He thought to subside, but she continued pulsing around him, not letting him withdraw. “More!” she gasped.
"I am not sure I—"
"New stimulus!” She gripped his shoulders and held her upper torso away from him, so that her fine breasts were exposed, bouncing with her motions. “I will hold on."
He removed his hands from her back and put them on her breasts, and she did maintain the position. They were firm yet yielding to the touch, and highly evocative. “Effective,” he said as his member reversed course and hardened again. Her pulsing never paused as he resumed thrusting, and in due course he had a third climax, slow but strong. This finally satisfied her, and she relaxed, drawing close to him, finding his face for another lingering kiss.
"That's some effect!” Lucent said. “I felt him coming right into me, and me squeezing him, inside."
The picture froze as Symbol replied. “Yes. For male viewers, it's the male feel, penetrating and being squeezed. Pretty sophisticated illusion; I would like to know how it is recorded. But some folk object to it; they don't like being touched there, even if they know it's not real."
"They are prudes. On with the show."
"Don't forget why we're doing this."
"I haven't. The stalker is closer, but not yet close enough."
The animation resumed. It was no longer possible to maintain the sexual connection, and Coma slid to the ground. “Question: have you ever performed like that before?"
"Never. Once sufficed, or twice after a pause. Never thrice in a single session."
"I never before had continuous climax, and did not know I was capable of it. I am pleasantly worn out."
"Similarity."
"Observation: There is no precedent for what we did. We have been ensorceled."
"Agreement,” he said, surprised. “We came here to negotiate, or to fight, not to have sex. No offense during no fault, but you are perhaps the last woman I would have chosen for such a liaison."
"No offense,” she agreed. “And you the last man. Only magic can account for this crime against our natures."
"A passion spell,” he agreed. “And it is wearing off now."
"I know something of the type. They last until used up. We had no choice but to dissipate it in its own fashion. We should otherwise have been locked into it, able to focus on nothing else, until finally forced to abate it."
"I think we abated it in record time. While we remain in no fault truce, I will say that your female body and facility were marvelously conducive."
"And yours quite manly and enduring."
"Soon we will revert to normal, and can resume hostilities. But I am concerned: is this a cruel joke played on us by some unknown party?"
"Similarity. Perhaps intended to force us to settle the property issue despite our best intentions."
"Or to goad us into a killing frenzy, because of the shame of it."
"And set our families off into a feud that might kill enough to make it easy for a third family to take over."
"I do not like being joked or forced,” he said grimly.
"Agreement. My inclination is for vengeance."
"Endorsement.” He fidgeted. “Preference: that we end no fault but not truce while we consider further."
"Denial. We are being observed, and it may be that the spell caster is among the observers."
He nodded. “Excellent thought. Should we separate now and resume hostilities, that party will know that the ploy, whatever its nature, has failed."
"And we will lose our chance to identify that party."
"And to deal with it,” he agreed, touching his club.
"Agreement.” She touched her knife.
"Comparison: my revulsion for you and your works is returning."
"Similarity. The spell is fading. It pains me to remain this close to you, especially with my body exposed to your gaze.” But with an iron effort of will, she remained exposed, her bare breasts just touching his bare chest
"I am disgusted by what we did, despite knowing it was involuntary.” He exhibited similar will, maintaining his downward gaze at that exposure.
"It was rape—of both of us."
"We are at least agreed. Death to the perpetrator."
"Death!” She looked cautiously around. “Who might it be?"
"There are several families dastardly enough to do it. We dare not guess, lest we extract vengeance against the wrong one."
"But to catch it we must first deceive it. How may we best accomplish that?"
Hero considered. “It pains me to say this, but there is a ruse that might be effective."
"That we pretend the passion spell has not yet been expiated,” she agreed.
"Yet surely the observer can tell from our proximity that we did expiate it.” They remained in contact, face to face, embraced though no longer connected.
"These spells have variable effects, depending on locale, personnel, and circumstance. Sometimes they seem to lock on, refusing to be expiated."
"Yet continuous sexual expression would hardly be feasible."
"It diffuses into unsatisfied desire,” she said. “The victims endure repeated plumbings but are never satisfied, so remain close enough to keep doing it. It is similar to what we experienced, but doesn't end. It merely abates for a time to allow them to recoup physically, and is horribly wearing."
"We could emulate that state, for a time,” he said. “We would not actually have to do the deed repeatedly, just to maintain the pretense of it."
"That would alleviate the burden somewhat,” she agreed.
"We would have to make a viable pretense. Embracing, kissing, touching parts.” Hero looked grim.
"I can stand it if you can.” She was making a challenge.
"For an hour, for proper vengeance, I can endure."
"For an hour,” she agreed. “Shall we take turns?"
"Turns,” he agreed. “One must act, the other react."
"Acquiescence. Who starts?"
"Play fingers. Winner starts."
"Agreement."
