Deanna Hoak

MUTUAL FEELINGS

by Deanna Hoak

Tare trembled as John tangled his fingers in her hair and brushed his lips against the nape of her neck, as he teased her with tiny nips and caresses.

“This’ll sting just a little bit.” His voice was low and husky, and he raised one hand. She caught the glint of a microchip.

Tare tensed, and he pushed the device into her neck at the base of her skull. She drew air between her teeth in a hiss, but it wasn’t as painful as she had expected.

Her husband kissed the area around the small wound, his lips gentle against her skin. “There. That wasn’t too bad, was it? Here, do mine for me.”

She turned and glanced at him, feeling shy and awkward, and ran one finger down his arm, to the device cupped in his hand, to keep from looking him in the eyes. Ten years of sex together, and yet the thought of something new…

He still drew her breath away. The bulges of his biceps where they peeked from under his shirtsleeves, the small quirk to his lips that told her how much he was looking forward to this, the half-lidded look in his eyes. Mmm.

She took the device from his hand, turning it over to examine it. The flexible chip-patch had a plethora of unbelievably tiny, short needles sticking out the bottom. A thin, long wire connected it to the patch on the back of her own head.

“Turn around,” she said. He shifted on the bed so his back was to her, and she started to place the device on his neck but then stopped. “Oops.” She smiled at him in the dresser mirror. “I’d better get your clothes off first.”

She laid the patch down and ran her hands underneath his shirt, stroking his sides and running her fingers through the hair on his chest. She removed his shirt with slow deliberateness and kissed his shoulder, rubbing her nipples against his back.

“No fair,” he said. “I want that thing on first.”

“Mmm. Okay. But I don’t need to be the only one naked here.”

“Patch first. The wire’s long enough for me to get undressed afterward.”

“Mr. Impatience.” She smiled into his back and gave him a small bite for good measure. “Here you go.” She picked up the device and hesitantly but firmly pushed it into the base of his skull. “Eee. Is that okay?”

“Mm-hm.” He turned to face her. “Do you feel anything?”

“Horny.” She smiled. “So, are we supposed to be able to read each other’s minds now? Surely you know what I’m thinking.”

“Hah! I don’t need a sensor for that.” He stroked her thigh. “But no, it supposedly only transmits sensation, not thought.”

“So, um, double pleasure, huh?”

“Let’s see.” A slow smile turned his lips up and outlined the crease of a dimple in one cheek. He stood and pulled her up against him, wrapping his arms around her waist and trailing his hands along her buttocks in light, feathery strokes. She could feel his erection against her stomach, and . . .

And suddenly, she felt not only that, but the impression of soft breasts against her chest, of the warmth of her belly through his thin pants.

“Umm . . . that’s different.” She felt nervous again, now. “Let’s get these pants off, huh?”

The whisper of fabric being drawn across an exquisitely tender organ, a rush of desire. “It . . . I feel emotion, too. Or, maybe that’s mine.” She smiled shyly up at him, trying to repress another tremble. “It’s hard to tell.”

His erection was hot against her, and her skin against it felt . . .

Oh, this was going to be amazing.

She ran her fingers along his spine and felt the answering tickle against her own back. She bent her head to nip gently at his nipple and drew her breath in at the sensation. Flitting her hand down to his erection, she stroked him and almost jumped back giggling. “It must be fun to have something that size so tender.”

He smiled down at her. “Uh-huh. Let’s see what you feel like.” He bent his head to nuzzle along her neck and brought his hands up to tease her nipples. Pushing her gently to the bed, he moved his head farther down and kissed along the edge of her breast, finally taking the nipple in his mouth and sucking on it in just the way she liked.

He gasped beneath his breath, and his heartbeat quickened. The sensation of the erect nipple against her tongue felt odd, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. He sucked a tad harder, though, and she squirmed in pleasure.

But he stopped almost immediately and stared into her eyes, apology on his face. “Jeez, hon,” he said, “I didn’t know it hurt when I did that. You should have told me.”

