Venus and Aether

Author's note.

This is the most challenging story I've written, having never had the experience before. I was blocked by the actual act, and life took over for a while, but my thoughts often returned to Venus and Dion out there, loving one another in the desert. Finally, after a long break I picked it back up, wanting to fulfill the commitment made to a dear friend. I was still blocked, but determined to finish. The lovemaking was completed these last three days, myself in a state of complete sexual hunger, almost frenzied with it. I hope that comes through. Many thanks to my writing partner for all of the technical help and encouragement, without whom I could not have written this.

And to you, Dion, my most sincere thanks. It was this story, unfinished, that kept me wanting to break that most cruel of states, the artist who cannot create. Your undemanding yet always felt presence reminded me that I am an artist who must; and I am grateful to you for helping me find my words again.

***

Aether was one of the three "airs". The middle air was Aer or Khaos, a colourless mist which enveloped the mortal world. The lower air was Erebos, the mists of darkness, which enveloped the dark places beneath the earth and the realm of the dead. The third was the upper air of aither, the mist of light, home of the gods of heaven. It enveloped the mountain peaks, clouds, stars, sun and moon. The stars themselves were said to be formed from the concentrated fires of aither.

***

The still of the desert engulfed the roar of the electroglide. The welkin above was eternity, littered with diamonds. Her long blonde hair fluttered behind her, a gleaming flag. Beneath her chaps a rhinestone-studded lattice split the seams of her jeans and exposed the taut lines of her thighs and calves. Venus rode, a picture of abandon.

I am a mote in God's eye. Here, in the Valley, her insignificance was palpable. There were no lights, but from the beam of her machine. She saw the light of his fire, a red star on the horizon, her beacon. Still, she checked her co-ordinates on the GPS. Distance is deceptive in the desert. It was still some time to her destination, but she had been patient this long. Her lips curled in anticipation.

He surveyed the scene with satisfaction. A man of simple needs, but a certain esthetic sense, Dion had prepared carefully. A thick sheepskin was laid out on the worn porch of the smooth sandstone outcrop. The fire built, coal bed prepared, a pot of warm water hung suspended from the tripod. Wine and nosh waited in the Indian's saddlebags, parked at the edge of the embrace of still sun-warmed rock. He smiled, her imminent arrival apparent in the close roar of her ride.

He rose from his hunker, brushing dust off his soft-sky blues. He studied his square, capable hands, his best tools, for a moment, deciding he would wash them later, perhaps helping Venus to refresh herself. Again, he smiled, musing over the circumstances of this rendezvous in the middle of the desert.

This time last year, they had met by chance, sharing a rest stop not far from this place. Their meeting was like lightning-struck tinder – they ignited at their first touch, urgent with one another against the wall behind the restrooms. Later, they ate, each straddling their bikes while they shared their stories. Each had other places to go, and other lives to live, but it was promised they would meet again. A year of yearning, notes, phone calls, plans made and cancelled and finally, finally...

*****

He's just like I remember. Same grave, considering smile, same unusual stillness in the solid stance, belying the passion inside. He looks so at home here. Venus pulled up next to his bike and hit the kick, dismounting smoothly. Dion opened his arms and enfolded Venus as she stepped into his embrace.

"It feels good to have you here again." Dion murmured into her hair. His breath was warm on her neck. They pressed together, allowing their bodies to breathe together a moment, then Dion released her, catching only her hand. "Come, you will want to clean up. I have water for you."

Dion led her to the fire and pushed her gently down on the sheepskin. I'll let him have his way, for now. Venus thought, smiling warmly. Dion dug into his gear, producing a small steel bowl containing a bar of white soap. He filled the bowl from the kettle, placing it carefully on the rock beside the skin. A delicate scent of sage and basil rose from the gently steaming water.

"Oh, that smells wonderful, Dion. Thank you!" Venus reached for the bowl and Dion pushed her hand away.

"I was thinking I would like this meeting to be – " Dion thought for a moment. "More elegant." He wrung out the cotton cloth. "Please, let me."

"For now." Venus purred. "I have been thinking about this too." She shucked off her leather jacket and stretched out, leaning back on her elbows. She toed off her boots and wriggled toe-stockinged feet with a sensual pleasure.

Dion wrung out the terrycloth, taking his time. Around them, the air hung still as the stars above, but sounds were magnified, seemingly clarified and given weight and touch by their lucidity. The trickle of water in the bowl tickled Venus' ears. A breath of air brought the subtle crystal tinkle of cooling rock; the sound shivered in her ears and her skin rose in sympathy. She closed her eyes.

