First Meeting Devon woke to bright early sunlight streaming through the windows, and grinned happily to himself. He was, finally, beginning to get used to sunlight, after years spent mostly in the dark. Squirming out from underneath the hard, muscular body half-pinning him to the bed, he stretched hugely, chuckling when a large warm hand wrapped around his morning erection.
Hans nuzzled his belly, then nipped a hipbone. Devon shivered and rolled onto his side, towards the big German, who obligingly slid down a little further and licked slowly up the psi's shaft.
A smaller hand pulled his hair back as firm lips kissed the nape of his neck, Stephan's long lean body pressing against his back, hard-on nudging between his buttocks. The young Frenchman nipped his ear, then raised Devon's leg a little, resting it over Hans' broad shoulder as he reached for the half-empty tube of gel beside the bed. Lubricating his cock, he positioned himself and slid into the thin, hot body as Hans did his best to swallow the engorged flesh filling his mouth. Devon bit back a cry, hands clenched in the German's near-white hair, unable to decide whether to thrust forwards into Hans' throat or backwards to impale himself more deeply on the rigid penis filling and stretching his arse…
His bedmates made the decision for him, Hans reaching a long, strong arm under Devon's hip to wrap across Stephan's buttocks firmly, kneading the smooth flesh and pulling the Frenchman closer, his other hand fondling the psi's balls. As Hans took Devon deep into his throat, nuzzling the copper curls at his groin and nipping gently at the base of his cock, Stephan began to move, buttocks clenching under the German's forearm as he forced himself as deeply into the psi as he could - grinning when Devon gasped and grabbed for his thigh and beginning to pound more forcefully.
Devon closed his eyes and let his head roll back, allowing Stephan to nip and suck at his neck as one hand pinched a pale-rosy nipple. It had puzzled the psi, to start with, that Stephan had a 'thing' for nipples, but after a week of the sensuous Frenchman's attentions he'd found his own growing more sensitive, more responsive. Now he loved having them teased… Stephan slid his other hand under Devon to reach the other nipple, stroking and fondling…
Then Hans sucked, hard, rippling his tongue as Stephan rubbed firmly back and forth over the psi's prostate, and Devon came, pulsing into the mouth at his groin, quivering muscles dragging the Frenchman into his own climax. Whimpering, the psi slowly relaxed, shuddering body slowly returning to normal as Hans licked the softening cock, letting it slip from his mouth and pressing kisses from crown to base. Stephan eased out carefully - then grinned at Hans.
"Devon, cheri… poor 'ans, 'e is not satisfied…"
The panting psi glanced down at the big, solid cock in its nest of pale fur, then rolled onto his stomach, dragging a couple of pillow under his hips and spreading his thighs wide. Stephan leaned forwards to bite a pale buttock, leaving pink teethmarks as Devon yelped. Hans grinned broadly, then slammed into the offered arsehole, Stephan's semen easing his path as Devon gasped and gripped the quilt, teeth gritted. Hans was big. He didn't try to take the German very often, but when he did… Stephan moved to lie beside him as the powerful Teuton pounded into him, the Frenchman stroking his hair then brushing his own mouth over Devon's gently, lips surprisingly soft. He tasted of mint. A second later Devon discovered why: as their lips met, Stephan's tongue, gently insistent, pushed into his mouth and passed a small, strongly minty sweet to the psi. Devon grinned to himself - such an aesthete, his Stephan! - sucked it for a moment, filling his mouth with the fresh flavour, then swallowed it and allowed the Frenchman to ravish his mouth…
Hans grunted and nearly shoved Devon off the bed as he slammed in one last time and came, jerking back and forwards forcefully then collapsing onto the thin back - carefully, it was more than his life was worth to hurt the little junge. And Devon, Hans' movements against him, rubbing his cock against the fabric below him, arousing him again, climaxed a second time, spilling onto the pillows under his groin and gasping happily.
Hans nuzzled Devon's neck then slid from his body, kissing the base of his spine, and slicking a finger through the trail of semen sliding down to pool behind his balls.
"Is time for this kind to break his fast, ja?"
Devon rolled over and off the pillows, wriggling slightly as the trickling semen tickled him.
"Fuckin' shower first!"
Stephan pouted.
"Mais cheri, I was 'oping that we might go again, after petit dejeuner…"
Devon eyed him for a moment, relishing the soulful soft dark Gallic eyes, then grinned, stretching full length. Stephan's hand automatically stroked down his skinny body.
"OK. Let's eat first…"John (mid-grade 'path, good-natured, optimistic, friendly, less prickly than many resident 'paths) had found his role as guide and occasional confidant to the new psi recruits early in his career. Too nice to ever make a field agent, the Agency kept him at HQ, where his compassionate nature and 'fixit' frame of mind made him an invaluable asset in dealing with the 'youngsters' as he called them, regardless of their age. To his surprise - no, that was too mild a word: shock was more appropriate - Devon found he actually liked the geeky young twat.
