Right now, it’s stacked full of old shoeboxes. Inside them are all sorts of little artefacts from the time of my life where I went globe-trotting.

The one commonality all of these artefacts have is that they’re effectively worthless – baubles and knick-knacks that failed at the auction house and found no interest with museums. They might still have historical value, but I think that in most cases, the expertise needed to identify simply isn’t there any more. Our records of things before the war are practically non-existent, so few people can specialise in it.

The only way I could get rid of them at this point is selling them for scrap. But it feels… I don’t know. Disrespectful. Wasteful, maybe. So they live in shoeboxes in my closet, until such a time when they can be rediscovered properly.

“You’re just looking for an excuse to poke around in there,” I say dryly.

“Maybe,” she admits, looking up at me with clear, green eyes. There’s absolutely no hint of shame there. “But we might find some hidden treasure.”

I think about that for a moment. It’s true that Sora’s definition of ‘treasure’ is a little different from most people’s. I might be the biggest example of that. Not many people would look at an ancient war veteran with no arms the way that Sora looks at me.

“Alright. But be gentle. Most of the things in there are old and delicate.”

“Like Hime.”

“She’s younger than I am, you know. And you, technically.”

“But we’re built tough,” she says, puffing her chest out a little.

I don’t know why that’s a particular point of pride for her, but I’ve had reason to be thankful for it. If I weren’t built tough, my hips probably would have given out during our stay at the beach house.

With my blessing more or less granted, she starts to rifle through the array of shoeboxes in search of anything interesting. From time to time she’ll ask me questions about one trinket or another, although never quite the question I’m expecting. If I think she’ll ask how old it is, she asks where I found it. If I think she’ll ask what it does, she wants to know what it’s made of.

Sometimes I can answer her. Sometimes I can’t. But it’s a fun way to re-examine these little baubles, and touch back on some old memories. Most of these things have an adventure or a story associated with them, and some of them are ones she’s not heard before.

As we talk, she starts to sort things into two piles: one ‘spooky’ pile she can use to decorate the apartment, and one that’s just for miscellaneous things. Her concept of cute can be a little odd at times, but it seems like her idea of spooky is roughly the same as anybody else’s.

“Oh. Nath, tell me about this one,” she says, presenting her newest find.

It’s a little cup – more of a goblet, really – that I seem to remember finding in a bombed-out residential area about a century or so after the war. There are a few striking things about it, but the most obvious is the ornate design. It’s carved with flowing ribbons encircling the main body, centring on an embossed face of what… looks to be just a random, middle-aged woman. She looks more tired than anything. I’ve never been able to make heads or tails of it, so I picked it up and kept it.

“Oh, that? It’s in good condition, isn’t it?” I say ruefully, pointing out the other striking feature. “I’ve had it for the better part of ten thousand years, but there’s not a scratch on it, and there’s no signs of erosion or any warping with age.”

“Is that the power of shoebox storage?” Sora asks, her eyes wide.

“Maybe,” I laugh. “But mostly, it seems to be made of some kind of unbelievable material. I tried to have some scientists chip off a piece to get a date on its creation, but no matter what they tried, it wouldn’t work. They even tried treating it with acid. It’s a mystery, even today.”

“Maybe it was from before the war. I bet they had a lot of cool technology before they blew it all up.”

I’ve considered that theory myself, but it doesn’t hold water. One of the reasons they started enhancing humans for use in weapons technology was that the war had gone on so long that their weapons were reaching the end of their service life before the conflict was finished. They had to prepare for the long haul. Unlike machines, biological organisms can continually renew themselves, especially if you take steps to arrest the cause of ageing. Weapons like Sora and I were made with the explicit purpose of seeing the end of the war, however far it might be, and still being functional at that time.

If they had access to materials as durable as whatever this goblet is made of, they wouldn’t have had to go through all the bother. They still might have made human weapons for other reasons, but the humans would be disposable and short lived, and the robotic drones would be the ones who survived to the present day.

Sora lets all this sink in as I explain it, but I can see from her face that she is filing it in the ‘interesting, but unnecessary’ bin in her head. I can almost hear her thinking, history is history, but Halloween is now, so we should figure that bit out first.

“I think,” she says after turning the cup this way and that, “this would look good if we filled it with magic potion.”

With that ominous statement, she gets up and ambles off into the kitchen, where I am fairly positive she will find no potions, tinctures or tonics – though not for lack of trying. She comes back with a carton of pomegranate juice and a leftover sachet of of popping candy from the Halloween prep, which she combines in the cup before I have chance to raise much of an objection.

