My power didn't simply rise, it burst my shields, like a dam smashed, and the power of that torrent, so long contained, poured over us all. It swept us not away, but together. We were on our knees on the bed with Richard pressed to the front of me, and Jean-Claude against my back. They say there is no light without dark, no good without evil, no male without female, no right without wrong. That nothing can exist if its direct opposite does not also exist. I don't know if that's true, but in that moment I understood that though each opposite needs the other, they also can't exist simultaneously. They are two sides to a coin, but what of the coin? What is the coin that separates good from evil, light from dark, what is it that binds them together, yet keeps them eternally apart? Good and evil, light and dark, I don't know, but with Richard and Jean-Claude, it was me.
I was the metal that both separated them and bound them together. I was their coin, and they were my different sides. Always apart, always together, different, but all of one piece. Richard pressed to the front of my body, and it was as if he burned, as if his body was so hot, it should have burst into flames, as if the sun itself lay within his skin. Jean-Claude pressed at my back like water, cool, cold water, that had risen from the very depths of the sea, where it runs cold and black, and slow, and strange things glide there. If you look at the sun too long you go blind; if you swim too deep into the sea you drown.
I screamed, screamed because I didn't know what to do with the power. I was their coin, but I didn't know how to forge us into one piece. It was like trying to fit three people into one body. How do you start? Who gets shoved in where?
But I wasn't master here, it wasn't my job to find a way to fit three such huge pieces into one. Jean-Claude's cool power flowed over me, soothed the burning, touched the edge of Richard's power, and brought us all back up to the surface of our metaphysical sea. He said almost exactly what I was thinking, "I can only hold it back for a moment, when next we drown, we must not fight it. We must embrace it, and each other."
"Define embrace," Richard said, and his voice was thick with effort, as if he were holding back his side of some huge weight, and maybe he was.
"You into Anita's body, and I will feed upon yours."
We didn't have time to say yes or no or anything. The power was just suddenly back, as if we'd opened a door and found the building falling down around us. We were out of time. We either rode the power, or it would bury us. Bury us along with everyone we loved, everyone we'd vowed to protect. Distantly, I had the thought, if we would but take the fourth mark, it would be easier to ride, but the thought vanished under the press of Richard's body. His body was ripe and thick and ready, and he'd made certain that Jean-Claude's wouldn't be. There might have been other ways to bind us, but Richard had taken some of Jean-Claude's choices, and mine, by simply not allowing the other man to feed. Funny how you try to avoid one evil, and fall headlong into another.
Richard pushed himself inside me. I was tight, and he was thick, but the moment he began to push inside me, the terrible weight of power eased. It was as if Richard's body broke the plane of some barrier, as if my body were a door, and we'd pushed inside.
Richard's voice came strained, "Tight, so tight. I don't want to hurt you." He was above me in a sort of push-up, and the view between our bodies was perfect. Perfect for watching him push his way inside me.
I grabbed his arms, and said, "Don't stop, God, don't stop."
"You're too tight."
"Not for long," I said.
"Is she wet?" Jean-Claude asked.
Richard gave him a look, and it wasn't friendly. "Yes."
"Then you will not hurt her."
"You said it yourself, Jean-Claude, you aren't this well-endowed, you don't know how you can hurt a woman without meaning to."
I slapped Richard's shoulder, because I couldn't reach his face. He looked down at me, anger so ready in his eyes. "I am not Clair. I want you, Richard. I want you inside me, please, Richard, please. Don't stop, please, don't stop."
He looked down at me, and the look on his face was very male, and very Richard all at the same time. I watched him, felt how much he wanted to shove himself inside me, but that part of him that was still Richard, still thinking so hard, was afraid. Not afraid that he'd hurt me, but afraid to see the same look on my face he'd seen on Clair's. I tasted the fear of that on my own tongue. Felt the pulse in my neck speed, not with lust, but fear. Fear that Clair was right. That he was an animal. If I could have slapped her around in that moment, I might have. The last thing Richard needed was more emotional shit to shovel.
"If you will not do it, mon ami, then let me feed, so that we may finish this."
"I am not your friend," Richard said, and his anger spread like hot oil on my skin. It didn't hurt like earlier, and I knew that was Jean-Claude's doing. He was dulling the edge of Richard's power, or rather turning it from burning pain, to something more fun. Heated oil rolling down my skin instead of biting bits of fire; how could I argue?
"Be my enemy then," Jean-Claude said, "but one of us must do this. If you will not, then you must help me do it."
I sat up, and he wasn't far enough in for it, so that he slipped back out. That pressure came crashing back. Jean-Claude grabbed a handful of my hair, pulled my head back, and kissed me. Hard, deep, tongue searching my mouth. I melted into that kiss, gave my mouth to his, my face to his hand, my head to the hand still wrapped in my hair. His other hand slid from my face down my neck, my shoulder, to caress the front of my breast. He bent me back against his body, and I understood. As we'd discussed, his power lay in seduction. He was literally building a deeper binding on the foundation of sex. Each touch, each caress, each penetration, another stone to keep us safe. I'd have argued with his choice of building materials, but I wasn't master here. This was his ball game, not mine. Of course, there was more than one way to play ball.
Jean-Claude's hands slid over the front of my body, until he held my br**sts. He squeezed them between his hands, squeezed them hard and sharp. I came away from his mouth with a gasp, and a sound low in my throat. "You will not hurt her, Richard."
Richard hadn't moved back. He was still sitting where my body had left him, his body between my knees, close enough that he could have joined Jean-Claude in the foreplay, but he just knelt there.
I stroked my hand over him, found him not as hard as he had been. I wrapped my hand around him, tight and hard. Brought a small sound from him. "I want this," and I squeezed him again, watched his eyes lose focus, "this inside me."
I could feel that he wanted to, but his fears held him closer than any lover's arms ever would. I let go of him and turned with a cry to Jean-Claude. I felt suddenly half-crazed with need. A need to have someone inside me. Jean-Claude hadn't fed yet, but there was still something I could do for my own pleasure. I turned my back on Richard, and laid a light kiss on Jean-Claude's mouth, but that wasn't what I wanted. He rose up on his knees as if he knew where I was headed.
I licked my way down his body, and his hand on the back of mine, guided me to him. I drew him into my mouth, and the texture of him so small, so loose, was wonderful. I sucked him, rolled him with my tongue. Small, I could have my way with him, and not have to fight for it. I sucked him as hard and fast as I could, in and out, in and out, until he cried out above me. I used my hand to lift the loose tenderness of his balls up, so I could draw them gently into my mouth. It was hard having all of him in my mouth at once, even this small, there was barely room. I had to be so careful of him, so careful, not to hurt him, not to crush such delicate pieces. Like rolling some precious priceless work of art between your teeth. When I didn't trust myself not to bite down on those tender bits, I spilled them out of my mouth. But I kept that soft, flexible, givable, forgivable bit to roll and coax, until he cried out above me, and his body thrust forward, but he couldn't complete it. I could have teased him all night, and he couldn't have finished it. I was ready to offer to open a vein myself, when I felt hands on my hips.
I felt Richard push himself against my body. He wasn't soft now, he was oh, so hard. He kept one hand on my hip, and used the other to guide himself in. He pushed against the opening in my body.
I started to raise up, but Jean-Claude's hand pushed on my head, kept me where I was, kept my mouth wrapped around his body, sucking him deep into my mouth, as Richard pushed his way into my body. I was wetter now, more open, but Richard still had to work his way in, push, and shove, for each tight, wet, inch. The feel of him inside me forced small sounds from my throat, made me whimper and moan, all of it with Jean-Claude still in my mouth.