John had arrived as Devon was in the shower, trying to ease the wholly pleasurable ache in his arse as the last of the semen slid from his body. His bedmates had both fucked him again (he grinned, tonight he'd turn the tables. And he'd have more staying power after this morning's fun) and he knew he'd have to walk carefully and slowly - saunter, in fact - to avoid limping. But that was fine, today promised to be interesting. Today sauntering was appropriate. Today he was going to be given a guided tour of Agency HQ.
He'd dried himself in the bathroom and walked out naked, to stop short at the sight of the young 'path sitting chatting to Hans (who'd pulled on a robe) and Stephan (who was sprawled on his stomach on the bed) quite companionably, asking about their families back home. John was wearing a suit. And a shirt and tie. And shiny laced shoes. His hair was short and tidy…
Fucking great. A straight…
But John had smiled and greeted him pleasantly, completely ignoring his state of undress, and carried on talking to the older males while Devon dragged on close-fitting black jeans and a tight black t-shirt, and shoved open-backed black leather clogs onto his feet. John looked up, smiling.
"Ready to go?"
Devon nodded curtly, unsmiling, and John had politely ushered him out of the room, heading for the lifts.
"I thought we'd start with the gymnasia and pool - they're on the ground floor - and work up…"John timed it so that they arrived at the larger and slightly more formal of the staff restaurants at 1pm - by which time Devon was flagging somewhat. He'd had no idea the place was so fucking big…
John was smiling.
"What would you like to eat?"
Devon flopped onto a comfortable chair and gazed up at the 'path.
"What is there?"
John reached for a menu, opening it and handing it to Devon.
"Quite a lot to choose from…"
This was true. A lot of it Devon had never heard of. He played safe and asked for rare steak with chips, minted peas and fried mushrooms. John nodded his approval.
"Good choice. Lots of protein." He eyed the menu for a moment, then closed it with a smile and beckoned to one of the cheerful waitresses, giving their order - he'd opted for a seafood platter - then turning back to Devon.
"So… what do you think of us so far?"
Devon had been impressed with the pools (a straightforward Olympic sized rectangle for serious swimming, and another much more fun pool shaped a little like a distorted ace of clubs, with a waterfall cascading down one side and several fountains: a sauna suite adjoined the spacious room), less so with the gymnasia. They'd visited the labs, where solemn-faced researchers were investigating how psi worked, where it came from, how it could be encouraged, what effect different chemicals or electrical fields had upon the different forms… Devon had switched off halfway through and let John's explanations roll over him. Then they'd passed through the training areas, where psis of different techniques and disciplines were refining their skills. The various martial arts training rooms. The ranges. The meditation chambers. The vast, extensive library. The 'archives', where what looked like hundreds of normals were transferring the records of 'cases' into the central datastorage hard drive… And everywhere there had been… talents… working shoulder to shoulder with normals. Happily. Everywhere they went there were cheerful people, calling out greetings, smiling…
He smirked.
"'S'OK."
"Good, good. Do you have anything you want to ask, so far?"
Devon thought about it while John ordered a jug of mixed fruit juice for them, then shook his head.
"Not right now. You're a fucking good guide, told me most of what I need to know." He took a swallow of the juice and gazed around him. "It's nice here."
John chuckled.
"I'm glad you like it. The Agency does try to make life comfortable for its people."
"How do the higher ups live?"
John frowned.
"I beg your pardon?"
Devon frowned.
"The big bosses. Y'know, the ones who fucking run the place. They must live like fucking kings."
John eyed him for a moment, then shook his head.
"No. Well, not that much different from the rest of us. That wouldn't be equitable, might lead to resentment, and that would never do. We need to be treated fairly - and to know that that's the case - if we're to operate efficiently."
Devon stared, undecided as to whether the 'path was lying or just plain deluded. But… the grey eyes were earnest, honest. He believed everything he said - and suddenly so did Devon.
It didn't make any sense, but it was so. And he hadn't survived this long without learning to trust his instincts.
And he felt better than he'd ever felt in his life. Well-fed, comfortable, pampered… They were teaching him how to use his… talent... This place was full of other people like him. Freaks. Except - they weren't freaks, were they? Just normal people with a little something extra.
It felt like coming home.
He sighed and stretched slightly and smiled to himself. Wouldn't do any harm to give them a chance, would it?
Their waitress - a cute little normal whose nametag said her name was Gwynnyth - placed their dinners on the table with a genuine smile and a "hope you enjoy your meal!" before almost dancing back to her place near the bar, keeping an eye out for anyone gesturing for service. And Devon tucked in to succulent meat - the real thing, too! - tiny crisp peas, mouth-singeingly-hot chips and perfectly fried mushrooms. Simply delicious.
He smirked at John opposite, tucking into a very interesting plateful of strange pinkish things that smelt… Devon frowned slightly, feeling a warm tingling in his groin. They smelt almost like…
Devon, quite simply, loved sex. He'd never denied the fact or apologised for it, it was just so. OK, generally speaking he preferred males, but was perfectly happy to fuck women as well, on occasion or if there was no other choice. And the smell of what John was eating was reminiscent of that strange, salty kind of smell that he'd only ever known when his face was buried in a woman's groin…
He swallowed, feeling his cock stiffen. There were a lot of women at Agency HQ, normals and freaks. And they all seemed very friendly…
Fuck. He tried to focus on his meal, forking rare red meat into his mouth, flexing his hips and buttocks under the level of the table to try to relieve the pressure at his groin.