As the crimson liquid begins to fizz and snap, it actually looks quite convincing. It definitely fits the holiday aesthetic. I’m still not sure the haggard middle-aged woman embossed on the front sells it, though. It looks like we’ve filled a chalice with the blood of some random office worker. Perhaps we’ll be haunted by the ghosts of spreadsheets past.

“Hm,” Sora nods, inspecting the cup with deep satisfaction. “This will definitely impress the trick-or-treat people.”

“I’m sure it will. Although I’m not sure any of them will be brave enough to drink it.”

“It’s probably not that bad,” she says, taking a long sip. Then after a second or so of careful thought: “It’s a little bad.”

I smile wryly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a cocktail quite like it.”

“Maybe it’s an acquired taste,” she muses, draining the cup and pouring herself another.

“Just go easy on the pomegranate juice. It’s an aphrodisiac, supposedly.”

“Oh,” she says, with that soft, serious voice of hers. She puts some effort into wiggling her eyebrows, although it could use some work. “That’s a high level flirt.”

“It’s not a flirt at all. It’s just something I had in the fridge.”

“Is it really an aphrodisiac, though? I don’t trust it.” Her face assumes a gentle scowl. “There’s always articles like that in the morning paper. Everything is an aphrodisiac, and everything has antioxidants, and everything gives you cancer.”

“Well, maybe. I’m a little behind on my nutritional science, so I can’t be sure. Culturally, they do tend to be associated with fertility, so there might be some truth to it.”

She considers this for a moment. I’m not sure why. It’s not like fertility is particularly relevant to either of us. Even if we could have children at the ripe old age of ten-thousand-and-change, I’m pretty sure the army’s procedures robbed us of that possibility.

“Mm. Well, it was a good flirt. But I don’t need aphrodisiacs.”

“I could have told you that. If anything, I might need to take a few to keep up with you.”

She wiggles happily, accepting the dubious ‘complement’ without complaint. “Maybe. But it’d be nice if we could just cuddle tonight. I don’t want to tire myself out for Halloween.”

Some people might be surprised to learn that the most powerful military weapon in Earth’s history routinely tires herself out with, ahem, bedtop sports, but she finds a way. I’m generally quite happy to indulge her. More than happy. Ecstatic, even.

I didn’t necessarily expect her to be a cuddlebug when we first started dating. She didn’t really seem like the type. But I suppose there are parts of ourselves we don’t really show outside of a romantic relationship, and for Sora, her love of physical affection is one of them.

To be perfectly honest, I’m a little disappointed that we won’t be doing anything more explicit tonight, since it’s the first time she’s stayed over in a little while. But it’s fine. There’ll be other opportunities, and Halloween only comes once a year. Besides, cuddling is its own kind of pleasure.

“That’s fine,” I tell her. “Let’s get some rest tonight. We’ll make Halloween as special as we can.”

“Mm,” she nods. “I’m a little nervous. Some of Hime’s sisters will be in town, and they’re my sisters by association. It’ll be the first time I’ve met some of them, so I want them to be impressed.”

I smile to myself. She’s so serious about everything. People. Holidays. Love. Whatever she does, she gives it her full attention. When her eyes are on you, you feel like the centre of the universe.

“I’m sure they will be,” I tell her, and lean in to kiss her forehead.

From there, the conversation turns to the topic of what sleeping positions we’re going to take tonight. It’s another matter Sora treats with utmost seriousness, and she always prefers to plan out our sleeping formation in advance, if possible.

While her long-time favourite is just sleeping belly-to belly with her arms wrapped around me (and usually her face buried in my chest), lately she’s gotten fonder of spooning. I didn’t think I was eligible to be the big spoon, since I generally remove my prosthetics to sleep and can’t hug her closer, but I’ve been informed – at length – that this is not the case, and in fact, lacking arms is very convenient because she doesn’t have to worrying about lying on them and cutting off my blood flow. All she has to do is nestle back into me as close as she can, and she’s very happy for the night.

As discussion topics go, it’s hardly the headiest of subjects. But if my greatest worries are Halloween preparations and how best to enjoy the company of the woman I love, then I think I’m living my life the right way.

Tomorrow will be another busy day together. But I’m sure we’ll sleep peacefully tonight.

Early morning is the best time for Sora-watching. It’s something Sham, Hime and I sometimes discuss amongst ourselves (Suguri, as a rule, rises later than Sora does). There is something deeply relaxing about her sleeping face; I almost think that watching Sora sleep is nearly as restful as actually sleeping yourself. She just seems… happy. Unguarded. You don’t often see that while she’s awake.

