Jay Friday
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The Thaumaturge [Chapter 7: Rapid Exchanges]
🕑 Added 2025-03-03 16:22:34 +0000 UTCAuthors Note: A poll is going up alongside this chapter, so obviously make sure you read this first, then please take a moment to vote in the poll!
---
We both realized that it had gotten quite late, but Lauren wanted to make me that teleportation artifact before I left. I agreed. It felt even more important in the wake of a kidnapping attempt.
She took a deep breath, obviously trying to put the fight with the were-lions behind her. "Great. You can watch if you like. Give me your phone." She held out a hand, peremptorily.
"Uh...why?"
She smiled. "I mean, I can enchant a magic wand for you to wave around if you want, but it's probably easier just to put it onyour phone. Unlock it, please."
"Oh...um, okay, I guess." I pulled out my phone -- I had five unanswered text messages from my roommates, but I ignored them, and unlocked it for her.
"So...this is how it'll work..." Lauren set the phone down on the kitchen counter. She pulled out the little journal she'd made some notes in, set it next to her phone. She'd asked about my height and weight, whether I was right or left-handed, that sort of thing. It was all there in very tidy, legible script.
I realized that this was the first time that I knew someone was about to do magic. Up to this point, when Viv and Diana had used magic, I hadn't been expecting it. I leaned forward, trying to make sure I didn't miss it.
She swiped through the apps on my home screen. "What's your favorite ride-sharing app? You've got a few here..."
"Uh...that one." I indicated one of the apps.
"Okay, cool." She opened the app, put in her address as one of the saved locations, and closed out of the app.
Then she went and got the keycard she used to enter the building and her apartment, a piece of mail -- her monthly rent statement, it looked like? -- and a glossy brochure that, after a moment, I realized was an advertisement for the apartment complex she lived in.
She pulled out a book of matches and scratched one, lighting it.
"Uh, what're...?" As I watched, she held the match up to the corner of the rent statement above my phone. It slowly caught, and began burning.
Lauren began muttering, a barely audible chant. I craned in, trying to catch the words. "The price is paid. The price is paid. The price is paid."
The flame slowly consuming the rent statement was odd. For one thing, it was smokeless. For another, it was more intensely yellow than a normal flame -- not enough to be truly visually disturbing, but certainly off, somehow, not as orange-yellow as it should be.
She set it down on the kitchen counter, still burning, and picked up the brochure. The cover featured an attractive couple in a brightly lit, spacious-looking apartment, with the words WELCOME HOME NEIGHBOR emblazoned on it in big, friendly letters.
"Welcome home. Welcome home. Welcome home." Lauren's soft, droning monotone began again as she lit the brochure on fire. This time, the flame was an odd, blueish-green. She set that down on the table.
I watched in silence.
Then she picked up the keycard.
"Safe and sound. Safe and sound. Safe and sound."
As she uttered the new chant, the keycard -- instead of melting or blackening, like the laws of physics might lead you to believe -- also burst into flame, a deep, blood red glow. After it caught, she set it down as well. The three objects formed a triangle around my phone, slowly burning up, an odd, smokeless display.
As they burned down to nothing, Lauren whispered, "The price is paid. Welcome home. Safe and sound."
Nothing moved, but there was an unpleasant, disorienting, perspective shift for a moment -- as if my phone was suddenly far away, at the bottom of a very deep well, even though it was still sitting on the counter. The effect was gone in a split second, but it was enough to make me queasy.
"Okay, you're all set." Lauren sounded pleased.
"Didn't...you need that keycard?" There was nothing left of any of the objects she'd set on fire, not even ashes.
She shrugged. "I have an extra."
"So that...that was it?" My phone looked the same.
She gave me a look. "Oh? Was it not a satisfying performance? Not exciting enough?"
I wasn't sure if she was making a dig at my bedroom performance. "I, uh, no--"
She waved me to silence. "Look, here's how it works. You have two options -- the quick way and the slower way. For the slower way..." She pulled up the ride-sharing app on my phone. There was a button in the lower corner of the app I had never seen before: EMERGENCY RIDE HOME. She tapped it.