Tare stared at him, perplexed. “It didn’t hurt me, babe. I was enjoying it. Maybe you’re just not used to the feeling.” She smiled and reached for him. “Trust me. I liked it.” She kissed him deeply, pushing her tongue against his. He moved his hand down to her clit and rubbed her as they kissed. “Mmm.” She felt a shudder pass through him, too.

His hands and mouth moved over her body, playing her in the way only a familiar lover could, and each sensation was coupled with the feel of aroused nipples against her own skin, of the touch of a hand along an organ she’d never possess. She wanted him in her, but the sensation was so overwhelming . . .

She came, her shoulders rising up, her belly almost spasming with the motion. He gasped audibly this time and began to shake.

She wanted more, though. She scooted down, abruptly, and licked along the length of his erection. She moved her hands up to squeeze and pinch at his hardened nipples and nuzzled her face down between his legs to lick his scrotum, firmly, back to front. The sensation was so intense she wanted to drop, to let it just wash over her.

But she took him in her mouth, the quiver of her tongue and the sensation on that phantom limb as she pushed down, taking him deep into her throat, causing her to come again. He jerked, moaning, and she began to tremble again.

His fingers were at her nipples, and she squirmed as he tugged at them. She moved a hand to the spot between his scrotum and his anus and pressed there as she worked him with her mouth.

She came again.

“God!” His voice was hoarse and shaking. “How many times can you do that?”

She inched back up him, her hand moving on the shaft and head of his penis, and flicked her tongue along his ear. “You know,” she whispered.

She straddled him and pushed her hair over one shoulder. “I want to feel you in me.” She lifted him against her slit, then eased him into her slowly. Very slowly. His hands tightened on her thighs. She shook with desire, and when the length of him was finally in, she thrust her hips against him and held it there.

The force of her orgasm, this time, tightening around the length of his penis–a sensation she could feel as if the organ were her own–almost did her in. She collapsed on top of him, and he shuddered beneath her.

He rolled them over swiftly, though, tangling her in the wire, and took her in long, hungry strokes, driving deep into her. She bucked beneath him, running her hands along the muscles of his arms and shoulders, meeting his every movement with her own and luxuriating in the pleasure of their mingled bodies.

His desire was like a storm, building, building. He bent his head to her breast and suckled, and when she came again, her orgasm clamping around him and slowing his strokes, he groaned. She thought he would lose himself that time, and she wanted him to, wanted to release the pressure that was becoming beyond endurance.

He didn’t. But he changed tempo, and she knew he couldn’t be far off.

She opened her eyes and fixed them on him, and his face seemed almost cruel in the afternoon light. His expression was taut, every tendon in his neck strained.

His body began to tremble, and he made small noises deep in his throat. Close, now. God, please come. This pressure . . .

And the release and relief and sensation washed over her, swallowing her completely, causing her to orgasm again and cling to him as he fell atop her.

# # # #

She woke the next morning to John bending over the bed to brush a kiss along her cheek. She’d slept in late. Ah well. She did most of her work from home these days anyway.

She draped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. They exchanged “I love you”s, and she told him to have a great day: their ritual morning words. Then he slipped away.

Tare looked over at the dresser where the device lay. They’d played with it till late in the night, enjoying the sensation of each other long after they were sated.

John had brought coffee upstairs for her–the cup was beside the bed. What a great guy. She reached over and retrieved it, then pushed a pillow behind her back and pulled the sheet over her nakedness. The coffee was lukewarm.

She organized her day in her mind, then got up and showered. As the hot water sluiced over her, she wondered how it would feel to John—it seemed like it would hurt to have water this hot cascading over that tender, exposed organ. Maybe that’s why he likes his showers cooler than I do. She would have to ask him sometime, or just try it. Could the device be used in water?

She finished the shower, toweled off, brushed her teeth, and combed through her hair. Their cat, Fluff, rubbed against her bare leg, and his rough tongue licked a drop of moisture from her calf. She reached down to scritch him in his favorite spot, right behind the tail, and he arched against her.

Time to get my day started. She pulled on some comfortable clothes and went downstairs to the computer, Fluff following at her heels. When she sat down to begin working, he jumped up in her lap.

