POSTRainfall7: When Pain Feels Good In Between (After Iso, Before the Vat of Acid)
“What do they look like?”
“The people from Pluto?”
“O, what do they look like?”
“And what else?”
“Their skin is purple? What else?”
“Blue noses and red eyes.”
“Ah, well do they have hair?”
“No, no hair.”
“What language do they speak?”
“They say, ‘Oink, oink’.”
Tam couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned her head away and laughed into her hand. She couldn’t stop grinning when Omega became this animated about something. He was serious and up until this point, she’d been serious, too, but…
She reached out and stroked his hair. He pulled his head from her touch as he puzzled over which block went where. A heavy gale blew in and shook the building blocks from their position. She hurried to put them back together as she felt Omega began to cry at the upset. She shushed him, or tried to at least. His cries became louder and her attempt at restructuring the tower didn’t quiet him at all.
“What’s wrong with him?”
She glanced up, finding Xanatos rising from the lower deck. He shaded his eyes as he approached. Again, he looked unnatural, even in the golden light of day his skin glowed eerily pale as if lit from within. He wore white swim trunks and leather sandals. His hair floated around his face, like Medusa’s snakes. The wind blew the long, black locks thusly. He squatted his large, lean muscular body next to her and Omega. The boy continued to cry, until Xanatos reached for him picking him up and standing again. Tam rolled her eyes, disgusted with the thought that Xanatos could always calm his son. Even with baby-Iso, the handsome devil was ever the kiddie-charmer.
She heard him talking to Omega. Their voices grew fainter as they walked the length of the yacht, further away from where they’d rested. She gathered up the toys and rose on bare feet. Taking the stairs to the bottom level, she moved through the galley and living area into the bedroom. Xanatos had left Iso curled up in the center of the large bed, asleep. She threw Omega’s toys into a nearby chair and gathered together the folds of her robe. She lay on the bed next to the sleeping baby, resting her head on her arm while she played with Iso’s curly hair. She was such a beautiful baby. She leaned forward and kissed her; eyelids fluttered revealing purple irises. The eyes acknowledged and the lids slid close again.
Xanatos was on her about having another, literally on her all the time about giving him another heir. She couldn’t breathe, it seemed, when he was around. That’s why she cherished the moments he ‘went away’. When he had business down South or in the East, she exhaled knowing that she would have some peace with her kids while he was gone. But this time, after he got back, he suggested that the entire family take a vacation. So here they were, a crew of three, one chef, one maid/nanny, Xanatos, herself and their kids, sailing the Yaweta region in the middle continents of Telos. So far, things were okay. Xanatos hadn’t pestered her too much; they were actually getting along.
She glanced up as she heard a noise. Xanatos stood there motioning for Greta, the maid/nanny to enter. The nanny lifted Iso away from the bed and out of Tam’s grasp. Xanatos shut the door behind her as she left.
“Where’s O?” She asked while sitting up in the bed.
“Asleep,” he replied as he walked to the bed, knelt and lay next to her. His hand rested on her folded thigh; he stroked the flesh as he moved, snuggling around her, placing his head in her lap. “I figured you and I could…take a nap, as well.”
“I’m not sleepy,” she said as she began pushing him back. He flipped onto his back, head still resting in her lap. He grabbed her hands and held them against his chest. He lifted them to his lips, kissed them, kissed them again, and once more.
“Don’t be mean,” he spoke softly, while smiling.
Her eyes grew wide. This gentle side he sometimes exhibited always confounded her views of him. He released her hands, but not before resting one against his crown and the other on his stomach.
“Rub my head, please?” He asked.
“Because I asked you to,” he stated plaintively.
With her fingers she stroked his hair. He nuzzled deeper into her lap, closing his eyes, turning his head to allow her more access. Although annoyed at playing lovey-dovey with him, she grew to like the feeling of her fingers against his scalp. He purred and soon his warmth infected her. He opened his eyes and they gazed at one another. He grasped her hand resting on his chest and began to move it lower. Once she read the lust in his eyes, lust that seemed to ruin this brief but loving moment, she pulled away and pushed him from her lap. She hopped off the bed and walked on angry feet into the bath. She locked the door as it shut behind her.
Her breath came in harsh swipes. The man made her crazy. One minute, he was gentle and nice and the next minute, he wants to ruin it by having sex. Why couldn’t they just have gentle and nice without the crazy, buck wild, freaky circus…
“Tam, open the door,” he sounded from the other side.
“I don’t feel like having sex with you, Xan. I’m not opening the door,” she said while pushing off and backing against the vanity sink, facing the door.
“Open up,” he said.
“No. I’m about to take a shower and I don’t want to be disturbed. Go jack off or something,” she stated boldly.
She stripped the robe and the bikini underneath. She reached to turn the water on and waited on him to say something…he was too quiet.
“Tam,” he growled.
