After the Calling

<<<<Deceiving the Lie: Part VIII

Warnings: Adult themes, Sexual themes (Jax is in it so that’s a given). Profanity, definitely. And an angry ass rant.

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Aeryn’s eyes snapped open, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The window was open, and the wispy remnants of the sound of her name floated into the room on the wind. A light waft of air blew down her torso, a beckoning caress.

She turned and looked over her shoulder at the open window, the origin of this illicit invitation. Her first instinct was to answer it. Go downstairs and let Jax do what he wanted with her. But she remembered the sight of his aura glowing with her energy and her stomach knotted. She wasn’t going to lie to Mickey for him again.

Pushing herself up from the mattress, she found that her body was no longer trembling and flaccid like it had been when she had collapsed into bed earlier. Her mind was clearer. Her vision was focused. She had come down from that indecent high and regained control. The realization gave her a new resolve, and she stood up with complete determination to refuse him.

She walked to the window and slammed it shut. “Leave me alone,” she said quietly.

“Do you really want that?” Jax said from behind her. His tone was nonchalant, as if his sudden appearance was acceptable. Expected.

It was as if someone had punched her in the chest. All of the air in her lungs streamed out in one defeated sigh. She could feel all of her resolve drain out of her pores at the mere sound of his voice.

She stood, pressing her palms against the glass window panes for a long moment before finally letting her arms fall and turning slowly to face him.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked her again, casually adjusting the metal cuffs that decorated his arms.

“Yes,” she said, almost inaudibly, although she wasn’t sure if she was answering his question, or reacting the sight of him.

He blinked, standing completely still, watching her. Even the air was still. “I don’t believe you,” he said finally.

“You wouldn’t.”

He began taking slow steps toward her. “Are you being honest with me?”

Before she could stop herself, she replied, “No.”

“Then I’m justified.” His long strides were making short work of the distance between them. “I ask that you’d spare my feelings and not draw this out with pretense.”

“You selfish fuck,” Aeryn scoffed, even as she backed herself against the window. “Why spare your feelings when you couldn’t give a shit about mine?”

He came to a stop in front of her, pouting lightly. “That is entirely untrue, Aeryn.” He reached down and took her unmarked wrist in his hand. “What you feel is my utmost priority.”

She could only watch as he brought her wrist to his lips and sank his fangs into the base of her hand. She let out a soft moan as her knees went weak, her body once again bombarded with undue ecstasy. He gripped her around the torso to keep her from collapsing, but she was falling in every other way possible.

Her head had fallen against his shoulder, no longer able to be supported by her neck, but she peeked up when, abruptly, he pulled her arm from his mouth. He had not taken much from her, that much she knew, but she didn’t know whether to try and free herself from him, or ask why he stopped.

Her bloody wrist still firmly in his hand, he pressed his thumb against the center of her arm, slowing the flow of blood to the two circular wounds that dotted the crease below her palm.

“Do you want me to continue?” he asked.

Aeryn stared at him, processing his words. In her current haze, it took a moment for the sounds hitting her ears to transform into a language that she understood. Did she want him to continue? Was he giving a choice? Nothing in his demeanor hinted that he was through with her. His hand was still pressed to the small of her back, keeping her body tightly against his. The vice grip he had on her arm gave no indication that he was planning on releasing it any time soon. Did she want him to continue?

She was suddenly angry. Livid. He was teasing her. He wanted her to ask for it. The fucker was getting off on this. She pushed herself away from him as forcefully as her inattentive muscles would allow.

She stumbled back against the window, knowing that his surprise at her actions was the only thing that had freed her from his grasp. She could sense a strength hiding in his limbs that was far from natural. Far from human. But she refused to be daunted.

“I’m above begging,” she spat at him.

A slow smile crossed his face as he remembered his own words. “That you are,” he said. “My apologies.”

He reached to pull her back towards him, his gaze focused on her weeping wrist, but she snatched her arm away, cradling it to her chest. His face took on a strange expression and his eyes flickered with a predatory sheen, forcing her to realize that he’d be able to overcome her easily even if she wasn’t struggling to stay conscious. But the flicker was gone just as fast as it had come, and his eyes cooled with humility.