The typical screen that came up when you booked a ride appeared. A message, saying Sharing your driver details in 60 seconds... began counting down.
"If you do it this way, you can cancel the teleport any time until this timer expires. I figured that might be handy in case you're about to do something incredibly stupid. Your other option is just your standard emergency-SOS shortcut on your phone, hitting the lock button five times or whatever. Normally that immediately dials 911. Now it teleports you to my apartment instead. No timer on that one, so I can't demonstrate it for you without burning out the magic."
I tried to imagine how this worked, in practice. "So...that spell...what, redesigned the rideshare app to add that button and reprogrammed the emergency call functionality on my phone? Lauren, that's amazing, how did..."
Now she looked gratified at my appreciation. "No, no. It doesn't...mess with things in the detailed way you're describing. It's more like I..." she hesitated, obviously trying to find the words "...changed the reality around your phone. It's already a tool you use in emergencies, and a tool you use to catch a ride home. I just...tweaked things, so that it's supposed to give you a ride home for free in emergencies. I was clear about where home is, and gave it the power to send you there; the magic just kind of takes care of the interface/user experience stuff."
I blinked. "And...how much power did this take? Like, as much as I just gave you, or...?"
She nodded. "Good question. This was a big one; you picked the most magically expensive of the three options, and I made it even more costly by not doing some involved, hours-long ceremony. This took everything you just gave me, and then some." And she did, I admit, look tired -- it might've been the late hour, but I thought there was a tightness around her eyes, a weariness in her movements, that hadn't been there just a few moments ago.
She flashed me a smile. "Ordinarily I'm supposed to get a cut of the thaumaturgical energy to keep for myself; this took more than I got. But I don't mind; I thought I'd do you a solid, to show you can trust me. I'm on your team, Matt, even if I didn't tell you everything at first. Really."
I nodded. That hadn't been a question in my mind -- not after she'd stood up for me with the werelions -- but this cemented the affection I was feeling for her. "Thank you. Seriously."
She gave me a hug. "Okay. You gotta go. It's super late and I have stuff to do tomorrow."
I hugged her back. "Same. Thanks, Lauren. For everything. I'll see you soon."
---
It was well after midnight by the time I left Lauren's apartment. It was a warm summer night, but -- walking the dark streets back to my apartment alone -- I admittedly felt afraid.
Someone had just tried to kidnap me. Presumably to tie me up in their basement and use me for my thaumaturgy.
And the kidnappers in question were evidently lion-people.
I spent the whole way back looking over my shoulder, studying every drunk couple stumbling home from a bar, every group of friends laughing with each other, even the guy standing and smoking a cigarette out in front of the QuikMart. Any of them could be...what? A potential supernatural creature, witch, or something else, who wanted to use me?
I had always felt fairly capable, and this was a safe area; I walked around at night mostly not even thinking about the potential for mugging. But the memory of Maya smoothly launching me over her shoulder, slamming me down flat on my back, had me feeling quite vulnerable. If Lauren hadn't been there...
Maybe this was how women felt walking alone at night. I realized I was subconsciously clutching my phone in my pocket, fingers on the button that would trigger the emergency dial. It at least helped to know that I had a way to get out of trouble.
The relief I felt when I pulled the door closed behind me in my own apartment was palpable. My roommates were all asleep, but the knowledge that they were here was comforting.
That comfort was almost immediately eclipsed by exhaustion. It had been an astonishingly busy day. Diana. Viv. Lauren. Werelions.
Twenty four hours ago, I had been dancing with Viv, trying to figure out what a thaumaturge was.
---
Monday morning. The first day of my summer classes, and I'd overslept. Blearily, I stumbled out of bed and started going through my morning routine.
Maybe it seems odd to you that I'd still go to class. But I didn't know what else to do, really. And from what I could tell, Diana, Viv, and Lauren all did more mundane things with their time, too. It wasn't spells and sorcery 24/7.
A truth that became almost immediately apparent when I got out of the shower and went into the living room.
"You look like hell. Why didn't you answer our texts last night?" Alyssa said flatly, eyeing me from the couch where she was eating some toast.
