ElyriasEcstasy by Amber Jayne and Eric Del Carlo Page B

Lavinia’s tongue, working below, swirled forcefully in Arvra’s
pussy, batting at her clit, catching the sensitive bud between her lips, then,
perhaps imitating Arvra, with her teeth, applying exquisite pressure.
    Arvra bucked atop. Lavinia shuddered beneath. Hips jerked to
a mutual rhythm. Lips and tongues never tired. Sweat oiled their bodies and
skin slipped on skin.
    Cries of nearly simultaneous bliss were muffled against
equitably drenched groins. The pleasure took hold of every part of Arvra’s
body. It lit her with a rapturous glow, brighter than the sunlight that never
quite seemed to fall directly on her border town. Fulfillment poured through
her, streaming out onto Lavinia’s enthusiastic tongue.
    Lavinia’s pussy expelled its liquid ecstasy as well, hips
vaulting toward the cool gray ceiling, and Arvra was there to take the honeyed
elixir, swallowing all she could, sating herself and her lover.
    Eventually they unbound themselves from each other. Lavinia,
chuckling, looked somewhat stupefied. Arvra oddly felt a twinge of
embarrassment. For herself? For this woman? Neither seemed likely. Maybe it was
simply the lingering shame of finding herself in a jail cell. That was part of
what the Guard did. They tried to mortify you, take away your humanity. Well,
too late for that, Arvra thought with a happy, tired smile as Lavinia clomped
over to the opposite cot and threw herself down onto it and, apparently,
instantly fell into sleep.
    Arvra curled onto her side atop her own cot, feeling sleep
coming for her as well, hoping it would claim her while the heat of sex still
warmed her body. The Guard couldn’t take everything from you. Neither could the
Lux, who controlled them—who controlled every thing. Neither could the
Weapon with the pale hair and the fey features.
    Nobody and nothing, she thought as she shut her eyes, could
take it all away.
    * * * * *
    They had taken everything from him.
    The thought, new in its stark articulation, though familiar
as a subject he’d nursed for some long while, beat in Urna’s skull as he raced
on foot through the city streets. He was not winded, even after dashing a
considerable distance through the streetlight-glowing nighttime.
    The Lux lived well. The homes lining the streets down which
he sprinted were like little fortresses, with looming walls and soaring gates.
They looked out on the night through the eyes of magnificent arched windows and
from the vantages of grand terraces. These were places of vast comfort and
lavishness. Inside the great houses, as well as along the avenues, electric
lights burned. No power rationing in these districts. The solar arrays
collected the sunlight and transformed it into electricity through a process of
which Urna knew nothing. The light vaguely reminded him of the fungal
phosphorescence that the Black Ship exuded.
    He was escaping through the city. Behind, the alarms had
finally wound down. The alert, though, was surely still on, and he was no doubt
being actively pursued.
    Very likely the one person best suited to tracking him would
be set on his trail.
    Rune…
    But Urna had his speed, his stamina. He would’ve preferred
the streets to be a little darker, but so far he’d managed to make his mad dash
without drawing undue attention. His clothing was nondescript, the sort of
outfit a worker might wear. Hopefully any member of the Lux, roused enough by
the wailing alarms to glance from a window, would merely think him a menial
rushing to attend some urgent repair. He was counting on the indifference of
these wealthy fucks.
    With the alarms at last silent, the city was still. He found
very few signs of activity as he ran past the gated house fronts. Just the
occasional liveried servant tending some chore out of doors. Urna was barely
spared a look.
    He still had the firearm with him and he would use it if
necessary. He listened above the steady tattoo of his bootfalls and the even
heaving of his breaths, straining to detect sounds of