Luckily for Devon John finished his meal quickly, and with the smell diminished the younger psi was able to enjoy his own lunch. Though he was left with a simmering discomfort low down in his belly.
John offered dessert, but Devon was restless, needing to move, and shook his head. Smiling, John continued the tour…By 3.30pm Devon was approaching information overload, though he wouldn't have phrased it quite like that. John was aware of the fact, but he had a couple more places he really needed Devon to visit before escorting him back to his suite.
One of these was the vehicle workshop.
It was cluttered in here, the smell of oil very strong, mingled with the hint of strong coffee. The place was full of cars and vans and bikes and various other less-identifiable objects. John smiled at Devon's expression.
"I know, it's a mess. But a lot of good work is done here. We recycle and repair as best we can, improve on what the manufacturers have designed where possible. It's also a great place for practising basic psi skills." He brushed specks of drifting rust off his suit and gazed at the piles of metal around the cavernous place, then grinned at one particular vehicle. "And somewhere under that pile of rusting junk is Cloudie."
There was a slight scraping noise as someone wriggled out, feet first, from beneath the old truck.
"You called?"
The grubby grey overalls swam on the woman, disguising her build. Her face was vaguely triangular, pretty with a soft 'peaches and cream' complexion partially hidden under smudges of grease. There was a small spiral tattoo high up on her right cheek and a delicate silver stud through her right nostril; her abundance of pale gold ringlets was tied back with a vibrantly patterned purple, pink and green scarf. She smiled at Devon, grey-blue eyes shining warmly as she held out a blackened hand.
"Ooh, I'd heard you were pretty, but damn!" she clasped his hand in both of hers and studied the younger man with a wicked light in her changeable eyes. "I'm Cloudburst Golden Brigantia, at your service." she purred.
"Fuck!" Devon smirked. "That's never your real name!"
"Shit yes," 'Cloudie' chuckled, "my folks are travellers," she pointed to the spiral on her cheek and her voice dropped to a perfect laid back drawl, "we walked with the Spiral clan, man." She grinned at John, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"Hello, John! Good to see you, my friend."
The 'path smiled down at her.
"Good to see you too, Cloudie."
Cloudie faced him, holding both his hands in hers in a friendly fashion and smiling up into his face. Devon wasn't sure if she was coming on to the geek or not.
"I don't see enough of you, John – how about lunch tomorrow?"
"How about dinner? I don't have anything planned for tonight."
The woman smiled, and shot an oblique glance at the new recruit.
"No, I might be busy tonight."
Devon focussed on her, as he'd been learning to do, registering her as a psi.
"So you're a freak - uh, talent, too?"
"Uhuh," Cloudie's attention swung back to him. She undid the ribbon, letting the curls tumble freely about her shoulders, "machine empath - a 'tinkerer' - little bit of TK." There was a clang behind her; Cloudie frowned over her shoulder. "Gently, Jeffrey, cars have feelings too." She grinned at Devon's sceptical look, saying mildly, "They do; anybody who thinks machines are only inanimate objects just isn't listening."
"So what the fuck does a 'machine empath' do?"
"We read machines like psis read people. We can tell where there's a problem, and can usually fix it."
"How did a gippo's brat end up here?"
"'Traveller's', please," Cloudie's rebuke was mild: everything about her seemed to be mild. "When I was fourteen there were some seekers in a town we passed through. They spotted me, and well – " she shrugged, " – the rest, as they say, is history." She called back over her shoulder, "I'm done here for the moment, Jeffrey, remember – don't force anything!"
There was a grumbled reply from beneath the truck's chassis. Cloudie touched Devon's wrist, her fingers lingering on his pale skin.
"Come and have a drink with me. Tea? Coffee?" she grinned wickedly, "Herbal infusion to balance your chakras, man?"
Devon snorted.
"Whatever the fuck they are! Nah, I'll stick with coffee."
"Wise decision, chakra herbs are foul."She took Devon and John to the workshop's kitchenette, washed her hands thoroughly then unselfconsciously stripped out of the overalls while she waited for the kettle to boil. Under the drab grey, Cloudie was revealed to be invitingly curvy, the plain cotton underpants and short, tight crop-top doing sod all to conceal the shape of full, soft breasts and smooth, round buttocks. Cloudie spooned instant coffee into the mugs then she turned to Devon, hands on provocatively canted hips, head tilted to one side. The bright jewel accentuated the piercing in her navel, and it looked to Devon as if her tits were pierced as well.
"Sugar?" Cloudie licked her lips and grinned.
Devon smirked at the blatant invitation.
"Three, thanks."
As they sipped their coffees, Cloudie demonstrated to Devon a little of what she could do, fusing bits of scrap wire together then separating them cleanly.
