Dr. Rookwood and the Kiss, part 9

part one
part two
part three
part four
part five
part six
part seven
part eight

"Where are they now, if they aren't dead?" he asked softly, instead of handing it over. He clenched his fist around the locket and took a step backward as she advanced only to find his back up against the wall. His heart jumped at the contact, but he fought to slow it down. He'd known his back was against a wall. He'd put himself there. Stop jumping at the little stuff. There's a big stuff right in front of you.

"Living their lives...helping other people, most of them. Some of them are heroes..." her voice trailed off as if recalling the other Josiahs had brought countless fond memories to bear.

"So many nights of passion," her voice was as careful and relentless as the smooth draw of a bow by an expert musician; she was starting to show that seductress' spark again, "continuous hours...heat and sweat, slick skin rubbing together," she smiled, "Every little private fantasy can be real," she let the blodied outer robe of her nightgown slip to the floor, handily removing most of the blood from immediate sight and replacing it with a bountiful vision.

"I can bend in every way you can imagine," she promised silkily.

"Ah..." Josiah jawed. He had counted himself among that larger than you'd think handful of gents who found tastefully scant clothing sexier than outright nudity. Ercinee's tiny nightie certainly counted as scant, bereft as she was of robe. His brain didn't even try to decide whether it was tasteful or not. She might have needed the drug to make him think this was what he wanted, but she certainly didn't need it to get him to .. ah, physically react, not with this combined with her low, husky voice, promising that he'd given in to this ... how many times before? Crap. So unfair.

Oooh humans were weak. He was no exception. He continued to not be an exception, time and time again apparently. Perhaps he could distract himself with philosophy. Oh, were he but a parallelist, and so could separate the mental from the physical without breaking a sweat. But he wasn't. He was a staunch interactionist, which meant his head was going to inform his parts and his parts were going to mercilessly inform his head geez oh pete it wasn't working. Stupid soft science.

"Oh really," he managed, trying to look disinterested. Because he was, damnit! Disinterested! Obey me, stupid pumping heart!

"Yes, really," she smiled. "Why don't we put the entire mess on hold for a little while? All of those worldly concerns can take a tiny little break, can't they?" She held her index finger and thumb in the universal symbol for "teensy weensy." "It's just you and me right now... We both want each other. There's no harm in it at all. I'll tell you what, if you find me a poor lover, I'll release you on the spot, no questions asked." She touched his face gently.

"Uh... Worldly concerns..." he repeated. No! She's trying to break you! This is just the ecstasy part so she can do the horrible tormenting part later! If you give in-!

If I give in, what? You'll leave me? Stupid brain. Anyway, it was a chance. Even if she was really great - and let's just look at the chances that she's better than the other... three people you've slept with - just... /lie/. Then you're home free.

Josiah licked his lips. "Uhm..."

The fingers on his cheek slid perceptively down to his neck. She closed the distance with one more step and then all of that pale softness was leaning against his front. "Josiah..." She let his name slip out like a sigh and her head came to rest on his shoulder.

The linguist closed his eyes against the gentle onslaught on his senses and relaxed against the wall behind them. Her hair smelled like... and her skin was soft as... He put his hands up on her shoulders and pushed back a little, stuttering. "Ercinee, ah. You're - You. Ah. Don't you get tired of, ah, seducing me? I must be boring to you now." He couldn't meet her eye, ridiculously feeling the shame of a dozen Josiahs who'd given in before him. "Not exactly a challenge, am I?"

"Oh but you are a challenge." she began gently, "A Russian writer once explained the 'curse of the intelligent man'-- a complicated man, a man who has difficulty making decisions because he must examine all possibilities before deciding... Whether you believe it or not, you are that man, Josiah. But, for your kisses, your breath, and your gentle embrace I will keep on trying..." she softly kissed his temple.

No, it wasn't complicated. It was way too easy. Easy for her, because it was so darn difficult for him. Her lips on his temple were at once cool and blisteringly hot. His heart pounded heedless of his mind's warnings. She's drugged you, threatened you, tied you up, and is effectively keeping you against your will. She knows you way too well, and - and this should be enough all by itself - she's CRAZY.

And yet, all of that resounding through his head did little to quell the physical thirst she was evoking in him. Was mankind such a slave to his body that he couldn't decide when and where he wanted to do... things?

"Do I always..." he said softly, inwardly cringing at how defeated and sad he already sounded. "Do I always give in to you, Ercinee...?"

"Mmm," Ercinee let her lips stay against his cheek while one hand came to rest on Josiah's chest. "Pretty much every time... but it's not for any skill of mine; it's always been your desire to save me, your pity. That was how this entire dance started... because I didn't want to live without the chance to be saved."

Her words came back to him then, just after he'd shot her. The emotionless, /is this your idea of mercy?/ He hadn't said anything about wanting to save her, nothing about being merciful, save to provide her company for a spell. She ... she just knew him. Knew... what he'd do. And oh God she was right. He didn't yet know how he'd get to the conclusion that to save her, he'd need to give in to her, agree to this training, /sleep/ with her. But if he got there before, he was bound to again, and then he'd try. He'd try to "save" her. Just as she was trying to "save" him.

"Do you ever give in to me?" he murmured. "Do I ever save you?"

--

Ercinee (c) Mary
Post written co-operatively