"Empty" by Dianora 1/1 dianora2@aol.com NC17 Written 1/26/97 This is a short short that I wrote after watching Leonard Betts and the preview for Never Again. I didn't edit this piece a hundred times like I usually do with my stuff -- what you see here is what just flew out of my fingertips. Raw Dia. Send all comments to Dianora2@aol.com I don't name names, so I'm not sure if I need a disclaimer. Suffice it to say I'm not making money off of this and intend no copyright infringement whatsoever. The room was dark and I was glad I could not see his face. The instant I lay down on the bed he was on top of me, his warm body covering mine like a blanket, his naked flesh smooth and delicious as he slid his leg between mine. I flickered my tongue in his ear, relishing the warm, musky scent and taste of him. He ran his mouth up and down my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he tasted me in return. I arched up against him, my breasts rubbing against his chest, and his hands traveled down the length of my body, caressing, exploring. Yes, I thought. Touch me. Prove to me that I am still alive, that I have not lost myself to the poison spreading through me even as you touch me...there. "Yes..." I grabbed his hair and pulled his head down to mine, kissing him hard, bruising my mouth as I tried to devour him, to take him inside of me where I was rotting away. I felt his fingers slip into me and I responded by reaching down and grasping his shaft, stroking that warm steel, feeling it pulse beneath my fingertips. He pulled his mouth away from mine and attacked my breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it furiously, bringing his teeth into play as I cried out and bit my lip. I buried my fingers in his hair, urging him on. Yes, I thought. Hurt me. The pain proves to me that I can still feel, that I am still..normal. Dammit. I am whole, I am here, I am untouched by those bastards who are taking my life from me slowly, painfully... "I want you in me," I whispered, reaching down to clutch his firm ass, lifting my hips, encircling him with my legs. His eyes bore into mine, and I wondered what he saw there. Desperation? Desire? Fear? I didn't know and couldn't bring myself to care. I was using him and we both knew it. He whispered my name like a prayer as he entered me in one sure motion, then began to move inside of me, his hands grasping mine and holding them above my head on the pillow, his mouth finding my breast again, suckling like a hungry child. I moved against him, with him, under him. Yes, I thought. Fuck me. Fuck me until I am past all caring, all thinking, all needing. Can you feel the poison inside me? Will you betray me, as my own body does? Will you still be here when I am eaten away inside? His thrusts became quicker, more urgent, and I said his name softly, then whispered the name of the god who I could no longer believe in, who had abandoned me. My hips rose and fell as his cock filled me again and again, and when he groaned and emptied himself inside of me and collapsed on top of me, saying my name with a strangled voice near to breaking, I was not surprised that I had not reached a release. My only release would be death. And it was coming for me.