"My talent is more for fine control than shunting stuff about. I can manipulate things on a molecular level – " she stretched a teaspoon into a thin, shimmering wire then twisted it in on itself weaving a complex celtic knot. She used a fingertip to smoothly solder the ends together, forming a continuous, unbroken ourobouros. Cloudie handed the ornament to Devon. "How you use your TK depends on your imagination."
Devon stopped himself from jumping when something that felt like fingers carded gently through his hair.
"Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?" she asked, watching his reaction as she lightly stroked down the back of his neck.
"Yeah," Devon's lovely eyes involuntarily drifted half-closed, "I'd like that..."Devon was thoughtful after leaving the garages, and John smiled to himself. That looked promising. You had to admire Pamela, she really *knew* her people…
They really only had one last place to visit; the nursery. It was a relatively new institution, created after two of their Agents (a strong telepath and a mid-grade precog specialising in seeing large-scale robberies) had produced a child, a strong but undefined psi. Soon after, one of their most skilled seekers had found twins, five years old, in one of the many homes catering for the frightening number of unwanted children the city threw up, 'paths who, working together, could create visions in the minds of others. That discovery had led to a thorough and systematic trawl through the other orphanages and care homes throughout the country… The nursery currently housed fifteen children of various ages, tended by normals and several powerful talents. And watched over by Peter.
As John introduced them, Devon looked up, and up, finally meeting the man's bright blue eyes. Peter was huge, well over six foot tall and about as wide, and built like a bull with powerful shoulders and neck. Devon tentatively held out his hand, trying not to flinch as it was engulfed in Peter's massive fingers - but the touch was light and gentle. The big man smiled, diffidently.
"Howdee…" His voice was deep, but soft, and uncertain, as though he wasn't quite sure if he'd said the right thing. "Mos' people call me Ox. I don't mind if you want to."
"Peter is one of our treasures," John explained. "He's a blocker. He can… nullify a psi's talent, if he's in close proximity to them," he added at Devon's blank stare.
That sounded frightening, and Devon frowned up at the big man. Ox bit his lip, looking worried.
"I don't hurt 'em, l'il guy, I'd never do that."
John chuckled.
"It's more like being wrapped in a big, soft, furry blanket! And Peter only uses his talent when absolutely necessary - if, for example, someone is trying to harm one of our psis. He's been working in the nursery, helping the children, 'blocking' their tantrums - believe me, a psi child throwing a wobbly isn't a pretty sight!"
"I like my work." Ox grinned down at Devon.
John patted the blocker's forearm.
"You're very good at it, Ox."
The big man grinned brightly, like a child being given a sweet, and put his massive hands behind his back.
"What d'you do, l'il guy?"
"Devon," John stressed the name slightly, "is a TK. He moves things."
"Aw. That's clever." Ox squatted down so he was looking up into Devon's face. "You're very pretty, l'il… uh, Devon…"
*Peter is a little slow. But don't let that fool you: in a physical fight he's unstoppable, and his talent prevents anyone using their own against him - he's impervious to psi-attack. Also loyal, faithful and very loving.*
Devon had jumped at the *voice* in his head: it was the first time anyone had consciously *spoken* to him, and he wasn't at all sure he liked the feeling. John *chuckled*.
*Oh, don't worry, I'm not reading your thoughts, just letting you hear me. It can be useful if you don't want to be overheard.*
"I can fucking see that…" he muttered, causing Ox to frown at him quizzically. He shook his head hastily.
"Sorry Ox, didn't mean you."
The blocker regarded him for a moment, then grinned.
"Aw, you mean John was *talkin'* to you? Thass OK, 'm used to that…"
John smiled.
"Well, Ox, I suppose we'd better let you get on."
The big man pouted.
"Aww… But I like talking to Devon…"
"Well, maybe we can come back and talk some more, another day. How does that sound."
"Sounds good, John." Ox hauled himself back to his feet and stuck out his hand. Devon took it, grinning up into the big friendly face.
"You take care, OK?"
"Always do, l'il guy. You look after yourself too. 'Less you want me t'do it?"
Devon blinked and glanced at John, who smiled.
*I'll explain later.* "We'll see, Ox. Catch you later…""So what the fuck was that all about?"
They'd made their way back to the restaurant, where John had ordered a pot of coffee and a selection of small, cream-filled cakes - 'afternoon tea', as he called it - for refuelling purposes.
"Peter's comment? Oh, that was just…" The 'path frowned and drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, then smiled.
"We tend to team up our active Agents. It's safer for them if they have back up. Teams are usually pairs, and most often complementary talents, although there are a few flatscan/psi teams."
Devon mulled this over.
"So you want me to be an 'active Agent'."
John sipped his coffee.
"At the moment you're still training, Devon. Nothing's been decided."
"But you must be fucking thinking of it."
The 'path nodded, answering reluctantly.
"It's certainly our hope. Not only would it suit your temperament better, but you also know the city - its 'underside', if you like. You have access to the places we can't reach."
"And you want me to have Ox as back up."
"If your training works out, and if you want to stay with us, and if it's decided you'd work best as an active Agent and if you and Ox can work together, then maybe."