Tare checked and answered her e-mail, then pushed Fluff out of her lap and got up for a refill of coffee. She stared out the kitchen window as she sipped it, thinking about the device. God, that was incredible. She was sensitized now to her nipples brushing against the textured material of her shirt, her long hair lying against her ears and along her neck.

She reached up and rubbed the spot where the device had been attached. It was a tiny bit sore, but not bad. Thinking about it made her horny. She chuckled to herself. Insatiety. That had been new to him. She remembered the . . . completed . . . feeling she’d experienced after he came and knew it was unlike her own hunger for more every time she had an orgasm.

Fluff chased a cricket into the kitchen, and she caught him up in her arms. “Leave that poor bug alone. It’s not like you need the food anyway, you fat thing.” He batted at her hand but soon settled down and purred as she stroked under his chin and behind his ears.

I wonder . . . No, that’s sick, Tare. Why? It’s not like sex or something. I’m just curious what a cat feels when you pet him, that’s all. But it might hurt him. It’s two ways, you know. He might freak out being hooked up to you. Hmm.

She let him down, and he promptly began stalking the cricket again.

But if I’m not doing anything, surely it couldn’t hurt him. What would there be for him to feel?

Your whole body!

It might not even work. There’s no saying that the same chemicals and electrical signals are transmitted for cats as for people.

Whatever. It’s your conscience.

She watched Fluff a moment longer, then ran upstairs and got the device. I’ll just try it for a second, just to see.

Sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, she attached one patch to her own neck and then gathered Fluff up. She petted him, rubbing around his neck, then attached the other side to him. She didn’t know if it would stay because of his fur, but it seemed to be holding for now.

So far, no reaction. He seemed to think she had just been petting him. She waited a moment for the sensation to kick in, rubbing under his chin.

It started out slowly. The feeling of her rub was sensual, and as she moved her fingers behind his ear and stroked harder, he purred. She could feel the sharpness of her nails occasionally dragging over his skin, and the sensation was . . . primal. More so than with John. This was like a lover’s touch, but . . . deeper.

She moved her fingers to his back and scratched along his spine, working her way down to his favorite spot. She fought the urge to arch her own back, then gave into it. The sensation was all-consuming, as though nothing else was happening in the world. No emotions leaked through; no thoughts formed in her mind as she petted him. Nothing else was important.

She reached the place at the base of his tail, and he stretched out his legs in a languorous movement, kneading her thigh with his paws and purring more loudly. The alienness of such intense pleasure arising from such an unlikely spot on her own body was almost overwhelming.

So are you thinking about tomcatting around every time I rub you there, bud? I won’t be able to think about you the same way again.

The sensation was erotic enough to disturb her. She wasn’t about to let herself get off by rubbing on her cat.

Fluff leaped off her lap unexpectedly and skittered across to the bank of cabinets, swiping underneath them. Adrenaline rushed into Tare as he pulled out the cricket he’d been stalking all morning. He let it go briefly, and it tried to escape; then he pounced upon it and bit down on its body.

Revulsion filled Teres as she felt the little creature struggle in her own mouth, a scratchy leg tickling at her tongue. Bile rose in her throat. Her own emotions were confused, though, by the excitement the cat’s sensations roused in her. The prey had been captured; the battle had been won. He dropped the poor cricket, and it tried to struggle away again, one side of its body not working. He watched it for a moment, then pounced again and delivered the coup de grace, chewing the bug up and swallowing it.

Tare pulled off the patch, ran to the bathroom, and threw up.

# # # #

She put the device away, carefully removing any cat hair from it, but sick fantasies played in her head through the rest of the day: enjoying the thrill of a hunt, feeling an animal struggle against her, tasting the hot blood of a mammal squirt down her throat instead of the bittersweet juices of an insect. She didn’t get any work done, alternating between daydreams and self-recrimination.

When John arrived home, she embraced him insistently, pulling his head down to meet hers and kissing him deeply, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and fondling him through his pants. Ordinarily, when this kind of mood took her, they would fuck right there in the hall, her up against the wall or bent over the banister of the stairs.

