Dynamics of a Human Heart Ch. 06

When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale

I wanna hide the truth
I wanna to shelter you
But with the beast inside
There's nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come"
-- Imagine Dragons "Demons".

Sam greeted the California dawn with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her sun-kissed face. The moon belonged to Miranda, but she would always be a child of the Daystar.

The morning, she noted, had a chill to it; unusual in Pasadena, so Sam had taken the liberty of wrapping some of the blankets she had brought from home around her. She felt cozy, warm, and safe.

When the door opened behind her, she didn't bother looking: neither the sound of coughing or a match being struck nor the scent of tobacco announced their arrival. So, that only left...

"Hey Miri," Sam called out softly.

"Wasn't sure you'd be up," Miranda replied, stepping out in jeans and a glittery pink t-shirt depicting a Maneki Neko waving. She had gotten it for Miranda as a gag gift; the other girl couldn't stand most Japanese pop culture, so Sam would pick things up like this, to occasionally torment her.

"You remembered!" Sam squealed in joy as the other girl handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate. Sam was addicted to the stuff. She had packed it with plans on making it herself. It's always nice, however, when your sweetheart takes the initiative.

"Always," Miranda nuzzled Sam's ear before placing a kiss upon the other girl's temple.

"Hell of a night," Sam commented.

"According to Dante, there are levels of Hell that are actually less intense than last night."

"I've got to get around to reading this book," Sam commented, "Everyone keeps referring to it."

"Can you read Italian?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're a smoking hot blonde with gorgeous legs."

Sam's smile grew; compliments about her legs, especially from Miri always cheered her, "And how is that relevant to my ability or lack thereof to speak or read Italian?"

Miranda smiled, "I'll teach it to you, it's a snap. Besides, Dante loses something in translation."

"Is there a 'Cliff notes' version?"

Miranda stuck out her tongue, "Don't be a brat."

"But I'm so good at it."

"You know what else you're good at?" Miranda whispered into Sam's ear.

"Do tell."

"Making me feel better than anyone else in the whole world, although, I'm afraid; not in recent memory."

"And may I gather from all this-" Samantha started to shiver as Miranda trailed kisses down the curve of her throat, "—that you would like to have this remedied?"

"Immediately."

Miranda grinned widely and gripped the handles to Sam's chair.

"Well then, let's—"

Samantha shed the blankets from her shoulders onto the ground.

She was completely naked.

Miranda gasped at the way the sunlight shined against her lover's breasts. Samantha took the opportunity to lift the blanket from her lap; revealing nothing more than her bare thighs and her exposed cleft.

"I have no words," Miranda managed to stammer out.

"Then come sit on my lap," Samantha smiled, casually running a finger down her neck, across her collarbone to cup her breast. She pinched her nipple causing her to gasp slightly as she pulled gently on the pebbled skin. Miranda's mouth watered and she could feel her sex almost flooding with need.

"What if somebody sees us?" Miranda whispered.

Samantha just stretched her arms up high into the sky, causing her breasts to press forward as she luxuriated in the light upon her bare body.

"Sweetie, we are alone a half a mile in every direction. The nearest habitable structure is that pharmacy you told me about and I doubt they can see us from here," she said continuing to stretch and twist causing her to gasp in pleasure at muscles loosened and joints popped just as it caused Miranda to groan audibly to see her twist and writhe moaning.

"Someone from the apartment building?" Miranda put forth meekly, but both of them knew she was losing this fight as her hands went to the clasp on her jeans.

"Let. Them. Watch," Sam annunciated each word precisely, "Now drop 'em."

Miranda had to laugh at her lover's usual tact in all matters intimate as she undid her jeans and slid them down her slender legs. She had on a pair of white panties, plain, save for a small pink bow along the center.

"I didn't say stop," Sam stated.

"Uso, this is insane!" Miranda cried out.

"No, I'm not kidding and after last night, are you sure you want to label this moment as 'insane'?"

Miranda thought about it and then slid her panties off her body: exposing her small tuft of black curls and beyond that the outer folds of her sex, pulsing with need.

Sam swallowed hard, she was starting to squirm too, "An-and your shirt too," she said, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth.

Miranda grabbed the collar of her pink t-shirt and pulled it up off over her head, turning it inside out in the process as she dropped it and ran her fingers through her short hair, ruffling it.