"Fuck of a lot of ifs…" He frowned. "Surely you've got some fucking fortune tellers among the freaks!"
John nodded.
"Oh yes, we have seers and precogs and clairvoyants and dreamers aplenty. But not one of them have ever been able to foresee another talent's future." He shrugged. "The very fact of the target being a psi seems to nullify the fore-sight ability. Strange but true. So no, we don't know what's in your future."
Devon nodded thoughtfully. Nice to know they weren't fuckin' omniscient…
"I see…"
They finished their coffee in a companionable silence, Devon pondering what he'd learned, John *reporting* back to Pamela. Who was delighted about Ox's response to their enfant terrible, though less sure of Cloudie's. Cloudie, after all, had her own ethical code, and it rarely bore any relation to what Pamela wanted… Still, it would be a good partnership. Devon was too cynical by half - not surprising, of course, but terribly sad - and Cloudie could bring some much needed brightness into his life…
The Agency cared about its people's welfare. They worked more efficiently if they were happy.
"Do you feel like seeing anything more, or would you like a rest?"
Devon propped his chin on one fist and gazed at the 'path.
"Rest I think. That was a fuck of a lot to take in."
John nodded.
"I think that's a good idea. Now, now you've toured HQ, you'll be able to move around on your own. Please don't try to leave the building: if you do you'll be stopped. Oh, it's for your own safety," he hastened to add as Devon's mouth tightened. "You're not fully trained yet, and we don't allow our people out unprotected. But you can go anywhere in the building where you can open the door. Any you can't open will be restricted areas, and we'd ask you to respect that fact. Your training will continue tomorrow." He glanced at his watch, an old fashioned, discreetly expensive thing. "I have to get to a meeting. Will you be OK to get back to your suite yourself?"
"If I'm not, I'll ask someone."
"Good. Well Devon, it's been a pleasure." John's smile was genuine. "I truly hope you decide to stay with us."
Devon smirked.
"Yeah, I enjoyed it too."
John rose and waved as he headed for the doors. Alone at his table, Devon stretched and yawned. Time to get home. He could do with a nap - between Hans and Stephan, he hadn't had much sleep last night - before tonight's dinner with Cloudie… no, Cloud, he decided. Cloudie sounded foggy. Cloud was much prettier…
His cock responded to the memory of her face, and that amazing mass of hair, and he grinned to himself. He had high hopes for tonight.Stephan was still in the suite when he returned, and still naked. He pulled Devon to him as the psi entered, kissing him deeply, tongue stroking tongue, then moved back a little to smile down into his face.
"You 'ave a date tonight, oui?"
Devon blinked.
"Yeah… how the fuck do you know?"
Stephan grinned slyly and tapped his nose.
"You can 'ave no secrets 'ere, cheri… Come, a nice long soak in a nice 'ot bath awaits you…"
The Frenchman had already run the bath, filling it with foaming bath oil scented with something vaguely woody, a dark fragrance that Devon rather liked. He sluiced off quickly under the shower then slid into the bath, relaxing into the green water with a sigh. Stephan stroked his shoulder.
"Ah, petit Devon, si bel, si sensuel… May I wash your 'air?"
Devon grinned: Stephan loved his hair, loved to wash and comb it. And the psi thoroughly enjoyed being cosseted: it was still a novel sensation. Stephan sat on the edge of the tub, Devon's back against his legs, and reached for the shower spray…
… straddling the supine psi's hips, impaled and sliding slowly up and down his shaft while a rich conditioner soaked into Devon's mane…
… gasping, head flung back as Devon languidly worked his cock with both hands…
… whimpering as he came, his orgasm sparking the psi's…
Stephan curled up in the water, cuddling against Devon, kissing his shoulder and neck, one hand teasing rosy, firmly erect nipples.
"Ah, cheri…"
Devon sighed and nuzzled the dark hair, shifting reluctantly. The water was cooling, and while it was tempting to add more hot and lie here a little longer, he really needed to get out if he intended taking a nap. Stephan kissed him tenderly, then eased himself upright, reaching back to help the psi then grabbing the spray again, rinsing away the conditioner and swathing Devon in towels.
Pushing the psi through to the bedroom, Stephan stood before him, hands on hips and expression questioning.
"Now, what are we goin' to 'ave you wear…?"
Devon laughed.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Stephan! Jeans and a shirt'll do."
The Frenchman feigned shocked outrage, then grumbled under his breath something in which the words 'grossier' and 'barbare' figured largely. Devon grinned, watching as he dramatically wrenched open the wardrobe doors, hunting through the meagre selection of (all black) clothes and emerging with a pair of velvet-smooth trousers and a silk shirt. He regarded them critically then sighed.
"Merde… Eh, it will 'ave to do…" He glowered at Devon. "You will 'ave to come shopping with me, one day…"
Devon yawned and flopped back on the bed.
"Stephan, fuck off. I want a sleep."
The Frenchman flapped his hands.
"But your 'air - it is still wet! Will look 'orrible if you sleep on wet 'air…"
"Fuck my hair…" Devon grumbled. Stephan twinkled.
"But it will need a wash, again, if I do that…"
Laughing, Devon threw a pillow at him.
