Free The Artifact of Foex by James L. Wolf Page B

it. He
would have laughed.
    He wasn’t laughing now.
    “For Pantheon’s sake, LaDaven, ask for Chet’s
consent first,” Journey said. Chet looked up. Though she was only a
foot away, it might as well have been miles across the mattress.
“He’s not a servant for you to plunder.”
    “Don’t dare judge me, Flame. I notice
you
didn’t ask the boy’s consent before you took him. You
had your pleasure as he whimpered beneath you, demolishing his
virginity without a second thought. Now I seek to do the same, and
you speak out on his behalf?”
    Journey reddened and looked away. Chet
blinked, utterly shocked at the insinuation that Journey had raped
him. After all, she was a woma—no. She was Flame. Was Fenimore
right? She’d certainly ordered him around, but he’d
enjoyed
it. She’d given him something in return. Would
Fenimore?
    Chet cleared his throat. “Could I, um, please
sit up, Fenimore? I can’t see you at all like this.”
    Chet felt Fenimore sigh as he rolled off.
Chet sat up and folded his legs beneath him. He looked at Fenimore.
He had the same bottle in hand that Knife had used and was
squirting out the thick contents into his palm, giving it an extra
squeeze as if marveling at the bottle’s construction. Chet gasped
as Fenimore wrapped one hand around Chet’s waist, his wet hand
disappearing under him. The oily fingers found Chet’s ass and
penetrated him. Chet gasped, his eyes shut tight. The pain was
worse than he’d imagined. Oooh, that was a tender spot. How could
Fenimore’s entire dick possibly fit inside him?
    “There you are,” Fenimore whispered in his
ear. “Such a beautiful virgin boy.”
    “I—I’m not a boy. I’m twenty-four years old!”
He’d just turned twenty-four a few weeks ago, a fact he didn’t
point out.
    Fenimore grinned. “I’m three hundred and
thirty two, and you just serviced a god affiliate a few thousand
years old, minus a century or two while she was dead. Brings this
into perspective, doesn’t it?”
    Chet stilled at the thought. All his life
he’d longed for the past with an obsessive persistence that had
baffled his family. Now the past was all around him. The past was
about to penetrate him. Would Fenimore back off if Chet asked? It
seemed unlikely. Chet didn’t doubt that Knife and Journey could
stop Fenimore, but at what cost? They were all bound together by
the Raptus. Even now Chet could feel the invisible cord binding
them together to the relic. Though he could endure rainfall—unlike
the Flame—he still couldn’t go anywhere without these people, and
who knew how long this condition would last? If the Raptus had
never done anything like this before, there was no precedent. They
had
to work together. It was like being a... a team. Chet
knew all about taking one for the team; he’d been doing it all his
life.
    He bowed his head and, ever so slowly, sank
to his hands and knees. Then he lowered his elbows to the mattress
so that his ass was sticking out. Waiting for Fenimore’s
ministrations, tender or otherwise.
    Chet didn’t need to see Fenimore’s grin to
know it existed. A second finger wiggled its way into Chet’s ass,
then a third. Chet writhed, facing the pain with deep breaths.
Sodomy was something he’d always sort of dreamed about in the back
of his mind, but had never actually considered trying. He envied
the Flame with their gift of being able to
relax
those
muscles at will.
    Knife said, “Fenimore, you
will
wrap
your penis in the modern equivalent of a glans bladder. Pantheon
knows what diseases you carry. Miss," he called to the front,
“where do you keep your condoms?”
    “In one of the little drawers under the bed.
Third from the left. See it?”
    Fenimore scowled as Knife knelt to riffle
through her drawers. “Lucid mud should have killed off anything
I—”
    “Lucid mud is a preservative," Journey
interrupted, eyes narrow.
    “I don’t have the clap!”
    “Didn’t say you did," Knife said steadily as
he tossed a