“F_ck, no! I said, NO,” she yelled. He just wants me pregnant again, *beep* him, she thought to herself. Maybe he just wants to make love to his wife, her treacherous inner voice taunted, what’s so bad about that?
The door handle rattled. She ignored it, ignored him and stepped into the shower stall, locking the unit as she slid inside. She let the water hit her dead in the face. What the hell was wrong with her? Married for life, to him, she was. Part of married life was having sex and having babies, but not necessarily in that order. F_ck him, she thought. He always forces me, always. Always? The inner voice chimed in again. How about that time at the club? Or at the company party in the bathroom? What about your ‘first’ time together? Did he force you then? She groaned as she thought of that night; she groaned at the tingling in her nethers. *beep* she said as she reached and grabbed up a loofah pad and soap.
As she began scrubbing her body, she heard him. He’d jimmied the locks, using the witchcraft he had. She saw him approach the stall, and just as it looked like he was about to enter, he turned left and faced away. A moment later, she heard the sound of running water; rather, she heard the stream of urine penetrate the small pool of water in the bowl. She heard him shake once, twice and then the unit flushed. She saw through fogged glass, the spot of white fade into the doorway. Before she pushed her head underneath the running fount, she heard the door close behind him. What? No sex? No forcing her to do his bidding? Or to just ‘do him’?
When she emerged from the shower, she found the room free of him. She changed into a pair of cotton pants and a knit top. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, which rested at the nape of her neck. She didn’t bother with makeup or none of the other trimmings; they were still at sea, or so she thought. She climbed the deck to find the ship heading into port. Xanatos spoke to the captain. Both men turned as they heard her enter into the room.
“What’s happening here?”
“We’re pulling into port,” Xanatos replied.
“Is there something wrong with the ship?” She asked. Xanatos walked past her. As he descended down he yelled back, “No, I’m just cutting this vacation short.”
Was he mad at her? She chewed on the thought for a moment as she watched the shore become bigger in their view. He was mad at her. Funny, she thought while smiling. She turned and walked back down. She checked on Omega and Iso who were both still sleeping. She and Greta packed. She heard him in the other room, showering. He was mad at her! And he was pouting! How very funny, she smiled. This was hilarious; surely he played a game with her, he had to be playing! She laughed to herself, leaving Greta to finish with the kids’ things, as she entered the bedroom to look after her own.
Xanatos stepped from the shower, a soaking hot mess. He wore a towel wrapped around his middle. She glanced at him, there; glanced at his face, but he wouldn’t acknowledge her. He passed her as he crossed the room to the closet. He was quiet as he pulled clothes down from the hangers.
“Is there something ‘wrong’ with you, Xanatos? Why are we going back so soon?"
He continued pulling things down and casting them upon the bed. He paused once to give her a look of total disdain. She giggled under her breath. He was like a child, a very large scary child, but an ill-tempered child nonetheless.
“Answer me,” she brazenly commanded.
“You don’t want to be here anymore, right? Right?”
“I was having a good time, but if you’re ready to go back…”
He turned away from her, dismissing her with his stance. She frowned not knowing what to think of him and his sudden mood shifts.
“Is this because I wouldn’t have sex with you?”
“You don’t love me, I get that…but you will, one day. I used to think that you at least ‘wanted’ me, but now I see…”
“Just stop it. You always ‘go there’ and I’m tired of hearing it. You know how I feel about that and about you,” she paused for a moment and then continued, “Xan, just admit that this isn’t working out and let me go…”
“That’s what you want isn’t it?” He asked turning to face her. His eyes wavered in the soft light of the room. He moved closer until he stood right in front of her. His gaze was one she’d seen before: Predatorial, but without cause. He lifted a hand, both hands and encircled her neck. The pads of his thumbs rested against her lips. He pulled her forward, lifted her head so that she might see his eyes full-on.
“You want a divorce? You want to leave me? Is that it?”
She swallowed, fear clenching her throat.
“You forced me into this sham of a marriage, Xan. You took me away from ‘him’…”
He squeezed her neck slightly as he pulled her in for a kiss.
“And the kids?” He asked, as he tasted her mouth again.
She swallowed. Just what the hell was he doing? The fallout for this would be a grand one. She could see it already, her body bruised and battered from marathon rough sex. He’d make sure she couldn’t walk if he had to, anything to make her wanting to leave, that more painful. Then there’d come the verbal humiliation, his reminders of how he acquired her in the first place, of who she was to him, nothing more than a wanton sex slave. Then he’d do it, he’d threaten to take away the kids…just as he was positing right now as he coerced her into the beginning of this loop of destruction. It was all a reminder that she couldn’t leave him, wouldn’t leave him, had no power over him, and had no power at all, really…
“The kids, Tam,” he said again as he shook her. His eyes glowed and pierced daggers through her heart. “You’re not going anywhere,” he summed up.
