Summer grumbled, wrapping her arms around her middle. It felt like someone had their hands in her guts and was twisting, and she hated it. She’d much rather be home, lying on the couch with maybe some chocolate and a heating pad. “I hate this,” she whined. “I wish I could just be male for this one week, you know?”
The world seemed to go completely still for a moment, and she looked up, confused. Then magic coiled around her and yanked her off her feet, and her consciousness was blotted out.
Awareness returned, slowly, with the knowledge of sensation in the body. A pins-and-needles feeling danced in the bones, erratic and shifting. First the toes, then leaping to the hips, then a hot band around the ribs. It continued on and on, for awareness did not include measures of time. Finally, the fizzing climbed into the skull and subsided, leaving behind a sense as though every bone and joint had shifted into perfect alignment.
Something cradled the body, providing perfect support and relaxation, soothing and comforting as the tingles returned, in nerves and muscles and skin. Rather than the chaotic handling of the bones, the prickles began at the top of the skull, swiftly engulfing the entire face with a near-unbearable intensity. Then it flowed down as a gentle heat to the shoulders and arms, tiny sparkles popping in the fingers.
Another wave began to rise from the toes, even as warmth filled the chest, pouring onward. A trio of white hot points clustered in the cradle of the hips, one larger one flanked by twin spots. These, too, receded to meet the heat rushing up the legs, colliding in a burst of intensity in the centre.
For the third time, sensation began, this time as of light touches, barely there, along the body. Chest and waist, thighs and hips, the touches swept further and further inward, pressing within. A need to move arose, and was prevented, as the touches caressed ever more deeply. Then the sensations began to change, from long, gentle caresses in the depths, to shallower brushes, to slight tugs, to slow, soft pulls, to long, hard strokes.
Movement began to be permitted, and the hips thrust into the stroking. The pulse, that had beat hard in wrists and throat and ears, rushed downward. Heat began to gather between the thighs, throbbing, and the flesh responded, swollen and moist. Need drew up through the centre, thick and heavy, and a growing pressure. Just a few more strokes …
He was stretched out flat on the ground, nude to the world, thrusting desperately into thin air. He growled, voice a low, rough tenor, needy and helpless. “No, don’t — stop!” he demanded.