"I ended up, uh...out late." I said the words shortly. I had gotten their texts, but Lauren and I had been busy...and then I figured I was already on my way home. "And, uh, I didn't see them until I was headed home last night anyway, sorry."
"Out late? You were gone early too...we didn't see you at all yesterday, dude." Chris was at the table, the usual mountain of breakfast in front of the big man. He actually put his fork down to talk to me -- an unheard-of occurrence during breakfast.
I tried to let their concern warm my heart as opposed to irritating me. I couldn't tell them everything, obviously. "I, uh...actually ended up on two back-to-back dates, unexpectedly. First with the girl from last night and then the one from Friday."
"Yeah? Well, maybe give us a heads-up next time, Chris here was worried sick." Alyssa poked him in the ribs.
"First of all, Alyssa was the one who was ready to call the cops if you weren't here in the morning." He glared at her, then glanced back at me. "But for real, we were a little worried."
"Look, my bad, okay? Sorry. I'll, uh, text back sooner next time." I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. "I've just...been busy."
Alyssa gave me an annoyed look. "Yeah, we know. You were barely around all weekend. I mean, who even are these girls, anyway? You had better keep hanging out with us even though your dating life is apparently picking up."
I was about to give her a snarky reply, but I was preempted.
"Man, stop giving him the third degree. He's just living his life."
The three of us all paused. It was unusual for Sam to interject in our good-natured bickering.
If I haven't mentioned Sam much yet, it's because Sam made herself scarce. It was rare for Samantha to make appearances before noon at all. My third roommate, who had just appeared in the living room, was wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. Her black hair was up in a messy bun. She was short -- shorter than Alyssa, even -- and her dark eyes were furrowed in a scowl that we had all been the target of, at one point or another.
She could be a little irritable, to say the least.
Alyssa just sighed. "Fine, fine. I get it, Matt. Getting your rocks off is super important. Way more important than hanging out with your friends and roommates."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Alyssa. Anyway, I gotta go, or I'm gonna be late. I'll see you guys tonight!"
I grabbed a bagel and headed out the door.
---
I was rushing across campus, trying to make up for running late, when a familiar voice directed my way as I walked past caught my attention.
"You got lucky last night."
I practically skidded to a stop and turned.
It was Brooke -- the young woman I'd choked unconscious.
The would-be kidnapper.
Now that I didn't have the fight-or-flight response of the night before, I turned, and gave her a more honest once-over.
She was athletic and short, with blonde hair that was up in a practical ponytail. She was wearing a school-branded tank top and black leggings, and had a gym bag slung over one shoulder -- the build and attire of a cheerleader or gymnast or something, on her way to or from practice.
I almost did a double-take looking at her, now. Yeah, she looked fit, but she was small -- she couldn't weigh much more than a hundred pounds. The snarling violence last night, the takedown she'd hit me with, were completely incongruous with the woman in front of me now.
On the other hand...her green eyes were staring up at me, narrowed, with barely contained disgust and outrage painted across her pretty face. There were a few other women dressed similarly -- and wearing similar expressions -- behind her. Presumably teammates. Maybe...pridemates?
My hand slipped into my pocket, finger on the button I needed to press rapidly to trigger that emergency SOS call.
With the artifact in hand, I felt pretty safe. I decided that I wasn't going to be intimidated. "No, I didn't." I gave her a tight smile. "You should work on your technique. Maybe take a grappling class. You didn't know what you were doing."
One of the women behind her let out a sharp, offended intake of breath.
Brooke bared her teeth in an expression that, technically, met the definition of a smile. But it had a lot more in common with an apex predator letting another animal see just how big its fangs were. "Careful. A witch won't always be around to save you. Did you fuck her, after? Give her some power in exchange for protecting you?"
The animalistic rage in her voice was a little scary when I thought about how strong she was. But I knew backing down would be a mistake, would just mean she thought she could push me around.
So instead I laughed. "After what my friend did to you? You should be careful. You know that they just let people walk their dogs around freely, on campus? Corgis, terriers, even the occasional golden retriever, all roaming about. Some of them off-leash, even. Barking and everything. I'd watch out."