“I cut the trip short because I’ve received an urgent message. I have to get back to the Southern regions.” He shook her before letting go. She stumbled back onto the bed and reached for the first thing her hand touched. It was a pillow. She threw it at his back, screaming, “I hate you! I hate you!” How dare he be so mean? So mean…and he always threatened to take her kids. She cried, cried as she threw another pillow at him. This time he turned and caught it.
In a heartbeat he was on her, had her pressed flat against the bed. Her pants, her underwear, somehow they were stripped from her body without her even knowing. He pushed in, deep, to the hilt and she cried out in pain and continued to just cry. He pounded the dry, uninterested walls until she felt a tear on the inside. He continued even as he felt something was wrong. She pushed against him, screamed for him to get off, to let go, to stop! He cried out and she felt his essence splatter inside her womb.
He rested on top of her until he caught his breath. He moved, this time gently, pulling out. Even as he knelt in front of her pillaged body, she glanced at his sex and saw blood, blood and more blood. It was too much blood, not time for her monthly. He said he wanted another kid; he wanted another, but look at what he’d done now. He sat back on his haunches, fingers sniffing the blood, which began to seep from her opened sex.
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” he moaned. He moved to place his hands against her abdomen. She felt a bit of the heat energy those palms commanded. But it wasn’t enough to dull the pain of what came next. Trees wrenched from the earth by powerful storms, wrenched so hard their roots, fragile and moist and seeing the light of day for the first time, knew not the pain, could not compare to the pain she felt inside. She turned onto her side, curling into fetal position. Xanatos jumped from the bed, struggled with his clothes. She cried, cried out, screamed. Greta came stumbling into the room as Xanatos shouted for help. She prayed for unconsciousness, but it didn’t come. The pain was too mighty and too sharp. She didn’t know how long she lay there or how long Xanatos screamed at the crew to dock the boat, to call a medical team, to do something. She felt herself lifted and all she could think of between the lightning strikes of pain was Omega and Iso and how if now, after losing this one, if losing this one occurred at all, that at least she had them.
PART 2 (In the Late of Night)
The roll of thunder in the distance awakened him. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, reaching to ‘her’ side of the bed, finding it empty, as empty as it had been for the past few weeks. She’d yet to forgive him for what had occurred. Truthfully, he hadn’t forgiven himself for forcing her and in the process ruining her ability to ever conceive again. Rain pelted against the windows. The embers in the hearth burned dimly seeking the elusive rush of air a hand to a stoker provided. He ignored it as he strode past the fireplace to the other side of the room. He opened the door to the nursery finding Omega and Iso sleeping soundly. The covers next to his son were thrown back. He felt the mattress finding it cool to the touch. Where had she gone?
He walked back through the bedroom and looked into the bathroom. She wasn’t there, either. He grabbed his robe and shrugged it on as he passed through the door and proceeded down the hall. He took the steps two at a time, feeling his heartbeat increase with worry. He looked in the study and the kitchen. She wasn’t there. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the thread of life connecting him to her. Nothing. The winds outside picked up pace and rushed the house, shaking the solid ancient structure. He felt those same winds as they ruffled the fabric of his robe. He turned, walked to the sunroom and found the patio door open, thumping softly against a padded ottoman. He ran to it, heart pounding in his chest as his mind conjured images that burned with ‘bad’. Did someone take her? Did she escape? He thought of the cliffs that dropped several feet down to the rocky shore. Did she… He ran to the porch, feet becoming wet with each step. Then he saw her.
“Tam!” He yelled. “Tam!”
She wore a white gown. The fabric billowed in the wind as she stood at the edge of the hedged labyrinth in the center of the garden. He called her name again and she turned, gazing back at the house, at him. He bounded down the steps until his feet hit the moist ground.
“Tam! What are you doing?” He yelled. She turned again and ventured into the labyrinth. He cursed silently under his breath as the rain beat down upon him. He hadn’t memorized the labyrinth, having never had occasion or desire to step into it. Just what in Sith hell was she doing? He took off, running until he stood at the entrance. He turned left; as that was the way she’d gone. He yelled her name as he turned left, then right, then left, as he doubled back having found a dead end. He felt his frustration rise at his own ineptness. He happened upon a passage, rain stinging his eyes, hair wet and plastered to his head. A scrap of material from her gown hung from where it snagged against the hedge. He grabbed it up and continued. He called her name again, knowing that as he progressed deeper and deeper into the maze, he’d probably never figure a way out of this. He could see it now, the groundscrew finding him in the morning, grasping the material to his chest as he lay underneath one of the large shrubberies.
The thought went unchecked as he found himself in a large clearing. Topiaries highlighted the circular space, some small, some large. At the center, there was a fountain. If he had to, he’d climb to the top and seek his way out of this maze. He stuffed this idea into the back of his mind as he saw her standing just beyond the granite centerpiece.