The cloth was a sweet-smelling tongue on Venus' face. It pressed soft and moist on her forehead, the nap dragging down her face, gently exfoliating the grime of the road. Another swipe razed her cheek and below her jaw, tickling the sensitive spot there. Venus growled appreciatively, low in her throat. The fine dew left behind cooled on her skin. Soft, soothing trickle of water, and then Dion's hand, a comforting firm cradle under her head. The warm tongue bathed her neck; Venus felt the heat penetrate her skin and travel down her nerves to collect in a glowing pool just above her mound.

Venus purred again as the cloth returned to gently scrub above her cleavage, Dion's fingers deftly flipping open the buttons to her breastbone. He swabbed under her collar, out to her collarbones and under her neck, and Venus felt the tension of many hours on the road slip from her shoulders and slide down to stir the center of her arousal. Dion's hand left the back of Venus' head, and she let it hang back, stretching luxuriously.

Dion watched her shirt slide back over her shoulders as she shifted, letting the dim light paint shadows over her collarbones. His throat grew tight, registering the peaks of her nipples, straining the thin material. He cleared his throat.

"Better now." He stated, rapt in the rise and fall of her breath.

"Yes, Dion, thank you." Venus lifted her head, shifting her weight to one elbow. Slowly she unbuttoned the rest of her shirt. "Do you remember last time, how you took me?" Her shirt fell open, and Dion hummed in appreciation, assent – he did not have words at the moment and wanted to listen to the music of hers. She unbuttoned her jeans.

"It was hard, urgent, you were so very powerful, primal even – " She shrugged a shoulder out of her bra, then pulled herself upright, shedding her bra casually, as an afterthought. Dion glanced up at her eyes and forgot all else, they seemed to glow in the twilight, lit from the heat of her words, in her voice.

"The bare essentials, man – filling, thrusting, claiming." Venus' breath caught for a moment, and she sighed, pausing.

"The woman?" Dion breathed, spellbound.

"Receiving. Absorbing." Her brow wrinkled for a moment. "It's so hard to explain, the trust needed, the powerful feeling of tenderness. Of acceptance." She licked her lips. "The intense – throbbing – electricity when you are sunk deepest, your body trembling and quaking in release, how when your cock touches that spot sensation roars through me, convulsively, its' as violent and overwhelming as a tempest of electric ocean waves..." Her voice trailed off, but her eyes held Dion bound. Venus inhaled deeply, and Dion heard her need.

"I would like to show you how it feels."

The words ripped through Dion's brain like a bolt of lightning. He felt sweat bead across his forehead, and he tasted salt as his tongue unconsciously swiped across his lips. Venus rose smoothly, pushing her jeans down so they puddled at her feet. Botticelli's painting came to Dion's mind.

She is Venus. She walked to her bike, regal in her rainbow-striped toesocks. He watched her rummage through her saddlebag, marveling at how the firelight made the curves and muscles of her full, firm bottom dance with each other.

She'd found what she was looking for. Dion watched – half fascinated, half horrified. He knew what was coming but couldn't quite believe it. Venus drew pink straps around her waist and fastened double snaps in the small of her back. She smoothed the belt and her hands continued to caress down the planes of her ass, then she reached between her legs, looking back coyly over one shoulder. She drew another strap from between her cheeks and snapped it over her left side, then fastened the right. In her right hand, she held a small white drawstring cloth bag. Dion's throat worked painfully, suddenly dry.

Venus turned slowly, head cocked to one side. There was a strange expression on her face – half shy, half hungry, and Dion now found himself responding to Venus' tentative expression. Don't blow it boy, she's as unsure as you are.

"You are so beautiful..." he breathed.

She was glorious, even in her incongruity. Her curls gleamed golden in the firelight, framing her knowing eyes and shy smile. Her breasts created fascinating umber rose shadows, flickering on her skin. Her nipples were erect, glowing crimson coals.

Slowly, Dion took in the rest of her, traveling the line of her abdomen, skipping over the pink straps down the smoothness of her thighs. He smiled briefly, enjoying the free-spirited striped socks, and then finally, the object that bought fear and a wild reckless stirring in the pit of his stomach.

The dildo Venus had chosen was smaller than his own cock, but shaped very much the same. He dragged his eyes away and looked back up at Venus' face. She regarded him steadily, waiting for his response.

"You'll be gentle with me, won't you?" Dion tried to sound lighthearted, but his voice cracked a little.

Venus' smile broadened. "I've always wanted to do this." She paused, looking down at the dildo self-consciously for a moment, "But I do know what it's like." She looked back up into his eyes, and flames from the fire danced between them.

"I want to make it very good for you, Dion." She held out her hand. Dion reached up and allowed her to draw him to his feet. Venus dropped her bag beside the sheepskin, then slipped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. The dildo was a small, but obvious presence between them. Dion pushed it to the back of his mind, instead concentrating on his armful of warm, willing girl. They kissed, softly at first, but with increasing passion, cheeks were stroked, hands curling in hair, stroking down spines, curling around curves, wanting closer, closer, more.