The morning is also the best time for coffee, and I’ve discovered that the two pursuits complement each other quite nicely. Get out of bed, put on a cup, and then retreat back to the bedroom to wake up gradually as my girlfriend enjoys her dreams… I think that might be my ideal morning. Feeding the cat usually sneaks into the mix somewhere, although I leave getting dressed until I’m forced to. Clothes are fiddly.

With that in mind, I sit up in bed, moving very gently so as not to disturb the girl sleeping next to me. As the covers ride up, I glance down at her – and it is at that point that my relaxing morning derails completely.

Her face is just as peaceful as I expect it to be. Her body is relaxed, and she breathes with soft, whispery breaths.

But between her legs is something that was definitely not there last night, and which is not relaxed at all.

“Sora,” I hiss. “Please, wake up.”

To my very great surprise, I actually get a groan in response. It takes a minute or two, but eventually, Sora’s eyes flicker open and fix me with a bleary, if slightly baleful, stare.

“Mmmnglre,” she grumbles. “What’s wrong? I was having a good dream.”

“I… I can see that,” I say carefully, glancing towards her crotch to see if she’ll pick up on the hint. She doesn’t. “Sorry. I didn’t really think you’d wake up.”

“I only woke up because it’s you,” she says matter-of-factly, finally sitting up. She breaks off the conversation for a moment to perform a truly heroic yawn. “What’s wrong?”

“...Look down.”

She does, and I can see the moment when her eyes widen and she goes from half-asleep to very, very awake all at once.

Between her thighs, standing quite proudly, is… well, there’s no tactful way of saying it. It’s a penis. An actual, flesh-and-blood dick. I assume so, anyway. I haven’t really touched it yet, but it definitely looks realistic from this angle.

Now that I’m getting a longer look at it… I can’t help thinking that it’s pretty big. Not exaggerated, porn star levels of big, but definitely impressive. I suppose her specs are a little bit extraordinary, even in this area, but that thought can wait for later.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t panic. If know that if I had grown a penis overnight for unknown reasons, I’d probably be panicking. And if I were trying to prank somebody with a fake dick, I’d at least pretend to panic. I might be panicking a little right now.

But Sora just looks down at her new equipment with a look of complete bemusement, as though she’s never seen one before. She might not have, come to think of it. She wouldn’t have had all that many chances in wartime life, and she’s been surrounded mostly by women since she woke up again. She gingerly touches a finger to the tip, and then jerks her hand away quickly.

“It’s sensitive,” she complains. “Nath, what do I do?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

Her brow furrows; evidently, this was not the answer she was looking for. As the troubled expression washes over her face, I start to understand that her lack of panic wasn’t just her being a calm person. It was an expression of faith in me, and my ten thousand years of life experience – which, I’m sad to say, has fallen a bit short on this occasion.

The silence goes on a little longer. I don’t really know what to say; I’m meant to be thinking of a solution, but my brain is a little scrambled.

“Nath. Um. Do you think it’s…” she trails off, her resolve faltering. She fiddles distractedly with a stray curl of hair. “Is it… gross?”

“Not at all,” I say, shaking my head. I smile to myself; usually Sora’s questions are nowhere near this easy to answer. “It’s you, so I’m fine with it.”

“But what about… you know. Sex stuff?” she asks.

“It’s fine. It’s true that I lean a little more towards girls, but I’ve done it with guys in the past as well,” I shrug. “It’s not like I could go ten thousand years without ever being curious, I suppose… So it’s fine. Don’t worry about sex for now.”

“Uuu… That’s a relief. I was worried. I thought, what if it’s permanent, and we never get to do it again? What if last night was the last chance and I didn’t take it?”

I smile despite myself. “So you’re not worried about it if it doesn’t interfere with your sex life?”

“Well… There’s other stuff, but that’s good and bad. Like, it’ll get in the way when I’m walking around, but I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to use the toilet standing up, so maybe it’ll even out,” she explains. “But not being able to have sex with you is all bad, so I was more worried about it.”

There’s a logic to that, I suppose, but it feels like she might just have sex on the brain. Although… looking at the size of that erection, I’m really not surprised. It must be tough to think of anything but sex. It looks… uncomfortable.

“Oh!” she gasps suddenly. “Actually, this is awful.”

“What?”

“It’s going to ruin my Halloween costume,” she says, glaring accusingly at her new member. “It’s a little skintight, so there’ll be a bulge, and everyone will see it. It’ll be horrible.”

Part of me wants to laugh at such a major reaction over something so trivial. But having seen her preparing all the decorations and the candy so diligently yesterday, I know that being able to enjoy Halloween means a lot to her. Not to mention… she did say Hime and Suguri would be making the rounds. Hime makes the same joke every time Sora stays over – “Oh, she’s welcome to sleep over. But please do return her in the same condition you found her in, won’t you?”, and then she always gives me a knowing wink that I never know how to respond to. I don’t know what she’d say if she saw Sora walking around with a bulge that big in her costume, but I know none of us would ever live it down.

