No, I've always been picky with my avatars unlike my siblings.
Ione is…different. Something about the way she moves, the cadence of her voice, the way her angular eyes regard me. Her high cheekbones melt into her face and form well against her full mouth. I've tasted many of my avatars, sampled in their human forms to quell a thirst in me. Sexually, humans are fun. Many holes, warm and soft. Their cries of pleasure send a shiver into me that delights in making them moan. Some have been more fun than others, and I do wonder if Ione would be the same level of entertainment.
Still, I have never demanded that worship of my avatars. They have always offered, and now it occurs to me that perhaps they thought they should. They offered and I partook. How strange is it, that I know if Ione offered her body to me, I would gladly make her scream under me…or on top me.
As she exits her room, she smiles at me, smelling of amber oil. "You can't wear that outdoors. You need real clothes."
"Show them to me," I ask, fully distracted by her clothing. She's wearing a navy blue off-shoulder top and her skin is peeking from the sides. The coarse bottoms she is wearing hug tight to her ass, showing her form. "Whatever you want me to wear, I can materialize."
"Out of thin air?" She asks curiously.
Cute. "Something like that. What is that called?" Reaching for her bottoms gives me the chance to rub my fingers against her thigh.
"Denim." She smirks. "It is a very durable twill-woven fabric made of cotton."
"Interesting. Now show me the clothing."
I follow her down the stairs. Females of this age truly dress in a way that flatters their forms. It's eye-catching, alluring, enticing. Is she showing off? Perhaps, she is trying to subtly tell me she is open to fucking. In this form, I have base…feelings. Things that twinge at me, and I have ignored this one for some time.
Grabbing her phone, another marvel of this age, she shows me clothing that she likes. Vests, jeans, loafers, dress shirts, all words I do not care to know, but understand have meaning to her. She keeps her clothes in a closet and not a chest,so as we return to her clothing, I move my hand across an empty space and the items arrange themselves accordingly.
"What the hell," She whispers, rushing forward to touch the fabrics. "You just…from here to there. Wow."
"This should suffice." Dropping my tunic, I stand before her, reverting to the form that she says is acceptable for the public eye. "Dress me."
Again, her eyes snap to my cocks and back to my face. "What are these symbols?"
"Pneumatian, is the closets thing I can think of humans calling it. The breath or spirit of all that is." She grabs a white dress shirt, and I feed my arms through. Her fingers brush against me as she buttons the fabric. "It is my name, my purpose, an incantation of my being."
My rabbit holds a black t-shirt out to me, and I slip it over my head before she adjusts the white collar around it. "A dead language? Or one that is only spoken by you?"
"Only spoken by primordials." I watch as she hands me a fitted pair of black denim, she helps me tuck the dress shirt in and flares the black shirt over it. The white sneakers complete the look for her. I feel a need to do something, say something. Moving the collar on my shirt, I show her a symbol. "Repeat after me." She does, her lips and tongue forming beautifully over the word. "It means vast dark horizon, where the unknown stretches endlessly."
"That's beautiful." She smiles, fixing my collar.
I've seen human males in positions like this before. I've watched their eyes as they look at their mates, full of longing, a need that pulls from within and stirs them to lust. Her smell is intoxicating, her eyes are soft. She's standing very close to me, one hand on my chest. Her breathing has slowed, Ione licks her lips, and I lower my hand to her waist.
I've seen what the humans do in the cover of my night. In the dark and shadows when no one is looking, and when the world hushes to a whisper, their love moves unguarded. The males steal moments beneath the hush of the stars, where stolen kisses linger longer, unburdened by the weight of my sister's daylight. I've been mesmerized by their fingers tracing unseen constellations on bare skin, mapping out promises in soft sighs and murmured names.
Why is this happening to me. Some bewitchment of the mages no doubt, but there is a tug from somewhere in the black chasm that rolls inside of me. It longs for her to touch me again. To touch me as I have watched them do each other. In the secrecy of twilight, a humans love is bolder—their eyes meet with unspoken confessions, and their hands find each other without hesitation.
Her dark eyes lock onto mine, her face flushes slightly, and she moves her gaze from mine. Reaching out, I capture her chin between my thumb and forefinger. "If you wish for me to take you, rabbit, I have time, offer yourself to me, and I will accept."
Then it fades, as quickly as it was there, it's gone. "Come on, Athy, we have seventy miles to cover and I'm the one driving."
Chapter seven
70 Damn Miles
Ione
Now,Iwanttogo on record and say I have never been one to jump into bed with a man. I have thought about it, talked a damn good game, and even hinted on dates that it was a possibility. Athanasius is not a man and therefore should not count, but it was the way he said:"If you wish for me to take you,"that turned me off. Granted, I went from 100% to 84.3% but it still went down.
I should have thought better of dressing him the way I did. As we exit my house, he's walking with the swagger of a man that knows he's good looking, and that women want him and I hate him for that. He's dressed like my college crushes. Like the men I scroll through the clock app and bite my lip over.
He doesn't even have on cologne, and there's a scent coming from him that makes me want to smack my lips.
"What are you staring at, woman?" I've graduated it seems, from female to woman. "Does this getup not suit you anymore?"