“Tam!” He yelled again. She didn’t acknowledge him this time. Her attention was focused upon another entrance. From this space, entered a figure dressed in black. The wind blew strongly shaking the hedged structures. The large gale caused Tam’s gown to billow and lift and for a minute he couldn’t make her out or make out the figure that approached. He peered through the rain, intent on ‘seeing’ the figure before he gauged a way to attack. It was but a moment, a brief pause in his senses before he felt it. The unease, which pervaded since he had awakened increased tenfold as he looked upon the figure embrace his wife. Sith-Force, he concluded. He didn’t waste a moment before he rushed, traipsing across the lower shrubs and benches until he stood just a short distance away.
He called her again. She turned, but a black-gloved hand jerked her back. At this distance he could see the figure, see the pattern in the cloth, which covered, hugged the hips, the waist, the small breasts. A woman and she was Sith. He approached sending the mightiest Force-blow he could conjure. The wave of energy shook the gardens, redirecting the winds, rumbling the earth and startling the intruder. Tam fell forward into the arms of the woman whose face was obscured by layers of dark cloth. She hissed, pulling Tam closer as she issued forth her own Force-blow. He wasn’t prepared, wasn’t ready, and wasn’t expecting power of this magnitude. As he fell back onto the ground he saw the figure envelope Tam’s body. He screamed as he saw them disappear into a burst of dark light.
He sat up in the bed, body covered in sweat, breathing harsh and uneven. He glanced around; felt the bed he already knew was empty. He jumped up and ran into the nursery praying silently that it was a dream and only a dream. He opened the door and found Iso sleeping in her crib; slowly he turned and saw Omega resting peacefully and behind him, his mother, Tam, snuggled the toddler close. Both slept, blissfully ignorant of the storm raging outside. He propped against the doorframe, thankful, attempting to calm his body, his mind. After watching them sleep, he turned, closing the door behind him and walked through the bedroom. He entered the study downstairs and walked to the bar. He poured himself a large helping of whiskey, mixing in a little soda with the drink. He didn’t want to think about the dream or what it meant. He sought solace, only the kind of solace found in a bottle of bourbon…solace that would prompt his body back into sleep. Soon, he was asleep, glass having fallen from his hand and onto the cushions of the couch.
“Where are you going?”
Xanatos stood in the door of their bedroom watching as Tam applied the finishing touches to her makeup. It was early in the morning; he’d slept on the couch, having passed out there.
“I have an appointment,” she replied.
“With whom?” He asked pointedly, pushing away from the door and walking further into the room. He came up just behind her, felt her stiffen at the close proximity. He caught her eye in the mirror. The kohl-lined orbs sharpened as he placed hands along her waist, smoothing down the sides of the silk dress she wore. Muscles tensed as he pulled her back, pressing his bare chest against her back. He inhaled her scent, never seeming to get enough of the smell of her, the feel of her. She didn’t understand just how crazy he was about her. Or maybe she did? Maybe that’s why she pulled away so abruptly.
“With a specialist,” she answered while moving to the bed to retrieve her bag.
He watched her avoid looking at him as she fussed with clasp on the bag.
“Dr. Zhani referred me to a specialist…hormone specialist,” she offered pulling the strap of the bag over her shoulder. “You want more children, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, but…”
She turned, ignoring him and walking to the door.
“Greta’s watching the kids. I should be back in an hour or so.”
“Let me take you, just give me a minute to get dressed…”
“There’s not enough time,” she said while opening the door. “I’ll be back soon enough.”
With these words she walked through, pulling the door closed behind her. She was still angry with him. He felt bad about it, he did, but why did she continue to hold a grudge? He fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes as he concentrated and thought once again of the dream he had. The figure in the garden, the presence of the Force, the dark side of it, just what did it mean? Then he remembered, felt it as he touched her just now in front of the mirror. She was hiding something from him. He assumed it was anger, her feelings of hurt and betrayal, but no, it’d been three weeks and the worst of her rage was over. She’d been to the doctor’s pretty often in those three weeks. Was that normal? Hormone therapy? She didn’t want to give him more children; that was a lie.
He reached over and grabbed the phone. He dialed the number to the bodyguards he had following her. She hated him for that, too, but failed to see that it was for her own protection. He had a lot of enemies; enemies she didn’t know about. He instructed Boja to follow her closely; he let the bodyguard know that once she reached her destination, he should call him and give him the address. Meanwhile, he rose from the bed and stretched his tired limbs. He would shower, get dressed, play with his kids and then go surprise his wife. He had to find out what was really going on with her.
The car pulled in front of Halogen Tower. It was a large building in the most eastern part of the city. Tam instructed the driver to return in two hours. She climbed from the car and watched it as it pulled away from the curb, leaping once again into the air, joining the traffic there. As she passed through the entrance, she gave a cursory nod to the receptionist. She entered the elevator, pressed the button for the 13th floor and waited as the lift rose. Her back pressed against the wall of the elevator; immediately her mind flew back to the earlier as Xanatos attempted to hold her from behind. She allowed the embrace, but only for a moment. Still, it was a moment too long as she’d felt his sex press against her back, eager, probing, wanting.
