Quick Splice of Black Dog Blues
“You smell like… cinnamon and oranges. I knew the sidhe pheromones were pleasant to us but this is… surprising. There’s almost a spiced taste to you, like a brewed tea. Does everyone smell the same or do you all have different scents?”
“Different, I think” I muttered, trying not to think of a green-tea fragrance that sprung to mind. “I don’t know. How long is this going to take?”
“Just a few seconds, I promise,” Orin said, running his hands down my shoulders and over my chest. “You’re more muscular than I thought you’d be. I’d like to see you without this jacket on.”
“I’d like to see you with a hole in your forehead, but I’m guessing I won’t get that either.”
“And you’re hostile to touch,” He said, shifting on my lap. “I’d heard you aren’t picky about what sex your lover is, but you’re almost repulsed by my touch. The elfin love being touched. It’s a part of their culture… almost part of their psyche.”
“Psychotic,” I corrected. “That’s a part of their make up too.”
“Your eyes are so purple, almost black, but I can see the blue flecks in them, almost sapphire caught in amethyst.” The back of his hand ran along my cheek and down my jaw. “It’s amazing how smooth your skin is, absolutely no coarse hair, and golden under the pale. We have such a hard time mimicking that, you know? Those tones under the sidhe skin are so difficult to duplicate.”
“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to,” I admitted. He wore pungent cologne, and it was beginning to make my nose itch. I’d sneeze on him if I weren’t afraid he’d take my snot and try to replicate me in some back alley lab. “Look, I know what I look like. I don’t need the refresher course. You going to do this or what?”
He put his mouth on mine before I could protest further. As a rule, I didn’t like kissing and the touch of his lips did nothing to change my mind. Orin slithered around my tongue, pressing into me until the taste of his mouth gagged me. He was sour in my mouth and the roll of silicon used to plump his lips moved like a cyst, rolling around under his skin.
I swallowed, trying not to pull away but the tang of his body invaded mine, delving deep past my lips and into my throat. He sank his teeth into my lower lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth and played with it using the tip of his tongue. His hands rose up and clasped the sides of my face then his tongue pressed in for more.
I gagged, gulping down the reflex before I lost the noodles I’d eaten. Shoving him away, I reached for my Coke to wash away the bite, not caring when Orin tumbled to the floor. He grabbed at the table, trying to catch himself. Too light to hold his weight, it toppled over. The metal hit the floor with a thump and the other Coke sleeve rolled away, spilling the sticky soda over Orin’s boots.
“You didn’t need to do that,” He said, staring up at me. “Why are you so cold?”
“Dude, you have no idea what cold is. And so we’re straight, you ever touch me again and I’ll kill you,” I choked, getting my words out around a mouthful of soda. “I will fucking gut you and string up your intestines to hang lights from. Are we clear on that?”
“Crystal,” He said as he stood. Righting the table, he smoothed his hair down and sat, his hands pressed down on his chest and stomach. Orin looked shaken, taking a deep breath as he composed himself. “I’m satisfied with my end of the bargain.”
“Good because that’s all you’re ever going to get from me.” I pulled out my gun. Placing it on the table next to my drink, I gave him my best Dempsey look, and he paled. “Now talk. Fast.”
4 thoughts on “A Splice of Black Dog Blues”
Me likey. Me likey a lot.
Just a dribble.