"Look, I'll dry my hair before I go to sleep, OK? Now fuck off and let me have some peace."
Stephan carefully hung the clothes hangers on the wardrobe door and bowed deeply, mouth quirked sardonically.
"As Le Maître commands..."
"Get your arse outta here!!"
Stephan grinned and blew him a kiss.
"Enjoy your date, cheri..."Cloudie, freshly showered, knocked on Devon's door around seven-thirty that evening, grinning cheerily at the sleep-tousled psi when he peered out at her.
"Hiya, ready for dinner?"
He obviously wasn't ready, still blinking sleep out of his eyes, and only half-dressed. Cloudie let her gaze roam freely, appreciatively, over his slim torso and lingering on the hint of copper curls she could see through his half fastened trousers. The scars on his body gave her pause; there were some nasty looking ones there, she'd be curious to find out where they'd come from…
Cloudie dragged her eyes back up to Devon's face. Damn he looked good. The temptation was to stay right where they were, but Cloudie was hungry and she figured she'd better eat... to keep up her strength.
"I'll be ready in a mo'," Devon stood aside to let her in.
His rooms were pretty plain, unlike hers which were a riot of colours and sweet scents, but then he'd not been there long enough for his personality to make much of an impression yet. And that was another reason to have dinner first; Cloudie's 'people sense' – as she called it – was telling her the pretty young man was a decent bloke but she wanted to know Devon, to know more about him.
Devon finished dressing quickly, only adding short black boots and a black silk shirt to the ensemble. With her in barefeet the couple of inches on Devon's heels brought them more or less to the same height.
"Mmm, silk - I love silk." Cloudie couldn't help stroking the front of his shirt, relishing the simple sensuality of touching the cool, smooth material, and the warm body behind it. She lifted her hands towards that gorgeous fall of copper hair.
"Do you mind?"
Devon smirked and shook his head, his eyes half-closing again as she combed her fingers through his hair, smoothing out the sleep tangles. Cloudie shivered; he was such a sensual little bugger, this was going to be fun.
"OK, beautiful, I think you're presentable." She grinned at him, grabbing one of his hands and tugging him towards the door of the suite. "Let's eat!"To his half-awake brain and half-opened eyes she glowed. Everything about her was bright, from the tumbling mass of pale gold ringlets to the silver pendant on the leather thong that nestled against the curve of her breasts, just above the white crop-top she wore underneath the filmy kingfisher blue shirt, knotted below her breasts and loose across her shoulders. The skirt-like thing (sarong, he later found out it was called) around her hips was bright too, purples, blues, vibrant pinks…
No fucking use trying to be inconspicuous with Cloud around!
But it suited her, he had to admit, the soft, floating fabric and the bright colours made her look like some beautiful exotic bird…Cloudie took him down to one of the busier caffs in the building, not the most romantic or secluded, or quiet, of places for a 'date', but it was one of her favourite spots in the Agency HQ – it always seemed to have a happy vibe. It took a while for them to make their way to the counter to order their meals because Cloudie stopped to exchange friendly greetings, or affectionate hugs and kisses with a lot of people. She introduced Devon to everyone she spoke to, not at all surprised by the longing, or lecherous, looks her companion received. Devon wasn't fazed by them either, she noticed, he was probably used to it.
Cloudie spotted someone over the other side of the room waving frantically at them.
"Cool," the archaic word didn't seem out of place in her vocabulary, "looks like Ella's saved us some seats." She grabbed Devon's hand again and led him through the crowed caff.
"Thanks, Ella!" Cloudie wrapped the slightly older woman, a normal, in a warm hug and planted a sound kiss on her cheek. "This is Devon. Ella – Devon, Devon – Ella."
"Hi, Devon," Ella smiled at him briefly then turned her attention to Cloudie, "No problem, Cloudie, actually I was hoping to catch you." She reached into the cloth bag she had with her. Cloudie laughed.
"Again? Jesus, Ella what do you do to your toys?"
"Not my fault if Jo likes it rough!"
"Tell 'im to get a man!" Cloudie winked at Devon, "They don't break as easy."
The tinkerer held the thick, vaguely anatomically realistic vibrator in her hands, frowning a little in concentration.
"Right, there you go, sweetie." She handed it back to Ella. "I've reinforced the wires and contact points this time."
"You're a love!" Ella gushed, slipping the toy back into the bag. She leaned over and kissed Cloudie on the lips. "Thanks, I owe you!" Then she smiled politely at Devon and left.Devon was bemused. The place was - buzzing. Yes, that was the right word. Buzzing, with people, with noise - with talents. He could feel something, a sort of tingling pressure over his skin. Odd but not unpleasant…
He was able to ignore - mostly - the looks he was attracting; he'd been the subject of them most of his life and they no longer bothered him. Though that being said there were several very attractive young men seated at various tables… But now was probably not a good time to ask, not with Cloud sitting beside him chatting animatedly to anyone who approached them.