“I, on the other hand, am not above begging,” he said. “May I continue? Please?”

“If I said no, you’d do it anyway,” Aeryn replied.

“I swear I’d leave you be.” Despite his words he stepped toward her, closing the gap between them as if giving her those few inches of space was intolerable.

“You didn’t leave me be last night.”

“You were making an uninformed decision. I merely took it upon myself to inform you.”

“You took it upon yourself to… to trap me.”

His eyes faltered for a moment before returning, steadied, to her face. “Then free yourself. Tell me to leave.”

She didn’t speak. She didn’t even blink.

“Then tell me what you want,” he said slowly.

Again she said nothing, although her embrace on her arm was loosening.

“Tell me,” he persisted.

Her lips remained wordless, but she let her arm fall back into his grip. He seized it, but she knew then that it wasn’t what he wanted. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted her assent. Verbalization. Encouragement. He wanted her to want him and he wanted to hear her say it. She almost laughed, because she wasn’t going to give him a thing. She found herself grateful that he wasn’t telepathic.

He seemed to sense a change in her, and averted his gaze. Bringing her hand to his eye level, he studied the clotting punctures that his fangs had left and she felt him growing restless. With what, she could not know, but she did not resist when he threw her arm over his shoulder and pulled her into him.

She took in a sharp breath of air as he buried his face in her neck, his hands trailing down her back. Standing stiffly, she let him hold her, but the embrace was not casual or demonstrative. His tense frame held purpose. He seemed to be waiting for something, but she couldn’t tell what.

After a minute, he told her.

“Breathe,” he whispered.

She was holding her breath and hadn’t even realized. She suddenly knew what was coming. She exhaled, and Jax sank his fangs into her throat.

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Hours later, when she had regained use of her spine and the black night sky was beginning to peel into deep shades of blue, they sat together on the bed, interrogating each other.

Aeryn favored her newly punctured wrist, taking pains not to use her left arm. She kept herself from comparing her newer wounds to the half-healed marks from the night before, and tried to ignore the lingering sensations that were trickling down her limbs. “Why me?” she asked him, her voice soft and low. “You don’t know me. I’ve done nothing to you. Why come here? You have to know, even better than I, what kind of problems will come of this.”

“I couldn’t help it.” He shrugged.

Aeryn narrowed her eyes. “You could have helped it.”

He let them fall into silence for a moment. “What happened to you?” he asked, changing the subject. “Who did it?”

She blinked lethargically. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

He seemed to consider her before explaining. “Something happened to your aura. A while ago, but the marks of it are still upon you. I’ve never felt… I’ve never seen anything like it. It shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t be.”

He watched as her eyes fell back into her lap, her movements becoming uncomfortable.

“You aren’t making much sense,” she told him.

“Imagine a forest after a fire,” he said quietly. “Everything has died, destroyed. The trees are scorched, the animals are dead. There is no life whatsoever. But, in the middle of the carnage, there is a rose shooting up from the ground. Alive, healthy, and thriving. The last thing you’d expect. I look at you and that is what I see. A rose in the wreckage.” He tried to get her to make eye contact with him. “Fate was written the moment I laid eyes on you.”

She looked off to the side, refusing to reward him with her gaze. “Not everyone believes in fate,” she said.

He nodded almost imperceptibly. “True.”

“Mickey tried to heal me,” she said after a beat.

“And she did. But you’ll always be distinctive.”

“Distinctive,” she repeated. “And so you’re just going to reverse everything she did to help me.”

He gave her a sedate smile. “I’ve been doing this for long enough to keep from leaving a mess. And, in some ways, what I’ve been doing… well, if done correctly, it can have healing properties. Think of it as a fun version of blood letting.”

“You’ve got some definition fun.” She tried to work up the energy to send her foot into his chest, but it was hard to come by, so she continued to sit still. “So since you’re not leaving a mess on my psyche, somehow you think you’re helping me. Is that helping you sleep at night?”