"My God but you're beautiful," Sam whispered in awe.

"I'm freezing!" Miranda countered rubbing her arms as gooseflesh pebbled every inch of her ivory skin.

"Wait, wait," Sam replied, shushing her, "Just...just don't move for a moment. Please."

Miranda stood there alternating between looking uncomfortable and thoroughly irritated. She had her back to the sun at the perfect angle so it didn't blind Sam to look at her. All it did was place a halo of golden light upon her lithe body.

She was radiant.

"I wish you could see you the way I do," Sam said as she wiped at her eyes, "You're so...perfect."

Miranda gave her a smile and it was pure: innocence and love, and it made Sam's heart ache to look upon it.

"Does that mean I can come under the blankets now?" Miranda asked, breaking the other girl out of her reverie.

"What? Shit, sorry, yes, yes," she beckoned the shivering girl onto her lap and promptly wrapped the blankets around them both.

"Is this exhibitionist streak of yours going to be an ongoing thing?" Miranda asked wryly.

Sam just smiled and smoothed the girl's dark hair before nuzzling close in; resting her chin on the other girl's shoulder.

Miranda leaned back into Sam's embrace. She could feel the other girl's full breasts and stiffened nipples like two points of searing heat entering her body and despite the warmth, she shivered.

"I just needed to be...out. Just...out of that place for a little while," Sam trailed kisses up along one curve of her throat and down the other; taking moments to suck at a particularly tantalizing bit or to press her warm tongue against a goose bump.

"Ohhhh."

Sam cupped both of the other girl's breasts and began to massage them, running her fingers along every inch of her; tracing the textured skin of her aureole in languid, circular movements before flicking a fingertip across Miranda's nipples.

Miranda gasped as she felt the other girl ply her skills upon her stiffened buds. She would pet, gently, before taking and pulling gently or twisting. She would palm the girl's petite breasts in her hands, squeezing and rubbing her thumb against the hardened pink tips.

"I love your tits," Sam hissed into Miranda's ear. She gripped both in her hands, squeezed and pulled them up flush against the girl's chest, possessively, "I really, really do."

Miranda just moaned in pleasure. She folded one arm over Sam's in her own gesture of possession while her other hand tried to reach behind her to gain access to the girl's thighs.

"I can't...reach you," Miranda groaned in frustration.

"You're not supposed to."

And with that, Sam released one of Miranda's breasts, slid her hand down her stomach and delved her fingers deep into her pulsing core.

Miranda's eyes shot open wide, she lurched forward and would have fallen over had Samantha not had a very firm grasp upon the girl.

"What do I--?"

"Wriggle," was Sam's only instruction.

Miranda began to rock back and forth against her lover's fingers. Confusion soon melted into pleasure and her eyes became slits of delight. She brought one hand up to clasp her own breast, squeezing it tightly and flicking her nipple, causing a cascade of ecstasy to coast through her body.

"Is this...," Miranda asked breathlessly, "...doing anything for you, Sam?"

Miranda's answer was Samantha's mons grinding up into her derriere. It left behind the sensation of sticky warmth.

"It does when you're not busy deconstructing the moment!"

"But how— " the rest of the Asian girl's words were cut off as Sam slid a third finger up inside her, curling her fingers as her thumb began to tease her clit out of hiding.

"Think of it as a collaborative lap dance: grind and be ground."

Miranda established a rhythm: she thrust forward into Sam's nimble fingers as they worked their way in and out of her body; she felt her clit swell under Sam's thumb and the things her lover was doing made her whole body tremble.

She then ground back into Sam, pressing her ass against the other girl; writhing and rotating until she found the place and pace that made her lover cry out again and again, like waves crashing upon the shore.

"Oh God, Sammy, Sam, I can't—!" Miranda gasped as she began to convulse; her cleft squeezing Sam's fingers tightly as she continued her ministrations. The scent of her filled the air; they could almost taste it as she spasmed and shivered in the throes of orgasm.

Sam gently extracted her fingers from her lover's body, kissing her bare back, "Love you, Miri."

As Miranda finished panting, she realized something:

Sam hadn't cum.

"Chigau!" Miranda growled.

Sam looked over at her, "I don't think I know—"

Then Miranda leapt from the girl's lap, spun, dropped to her knees, parted Sam's thighs and drove her tongue deep into the woman's body.