And that was confusing. Cloud was obviously very popular, everyone knew her. But the way she greeted them… The warm physical affection, the hugs, the kisses, the touches - not only was it having a distinct effect on his groin, but it also made him wonder if she'd actually fucked all these people… She could have, he reflected. After all, he could have, given a month or so and freedom of the building…
But he'd thought he was going to have her attention tonight, a chance to talk - to start with, at any rate. And in this place he obviously wouldn't be able to speak to her for more than a half a minute without someone else interrupting.
The arrival of their meal forestalled what could have become a pout. Devon had opted for the same as Cloud, since she'd said it was so good and he had no idea what most of the other dishes were. Now he was wondering if it had been such a good idea.
Cloud tucked into the pie with relish, soaking up the rich gravy with the mashed potato and alternating mouthfuls with slurps from a small bottle of cider. Devon took a tentative forkful: the meat was delicious, the pastry crust light and flaky, but there was so much of it! And it was so fucking rich. He knew he wouldn't be able to eat it all - unlike Cloud, who was shoveling it into her mouth as though she hadn't eaten in days…
Ah, maybe that was it. Devon had eaten a substantial lunch, of course, and wasn't yet used to eating more than twice a day, and only small meals at that. The medics had said he needed to put on some weight, so he'd been trying to increase his intake - but he found he simply didn't want to eat all that much.
But it was quite fun watching Cloud eat, with the wonderful lack of self-consciousness she seemed to bring to everything she did…They chatted while they ate, Cloudie happily volunteering information about her family, the Travellers, what sort of music she liked (anything she could sing along to) and what she liked to do with her time off (sleep, screw, tinker, feed the birds.) Devon was a lot less forthcoming but he said enough to tell Cloudie his life hadn't been all that good before being picked up by the Agency - and she had an inkling now about his scars. She didn't need to be a 'path to see the barriers he'd put up in self-protection but the light in him wasn't that far beneath the surface. Cloudie laid a gentle hand on his cheek, smiling softly.
"You have a bright soul, Dev."
Devon blinked, then smirked.
"You're a complete fuckin' fruitcake, you know that?"
"Course," Cloudie laughed, "It's part of my charm." She stroked down his cheek and neck, wide eyes darkening with lust – the empaths at a nearby table glanced at her and grinned. "Finished? There's something I want to show you..."The top floor of the Agency building was a garden, or more like a landscaped park. There was grass, and plants, and paths that meandered off through intriguing little copses. Devon could hear the sound of running water somewhere close by. The area was enclosed in toughened glass to protect the plants from the pollution and filter out the majority of the UV radiation that made it through the clouds. It was a beautiful serene spot, private and uncluttered in the reflected light from the city.
Cloudie stretched upwards, a full body stretch, breathing in slowly as her fingertips reached to the glass roof, and exhaling as she relaxed.
"Take your boots off," she smiled, wriggling her toes in the grass, "feels fabulous." Cloudie looked around fondly. "This is my favourite place here, I think, during the day there's birds flying around, we've some ducks on the pond over there – it's wonderful." She laughed and danced a few twirling steps on the lawn. "I like it here." Cloudie ambled towards one of the softly lit paths, throwing a sultry, inviting glance over her shoulder. Devon smirked and followed.
Cloudie held his hand when he came level with her, gently swinging their arms in time with their steps. She led him to the edge of the garden, to a spot where they could look out over London.
"It looks pretty from up here." Cloudie sighed wistfully.
"It's not." Devon's growly voice deepened.
"I know." She turned to him and cupped his cheek in her hand, drawing his face close to hers until it was if they were sharing the air. Devon's pale-green eyes were almost luminous in the half-light – god, he was gorgeous.
"Devon?" she breathed, "Do you want this?"
"What sort of fuckin' stupid question is that?"
"An honest one. I tend to make assumptions... it's better to ask first."
Devon said nothing for a few seconds, then he grinned and rested his hands on her hips, pulling her close to him.
"Yes, I want this."
"I'm so glad you said that." Cloudie laughed, kissing him. "Come with me, there's a really nice, private spot just a little ways away."The small clearing in the middle of the stand of birch trees was like part of another world. No sound from outside penetrated, and even the air felt different, warmer and softer. The short grass was cool underfoot and Cloudie breathed in deeply loving the earthy smell of the place. She kissed Devon again, gently exploring his mouth with her tongue as she ran her fingers through his beautiful hair and down his thin back, caressing him through the black silk. Devon's hands were doing their own share of exploring as well, cupping her breasts through the shirt and soft cotton crop top. She shivered as his thumbs flicked over her nipples, teasing them erect.
"I was planning to take my time with you," Cloudie murmured against his lips, "But I don't think I'll be able to hold out."
She sank down to the grass, on her back. He knelt beside her, gaze running slowly, appreciatively, over her ripe body, her skin almost shimmering in the soft evening light. She stretched, her head rolling to watch him, her eyes half-closed, a small, dreaming smile on her mouth…
He leaned slowly and brushed his lips against hers, uncomfortably aware of the tightness of the fabric at his groin, then slowly untied the bright blue shirt, the soft material drifting to lie to either side of her. Lowering himself to lie beside her, his cheek cupped in one hand, he very delicately contoured the side of her face, her throat, the upper curve of her breast with his fingertips, tiny, feathery touches that made her gasp and arch towards him. Her thighs pressed tightly together as a brush of a fingernail over her nipple brought a rush of heat to her groin.