Still, this situation… I mean, I’m pretty sure I know where all of this is going. The woman I love woke up with a penis for no discernable reason, and it looks painfully erect. I offer to give her some relief, we make love, and when we’re done, it disappears as mysteriously as it arrived. I’ve seen the scenario a thousand times in films and comics of a more scandalous nature.

I can’t say I’m opposed to it, though. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been pulled into Sora and her family’s zany misadventures, and it’s honestly probably not the weirdest thing to happen, either. Besides, I am curious. We were planning on getting some toys together at some point, too.

I find myself licking my lips without realising it. I wonder how much of that thing I can fit in my mouth at once.

“Uuuu… It can’t be helped,” Sora says. “We’ll have to cancel.”

“Cancel?”

“Halloween,” she says matter-of-factly. “I can’t get a new costume this late, and I’d feel really weird talking to Suguri and Hime like this. So we’ll have to cancel it.”

I blink. I had forgotten, momentarily, that Sora is both a deeply practical person in her own right, and has probably not been exposed to the same lewd films and comics I have.

“W-Wait a minute,” I say, as reassuringly as I’m able. “You worked so hard on the preparations, and it’s not your fault this happened. I’m sure there’s a way around it. Maybe we can just... hide it?”

She looks down at her crotch, frowning. “I don’t know. It’s big. I think it’ll show up even if we try.”

“Well… We can probably tape it to your leg. I’ve heard that works for guys who are playing female roles on stage.”

“Even then…”

“Although, we should probably get it to go down first.”

Her mouth opens in a little ‘o’, as if she hadn’t really thought about it in that light before. “Right. For guys, it’s usually small, isn’t it?”

“Smaller than that, definitely.”

“Hm. Okay. It might work. We’ll have to see what it’s like when it’s done,” she says, after a moment of thought. “Um. Could you… help?”

I roll my eyes. “I love you, and I’m naked, in bed, right next to you. You didn’t think I’d make you do it by yourself, did you?”

Apparently overcome by sudden shyness, she looks away. “I… didn’t know if you’d be into it. I know you said it wasn’t gross, but… muu. I didn’t know if doing it together was an option.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it an option,” I say dryly. “If anything, I think it’s become non-optional.”

“That was a good wordplay.”

“Thank you. Now lie back. I want to get a better look at what we’re working with.”

As I slide down between her legs, it occurs to me that we don’t end up in this kind of position very often. Usually, she’s the one to take the lead when it comes down to it. She often encourages me to take charge, and seems to enjoy it when I do, but I naturally end up being the bottom if we don’t go out of our way to switch things up. I don’t mind it; that’s just our dynamic, and I generally enjoy myself too much to complain.

But it seems like her new appendage has got her wrong-footed – understandably so, I suppose. I can see her clutching the bedsheets and squirming a little, her eyes closed as my breath hits the sensitive skin around her pelvis. It’s… well. I can imagine Sham going crazy for her when she’s being this cute. I might be going a little crazy myself. Seems like she really is pretty sensitive at the moment, too.

With that in mind, I try to pace myself as I start the process of getting acquainted with the new scenery. In real life, things aren’t quite as convenient as they are in porn. There’s a pretty decent chance that her dick won’t just magically disappear once I’ve satisfied her. This might be a view I’ll just have to get used to.

Her scent hasn’t changed, though, and nor has the taste of her skin. I begin to press kisses against the shaft of her cock, starting at the base and working my way towards the tip; each time, I feel her shudder under my lips. By the time I’ve made my way up, she’s already breathing heavily, her head back against the pillows.

I could get used to this.

As gently as I can, I start to lick the tip of her cock, circling around the head with my tongue and then making long, broad strokes across the centre. The taste is… not how I remember pre-cum tasting, to be honest. I just remember it as being salty, and for sure, there’s some of that coming through, but it’s also somehow… sweet? The contrast between the two tastes reminds me a little of salted caramel.

I’m sure that if I told Sora that, she’d take it as evidence for her strange belief that I’m a gourmet of some kind. But I’m a little busy to be talking, and she’s too busy moaning to talk back.

Even though it’s been a long, long time since I’ve done this kind of thing, I find myself feeling surprisingly comfortable. It definitely helps that I’m getting such an enthusiastic reaction. I suppose there’s a certain… primal pleasure in it, as well. My body knows that this is foreplay; it knows that this is the lead-up to penetration, and it’s starting to prepare for the event. I didn’t think I’d get this wet just by licking it.