Brooke glowered at me. "Your friend? Hah. The witches don't even like you." Her voice was a furious, hissed whisper. "You're just some loser. They're just using you. You think they'd even know what your name is, if you couldn't give them power? You're nothing to them."
Ouch.
That rang true in a way I didn't expect. But I tried not to show it. She was just a fucking bully.
I rolled my eyes. "Some loser who put you to sleep. What's that make you?"
In the way that bullies tend to, though, she seemed to realize she was hitting a nerve. "Or maybe you like it, huh? Getting drained to give them power? Do they get you off quick?" she spat the words at me.
That stopped me in my tracks. I hesitated, didn't reply.
Her eyes glimmered with malice. "I bet they do. Because for them, it's all a means to an end. They don't like fucking you. It's just about getting the power out of you as quickly as possible. And, I mean, there's no way a guy like you is gonna make it last for them."
I knew this was just mean-girl bullshit, but it still stung. I did cum quickly.
Triumph blossomed into a cruel smile on her face. "But hey, maybe you're such a loser that you don't mind trading your self-respect for thirty seconds of fun. Who cares if they even like you if you're getting off, right?"
In spite of what I was thinking, I kept the smile on my face and managed to rally. "You sure have thought a lot about how I fuck, haven't you, Brooke? I guess I should've figured, when you tackled me last night. Y'know, I told Clint I wouldn't cut deals, but maybe if you beg nicely..."
Brooke practically trembled with rage. For a moment, I thought she was actually going to attack me, and my fingers tensed on the emergency-teleport-button. But then one of the women behind her put a hand on her shoulder, and she seemed to calm herself down.
She gave me a feral grin. "Oh, if I ever want to trade my dignity and thirty seconds of my time for some power, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then, you'd better not step out of line while you're in our territory, or being a two-pump chump will be the least of your worries." One of the women behind her giggled.
"See ya, Matt." She turned and walked off, the rest of her little pack trailing after her.
What a fucking bitch.
I made sure not to watch her toned butt shimmy as she walked away. I was now late for class anyway. I turned and got moving.
The exchange had made me realize something. I had expected that finally getting some answers -- what it meant to be a thaumaturge, those texts between Lauren and Viv, all of it -- would make my life make more sense.
But instead I just had more questions. Foremost among them: did these women even actually like me?
I hoped so. Lauren, Viv, Diana -- they all seemed nice. I liked them. But they were kind of using me, weren't they?
And Brooke's comment about my stamina was certainly on the mark. Maybe it was a feature of thaumaturges...or maybe she'd just been throwing insults until one stuck.
And then I was at the studio, and there wasn't any more time for thinking about that -- I was already a minute late for a class I was actually looking forward to.
---
My course load had always been an odd mix as an art and engineering double major.
But I was glad to be taking Elements of Figure Sculpture. I had done some metalworking sculpture already; I liked the materials science aspect of sculpture, and the way physics really mattered when you were building something big. But I didn't have a good mastery for detail at all, let alone human figure and composition.
I was the last student to arrive. It was a small class; eight of us, and the professor -- who watched me walk in with a kindly smile, and glanced down at a clipboard, obviously confirming that all her students were now here.
"Welcome everyone; I think our last student just walked in, so get settled, please, because we're going to get started. You're in Art 333, Elements of Figure Sculpture -- if for some reason you wandered into the campus's sculpture studio looking for a biology class, now would be the time to leave quietly." The professor winked at us. A girl next to me snorted and several others laughed.
"I'm your professor; my name is Elana Callis. You can call me Professor Callis or Elana; I don't especially mind which."
I had never met her in person, but Elana Callis was a big part of the reason I had wanted to take this course.
I liked her art. I had seen a few of her larger pieces around campus. They were varied, each interesting.
The Giraffe: A standing newborn giraffe calf, in bronzework, the hues of the metal replicating the giraffe's pattern of creamy browns. She'd somehow captured the unsteadiness, the spindly, wobbly legs, perfectly, in spite of it being cast in metal.
Night Wonder: A granite statue of a teenager, neck craned to staring up at the sky, openmouthed bewilderment on her face, a backpack -- also carved granite -- dangling from one hand, forgotten.
