The Artifact of Foex by James L. Wolf

“That’s
ichor, Chet. It’s the Flame god gift that allows us to survive
fire. We are chemically altered by Pelin upon initiation. You
probably didn’t notice in the van, but all my bodily fluids have a
slight purplish tinge to them.”
    “It makes me, er, responsive. More responsive
than I usually am," Chet said. His cock was hard even now.
    “Ichor is an aphrodisiac—best on Uos,"
Journey grinned at him. Her body was undulating beside him, her
need apparent. “Here, you climb on top this time. Knock yourself
out and just fuck me, okay?”
     

Chapter 8
New Territory
    Chet scrambled to comply, shedding clothing
with each step forward. Funny how he’d thought Journey was a fancy,
glamorous lady only... yesterday? “Just fuck me" felt more like
prostitute’s language. Or the way he’d thought stereotypical Flame
would speak, except Journey defied stereotypes. At least Knife had
quietly slipped outside and was leaning over the balcony, Chet
noticed with relief. He was grateful to have sex without an
audience this time.
    Journey, too, rid herself of clothing and
sank on the bedspread, her knees spread outward. Her nudity was
still new to Chet. The rational part of him wanted to look at her
sex closer this time to see the ichor tinge for himself, but his
cock was quivering, the hunger all consuming. He crawled on top of
her and began bucking. Then Chet frowned. Something was wrong,
different from last time. The formula oddly changed. He could feel
her slippery, wet sex but didn’t seem to be inside of her yet.
Maybe he should buck harder for sex to happen?
    Journey snickered. “Here, I’ll do it.”
    Chet tingled with embarrassment as she took
hold of him and tucked his dick inside of her. He hadn’t realized
he’d need to fit inside her, key-in-lock style. Last time Journey
had done all the work, but now he was in charge.
Right?
    He thrust experimentally, curious how sex
should be best accomplished. Her wet tightness still felt superb
the second time around. Journey grinned up at him, biting her lower
lip. Her hips were thrusting upwards to meet him, her tits jiggling
in the most alluring manner. Chet found a tempo she seemed to enjoy
and hung onto it as long as he could. Journey tilted her head back,
emitting moaning noises low in her throat. Chet felt himself warm
to the work.
Hey, I’m pretty good at this,
he thought with
delight, increasing the tempo.
    “No, go slower.
Slower.
Make it
last.”
    But Chet found that he couldn’t slow down. He
was coming, coming—he threw his head back and spilled into her.
    Journey sighed, gazing up at him with evident
disappointment. “I really am going to have to train you, Chet. I’ll
have you fucking properly in no time, if you’re a willing
student.”
    Chet cleared his throat awkwardly as he
rolled off. “Sorry.”
    A noise behind them startled him. He glanced
back; the bathroom door was open, steam pouring out, and Fenimore
was standing naked at the base of the bed, stroking his erect
penis. “My turn, eh?” he murmured, crawling on the bed toward
Journey.
    She sat up abruptly, her legs audibly
snapping closed. “I don’t think so, LaDaven. Go jerk off or ask
Knife to accept you.”
    “Oh, come now. You’ll like me.” He started
fondling her breasts with both hands. “I won’t spill early like
your bashful swain here.”
    Journey growled, moving her legs under her in
a crouch, then slid her hands up Fenimore’s arms. She stopped just
below his elbows and savagely pinched the fleshy part of his
forearms. Fenimore yelped, thrusting himself away from her. He
rubbed his forearms, his face mottled with confusion and anger.
    Journey knelt on the bed as if ready to
spring, her whole attitude fierce, almost animalistic. “You touch
me again without my consent, Fenimore LaDaven, and I’ll do
permanent damage to your scrotum. I’ve castrated men before with my
bare hands. Do we have an understanding?”
    Fenimore opened his mouth and shut it, his
expression