"Missing" from Fallen Host
"Missing" from Apocalypse Array (in .PDF format)
WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX!
What follows is a chapter that I cut from Fallen Host. Before anyone gets up in arms, I cut it myself... not on editorial direction. I just decided it was a bit too steamy for what I was going for... (so be warned, if you're under 18 you might want to... well, not tell your parents you read this here.)
If you've read Fallen Host it should be pretty easy to place this scene. It follows directly after Emmaline gets the taxi to take Morningstar to her hotel room (Chapter 20: Emmaline, the Inquisitor), and right after they wake up in bed together (Chapter 22: Morningstar, the Adversary).
I wrote this when I was reading a lot of slash. And, after I finished it, I thought.. whoa, there's nothing quite like this in Archangel Protocol. I decided it didn't fit, but having talked to some people who find Morningstar to be kind of, well, a hottie... I thought, well. This is for those of you who are interested. The rest, feel free to ignore it.
* * * *
We hardly spoke at all during the taxi drive back to my hotel. I couldn't wait to put my lips on his, and starting in the cab was too dangerous. I didn't think I could stop anything we began now. I pushed Morningstar's hand off my thigh, and whispered in his ear: "Wait. Please."
"Sorry?" He cocked his head as though he hadn't heard me.
"Not here," I repeated, louder, and gave a meaningful glance at the front of the taxi where the camera watched us.
He seemed to understand, and he put his arm around me, across the back seat of the cab. I allowed myself to snuggle close to his side. I loved the feeling of the cool silk of his shirt against my hot cheek. I could smell the animal part of him beneath his musk of myrrh, and I breathed the odor in deeply. My hand strayed to his lap, and I raked my fingernails along the roughness of his jeans.
The deep growl in his throat surprised and thrilled me. He pressed his nose into my hair, and said, "Do that again, and I won't wait, girl."
Taking a deep breath, I laid my open palm, very still, against his leg. The taxi was automated, but someone in a station house might get a free show if I wasn't careful. Even so, the hotel seemed far too far away.
I'd hoped that he would offer his place for our tryst, but he implied he lived at that ratty bookstore I'd found him in. I glanced at up him, and shook my head lightly. The darkness of the traffic tunnel suited him. Like the candelabra in the bookstore, the half-light highlighted his thin wolfish features. Still, Morningstar was not my usual type. Last time I'd had a serious lover, I was still in seminary. The boy had been bookish, sincere, and easily lead. I wasn't used to feeling so crazy, so out of control about someone. I usually called the shots in relationships, but this time I suspected I was up against someone willing to try to match me.
This wildness was an uncomfortable feeling, but sort of exciting. I'd never had a one-night stand before. Truthfully, it was against my vow of responsible sexual relationships, but when I felt his breath against my ear I hardly cared.
Mercifully, the taxi finally stopped. I'd pre-paid via the LINK, so I grabbed Morningstar's hand and ran into the hotel. A few people gathered in the plush lobby glanced at us, when I burst through the doors. I was staying at the Hilton, as was befitting of my rank as an Inquisitor. The lobby was decked out in rich purple velvets and deep golden trim. Suddenly, with Morningstar beside me, the place felt decadent, sensual. I imagined how the plush velvet would feel pressing hard on my naked bottom and Morningstar's silk on top of me, balled in my demanding fists. At that thought a groan escaped between my lips, and something more between my thighs.
"What are you thinking?" His voice hummed in my ear.
Normally, I would send my paramour a detailed response via the LINK. That way, I could avoid the embarrassment of speaking such a thought out loud, while still getting to titillate my lover. "About you," was all I could manage.
"I hope I was good," he purred. "Or would you prefer me bad."
"Bad," I told him, my throat dry. "Very bad."
The hallway seemed longer and longer. I consciously tried to slow down, but the comedy of my exaggerated steps caused a giggle to bubble out of my throat. Morningstar laughed, a deep, almost dirty sound. More people stared. I schooled my expression into my "what you lookin' at" face, and they dropped their gaze as we passed on our way to the grand open staircase. Morningstar and I still held hands like grade school sweethearts underneath the sparkling, over wrought chandelier. My own sweaty palm matched the heat of his.
The stairs took forever, until we finally, with a glance, agreed to give up on the pretense. With a bold laugh, we ran the rest of the way to my suite. I don't remember finding my room and opening the lock, but somehow I managed it. The next thing I knew we were in the darkened entryway, the door gaping wide open, and my mouth was finally on his. His lips were cool and pressed hard against mine. I wound my fist into his hair, and tried to pull him even closer.
When he began nibbling at my ears and throat, I reluctantly loosed my fingers from his auburn hair, and I grabbed handfuls of his silk shirt. I used my augmented muscles to rip the buttons open with a snap. Usually, my strength surprised men and made them take a step back. Not Morningstar. I heard his dark laughter in my ear, almost mocking me. So, I scratched his chest with my titanium-coated fingernails. I knew I would easily draw blood, but he flinched only slightly. I could feel the muscles of his stomach flutter as I moved down toward his belt buckle. He pressed closer, into my piercing claws.
"Good," he murmured. "I like it rough."
Just to show him was I was capable of I jerked his belt hard enough to hurt him. He should have stumbled forward into me. Instead, he stood perfectly balanced, and it was the leather that gave way. I fell, sprawling against the writing desk. He moved in between my legs, spreading them, before I could right myself. My vestments came up to gather in folds around my hips. The coldness of the room brought goose bumps to my exposed legs. I shivered when Morningstar ran his hands up the length of my naked flesh and pressed his thumbs into the wet hollow of my thin cotton underwear. When is thumbs began to move, I cried out in frustration. The desk was so slippery that I couldn't get purchase on anything to right myself. I slid helplessly on the polished wood, as Morningstar thumb rubbed painfully against my swollen clit.
"Wait," I gasped. "Not like this."
"You wanted a bad boy," he reminded me with a growl. He hooked his thumbs around the edges of my underwear. With a hard jerk, he tore the fabric at its thinnest points. He swept the ripped garment away so fast that I think I got a fabric burn. I shouted out, and tried to right myself.
"Let me give you what you really want," he said, pushing me back down easily.
For the first time this night, fear stabbed coldly, deep within my guts. At the same time, I could feel my nipples harden underneath my vestments. Since the change, when the Vatican transformed my body through nano-technology into a living weapon, I rarely entertained thoughts of being overpowered. No one but another Inquisitor could even attempt it. I lifted my hands towards his face, meaning to give him a warning shot of lasers across his bow, as it were.
But he grabbed both my wrists with one hand, and pressed them, palm down into my belly. I could still shout or call, but when I heard his jeans unzip my body betrayed me by arching up to try to meet him.
"Yes," he chuckled, when he entered me. "You do like it, don't you?"
His cock filled me, stretching me tightly.
"Say it," he demanded, pulling back. "Say you like it."
The tip of his penis hovered just beyond the folds of my vagina. He moved it in madding little feints, and I struggled to try to push myself against it. He still held my hands wrists tightly.
"Say you like it," he said again, with another teasing motion.
"Please," I begged.
He thrust halfway, only to pull out again. I could feel my passion mounting dangerously close to orgasm. "You know what I want."
"Yes," I finally gave it to him. "Yes, I like it."
He leaned over me, pressing my hands against my own stomach. I could see his eyes glitter in darkness. He smiled wickedly as he thrust deep, making me cry out again.
"Your collar looks beautiful, Monsignor," he said, pulling back only to penetrate me again, even harder. I came in a hot rush.