Always, always he was ready for her. That kind of want many women went without; she should be thankful that he was so beholden to her physically and emotionally. But she was tired of it, tired of him. She needed a break, something different, a different kind of affection, something. He loved her, she knew, but she couldn’t quite get past what occurred only a few weeks before. If she didn’t have Omega and Iso in her life she would’ve long since escaped. Or died trying to escape. A cold shiver enveloped her as the elevator came to a halt. She pushed away from the wall as the door opened. A set of double doors stood at the far side of the entranceway. She walked to them and as she raised her hand to knock, the door opened of its own volition. She stepped through and was met with the silky embrace of the one who dwelled there.
Soft hands settled at her waist, pulling her close. She inhaled the scent of jasmine, as cool, velvety lips captured hers in a hungry, seeking kiss. Dropping her purse, she slid both hands along the naked arms of the one who held her. Tam deepened the kiss. Her chest pressed against naked breasts. She slid her hands along the back and up to the neck, fingers teasing the cropped short blonde hair resting there. She moaned as she felt hands snake around, lifting her dress. These hands squeezed the naked buttocks of her backside. She pressed her middle against the other, moaning as those fingers slid between her thighs. She pulled back, breaking the kiss but not the contact.
“Maybe we should get out of the doorway,” she said, breath ragged and uneven.
Suddenly, she was left standing alone as the door behind her closed. A hand came to her waist, clutching the flesh. Tam kicked away her high-heels as they proceeded further into the room. A large bed sat centered in the middle of the room. Sheets of white netting hung from the canopy. A mild breeze from the coast blew in through the window, ruffling the fabric. She stood next to the bed and allowed herself to be undressed. Her hand cascaded down to her center. She rubbed, finding tender flesh wet and slick. Naked she lay back against the bed, arms opened wide and welcoming. Her body was covered by warm, soft flesh. She lifted her legs, trapping the body against her own.
“How much time do we have?”
“An hour…but no more than two,” Tam replied.
“Hmmm, I’d like more, but that’ll have to do…for today.”
Lips crashed against her own. She moaned into them, into the embrace of breast upon breast, hardened nipple upon hardened nipple, moist center against moist center. Both bodies moved against one another in a slow grind, encouraging friction, heat, enraging the river of moistness that flowed from each center already. When a finger found the tiny nub of flesh between her thighs, she cried out. The finger pressed, rubbed, teased, flicked and she lifted her body into each assault. Soon, she came. Even as those fingers slid deep inside her body, she came, shouting loudly. And as she rode those fingers she cried out not the name of her husband, no, but the name of the one who caused this calamitous pleasure.
Asajj, she moaned.
“How long has she been in there?”
“About an hour.”
“Thirteenth floor. There’s only one penthouse located there. Shall we retrieve her?”
“No, no, I’ll get her. Just wait here.”
Xanatos turned feeling his anger rise. What kind of hormone therapist has an office in a residential suite? What the hell was Tam trying to pull here? He stomped passed the startled receptionist. As she reached to dial security, he sent a Force-blow, rendering her unconscious. She fell back into the chair, appearing as if she’d just fallen asleep. He entered the lift and jabbed at the button marked 13. That feeling from earlier, the feeling that something wasn’t right with the world, his world, returned again. He felt it, this unnamable Force presence that he’d only eclipsed briefly in his dream. He clutched the lightsaber at his side. He rarely, if ever, carried it anymore. But something prompted him to do so this time. He stroked the cold, hard steel recognizing the tingling in his nethers that always occurred whenever he touched it.
The door swished open and he walked into the entranceway. As the elevator closed behind him, he heard nothing save the quiet rush of air through the ventilation. He approached the set of double doors, stood there and listened. He closed his eyes, extending ‘feelers’ into the surroundings. There, just there it was, that presence again. Using Force magic, he unlocked the door and gently pushed it open. Quietly, he stepped into the room. It was dark except for the light spilling in through the windows at the far end. Soft moans erupted into the air. He refocused his sight and saw movement amidst the layers of gauze and netting hanging from the top of the bed.
His heart crashed into the floor. Could it be? His mind denied, even as he approached and the blurry figures sharpened into view. He watched them, two women, one his wife. He watched them, their bodies sliding against the other. It was Tam. He could see the honey-caramel skin of her legs as they lifted and opened. He saw her hands reaching back, wrenching at the pillows and iron casting of the headboard. She moaned, as a blonde head moved agitatedly against her sex. Xanatos licked his lips. The hand that stroked the lightsaber, now moved to his crotch. He pressed hard against his erection, as he began pulling back the flimsy material of the canopy. He had to see; he had to see clearly. Who was this woman? And why had Tam gone this route?