Bighearted: In front of the Life Sciences building, a glass-encased replica of a blue whale's heart -- detailed, life-sized at five feet tall, and carved in three dimensions out of white oak wood.
She had an incredible faculty for capturing fluid movement, curvilinear shapes, and expression in solid, unmoving, three-dimensional material. I admired it immensely. I wanted to do that, too, one day.
Although that one of my personal artistic heroes was in front of me, she wasn't what I expected.
I watched as she paced back and forth a little, outlining the plan for the summer semester. Then she made us do a round of introductions -- with only a handful of us, it only took a moment. Then she started pointing out various pieces of equipment in the lab. The first fifteen minutes of class were a safety lecture about the manifold ways you could injure or maim yourself in a space that included a cupola for molten metal, various powered grinders and chisels for stonecutting, and woodworking blades, sanders, and saws.
I had been using the lab for a few months now, and didn't pay an enormous amount of attention to the safety overview. Instead, I watched her.
She wasn't what I expected. She was maybe in her forties. Big brown eyes, framed by a pair of stylish glasses. The beginning of laugh lines and crow's feet gave her pretty features a happy, mature kindness. Long brown hair went down over her shoulders to her mid-back in waves. She was short, and curvaceous -- a black t-shirt that read "I THROW MUD" in big letters stretched across her chest, with several vases, urns, and other clay pottery silhouettes scattered across the rest of the shirt. A pair of jeans clung to round hips and thick thighs.
She was attractive, don't get me wrong. Just not in the artsy, intellectual way I would've figured; very down-to-earth. Like the hot mom that lived down the block from you, maybe.
The next fifteen minutes were a foundational talk on what she called subtractive process -- art you created through techniques that removed material, as she mostly did, as opposed to adding or shaping material. I paid more attention here; I hadn't done much of this, just some modest metalworking, and it had some interesting implications.
"Now, for today's praxis, we're doing some sketching. We'll start with sculpting next session. I want to get a sense for your eye for faces and expression. Your sense of proportion. Your process. Sketch a portrait, please; any subject is fine. Charcoal or pencil is fine, just no color, please; that's not the focus for today. Also, you're not being graded, this is just so I can start to see your style and areas where I might be able to help, so please, just do whatever feels right. Focus on facial details -- nose and mouth shape, eyes, that sort of thing. Perspective, lighting."
There were easels set up for us; we all dutifully pulled out charcoal or pencils and began sketching. I paused for a moment, deciding on the subject. I had done my roommates in the past, some girls I'd dated.
One of the witches, I figured. It might make a decent gift, after all.
If...if they actually liked me, of course. If this wasn't just a transactional relationship to them.
[JF note: another poll is going up to accompany this story! Not the biggest choice Matt will ever make, but a relevant one, nonetheless.]
I put that thought out of my mind, made a decision, and started sketching.
I was focused on making as much progress as I could before Professor Callis came by. I could hear her quietly murmuring advice and comments, coaching on technique, making little observations as she made the rounds. I knew we weren't being graded, but I still wanted to impress her. I was pretty happy with where I was when finally, from behind me, I heard a murmured, "Well well. Matt, wasn't it? What a subject choice. Is this your girlfriend?"
I hadn't expected her to ask. "I, uh, no Professor, just a...friend."
"A friend? If you say so, young man. None of my friends draw my hair and eyes like that. Or my lips, for that matter. Good gracious."
She laughed; it was a gentle, full of authentic amusement. "But anyway, I like what you're doing with the set of the mouth, there, and this little bit of shading over here to suggest the direction of light...very clever. It'll serve you well when we get to sculpting; the same principle behind using dark lines to create highlights is how creating negative space to build surfaces in sculpture. works"
Between the teasing and the praise, I was blushing. "Um, thanks, Professor."
"Now, let me show you a technique that gets you a slightly different effect. We're going to take the pencil here, and extend this line a little bit, focusing on where the shadows are..." she put her hand on my drawing hand, the skin of her arm brushing smoothly across mine. Her fingers were warm, soft, and confident, as she guided me, made slight adjustments. "Angle the tip a little more," she murmured in my ear.