Each made a fist. They shook the fists together, once, twice, thrice. On the third pass, he put out one finger and she put out two.
"Odd,” she said, satisfied.
"Male,” he agreed. Male was odd, because he had one projection. Female was even because she had two. It was a universal coding. Each of them had thrown his/her own symbol, and the total was odd. “Remember, no biting or stabbing."
"I know the rule,” she said sharply, removing her hand from the knife.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. She acquiesced. He held it just long enough to count, then released her. “I feel sick,” he muttered.
"It is amazing how much we agree. Now the negotiation: have we a choice?"
"If we are locked in, we must seek a way to maintain contact, so as not to be separated. A decision either way would complete the mission, leaving no need for further dialogue."
Coma nodded. “Temporary split down the middle, until we conclude our negotiation?"
"Acquiescence,” he agreed distastefully.
"Then it is time to present our ongoing status to our families, and await some betrayal of disappointment from the guilty one."
"Time,” he agreed. “Or from some third family, which I think is more likely."
"Agreement.” She grimaced. “My turn. No clubbing."
"Of course.” He removed his hand from his club.
She embraced him, kissed him, then slid her hands down to pinch his buttocks. He stiffened in anger, which made her flash a genuine smile. She had affronted him in a way he could do nothing about, in a way women normally suffered. Then they walked together to brace the families.
The Hat family was astounded. “You have a passion for each other?” the Hat patriarch demanded. “How is this possible?"
"Hero was just too handsome and virile to resist,” Coma said with a fetching smile.
"She is a most fetching woman,” Hero said. “So rather th
an quarrel, we are trying to find an equitable settlement of the issue."
"You just want more time to be together!"
"That, too,” Hero agreed, lying manfully. It was his turn; he turned to Coma and embraced her, stroking her bottom. She neither resisted nor objected. That made the case. Only Hero felt her seething ire at the familiarity. He had gotten her back.
But the patriarch was too canny to be lightly taken in. “Let's see what her family says about this,” he said.
They went to the Coy family. Of course no one accompanied them, because there was no direct communication between the families; that was why the one-on-one meeting had been set up.
"We're coming in sight of them,” Coma said grimly. “My turn.” She drew him into her and kissed him lingeringly. Of course she wasn't fooling him; her body was tense with revulsion. But at this distance, who would know?
"We have scored upon each other,” he murmured into her ear. “Shall we call a truce in that respect, lest we force each other to show our wrath and spoil our act?"
"Truce,” she agreed. “For now.” But of course they would have to continue with the essence, holding and kissing, which was bad enough.
The Coys were staring as the two came up to their station. “What ugly game are you playing?” the Coy matriarch demanded.
"I love him, Grandma,” Coma said, no slouch at lying herself. “I just couldn't resist him."
"A Hat?! He's just trying to seduce you into giving away our property."
"Negotiations continue,” Hero said. “Nothing has been decided."
"And you're hot for her?"
Hero nodded. “Against my better judgment. She is a fine figure of a woman, and accomplished in other respects.” It galled him to realize that this was literally true.
"Then of course you will want to marry her."
The smiles froze on both their faces. They had walked into that one! The matriarch was testing them for deception. What could they say?
"There's really no future in that,” Coma said uncomfortably.
"Not if you're faking."
They were stuck for it. Either they had to admit the deception and lose their chance to identify the spell caster, or carry it through long enough to accomplish their purpose. “We haven't set a date,” Hero said.
"Naturally not. The families will make the arrangements. Meanwhile you will share lodging, the better to indulge your newfound passions."
"Of course,” Coma said faintly.
It was Hero's turn. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Of course,” he echoed, as faintly.
The lodging turned out to be in the middle of an apartment complex, surrounded by Coys. Every sound would carry. So that night they were obliged to make the sounds, lest the ruse be betrayed. They couldn't fake it; others were too well acquainted with the mechanisms of sex. They indulged in passionate sex several times.
"Apology,” Hero murmured in her ear, though it was as much a struggle for him as for her.
"I'm closing my eyes and pretending you are a diseased ogre. That helps."
"Try pretending you are a blue Chroma mermaid, so I don't have to work so hard."
"Negative,” she whispered in his ear. “I want you to suffer.” She wasn't joking.
So he plumbed her harder, trying to make her protest, but as an Amazon she was able to handle such trials, and met each thrust with as hard a response. Their bellies collided with solid thumps. It was almost as if they were back under the influence of the passion spell. And they still had no idea who was responsible for that.
At last they settled into troubled sleep, nestled together so that any magical spy could see how close they were, physically and emotionally. They were both great liars.
The banns were published, and their nuptial date set. But there was no sign of the spell casting family. Apparently it had retreated into its territory, knowing that they were searching for it. But neither of them could stand to give up the chase, or to be the first to admit defeat.
The day of the wedding came, and yet there was no reprieve. They had to go through with it. “I'll get you for this,” Coma breathed in his ear as they stood before the magistrate.