As my confidence swells, I decide to go a little further. I definitely can’t fit the whole thing in my mouth, and I’m not crazy enough to try to take it in my throat without practice, but I want to see how far I can go. I part my lips, give the tip of her dick one last indulgent swirl with my tongue, and take her into my mouth.

Sora gasps, and almost immediately I can feel her hips tremble as she struggles to hold herself still. It might be a losing battle. She’s been so hard the whole time that she was probably ready from the start; all we’ve done so far has just driven her wild. But the smell and the taste of her are filling up my senses; I can feel her throbbing in my mouth. There’s absolutely no way I’m stopping now.

Besides, it’s fun to be the one teasing her rather than the other way around. I flick my eyes up to her face, and see that she’s gone completely red.

“Don’t look,” she whines. “It’s embarrassing.”

If I didn’t have her dick in my mouth, I’d be smirking right about now. I close my eyes and start to settle down to the work. My memories are a little foggy, but at least the rest of me seems to know what to do; I bob my head a little further each time until I’ve reached the limit of what I can comfortably take, and then focus on the sensations. If I’m doing it badly, Sora definitely isn’t complaining – I suppose it’s not like she’s had any other blowjobs to compare it to.

Still… I could definitely get used to this. Sex with Sora is usually a head-rush – not in a bad way, but she usually gets me worked up pretty fast, and my self-control doesn’t stretch for very far before it snaps. I feel in control right now. I feel mature, confident, sexy – the more experienced partner in a beautiful relationship, carefully drawing my lover closer to orgasm. I feel her back arching, her hips trembling, the frantic beating of her heart via the throbbing of her cock.

I take another glance up at her, letting my gaze linger on the taut lines of her stomach, the curve of her breasts. She takes her breath in short, feathery gasps. It’s… extremely cute. I didn’t know she could get worked up quite like this. I go a little deeper, a little harder, and I’m rewarded with mewls and sighs. Heat flushes between my legs.

She rolls her gaze back from the ceiling, and locks eyes with mine. For a brief moment, I see her scowl.

“Uuuu… I said not to look!”

Before I know how to react, she’s moving – with far more speed and strength than I’d expect for a girl on the point of orgasm. She jerks my head – not roughly, but very insistently – away from her dick, and pushes me with a firm hand in the centre of the chest. By the time I’ve realised the tables are turning, they’re already turned, and I find myself on my back, legs spread, my heart pounding as I watch her move lithely into position.

This is why. This is why I end up on the bottom, and she ends up on the top: because she’s cute from above but stunning from below. There’s an intensity to her that I can’t resist – something in the way she moves, in the way she takes charge. Everybody sees the cute, somewhat scatterbrained Sora, but the only person who sees her like this is me.

“Sora,” I whisper huskily. “Put it in. Please.”

I’m ready. And if I had to guess, she’s more than ready. I can’t wait to feel her sinking into me, filling me up. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from it – away from her.

“Hmph.”

I’m surprised by her little huff, but before I can say anything about it, she’s pushing against one of my legs. Without thinking about it, I let her flip me over so I’m lying on my belly, with my chin resting on the pillows. No sooner am I comfortable than I feel her fingers sliding themselves across my entrance. It’s the first direct stimulation I’ve had this evening; my breath hitches, and my hips rise of their own accord. Her hand rises with them., teasing me upwards and upwards.

After only a little bit more teasing, she has me where she wants me. Face down, ass up, legs far apart. Presenting to her. I’d normally feel embarrassed by a pose like this, but I know what’s coming and I’m looking forward to it. I groan throatily as she spreads my pussy with her fingers, stimulated by the open air and the anticipation.

“I can’t believe you’re doing it from behind on your first time,” I grumble into the pillow. “I wanted to see your face. We can’t kiss like this.”

“It’s your fault. You kept looking at me, even though I said it was embarrassing,” she says. I can hear the shifting of her body behind me, the creaking of bedsprings. “Besides, we can’t do it like this normally. It’s a rare opportunity.”

I feel her leaning over me, her hard nipples along the skin of my back, sliding down my body until she settles with her face at the base of my neck. She cups one of my breasts in her hand, rolls her thumb across my nipple, presses kisses against my skin. Even when she’s a little grumpy, she’s still loving and tender.

I feel something hot and hard nestle itself against my entrance.

Not even just from behind, but doggy style, too. This is the girl I’m in love with. What a handful. And a mouthful. I’m hoping she’ll fill something else in a second, but she takes her time, teasing me, sliding the tip between my legs. I shake my hips impatiently.

“Stop teasing,” I hiss.

“It’s hard to aim.” Her voice lilts upwards as she hides her amusement.