Venus sank to her knees, working at Dion's jeans. It's gotta be now, before I lose my nerve. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unbuckled his belt She'd never felt unsure like this – but the novelty raised her level of arousal and gave her confidence. She pulled down his jeans, helping Dion to step out of them.

Looking back up at Dion, Venus again felt unsure, Dion's expression hidden by his tousled hair, the set of his jaw inscrutable. His cock was flaccid, but beginning to rise. She lay her head against his thigh, gently, her palms soft on his thigh.

"I'm cold, Dion. Please come warm me?"

Her eyes were luminous, shining with emotion. Dion's apprehension faded into the desert as he knelt, gathering Venus to him. He kissed her, softly, tasting, breathing deeply, and gradually his passion grew until they were locked together on the bedroll, arms and legs intertwined. He felt seventeen again, wild and reckless. Passion roared through his veins and he grabbed her, plunging his tongue deep in her mouth, wanting to devour her. Venus gave back everything she had, caught up in Dion's violent change of pace. Their hands roamed the topography of each other's bodies, fingers voracious; exploring, rubbing, and kneading.

Their hunger for each other's touch mellowed and grew quieter. Slowly they relaxed back onto the sheepskin, stroking, long, smooth caresses, tracing each others' limbs with tenderness. Venus gently rolled Dion onto his back and straddled him, his cock fitting snugly in the valley of her smooth bottom. With agonizing slowness, she deposited a caress of kisses.

Dion's ears were nibbled lightly. Venus' soft, moist tongue slid down his jugular, halted by the nape of his neck, where she tested his pulse in a gentle, sucking bite. Dion began to tremble, and reached for her. Venus nipped him suddenly, and batted his hands away.

"No, my pet," purred Venus, "I am making love to you. Lay still, now." Dion groaned, unable to help himself. Her teeth had ignited a fire that raced from nape through his abdomen to shoot through his cock. Down, down, down she went, kissing, licking, gently nipping all the way. She slid between his knees and drew her hands down his loins, spreading his legs and pushing them back.

Her tongue was electric on his anus; swirling, twirling prodding. Dion's nerves were ecstatic with heat and quicksilver pleasure. Then, Oh, Jesus Christ! she slowly massaged his sphincter. Slowly the muscle relaxed, allowing in the tip of her finger. Venus wrapped her other hand around the base of his cock and squeezed gently, slowly pressing her finger in deeper. The sensation was alien, and Dion shuddered, his nerve confused between the unfamiliar sliding warring with the heavy heat gathering in his scrotum.

Venus took Dion's cock down her throat in a smooth swallow, her plush lips and tongue working in time to her gentle invasion. He hardly noticed their rolling over on one side for the charge of joy rocketing through his body as she sunk her finger fully in and pressed on his prostate. He heard a sharp click, and then Venus pulled from between his legs and sat up. One hand kept his knees up, and Venus lay down behind him.

Dion whimpered as he felt a smooth, round presence press his rim. Venus reached around, gently grasping the base of his cock with slick fingers. Vibration. Pressure. Soft squeeze. Dion's mind gibbered.

ThisisITohmyGODshe'sgoingto His sphincter relaxed under the vibration as Venus' hand slowly pumped his achingly full cock.

"Aaaugh!" the vibe slid home, and he spasmed as it touched his center.

Venus' lips and tongue on his shoulderblade, purring voice. "That's it, baby. Is it good, is it nice?" Her tone loving, full of arousal. "Do you want it, darling?"

"Yesssss.." his throat raw, strangled with pleasure. Incredible sensation, sliding in and out of him, pumping her gently closed fist.

"That's it, handsome. Do it." Pumping faster. Pressure building. "Fucking you, Dion." Arms outstretched, nerves taut as wire. "Fuck my hand, baby." Fists clenched, nails digging into palm. "Soo nice, handsome." Lapping tongue on his back. "Let me have it, Dion, give it to me." Urgent, sliding, wham, wham, wham electric jolts and lightning bolts wracking his body.

A wolven howl streaked through the crazed chaos of sensations flooding Dion's mind. Teeth pulled and suckled on his spine, and he dimly recognized the cry ripping from his own throat as spasm after spasm rocked his frame. His fists furled into claws and he snarled, his cock surging. Spend and growl and splendid fire blinding him, conscious of nothing but the brilliance white lightning enveloping him. Soft whimpers in his ear, shuddering slick sweat on back and belly as the energy poured through him and from him.

Soft, gentling strokes, coos and sighs. Blankets pulled up over them. Satisfaction, replete. The warmth of the desert night wrapped Dion and Venus in a blanket of sleep.