This felt...oddly intimate. I realized, with embarrassment, that my heart was now racing, her warm voice in my ear, soft, assured hand on my own.
"Good...now, more pressure...c'mon, more...harder than that...yes! Good!"
Well, I won't say that the sound of her, saying that in my ear, didn't conjure some lewd thoughts. But my focus shifted from the suggestive words to the interesting results of the technique -- I had never tried what she was coaching me through, and I could immediately see the benefits. "Huh, thanks Professor Callis. I've never done that before."
"Sure. Call me Elana, please."
I turned to glance at her, surprised -- she had said she didn't care what we called her. Her eyes, behind those glasses, were locked on mine. Deep, dark pools. There were depths to them, but there was a kindness in them too, a gentle, solid warmth, that just kind of pulled you in, surrounded you...
I abruptly realized I had been silently staring into her eyes for...well, I wasn't sure how long, exactly, but way too long. "I, uh, sure, I'll do that. Thanks, Elana. I've never used that before."
She nodded, and gave me that smile again. "Happy to help. Just make sure to push harder than you think you'd need to. The angle of the drawing tip makes this one of those times when it helps to really to put some muscle into it." She gave me another wink, and moved on to help another student.
Only then did I realize that at some point during her coaching, I had gotten hard. Like, really hard. I doubted anyone had noticed, but it was embarrassing, especially in the wake of Brooke's observations about my self control.
Now, as you might expect, it occurred to me that Elana might be a witch. She wasn't in the photo with Viv, Lauren, Diana and the rest of the coven; I had studied that photo enough times to feel confident about that without even looking. But she could still be a witch. Or maybe she was something else. She didn't seem like a werelion -- not nearly feral enough...
Or maybe she's just a kind art professor, you're misinterpreting technique coaching for flirting, and you just need to get your dick under control.
I was suspicious and wary of everyone and everything. For a moment, I regretted not taking Lauren up on creating that artifact that would've let me tell if someone else was magical. It would've at least clued me in.
But then I wouldn't have been nearly as safe when Brooke had confronted me on the way to class.
Sighing, trying to put it all out of my mind, I turned my attention back to working on the portrait.
---
The rest of class was mostly uneventful, with one exception.
Right before she dismissed us, Elana said, "One more thing. Tonight, I'm opening a summer exhibition at a gallery a friend owns. It's just off campus. A few of my newest pieces will be on display. There's a cocktail reception for the opening, and I encourage you all to show up. Now, I'm afraid the dean told me that it was deeply unethical for me to even suggest the idea of offering you all extra credit to attend one of my shows..."
I cracked a grin at that. Elana continued, "...But I think it's good and healthy for young artists to be in community with other artists, and I've got some comp tickets for anyone who'd like to come -- there's good food, and I doubt they'll be carding at the bar. And apparently bribing you all to show up with appetizers and booze is perfectly acceptable." She gave us all a wink, to appreciative laughter.
I grabbed a ticket on the way out.
---
I left the studio, and pulled out my phone -- one of Elana's class policies was cell phones had to be put away during class, and I had a slew of texts.
Vivian: I hear you had quite a night. I did too. We should compare notes. You still around this afternoon like we talked about? Lunch?
Lauren: Hey. I'm working a shift at the library this afternoon. I'll be at the special collections desk from 2 until, like, 6 or so. Stop by any time, it's slow over the summer. There are a few things I'd like to show you.
Diana: Meet up sometime this week? I have a problem you could help me with.
I responded to all three of them, asking Diana when she was free, telling Viv that we could meet for lunch, replying to Lauren that I'd stop by.
My new social life...Sex life? Magical life?...well, whatever it was, it was going to keep me busy. And now I had an art gallery exhibition to go to tonight, now. But that meant I should probably try to keep some evenings free later in the week to hang out with my roommates, so they didn't get too weird about things...
Maybe it was just that I'd been up too late for a few nights in a row, but even thinking about all this made me feel exhausted.
So much for a relaxing summer.
---
"Your place is pretty nice!"
Viv was in my apartment, sitting at the dining room table in my common area. We had picked up sandwiches on the way to my apartment, and agreed on another trade: first more answers and information for me, then more power for her.