Just now sensing his presence, the kneeling woman turned, hissing sharply as she fixed him with an angry, ice-colored stare. Tam, caught up in waves of pleasure did not see the action. Immediately, Xanatos’s hand found his weapon. He pulled, igniting the energized blade, bringing the tip to the neck of the woman who ravaged his wife.
“Xanatos,” she snarled, while eyeing the singing blade (singe-ing).
Tam seemed to come out of her pleasure dome, hearing his name upon Asajj’s lips. She squirmed, fear lighting her features. She reached for covers as she pulled her body up against the head of the bed.
“Xanatos! What are you doing here?”
He swallowed, feeling blood pulsate through his c_ck, continuing to harden the ever-hardening member. He shook his head, attempting to clear his sight and his mind. Deep down he felt it, felt the darkness that now surrounded this Asajj Ventress. He knew her, knew her once before. She was pure evil. She was Sith, and that was about as evil as they come. But moreover, he felt sorrow, sorrow that Tam chose ‘this’ way to hurt him.
“Why, he’s come to check up on you, Tam. You told me he doesn’t trust you. He has you followed; for fear that you might leave him. I bet you never thought she’d leave you for a woman, did you Xan?” Asajj lifted her body from the bed. Xanatos positioned the blade closer to her neck.
“Xanatos, I can explain…just put the weapon down,” Tam begged.
He fixed her with a disappointed stare. His eyes questioned, why?
“Please? Put it down…it’s not what it seems,” she said.
“Not what it seems?” He bellowed. “You let this bitch f_ck you?” He could hardly say the words; his voice stumbled as he spoke them. He grew angry at his own ineptitude; he felt a loss of power, weakness as he found Asajj looking smug, smiling at him. He brought the edge of the buzzing light closer to her, just barely nicking the skin of her neck. This erased the smile and he felt a little better.
Tam scooted from the bed. She walked towards him. He looked back and forth between the two women. His eyes found Tam and settled on her lips, her body bruised and defiled by this woman. He turned again to Asajj. He took another swipe, again connecting the blade with her neck. She hissed and reached, covering the cauterized wound. As he was about to repeat the action, he felt Tam’s hand upon his arm. He turned. His mind flashed again to the image of their bodies together. He moaned, shaking his head and resettling the blade against Asajj’s neck.
“Xan, stop it!” Tam cried.
He pulled back on the blade and Asajj fell to the bed, clutching the wound. Her clear eyes met his, sending death-to-you looks and other ominous decrees.
“Let’s go home, okay?”
Tam’s hand clutched at his arm. She reached for his hand, pressing it down. He closed down the lightsaber as she moved to put on her clothes. He kept his eye on Asajj, wanting to re-ignite the blade, lift it and slice her into pieces; but Tam’s hand at his waist, pulling him back was enough to quell that urge. They turned and walked from the room. The sound of Asajj laughing echoed beyond the closed door. Tam pressed the button, calling the elevator back. Again, Xanatos’s mind flashed to the women in the bed. His wife, unfaithful; his wife, allowing herself to be used, it both disgusted him and turned him on at the same time. There was no denying the giant erection in his pants. But he was supposed to be angry with her, yes, angry. She cheated on him; he couldn’t let that abide.
As soon as the doors opened and they stepped inside, he reached over and pressed the ‘STOP’ button. “Xan, what are you doing?” Tam barely had a chance to ask the question as Xanatos threw her against the wall, lifting her pliant body. He undid the fastening of his pants, releasing the turgid member.
“Xan, stop. Don’t do this again…”
He ignored her. Serves her right, he thought as he pushed deep inside. He lifted her legs around his waist, placed his hands on the walls and proceeded to thrust. She protested, but not too much. Soon, the ‘no’ turned to ‘yes’, ‘yes’ as he *beep* her senseless. He thought of her lying in the bed, open wide, female hands caressing her breasts, sliding against her clit and fingers f_cking her deep. He continued to pound against her; she’d be dead to rights by the time he was through. He wanted her sore, wanted her to hurt, wanted her damaged so deep that even the thought of another man or woman touching her wouldn’t be enough. He marked her on the inside; she belonged to him. No other person would make him feel like he wasn’t man enough for her…and he’d make damn sure she remembered that, right here, right now.
“Say my name,” he pressed as his body pummeled her insides.
“No,” she choked out.
“Say my name,” he said again. He grasped her by the hair, pulling her head to the side. He kissed her neck, biting, suckling, and branding the flesh there as he pounded his way to ecstasy.
“No, you f_cker,” she managed to moan as waves of pleasure shook her to the core. He could feel her on the verge; feel as her walls began to tighten.
“Say it,” he commanded again as he reached and open the petal wider. He shifted his position and this time, when he pummeled deep, he massaged the tight flesh of her clit. She moaned and he saw her eyes roll into the back of her head. “Say my name, dammit,” he ordered again.