“I don’t sleep much.” He ignored her sarcasm. “I do know that I’ve discovered some deep underlying need to be apart of the solution, although I hardly know what the problem is. I would even call the sentiment paternal in nature if I didn’t also want to sleep with you.”

Aeryn scoffed. “I think you’ve gotten as far as you’re getting with me.”

“You think?” He raised an eyebrow, but gave a resigned smile when she threw him a frigid look. “I supposed I’ve gotten far enough.”

“What does your wife think of all this? Does she know you’re here? Proclaiming your desire to sleep with me?”

He beamed at her. “Oh, that was hardly a proclamation. If I had made a proclamation, my desire would have been met.”

Aeryn leaned back, appalled. “And you’re so sure,” she said with a contemptuous tone.

“Aeryn, I think you’re testing me,” he said, eyes drifting over her in reserved amusement.

“Stop flattering yourself and answer my question.”

Jax chuckled, looking pleased. “Chloe and I have come to certain understandings. The lifestyle that we have chosen requires allowances that the typical marriage mold would not tolerate. But we’ve made them. And we work.”

“So you’re saying, basically, that you’ve gotten permission to bite and screw whatever you can get your hands on.”

He let his gaze fall for a moment before answering. “I’m speaking mostly on an emotional level. Just because I actively want to sleep with you doesn’t mean I want to sleep with everyone I’ve ever connected with psychically. In fact… you may be the first.”

Aeryn glanced over at him disbelievingly. “So you’ve never slept with anyone you’ve taken energy from?”

He smirked at her. “I didn’t say that.”

She looked away from him, annoyed, and he laughed, clearly getting much amusement from the conversation. “Your impression of me is very low,” he said.

“Understatement,” she replied coolly.

He lay, quietly staring for a few moments, before suddenly sitting up reaching toward her, as if to push her hair from her shoulder. She almost allowed it until she realized what he was doing.

“No, don’t – ,” she started to protest, grasping at his arm, but it was too late. His fingertips brushed forward from the nape of her neck to the spot where his fangs had pierced her. Caressing her neck, he placed the lightest of pressure over the two puncture holes.

The sensation nearly choked her, sending her body into a strong shiver that travelled to her core. She took in a sharp, trembling breath and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to pass.

“Why – why would you… do that,” she struggled to chide him. But he gave no explanation.

After a moment, she regained a sense of equilibrium and opened her eyes to Jax, who was staring at her with a carnal expression.

“Purana takes us to heights that the normal individual would rarely, if ever, encounter,” he said after a moment. He blinked the lust out of his eyes. “And you now know that it takes our…” he paused to think of a word, “…donors to places they can’t even describe. It brings out passions that can lead to things that were not originally intended. Chloe and I understand this. But we’re older now. Physical control is no longer much of a concern. But it still transports us, and we have to excuse the feelings that come with it. I’m sure that you’d be wary if Tobias experienced certain emotional levels of being while with another person. But you’d forgive him if it were out of his control.”

Aeryn blinked at the sound of Tobias’ name, and wondered how and why Jax knew it. She hadn’t told him. But she felt like he was trying to pull her into something derisive, and she didn’t bite. “Then what does she think about you being here?” she continued on topic, pretending not to have heard him say Toby’s name.

“I don’t think she believed that I actually had the audacity to go after you. She was inclined to disregard your more tempting qualities, thinking only about the consequences of any impetuous actions,” he replied. “She’s quite lowkey, that woman. She doesn’t really enjoy a fuss. She’s very unhappy with how attentive I’ve become with you. And I can grant that this probably will not end well.”

“How will this end?”

Jax shrugged. “I honestly do not know. But one thing is certain. When Chauncey returns, he’ll know what I’ve done to you. I’ve been able to conceal the worst of my actions from Mickey, but he’ll sense it. Smell it. And he will, without doubt, retaliate.”

“And you did it anyway. Knowing you’d alienate your son.”