Tonight she wanted more, though.

Smiling back at his silly grin, she grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, then pushed him down on the bed and undressed him, pulling his clothes off in rough tugs. She wasn’t interested in going slowly.

She got his underwear off and then stripped out of her own clothes, giving him no chance to help. When they were both naked, she turned and grabbed the device from the dresser.

“Anxious for that toy again, honey? That thing was a good investment.” He smiled and reached out for her, pulling her hair away from the nape of her neck and putting the device on. She was busy with his patch at the same time, and when the connections were complete, they fell upon each other. She tasted the salt of his skin as she relished his touch, the movements of his tongue against her nipples and the tickle of her nails as she brushed them lightly against his scrotum.

They made love madly, forcefully, lost in the shared sensations, and when she sensed that he was on the edge of climax, she turned her mouth to his throat and punctured the skin there with her sharpest tooth as they came together. They both cried out, and his blood trickled onto her lips. She licked it off, and he pushed her away.

“Dammit, Tare! That hurt! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He put his hand to his throat, and it came away bloody.

“Hey, I felt it, too. I was just curious, that’s all.” She dropped her eyes from his accusing stare. “I’m sorry, hon. Here.” She pulled him back to her and soothed him with soft kisses. “Let me get a bandage and some peroxide for it.”

# # # #

The next day, she bought a mouse for Fluff. She got the device and closed both the animals and herself in the bathroom, so the cord couldn’t be stretched too far. Once she had placed the patches on herself and Fluff, she let the mouse loose. Fluff pounced on it immediately and began toying with it.

John had said that emotions couldn’t come through the device, but the sensations she experienced as the cat played with its prey and then consumed it, the small life trickling away between the feline’s jaws, came with their own emotions. She fought down nausea again, both at the act and at herself, for being so mesmerized by it. But the feeling of power, of utter control . . .

But when the mouse’s tiny intestines spilled out over the cat’s tongue, she gagged at the sliminess and vomited again into the toilet. Poor Fluff got sick, too.

# # # #

John remained a little angry at her for the bite, but she had promised not to do it again. She wasn’t going to let herself use the device anymore, either, at least not for anything but sex with John. She hadn’t gotten over the guilt she’d felt at letting Fluff kill the tiny mouse, or at the thrill she’d gotten from its death.

They hadn’t made love without using the device since they’d gotten it, and they continued to explore each other’s bodies in every way, experimenting with sensation. Tare was fascinated at how often one of them didn’t enjoy something that the other found pleasurable.

She worried at the capacity for violence within her. How far would I have gone? she thought while at the office one day. How far would someone else have gone? Maybe murderers are created over this type of thing. I can’t be the only one who’s ever done it.

When she came home that night, John had a romantic dinner waiting. He’d been working at home all week and must have gotten caught up. The house was spotless, and he’d even begun painting the spare bedroom, something he’d been meaning to do for ages.

When they made love that night, he surprised her by suggesting that they not use the device. She was happy to oblige; the sensations had become ever more intense—overwhelmingly intense, too intense—as they learned each other’s bodies.

But he surprised her further. As they touched each other, reveling in their newfound control over the other, he moved her hand along the base of his spine. “Touch me here,” he said.

“What’re you, a cat?” she asked, and the request made her uneasy. But she stroked, hesitantly at first, where he asked, just above his tailbone, and he seemed to go mad with desire. As they made love, he caressed her roughly and at one point pulled her arms above her head, as though to keep her from escaping. The action was foreign to him, and she almost became afraid of him. He knew well how to please her, though, and she climaxed, and he clawed his fingers down her back.

He seemed frenzied, out of control. She was rising toward another orgasm when she felt his teeth on her neck.

He bit her. Hard.

She cried out, but he held her firm, licking at her blood and pumping within her, coming to his own climax seconds later.

Even after he came, he wouldn’t release her. She began to sob, finally, and succeeded in pushing him part of the way off her. He looked at her with gleaming eyes and wiped the blood from his mouth.

He apologized, later. It couldn’t make a difference, though.

She was the mouse now.