"You already have,” he returned fiercely. Then they had to kiss, and it was done. They were married.
They moved onto the property they were negotiating. They couldn't decide on a settlement until they located the guilty party and got their revenge, so the lot was theirs until they did. The two families were forcing them to complete their negotiation, or pay the price. It was awful.
"You are fair of feature and form,” Hero said when sure they could not be overheard. “If I close my eyes, I could pretend that you are someone I like."
"Negation. You are too apt to speak the name of that doxie, and give away the pretense."
She had a point. “Then you can't either,” he said.
"I am suffering every bit as much as you are,” she said. “You bear a passing resemblance to a man I might have liked to marry, and can't, because of this."
"This much I am forced to admit: you are making me hurt as no other woman has."
"That would give me joy, were I not in similar pain,” she confessed.
But there was no escape for either of them. They could not even confide their misery to family friends, lest news reach the mutual enemy they were stalking.
Within the year, Coma birthed her first child, a lovely girl. Coma named her Coda Coy, for they agreed that the females would be hers and the males his, per family convention. For one thing, the power in the Coy family was with the women, and with the men in the Hat family. Of course, Hero had to pretend to be thrilled. What made it worse was that he felt significant guilt, knowing that the child had no blame in the manner of her generation. He tried very hard to conceal his true feeling from her, and seemed to succeed, for the little girl was not at all shy about liking him.
Two years later she birthed their second, a boy that looked just like Hero. He named him Halo Hat. Coda was resentful of the intrusion, but was stuck with it, much as they all were. Still they had not located the spell caster.
"I wish we had never made this deal,” Coma gritted as they embraced theoretically for love.
"It was a terrible mistake,” Hero agreed. “We had our lives ahead of us, and ruined them both."
And of course Coma had to nurse and care for the boy, never letting him know the truth, for he too was innocent of his origin. It was apparent that however much the Hats and Coys hated each other, they had certain common values relating to children, and strode to protect them from emotional as well as physical hurt. Hero almost felt sympathy for Coma when he saw the baby boy clinging to her, inflicting his unquestioning innocent love on her.
Finally they could stand it no more. “Let's ask the oracle,” Coma suggested.
"But that is hideously expensive!"
"We can assign it the land we live on."
"That would solve that problem,” he agreed. “Neither family will have it."
"Both families know or suspect the predicament we are in. They deserve to lose it."
"And once we have our vengeance, we can be annulled, and get our lives back."
"Phenomenal!"
They went to the oracle. But the priest had odd news for them. “For reason sufficient to itself, I can not provide your answer for two years yet."
"Two years!” Hero exclaimed, outraged.
"Take or leave it. You will not like it, when you learn."
"We take it,” Coma said, though she was as angry as Hero was. They had already had more than enough to dislike; now vengeance was all that remained to them both.
They waited two more interminable years. They managed to avoid having another child despite the need to have frequent and loud sex for the benefit of the listening families. It was even worse now, because the children were just as alert as the families were, and would have known the instant their parents were anything other than obviously loving. In fact, the children fu
ssed if their parents did not hug and kiss frequently in their presence. It was sheer torture.
Worse, after an initial period of doubt, Coda decided she liked her baby brother, and the two became far better friends than their parents were. They didn't know it was an act intended to deceive others about their real hatred of each other.
Finally the two years were done, and they went again to the oracle. “The guilty parties are your two families,” the priest said. “Each cast a spell on the opposite negotiator, the one hoping for a rape to occur that would serve as a pretext for further family mayhem, the other hoping for a forced seduction that would lead to a rage-killing."
Hero and Coma stared at each other, appalled. “Your family cheated!” she exclaimed furiously.
"As did yours!” he said with equivalent temper.
"However,” the priest pointed out, “you nullified both their malign efforts by reversing the ploy and falling in love. Neither gained anything."
They stared at him with similarly cold expressions. “Why did you make us wait two more years for this fell news?” Hero demanded.
"The oracle looks at far more than the immediate picture. Your children have great potential, but needed more time in a good environment before being deprived of it. Now they may be more safely cast out. The damage of your breakup and the resumption of the Hat and Coy family feuding will be tolerable."
"To be sure,” Coma said tightly.
They departed. “Before the feud resumes,” Hero said, “shall we agree that our children will be exempt from it? Their origin in deception and hatred is not of their doing."
"Agreed. It is too bad they must be separated."
Hero felt a pang. “Would it be possible for them to have visitation rights—to each other?"
"That would force us to meet again,” she pointed out.
He sighed. “Point taken. It was a bad idea."
They arrived home. “Fetch the things you value,” Coma told the children. “We will not be returning here."
Coda's eyes went round. She was five years old, and looked exactly like her mother, allowing for age. She was even taking Amazon lessons, and was good at them. “Why?"
"We are separating,” Hero said. “This land is ceded to the oracle."