“Oh please.” He waved her words away. “He’s already alienated. He’s been alienated since he was six,” he said. “Of course, I’d rather we’d be a happy little dysfunctional family, but he never related with Chloe and I. He was… softer. We knew he’d turn eventually, but he had simply decided that he wouldn’t be like us. Yet, this thing, whatever it is, isn’t something you can just will away. It has you and it holds you. You can decide to either fight it and lose, or you can obey it, and live your life.”

He sighed. “But he ignored our warnings, and of course Rowanne’s company caught up with him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for a few well placed connections. But he was just a kid then. He had no business dying, and they knew it. It’s easier to bribe people to refrain from doing something they don’t want to do, like murdering a teenager.” His expression became momentarily somber. “We didn’t get to him before they put that little number on his face. Branded him. Like cattle.”

Aeryn surveyed him, trying to determine what emotions were playing out in front of her. She was perplexed to realize that whatever they were, they were genuine, but before she could make a conclusive determination, Jax shook it off.

“Now he lives as if something he’s been exposed to his entire life is a burden. But luckily he has Mickey, and she has a good head on her shoulders.”

“Don’t… talk about Mickey.” Aeryn grimaced. She felt guilty enough indulging this one floor above the sleeping Mickey. She didn’t need him pulling the woman’s name into the conversation. She suddenly couldn’t keep herself from asking, “Is there no way to make you feel bad about this?”

“About what?”

“About this. About being here. About me.”

“Make me feel bad?” He gave a confused look that morphed into one of contemplation. “Would it make you feel better if I did? Would you be more at ease with this whole thing if I were a tortured soul? If this encounter between us was about need and not about want?”

Aeryn didn’t answer or look at him.

He nodded, taking the answer from her avoidance. “You’d prefer that I didn’t take pleasure in this. Or maybe prefer that you didn’t take pleasure in this.”

“I would have preferred if you had given me a choice,” Aeryn said, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Alright choose. A life without my interference, or a life with it.”

She shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe how self-absorbed you are.”

“Not an answer,” he replied.

She didn’t give him one.

Jax leaned back, silently watching her, the wheels in his head turning so obviously, Aeryn could practically hear them. “Did the person who laid havoc on your aura give you a choice?” he asked.

She said nothing, only wrapping her arms tighter around herself.

“Hmph,” Jax squinted. “Maybe I should ask if you gave them a choice.”

She closed her eyes. “I think it’s time for you to leave. It’s nearly dawn.”

“Did I offend you?” he asked casually.

“Your every breath offends me.”

He fell quiet, but she could feel his heavy stare boring into her. She wondered exactly what he was trying to find with those steady, gilded eyes.

“Alright,” he said, pushing himself to his knees. He leaned forward, and gently slipped his hands through her hair, encircling her face. He bought his mouth close to hers, as if to kiss her, but stopped right before their lips could touch.

She looked down, staring at his lips nearly brushing hers. She was infuriated with him. But in spite of it, she wanted to lean forward and kiss him. She knew that with her senses still overreacting to every little touch, a simple kiss would send her to the edge of something tremendous. But she also knew that Jax knew this. It took her a minute to decide that she wasn’t going to give him that.

She returned her eyes to his, sitting a still as stone. Minutes passed as they sat in this stand off of an almost kiss until finally, he relented and backed off.

“Good night Aeryn,” he said, climbing off the bed.

She didn’t answer, only watching him leave.

Decieving the Lie: Part IX (B)>>>>>>

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Writer’s Angry Ass Rant

I CAN’T GET THE BITE-ME SHOTS.

I can get a wrist holding pose. We can hold wrists until we’re blue in the face. Hold wrists all day. Stare at them, admire them. Get Jax’s face close enough to appear to be GNAWING on one? No. What the shit is a wrist fetish? WHO HAS A WRIST FETISH?! Jax does. Premise? Sound. Application? INFLUFFINGPOSSIBLE. WHAT KIND OF SIMS STORYTELLER CREATES A POSE-NECESSARY DYNAMIC WITHOUT FIRST GUARANTEEING THAT THE POSES ARE GUARANTEED. THE VERON KIND.

I hate Jax’s face. His face.