He smiled knowingly and slipped his hand inside the top, palming her breast, his thumb teasing the ring through the erect nipple. She grabbed his wrist, pressing downwards, mutely asking for more… Freeing his hand he eased the top over her breasts then lowered his head, blowing lightly over shivering flesh then licking quickly, the tip of his tongue flicking first one ring, then the other.
She grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down towards her, and he grinned and settled over one breast, suckling at the nipple, tugging lightly at the ring. His hand stroked slowly down her body, fumbling for a moment with the knot of the sarong then sliding - very, very slowly - into her pants, scratching lightly at blonde curls then following the groove of her inner thighs, carefully avoiding contact with the more sensitive skin guarding her cunt.
"Devon!" She arched her hips, trying to wriggle him into position, but a firmer suck on a nipple distracted her momentarily. The hand withdrew, only to tug the garment gently over her hips and down her legs: she squirmed to help pull them completely off then spread her thighs…
His hand trailed up her leg, stroking the skin of her ankle, the back of her knee, her inner thigh - then paused, until she thought she would scream with frustration - then slid up to cup her groin, middle finger slipping into her cunt, thumb rubbing gently at her clit and the delicate ring there.
Cloud's back arched, internal muscles clenched around his finger as she came, one hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, the other fisted in his hair, bright whiteness behind her eyes… Long moments later she remembered to breathe and loosed her hold a little, blinking up into amused pale green eyes a little shamefacedly.
"Oh shit…"
He smirked and leaned down to kiss her.
"Like the hardware."
He slowly slid his hand up to the tangle of curls, two fingers rolling and tweaking the clit ring gently. She gasped and wriggled, feeling the slow heat beginning to rise in her groin again.
"Oh shit, Devon! Please…"
The gravelly voice was amused, teasing.
"You want me to stop?"
"I want you to fuck me!"
He inclined his head, gazing at her for a moment until she wasn't sure what he intended to do, then knelt up, his thighs spread slightly, and slowly undid the buttons at his crotch, making a show of it, then easing the trousers down a little, freeing his rigid cock and tight balls. He ran a finger up his shaft, circling the head, pulling back the foreskin and easing his thumb over the glistening silky skin. He smirked at Cloud's expression, eyes huge and lips parted.
"You do, huh?"
"Oh yes…" It was a breathy murmur. He caught her ankles and pulled her gently around and to him until he was kneeling between her thighs, then slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted her to float just above his groin. She caught hold of his shoulders to keep herself steady, gasping again as he leaned forward and licked a nipple, teeth tugging gently at the ring - then lowered her into his lap, cock slipping between her lips and driving deep into her cunt.
She hugged him as tightly as she could, wrapping her legs around his waist, pressing her body to his, nuzzling his hair as he began to curl his hips, upwards and back, upwards and back, rigid thickness filling her… One hand slid down to toy with her clit ring: her back arched as he nipped gently at a nipple then suckled, the rhythmic sucking motion tightening and hardening the engorged flesh.
That wonderful, tantalising heat was growing, filling her belly and tingling behind her nipples. Twisting so he could reach to tease the other tit-ring, she began to move with him, pushing down and inwards as he thrust up, moving in time with each other, moving closer to a shared climax…
She cried out as she came, Devon pulsing inside her, teeth gritted, silent, hugging her tightly to him and burying his head against her breast. He was shaking, she realised as her breathing returned to normal, one arm wrapped around him, the other hand stroking soothingly at his hair. She sighed deeply and kissed the top of his head.
"You OK?"
She felt him nod against her chest - and then realised he was supporting their whole weight on his knees. Very gently she lifted herself from his lap, feeling him slip from her body, and moved to kneel in front of him. He sighed and rose slightly, easing his slackening cock back into hiding and buttoning up his fly. He gazed at her, then smiled and reached to ease her crop top back down over her breasts, brushing her sensitive nipples with his thumbs. It was then she realised he'd stayed clothed the whole time.
She reached to unbutton the black shirt, but he gently caught her hands, shaking his head.
"Don't."
She frowned.
"Why not? I want to see you."
"Yeah, OK, indoors. Not out here."
She opened her mouth to ask what the problem was, then halted. His eyes looked haunted. Not a good idea. Changing track she grinned and hugged him.
"That was sooo good…"
Moment of crisis weathered, Devon smirked and kissed her cheek.
"Yeah… Thanks."
She nipped gently at his neck.
"Mmm. Same here…" She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Want to spend the night? I'd love to wake up with you."
He raised an eyebrow teasingly.
"What, here?"
She punched his shoulder lightly.
"Idiot! My place?"
He considered it for a moment, then shook his head.
"My place."
Well, it was a bit bleak… But he wasn't.
"Love to."
He grinned.
"Then we'd better find your fucking clothes…"
© 2003 February 1st Joules and Lutra
Darkside