Seeing her actually here, sitting at my dining room table was weird, though.
First of all, I rarely brought girls home. So Viv -- gorgeous, in another pair of tight jean shorts and a baby blue crop top, looking about as we ate -- was disconcerting enough.
Beyond that, having a witch sitting where my roommates and I had eaten breakfast two hours ago felt like two worlds colliding.
But I had known it would feel like that, and I figured I needed to get comfortable with it. Sooner or later Alyssa or Chris or Sam would see me around campus with one of the witches or whatever. And I didn't want to be awkward about it when it happened.
I knew none of them were home -- we'd compared schedules for the summer, and they were all at classes or summer jobs until later -- and so I thought this was a good way to ease into it.
"Uh, thanks. So...what were you doing last night, anyway?"
She started talking rapidly between bites. "Glad you asked; I wasn't sure if Lauren had explained it. We've got a truce with the were-lions. They consider the university their territory, and -- ordinarily -- wouldn't let witches operate on it. But we do a ritual for them every now and then, in exchange for them leaving us alone."
"Okay...so you were performing the ritual for them last night? What ritual?"
She finished her sandwich, uncrossing and recrossing her legs in a way that had me staring, briefly.
"Well, they've got this...totem. It's...let's see, how would Lauren explain it, something like..." Viv shifted to a neutral, slightly British, academic tone. "The totem is a physical manifestation of the pack's presence and unity, but also an important conduit to their past, connecting the pack to ancestral guidance, traditions, and knowledge. Its strength directly correlates to the size of their territory and their ability to control it."
I laughed. I could imagine Lauren delivering that speech. "Straight out of a nature documentary. So...what's the ritual do for the totem?"
"The totem kind of like...marks their territory, I guess. It exerts an influence -- an aura, Lauren would probably say -- that helps keep other supernatural creatures at bay. Or at least keeps them from using the university as their hunting grounds. We obviously benefit from that. But the university is a lot of area for a pack of their size to control. So we amp up its power through a spell. But the spell wanes over time, it has to be periodically refreshed."
"Ah. How often do you refresh it?"
Her smile faltered. "Not as often as I should. It's taxing. There are fewer of us than there used to be, and that means we're not keeping the totem as strong as it used to be. Sometimes things slip through the cracks. Clint is constantly on my case about it, says we aren't holding up our end of the deal."
There are fewer of us than there used to be. The sentence rang in the air.
Then she brightened back up. "But now that you're around, maybe I'll have enough energy to replenish it better over time. Assuming, y'know, you're game...?" She trailed off suggestively.
I gave her a smile. "Oh, you know I'm game." But I wasn't quite done asking questions. "When you say fewer of us...you mean fewer witches?"
Viv nodded, glum again. "Yeah. Last year, the coven...well, we kind of had a big fight. Now it's just me and Lauren."
"What...what happened?" I didn't use Diana's name -- as far as I knew, Viv and Lauren still didn't even know I had met her, and I wasn't sure this was the moment I wanted to break it to Viv. But Diana had said Viv had asked her to do something bad, and people had gotten hurt.
Viv waved the topic away with one hand, a grimace on her face. "I made a mistake. A bad one. I...don't really want to talk about it, Matt."
I was silent for a moment. I didn't know if she didn't trust me, or if she was embarrassed, or...
She leaned forward, earnest. "...Anyway, the point is, it's just me and Lauren now, and we could really use your help. The truce with the werelions includes you, now, and especially with your help, we'll be able to keep us all safe from anything else that slips past their totem's influence. So...now help?" She gave me a winning smile.
But I wanted to keep talking. "So we can trust the lions? I ran into one of the lions from last night today, and she, uh...seemed...well, like a threat, to be honest."
"Probably one of the younger ones, huh? Like our age, a student?" I nodded, and she pursed her lips. "Yeah. They're...emotional, pretty prone to fits of rage, displays of dominance, that sort of thing. I think it comes with their other supernatural gifts. It evens out a bit when they get older, but not much. Clint usually keeps them all in check. Let me or Lauren know if they're giving you trouble, though."