"FUCK!" Sam practically yelled; she didn't bother covering herself; the blankets had been a casualty of Miranda's sudden sexual frenzy. Instead, she gripped the arms of her wheelchair, white-knuckled, as she hung on for dear life and prayed to God that her lover wasn't about to finish the job the car had started and completely paralyze her.

Miranda's fingernails dug into Sam's thighs almost to the point of pain as the girl pressed her mouth against the girl's wet folds; bringing her tongue first up one side and then down the other in languid strokes.

"Miri...," Sam cooed as her head lolled back in the California sun, one hand running through her lover's dark locks, her other hand alternating between her breasts, squeezing and caressing them sending bolts of pleasure through her.

Miranda, however, was incomparable; she licked and sucked, drinking in the taste of her lover's nectar. Sam's clit was swollen and Miranda wasted no time in making that her entire world.

"Oh my God!" Sam shrieked, she almost jumped out of her chair, as if she'd sat on a tack and the hand atop Miranda's head resisted the urge to ram the girl's face forwards. She was nearly delirious with rapture; every touch of Miranda's tongue was a study in euphoria; every strand of Miri's hair ran through Sam's fingers was like the finest silk. Everything was heightened; she felt her awareness, her experience of this instant crest.

Miranda plunged her tongue deep into Sam and it was all over.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" she cried out as an orgasm avalanched its way through her body: her nerves felt kissed by lightning as her brain tried and failed to process this feeling. It was something far more primal than any kind of higher thinking could comprehend and they defied scrutiny or comparison.

Sam continued to shake for several minutes; Miranda would contribute the occasional caress with her tongue, to prolong things; but finally the blonde-haired girl was forced to push the other girl away from the object of her fixation.

"Oh fuck," Sam panted, "Oh God, fuck."

Miranda simply kneeled by her lover's legs, the pale curve of her derriere not quite touching the ground as she perched on the balls of her feet like some sort of magnificent beast. Neither girl attempted to cover themselves as both attempted to catch their breath.

"You know," Sam panted, "we should get dressed. The morning commute is going to be starting soon. I'd hate for the girls here," she lifted her breasts for emphasis, "to cause a major pile up and ruin everyone's commute."

Miranda smirked at that and rose to face her lover. By now, the sun had risen to the point that she was strongly backlit, causing Sam to squint and shield her eyes when addressing her.

"You sure you want to go back there?" Miranda asked.

"No," Sam replied, "not really."

"We could just...go, you know?" the dark-haired girl hazarded.

"With me naked?"

"We have blankets"

"A poor substitute," Sam sighed and looked her lover square in the eye, "Could you leave now?"

A beat.

"Could you?"

"No and neither could you Miri; so sack up."

Miranda made a face as she crouched to grab the blankets off the ground. Shaking the dirt from them, she granted Sam as much modesty as possible while doing the same for herself with the other.

"And somewhere, a dead person with a basic understanding of anatomy and the human language is rotating in their grave."

Sam laughed as she tucked the blanket around her, "By the way, Miri, I meant to ask; what does 'Chigau' mean?"

"It means 'no way'," a Cockney voice informed her.

"Shit!" Sam nearly capsized trying to spin around as Miranda dropped low to the ground, keeping Sam's wheelchair between her and Grey as she made certain the blanket was covering was much as possible.

"Grey! Hi! Ummm." Sam's brain went into lock, "How long have you been there?"

"Somewhere between the appetizer and the main course," he replied evenly. A new pair of mirrored Ray-Bans covered his eyes and he was dressed in a white t-shirt, tan overcoat, and black pants. He was not, however, wearing shoes, Miranda noticed. She flushed scarlet and she called out,

"How did you--?"

"After last night, what the hell else would you be doing?"

Sam turned to address her beau, "He's got us there."

Miranda rolled her eyes as Grey tossed away a burned down cigarette and lit up a new one.

"I didn't hear you come out."

"Might have something to do with your ears being clogged with extract of snatch?"

"'Extract of...I like that," Sam commented, "Thinking I'll have that embroidered on a pillow."

Grey just took a long pull off his cigarette and turned away from them.

"If you've finished playing 'The Game of Flats' and have moved on to deciding whether or not you are, in fact, hanging about; the door's unlocked, the kettle's on and your breakfast is getting cold."

