Torwood
I could do nothing as this woman, this silver creature with irresistible curving hips and glimmering dark hair, approached me and mounted the bed beside me.
“I’m worried that it’s dangerously cold down in my room,”
she said. “I don’t want to impose, but would you just help me get warm? Then I can go back to my own room.”
Her soft hand grazed my own, and an almost animal instinct overtook me, a deep desire to envelop her completely and never let her go.
I wrapped my arm around her, shifting onto my side, and she sighed and slipped into my embrace.
The curve of her back fit like a puzzle piece against my chest, and as she wiggled and shifted, her rear made contact with the iron rod of my cock.
She looked back at me, gave a small smile, and removed the sheet from between us, nestling further back against me.
My entire length was nestled in the crook of her ass, and further up onto her lower back.
Though her extremities were cold, she was radiating a heat that paralleled mine, even through the thick fabric of her clothing.
My hand came to rest on her stomach, in the gap between her waistband and the bottom of her sweatshirt.
The feeling of her bare skin set me aflame, and I was certain she could feel my heart pounding against her back.
I was still as a boulder, not wanting any wrong move to send her away, or gods forbid, make her think that I held ill intentions.
Her hand over mine, her fingers interlacing with my own.
Then, she began to push my hand downward, under her waistband, until the edge of my hand contacted the rough hair of her sex.
I was in disbelief.
She kept directing my hand deeper into her clothing, until I felt unbelievable warmth below the tips of my fingers.
Vanessa gasped.
All pretense was gone, and she began to rock against me, precum erupting from my tip as she ground her ass against my throbbing cock.
The sensation of my hardness against her was driving me almost mad, and I could not stop myself from bucking against her.
She removed her hand from mine and reached back and up to my face, brushing her fingers through my rough beard.
Then she pulled my form over hers, turning her face up so it could meet mine.
For the first time in a decade, we kissed.
Ten years ago, on a sweaty summer night, I was under a tree by the river.
Vanessa sat on my lap, her lips half parted, eyes glittering in the moonlight.
She had pulled my face to hers, just like she did now.
I remembered the brush of my sensitive tusks against her cheeks, and how she had climbed up my body, straddling my leg to hold herself taller and kiss me as an equal.
And then the clatter of a bicycle, and a sharp pain on my back.
Vanessa’s older brother and my best friend, Thomas, face red like a winter cabbage, reaching down to find another rock to hurl at me. His expression had not been rage, it had been worse. Disgust. Betrayal.
I pushed Vanessa back, and withdrew my hand from the warmth of her.
“I cannot. I promised your brother I would not.”
The words echoed from my throat, but hit my ears as though spoken by someone else. Vanessa stiffened, and her breath caught. I needed her out of here immediately, for I knew I would not be able to resist her, to uphold my promise much longer.
“My brother isn’t here,” she said.
“I am sorry Vanessa,” I said.
Speaking like this felt like tearing out my own eyes, like my heart would burst from my ribs. I released her and turned on to my back, staring at the ceiling.
With a sharp inhale, Vanessa stood up and quietly readjusted her clothing.
“It’s fine, dude. This was just supposed to be a fling, it doesn’t have to be a whole ordeal.”
She was doing a fine job acting, playing off the evening as a simple night of passion. I wasn’t fooled. Buried in her voice was an old, familiar pain. I knew Vanessa far too well, and I had known this pain before.
“I understand if you hate me. I deserve at least that much,” I said.
She stared at me. Her face twisted, and her eyes filled with anger.
With a sudden snatch, she wrenched the bedsheet from me, leaving me naked. Then she walked away, and the precious thing that I had lost once and could not bear to lose again exited my room and slammed the door.
***
The morning arrived as a rude horn.
At first I thought it was a fragment of a dream, but soon realized that the sound was quite real, and was coming from outside my window.
I rubbed my eyes, and saw that I was still as bare as my bed.
I had no idea when I had fallen asleep.
My last memories were of pacing the room in the nude, doing pushups, trying and failing to let my anger warm me and keep me away from thoughts of Vanessa.
The horn sounded again, and I plodded blearily over to the window facing the street, stepping over my crumpled jacket which still lay on the floor where Vanessa had dropped it.
It appeared that the previous night had truly been the worst of the storm, and things were rapidly improving.
A plow trundled down the road, the driver impatiently waiting for a family of chupacabras to finish crossing from their burrow in a neighbor’s bushes to the alley across the street.
The sun was shining, and like magic, the vast drifts of snow and ice were receding.
Shirley would be thrilled, and would probably try to convince me to take her out on a walk today.
I would have to discourage her, citing her doctor’s orders for the millionth time.
Ice struck my heart.
Shirley.
I had meant to check on her and feed the fire shortly after midnight, but Vanessa’s arrival and the turmoil she’d left had erased my mind completely.
Panicking, I threw on some clothing and pounded down the stairs.
“Tsk tsk, Torwood. I didn’t take you as the type to let an old woman freeze, but I suppose I’ve been wrong about you before.”
Shirley was seated in her usual breakfast spot at the kitchen table, looking the absolute picture of smug. Vanessa stood at the counter, whisking eggs and clearly trying to ignore me.
“Shirley, I am so sorry. I fell asleep and I-”
“Now, Torwood, that’s in the past. What matters now is that you make up for it, and I know exactly how you can do that. Vanessa?”
“There’s a shovel on the porch, and the snow has melted enough that the door opens now. Draw your own conclusions,”
she said, without looking at me.
“The power’s still out, and they say it might not be back until tomorrow. I would like to go on a walk later today. I’ve been cooped up in this house for too long. Oh, and I’m sure the Whistlewind family next door would not mind having their walk-up shoveled one bit either...”
continued Shirley. I was doing my best to keep up with her jovial mood, and not agonize myself with the memory of the previous night. If only Vanessa would look at me, give me some kind of sign.
None came.
I retrieved my coat from my room, then returned to the foyer. Wrapping myself tight in a scarf and a cap with warm woolen flaps for my ears, I tried the doorknob and found that I only had to push aside a small mound of snow to ease the door open.
“Oh, and Torwood?”
said Vanessa from behind me. I hadn’t heard her approach, the fuzzy socks on her feet muffling her steps. I turned, and Vanessa’s eyes met mine. Her hazel irises were speckled with green which glinted in the morning light. My throat went suddenly dry.
A flash between us. A moment where I thought she might name what had happened the previous night, or curse me out, or tell me she never wanted to see me again. She was clearly considering certain words.
“We’re out of eggs,”
she said at last, then turned on her heel and stalked back to the kitchen.