“Xan, Xan, Xanatos…” She moaned as she came, fingernails scraping against the back of his neck, fingers pulling his hair. Her legs tightened around him and she shook violently as pleasure wave upon pleasure wave erupted and overtook her body. No one could f_ck her the way he could, so why did she stray?
He imagined the image of his wife again with the woman. He let this image force the pleasure from his body. He shook, jaw clenched as he shot deep, deep inside of her. He called her name over and over and over again, muscles straining, fully focused with dispensing pleasure through the small passage at the tip of his cock. He sniffed the air finding the smell of sex and sweat and musty carpet odor as he sought to calm his breathing. His head rested against her shoulder. Her hand clasped loosely at his neck. A few moments passed before he was able to move again. Finally he did, pushing away from her, pulling his sex from her body. She slid down the wall and he watched with great pleasure as she held to a metal bar for support. He fixed her clothes, smoothing the fabric back down over her body before he pulled his pants up. Tired. Exhausted.
He pressed the ‘STOP’ button again and the elevator descended. When the doors opened he stepped through, reached for her hand and pulled her along. She struggled to keep up with him. He knew she was sore, bruised. He smiled as he saw recognition in the eyes of his bodyguards as they walked by. He helped her into the limo and got in behind. He pressed a button, raising the privacy-partition as the car ascended into the air. She slumped against the door, away from him, eyes closed, breathing heavy. He watched her, elated that he’d tired her out. The physical punishment would’ve been enough, but he had to say it, had to say the words.
“Don’t you ever, ever cheat on me again,” he said. “Do you understand me?” He asked.
She could only nod her head. It would be enough, he thought. He turned in his seat, observing the view of outside as they drove through town. She made a noise and he turned, finding her crying, again.
“I should be the one crying. I should be the one upset here.” He said.
Again, she said nothing. She wiped her eyes and they rode in companionable silence all the way back to the house. Upon arriving, she bounded from the car and made her way up the stairs. He walked into the study and poured himself a stiff shot of bourbon. As he stood, gazing out the window and thinking of nothing, he poured another, then another. Finally, he took the bottle and sat down on the couch. He stared into the hearth, into the darkness therein. As he sipped the fiery liquid, he thought of what he had done, of how he’d only just perpetuated the violence he seemed only so quick to assume when it came to her. But he couldn’t help himself. He was a monster, but damn it all if he didn’t love her. Why couldn’t she see it? Really see it?
Late again, thought Tam as she stared out the bedroom window. The skies had continually emptied rain upon the land for seven days now. She watched the landscape, pale and grey and cold. It was getting closer to the winter season; temperatures had already begun to fall. She turned and walked to the fire, warming her hands as she thought about her 'missing' husband. Each night since that day, he'd stayed out late. He came home, in the early hours of the morning, but only long enough to shower, change, and say hello and goodbye to the kids. He barely spoke to her, giving her the space she needed weeks ago after he’d assaulted her on the boat. Instead, it’d been as if nothing else had changed; he was on her all the time, smothering her constantly, trying to get things back to the way they ‘used’ to be; but she wouldn’t let him.
Her fling with Asajj was just that, a fling. She didn’t really want the woman she just wanted something different. Had it been a man she’d met at the Metro Bar, then he would’ve been the one she’d lain with. Deep down, she always knew that Xanatos would find her out. She realized she wanted the challenge, anything to get back at him. On so many levels this aspect of their relationship was just sickening. She knew it, knew he knew it, too. Now, since exorcising that particular ‘want’ from her mind and body, maybe she could find some peace, maybe for once these games would cease and life could take on some semblance of normalcy again.
She walked to the nursery door, opened it and looked in on her kids. She never understood their ability to sleep through this kind of weather. But then again, they’d been born into it; both the weather and the tumultuous reign of their parents’ marriage. She closed the door and walked through the room and downstairs. Upon reaching the bottom floor, she passed through the entranceway and dining area, into the kitchen. There she set water to boil for tea. After adding a dollop of honey to the hot brew, she took the cup into the sunroom where she sat comfortably on a chaise lounge, sipping her tea while watching the lightning show through the tall glass windows of the room. The tea warmed her. She sipped more of the substance and placed the cup upon the table. She lay back against the lounge, pulling her robe tight about her. She hadn’t meant to, didn’t want to, but after awhile she was asleep.
The sound of the study door slamming jolted her from her nap. She glanced at the wall clock, seeing the time at three o’clock in the morning. Who was up this late? Was it Xan? Had he returned after all? Slowly she got up from the couch, grabbing the teacup, she walked into the kitchen, dumping the contents into the sink. As she rinsed the cup mug, she heard sound, muffled sound coming from across the house. Who was it? She placed the cup on the rack to dry and turned, flicking the light to off as she left the kitchen. Crossing the foyer, she heard it again, noise, voices, laughter. Lightning shook the house as it struck somewhere south. She stopped and listened for the voices again. The double set of doors to the study sat closed tight. Along the bottom, she saw a sliver of light…someone was inside. Carefully, she walked to the door and risked a glance through the keyhole.