“Your aim’s fine. Sora, I want you inside of me.”

She kisses the back of my neck, and draws her hand back, running it across my belly and back towards my crotch. For a long, delicious moment, her fingertips brush back and forth against my clit, before she spreads my pussy with her fingers. I feel it – the tip of her cock bumping against my entrance, her steadying herself for that first thrust. I press down against it as best as I can –

Ah.

Ahhhhh.

My breath escapes me. I can’t focus on anything except the sensation of heat and fullness. It’s only the tip, but it’s big, and I haven’t had full penetration in decades. I can feel her stretching me out – a little painful, but satisfying on a level I could never admit in the light of day. I can feel the shape of her clearly inside me.

To my relief, she takes it slowly. Almost indulgently. Sinking into me, little by little. What little rational thought I have left tells me to try and relax, but I can’t stop my body from clenching down, wrapping around her. It’s out of my control. It’s just instinct now, raw and unfiltered.

“Haahh…” she sighs. I can barely hold onto the words. “It’s so warm.”

I don’t respond. I’ve buried my head in the pillow, and I’m not even paying attention to the noises I’m making as she inches deeper and deeper. I swear it didn’t feel this good the last time I tried it with a guy. No way. I know it’s meant to be better with someone you love, but I didn’t think the difference was this extreme.

Ahh. My mind is tumbling off in all sorts of directions. At some point I find myself trying to commit the size and shape to memory, just in case this is a magical one-off and I need to go and get a toy for her to use on me.

I feel her make a little rough, jolting thrust, and her hips bump mine. That’s it. The whole thing. I feel so… full. Absolutely full.

“Nath, are you okay? Does it hurt?” she asks. She’s completely still. Giving me time to adjust. I feel her kissing me, wrapping her arms around me.

“A little. But it’s good. Like… when you’re exercising for the first time in a while,” I say into the pillow. “You can… start moving if you like.”

She pulls back, slowly, and my body clings to her every step of the way. The empty space she leaves feels stark, and sensitive. Then she moves forward to fill the space again; her hips thump against mine, and my entire body shudders appreciatively.

From there, she starts to set the pace. There are tell-tale signs of inexperience: her rhythm isn’t consistent, and she seems to switch from going slowly to going fast, and back again. It’d be tough to match her faltering patterns if I could. But this position is a perfect fit for that kind of sex; I can’t really shake my hips to match her or anything, so all I can do is focus on the sensations and let my body do the work for me. The unpredictable way she’s moving keeps me on my toes and stops me from acclimating to the pleasure; each motion feels as fresh and new as the last, because I’m not expecting it to be quite what it is.

I can feel myself tightening, the pressure of an incoming orgasm forming like a knot in my stomach. It swiftly becomes the only thing I can think about. I want to cum. I want to cum. I want to cum.

“Nath,” she pants, her breath feathery against my ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t last much longer. I’m going to take it out.”

“No!” I bark, my voice ragged. “Do it inside. It’s… it’s a rare opportunity.”

I realise in that moment how much I want it. If this is just some freak one-off – some unexplained mystery that never gets repeated – she’ll never have the chance to cum inside me again. For hundreds or thousands of years, I’ll have to live with the knowledge that I could have known what it felt like, and didn’t go for it. I can’t let that happen.

If we were in a different position, now is where I’d lock my legs around her to stop her pulling out. But all I can do is thrust stupidly back against her cock and hope she gets the hint.

I needn’t have worried. As she gets closer to her own orgasm, her thrusts get deeper, longer, faster. Every time her hips hit mine, I can feel the shock of it reverberating around my crotch, especially at my clit. I’ve given up any pretence of control now – any claim to dignity. I am panting, gasping, moaning, mouth wide open as I bury my face in the pillows.

Thank god she can’t see me right now. Thank god she can’t see the expressions I’m making. She’d never stop teasing me. She’d never stop fucking me. She’d spend entire afternoons buried to the hilt in me, kissing me and watching while my tongue lolled out and my eyes rolled back, and I’d let her –

With a gasp, the orgasm hits.

All that pressure, all that stress, washed away in an instant. A moment of blissful relief. Stars explode in front of my eyes even as I feel my pussy desperately clenching on her. Distantly, I feel her cock twitch and tremble, and I know that my orgasm must have pushed her over as well. A sense of peaceful happiness fills me as I feel something hot begin to fill me up inside.

I don’t think for the next few moments.

When my brain fires back into life, I can still feel Sora’s cum filling me up. I can feel her twitching and throbbing inside.

Five seconds later, she’s still not finished. Even in the warm haze of the afterglow, I start to wonder if this is normal. It can’t be, can it? Guys don’t normally cum for this long. I clench my toes happily.