"Breakfast?!" Sam blurted out; jerking her head around to give Miranda a shocked look as Grey wordlessly reentered the building. "When...how?" she took a moment to find her voice.

"You do know that booze and cigarettes don't actually qualify as 'food' right?"

She gave Miri a quizzical look, "And how did he know about--?"

"He assumes the worst when it comes to human behavior," Miranda sighed and rubbed her forehead, she could already feel what she was coming to term as "A Grey-ache" setting in, "And he's not usually wrong."

"Charming."

"Yeah, tell me about," Miranda looked furtively past Sam, "Are we sure he's gone?"

"Yeah, why?" Sam frowned.

"I'm clinging to a few shreds of modesty here."

Sam guffawed, "Hell Miri, he's already seen me naked."

"Well he hasn't seen me naked and I intend to keep it that way."

"Naked or not, I've just got to see what this guy considers breakfast material."

*********

They defied the darkness of the apartment with their laughter as they made their way across the threshold. They were simultaneously trying to keep their blankets in place, maneuver their way down the almost pitch-black hallway and not die from hysterical fits of laughter. They had just done something crazy, reckless, and positively indecent.

They had loved every second of it.

However, when Miranda saw Grey, regarding them coolly, her laughter became a cough as every nerve in her body lit up.

He was on the far side of the room, facing the door seated on his cot; his back resting against the stone wall and his legs drawn up around him smoking a fresh cigarette with one hand and drinking something clear, from a glass held in the other.

She was surprised to see that he was not wearing his sunglasses and a sudden image gripped her imagination as she took in the sight of him. He was crouched like a predator, his jacket flared around him like wings with smoke curling around his nostrils with his mismatched green eyes shining emerald and jade in the burning white light of the lantern.

A dragon.

Miranda gulped; an attempt to swallow past a dry throat: it would help if she could decide whether she was intensely afraid or incredibly aroused. It would have helped if she didn't enjoy feeling them both.

"Have you said your goodbyes to the light?" his tone bounced between bemusement and sarcasm.

"You promised food?" Sam demanded, breaking Miranda's reverie.

Grey gestured towards the far end of the room: there were two paper plates and cups to go with it sitting on the floor.

"Wow, a regular Zagat candidate," grumbled Sam as she wheeled over and peered at the food, "What is it?"

"Bangers and mash," the man replied.

"Translation?"

"Sausage and mashed potatoes," Miranda answered, "Standard English breakfast."

"Have the English never heard of strawberry waffles?"

"That would be Holland, my dear, not England," she replied as she bent down (carefully) to gather the plates from the floor.

"Terrific," Sam sighed, but took the plate Miranda offered and took up a plastic spoon to dig into the mashed potatoes with gusto.

"Hey!" she cried out, "These don't suck!"

A sudden whump right next to her caused her to nearly drop her plate.

"Get dressed," Grey demanded, gesturing at their overnight bag, "Both of you."

"Can we finish--?"

Grey had already turned away from them and left, resuming his place in the far corner of the room, upon his cot.

"Ugh!" Sam growled.

"Apparently, when he finished with cooking school, he decided not to bother with finishing school," Miranda commented around a mouthful of sausage. It really was good. "At least the man seems to know his way around a spice rack."

"That appears to be the only 'rack' that catches his interest. He's got two hot, naked, chicks and all he can do is get pissy and demand they get dressed. Fucking weird," she took a few swallows of tea from her cup: black tea, cut with milk and sugar.

Miranda had just finished the last of her tea and was apparently taking a moment, "Not so weird..." Miranda commented, her violet eyes taking a faraway look.

"Oh no," Sam pushed aside her plate and gripping the other girl's hand in hers, frowning in consternation; had the oddest sensation of a cold draft across her back, which in a room of solid concrete with no windows, would be impossible.

"What?" Miranda asked.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't. Whatever you're planning, don't and for God's sake whatever you plan on doing, in the name of all that is good and sane, don't!"

Miranda said nothing further except to peer past Sam at Grey,

"I wish he'd give us some privacy," she grumbled.

"Sweetie that man couldn't care less. Helen of Troy couldn't get peak that man's interest. I assure you, he's got no interest on peeping on you," she shivered and looked about, "Hey, do you feel a draft?"