She couldn’t see a thing and suddenly she felt like such a fool for having resorted to this juvenile method of ‘spying’. This was her house, too. Whoever was inside…well, they’d have to answer to her. Maybe it was Greta or Bentley or one of the grounds men tipping around in the study, drinking from Xan’s private stock of whiskey. She could deal with this. Boy, would they be sorry they woke her up. Mustering all the courage she could, she reached for the doorknob and turned. Quietly, she pushed open the door until the sliver of light beading down the middle, increased in width and fell in a flat, rectangular plain across her face. She’d only just cracked the door open enough to get a quick glance of who was inside. She was surprised by what she saw, immediately feeling regretful of having ever left her bedroom at all. Had Xan been up to these kinds of tricks all along? She spied.
“Oh gosh, you’re so big,” a voice said. “Ooooh and so hard.”
“You think so?”
“But I haven’t let you ‘see’ it.”
“I can feel it…see? Here and here and Oops! I can tell these things…now if you let me unzip you, right here and…”
“No, no, no, no…”
“Isn’t that why you invited me here? You paid me…bought me a couple of grams and…” the voice laughed.
No he didn’t, Tam thought. Her hand squeezed the doorknob hard as she looked through the opening. On his desk, sat some tart, blonde with blue eyes red lips, dressed like a lower-level whore. The girl sat on his desk legs gaped open. Xanatos stood leaning over her, his body situated between those fishnet wrapped legs. The girl’s hands wandered over his body. He’d catch them and pull them away. Clearly she was drunk or high or both as she punctuated each sentence with a giggle meant to entice, no doubt. Tam fumed. How dare he bring this trash to their house? The kids were asleep upstairs. Why would he do this? She had a mind to waltz right in there and just…
“Hey, I think we have company,” Xanatos said.
Tam froze and silently berated herself for thinking out loud. Xanatos turned, his eye catching her peeping tom.
“We have company?” The tart asked. “You didn’t say anything about another person, Xanny-boo. I don’t like to share…unless I’m getting paid to.”
He pulled away from her and began walking to the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” The tart complained.
The girl sat gap-legged. Tam could see her plump, hairless sex peek through the ruffles and lace of the petticoat number she wore. She noticed Xan’s purposeful strode towards her. She pulled the door shut and turned ready to bolt up the stairs. But she wasn’t quick enough. A hand grasped her arm and twirled her around. She came face to face with his broad chest. She didn’t want to look into his eyes, so her gaze focused on the slight scar just above his left nipple.
“Going somewhere, dear?” He asked.
She could smell the alcohol on his breath and smell the rubbed off fragrance of that whore sitting on the desk. Since when had he begun visiting whorehouses?
“Who’s that woman and what is she doing in our house?”
“Our house? ‘Our’ house? So ‘now’ you want to share things with me. Are you feeling threatened by our little visitor in there?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Xan,” Tam huffed. She gathered the nerves and looked into his face. His hand yet held her roughly. She shook her arm from his grasp and said, “I want her out of here. Now,” she emphasized.
He crossed his arms across his chest and stared at her. His eyes took on a sinister look and then he laughed. Laughed at her.
“This isn’t funny. How dare you bring a whore into this house? Our kids are upstairs, for Force’s sake! Get that bitch out here.” She hissed.
“Yoohoo, Xanny-boo. Whatcha’ doin’? I’m lonely. You promised me four grams, where’s the rest of my blow?”
Tam’s eyes widened twofold.
“You brought drugs into this house? What the hell is wrong with you?” She wailed reaching to slap his smirking face. The blow caught him along the chin and immediately he stiffened, catching her hand as it descended past. His fingers flexed, squeezing her wrist. He wrenched her body to his before he spoke menacingly.
“Nevermind what I bring into this house; it’s ‘my’ house and don’t you forget that. As for the whore inside, you don’t have a right to complain about her. You f_cked around on ‘me’ or have you forgotten?”
“Let me go,” she threatened.
“Refusing to answer the question again, Tam? Why can’t you face up to what you’ve done? You should beg my forgiveness everyday for your seedy transgression. If I didn’t love you so much you’d be…”
“I’d be what? Dead? You want to kill me now, is that it? You f_cker, after all the sh_t you’ve put me through…” She struggled against him.
“Xanny-boo, where you at? Who’s that? I hear voices.”
“I’m coming, Candy.” He said while grabbing Tam up and kicking open the study room doors. He unceremoniously deposited her onto the couch. Her face met the suede cushions upon impact. She came up ready to strike.
“Candy this is my wife, Tam. Tam this is Candy, my lady of the evening,” Xanatos said as he shrugged off his overcoat. He threw the piece onto a side chair as he plopped his body down into the adjoining couch. Tam glared at him, refusing to look at or even acknowledge the hoochie propped up on the desk.