A few seconds later, I wonder if she’s going to finish at all. She has to, right? It’s nice, but… I’m running out of room.

A few more seconds pass.

Finally – finally – she finishes, and I feel her cock slide out of me, limp and satisfied. I’m full. Completely full, right to the brim. I don’t think I could have fit a drop more inside me. Finally, my strength fails, and my legs give out. With about the same level of grace as I’ve displayed the whole time, I collapse onto the bed. My pelvis, my stomach – they all feel so warm. As if I’ve been sunbathing on a hot day.

“Love you.” Sora’s voice is right next to my ear, but it sounds so far away. It has the soft, muzzy edges that usually mean she’s about to go to sleep. Her skin is slick against my back. She’s worked up a sweat.

“Love you too. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours,” I say, even as I feel my own eyes drooping.

What an experience, I think to myself.

I just hope that it’s not once in a lifetime.

I wouldn’t have woken up in a few hours, and neither would Sora. Given the chance, we would have slept all day. But fortunately, I have a cat, and Roger is very particular about his breakfast – namely the fact that it should be provided to him, regardless of what his layabout humans have been getting up to in the mornings.

As a result of his yowling and pretty much nothing else, we woke up in time to get ready for the Halloween party. As I expected, Sora’s extra member had disappeared as mysteriously as it came.

“It’s way too convenient,” she said darkly. “Suspicious.”

In another context, we might both have been tempted to believe it was a dream. But while Sora’s dick may have disappeared, the mess we’d made of the bedsheets – and, well, me – definitely hadn’t. I washed myself out as best I could while Sora handled the laundry, and couldn’t help feeling that the smell was far sweeter than what I had previously associated with semen.

After that, we had to get ourselves fed, hide the remaining evidence of hardcore sexual antics, and change into our costumes before Hime and her squadron of sisters arrived. Sora appraised my costume with a critical eye before pronouncing it appropriately witch-y, although she thought I could have pulled off a magical girl costume as well. I thought I should get a second opinion on that particular bit of wisdom, provided it wasn’t Hime’s or Sham’s. I don’t know what Sora would do to me in a short skirt, but in front of family at a Halloween party is not the place I’d like to find out.

Sora’s costume, to my surprise, was a werewolf… kind of. Mostly it was just a faux fur vest that left her midriff exposed, a pair of black spats with fur on the sides, and of course the required ears and tail. I could see why she was worried about the bulge, and had a small amount of fun imagining it. Sham may or may not be able to make it tonight, so I’ll have to keep a good watch over that belly-button in case she steals it.

With everything more or less sorted out, we’re just waiting for the guests to file in. Sora has armed herself with bags of candy and stationed herself on overwatch at the door; nobody will get in without their daily recommended amount of sugar and chemicals. A few people have already turned up – Suguri (dressed as Frankenstein’s Monster, an obvious excuse for Hime to force her into a suit) and Hime (I’m not exactly sure what her costume is meant to be, but there’s not very much of it) have already made themselves at home and are fussing the cat, and a new face – Saki, I think? – is wandering around near the bookshelves. My little apartment is already livelier than it has been in weeks, and I am quietly very happy about it.

“Uwaaaaah!”

I’m refilling my drink in the kitchen when I hear a yell. When I come out, I see Hime looking disapprovingly at Saki. I jerk my head to indicate that I’ll do my hostly duties, and wander over to see what the fuss is about.

It’s the first time I’ve met Saki, and I suppose it gives credence to Hime’s joke that Suguri collects blondes – just like Hime and Sora, her fair hair is one of the first things you notice about her. Apparently she got her costume on loan from Hime, which is a dangerous proposition at the best of times, and she looks mortified to be wearing it. High heels, fishnet stockings, a corset and bunny ears – if I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn Hime was planning to wear it herself. Of course, she couldn’t have been, because the bust absolutely wouldn’t fit Hime. For a girl that short, she’s… well. Definitely respectable in that area. I’m not petite myself, but she’s got what I’ve got even though she’s almost a head shorter.

“What’s up?” I ask. “Did you spill your drink or something?”

“Ahhh! Nath! It’s Nath, right? Where did you get this cup?” she asks. She seems a little… panicky. Well, she is in a stranger’s house, I suppose. She’s looking at the cup Sora found yesterday, which has been installed on top of the bookshelf along with some other assorted nick-nacks and totems.

“That old thing? Not sure,” I reply, maybe a little curtly. I can’t help it. It’s tough to speak to new people. “It’s been centuries. Do you know it?”

“Ahhhh… ahaha… Well, um. You see. Uh. It’s called the Bittersweet Cup, and, um, it’s a…” she scratches her head, and then notices my eyes narrowing. “Um.”

“I’ve shown this to archaeologists, and they don’t have a clue about it. Weren’t you on that spaceship with Hime? How would you know anything about it?” I ask.

“Ahahaha, well, it’s, um… it’s a thing in the culinary world, right? There’s not a lot of crossover, I guess…”

“I… see.” It seems sketchy, but… well. After this morning, I suppose I’m just more accepting of weird phenomena. “Tell me a little about it, then.”

“There’s nothing to tell, really… ahahaha. Just a little. Um. Legend.” Her eyes dart around the room.

“I like folklore,” I say flatly. I’ll accept weird things, but the evasiveness rubs me the wrong way. “Please, go on.”

“So, ahahaha, one day, a long time ago, there was a… let’s call her a witch. A super powerful witch. A witch with a power that equalled the gods. Now, this witch, she was… um… she was getting on in life, right? You know. Reaching that age.”

“What age,” I ask, unimpressed, “would that be?”

“You know,” she replies, twiddling her fingertips in what seems to be a deliberate attempt at cuteness. “The age where… having kids isn’t really on the table any more. So, this witch, she decides to use her magic to make something to help her, um, fertility. And she ends up with the Bittersweet Cup.”

“Right.” I furrow my eyebrows. This story is… all over the place, really.

“Except, even though the witch is powerful, she’s kind of a klutz… so it didn’t really work the way she thought it would. It definitely made her fertile, but… uh… not quite the way she was expecting it to. Ever since then, it’s got a reputation for getting the owner into… um. Sticky situations.”

My mind drifts, all of its own accord, to the memory of Sora cumming inside me. Sticky situations. Something in my brain slots into place.

“A-anyway! It’s really only of interest to, you know, chef-y people. Like me! Actually, I’d be happy to take it off your hands. In fact, it’d be a dream come true! I don’t have much money, but I’m sure we can work something out – like a trade, or I could cook you up an entire banquet, or… whatever you want!”

It feels… like she’s one of those car salesmen who need to make a sale the same day or they’re fired. Or, rather, that’s the angle they want you to believe. It’s all a little too suspect for my liking. I shake my head.

“Sorry. It’s got… sentimental value. Like I said, I’ve had it for centuries. You can come over and look at it, if you like. It’s not going anywhere.”

Her face crumples with disappointment. “Ah. Ahaha. That’d be nice, yeah. Thanks.”

She moves away, presumably to go and chat with Suguri and Hime. But I can hear her muttering under her breath. “Gosh… that woman, leaving her weird things around for anybody to find… How’d it end up here, of all places?”

I wonder if I should follow up on it. But then I hear a much louder yell from the front door.

“Oh, you must be Kae,” I hear Sora say. “They warned me about you.”

It seems the night is going to get a lot more lively yet.

We’re washing dishes after the party. Well, I am. Sora takes care of drying. I don’t often drop plates with these prosthetics, but it’s been known to happen, so I appreciate the extra hand.

“It’s been a really good day. I won two out of three arm wrestles,” Sora tells me. I happen to know that the third one would have been a tie, if Nanako hadn’t gotten sick of Kae yelling and started tickling her under the ribs. I think it was tickling, and I think it was the ribs. I don’t like to imagine Hime’s sisters groping each other in my apartment.

She doesn’t mention this morning. Neither do I. I think we’re both a little disappointed that we won’t get the chance to experiment a little more with that – although I do have some new ideas vis-a-vis strap-ons.

“Hm? Hey, Sora…” I ask, looking at the sideboard. Sitting neatly upside down is the so-called Bittersweet Cup from earlier. “If this is in the wash… was anybody drinking out of this?”

“I did. And I think Hime drank a little. But then Saki dragged us away to tell us all about her adventures on her culinary journey. She’s had a lot of them. She didn’t seem like the type, but it seems like she gets into a lot of trouble.”

“I see.”

I look down at the cup. At the little carved, middle-aged lady on the emblem. A middle-aged witch? The gears turn in my head.

“I was just thinking this, but… you look a little tired. After everything that happened today, I mean. I’ll finish up here – why don’t you take a little nap, and tell me if you’re feeling better when you wake up?”

“Mmm… Maybe. I’ll go see what Roger thinks,” she says, after contemplating it for a moment. She already knows what Roger thinks. Roger thinks that as soon as she lies down, he’s going to lie on top of her. That’s what Roger does.

“Oh. But you’re sure that Hime drank from this as well?” I ask as she pads off.

“Mm.”

If I’m right… well, if I’m right…

Then I suspect we’re not the only couple who’s going to have an interesting night tonight.