She stood up. "Now...we've talked a lot. I'm really drained from last night, Matt. I want to do something else..." she trailed off and stood up, then slipped between my chair and the dining room table, standing in front of me, so close she was almost straddling me.
The conversation with Brooke from this morning was at the forefront of my mind, though. Viv kept stopping the conversation, clearly focused on one thing. Was that all I was to Viv? A source of power?
"Viv, I..." I hesitated, trying to decide what to say.
"C'mon, Matt, I need to head out in like five or ten minutes, or I'll be late." Her smile turned mischievous, and then she flashed me, pulling the crop top out and up, revealing her tits. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and her tits -- full, tan, perfect -- dropped out, inches from my face.
Well, that was pretty convincing. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wanted to have sex with her.
I just...wanted her to want more from me than just a magical recharge, y'know?
Then Viv giggled. "I mean, I know it doesn't usually take long..."
I flushed red.
"...But we should probably get started, and you seem ready." She glanced pointedly down at my crotch -- my cock wasn't fully erect, but those big, perfect tits had a predictable effect on me, and I was getting there.
Viv's teasing wasn't mean-spirited, the way Brooke's had been. But it sort of implied the same thing, didn't it? That I was just a pawn, whose purpose was to be drained, easily and conveniently. No self-control of my own.
Well, screw that. I'd agreed to the trade, but I didn't like how...taken-for-granted this felt. Both that I wanted this, and that it wouldn't take long...just like Brooke had said.
I felt resentful, contrary. I was going to make Viv late, I decided.
"You definitely get me ready. What did you have in mind?" I asked the question, casually.
I felt her lean closer, slide one of those long, tan thighs in between my legs, felt it warm and smooth against the bulge of my cock. "Mmm, I thought maybe I could use my hands today..." as she spoke, she bent over to look me in the eye. "We haven't done that yet..."
That sounded awesome. But I had already decided I was going to propose something different than what she wanted to do. I've got opinions too. "Actually...I was thinking we could do something else again..." I reached out and caressed one of her breasts. Fuck, her skin felt good.
She looked taken aback, but only for a moment. Then she flashed that megawatt smile again, and with amusement, said "Sure. I know how much you like them." She pulled the crop top off completely, tossing it to the side.
Then she knelt in front of me. "This'll be fastest, anyway." I could hear the eagerness in her voice as she started unbuckling my pants.
Even as I stared at the smooth, tan skin of her torso, the way those full tits tapered off to her smooth waist, I was simmering with resentment. This'll be fastest anyway. She was just so confident she'd get me off quickly. So confident I wanted this. It rankled. Yeah, I had been cumming quickly, and yeah, I wanted this, but she couldn't just assume that I would--
My concentration was broken as she freed my cock. I was hard -- the sight of her, kneeling in front of me, unbuckling my pants, had been more than enough, even with the misgivings I was feeling. She took my length in one hand and just nestled it in between her tits, looking up at me. "Mmm. I like how you feel against my chest."
"Y-yeah?" I was trying to focus on keeping my arousal under control. I didn't want to get too excited too quickly.
She looked up at me. "Yeah. I mean, you've got a nice cock, Matt." She squeezed her tits together around me. She wasn't sliding them up and down my length yet, but their warm embrace had me leaking precum anyway.
I tried to keep my breathing even. Make her late. Make her work for it. You're not just some convenient energy battery for her.
"For one thing, it's thick," she whispered seductively, staring down at my shaft, sandwiched between her tits. "You felt really good inside me, last night." She looked up at me, the mischief sparkling in her blue eyes. "I want to try that again, sometime, Matt. Sometime soon."
I twitched, leaking more. She certainly sounded sincere, like she had enjoyed it, that it wasn't just some transactional power transfer for her. That helped.
But I still wanted to prove to myself that Brooke's comments weren't true. I had some self-control.
Even if I was already leaking precum all over Viv.
And then, pulling on her own nipples, Viv started moving her tits. Not much, just kind of...rubbing them around me a bit, lubricating my length, spreading the slick precum all over the valley of her tits.
But the sensation of her big, soft tits sliding against me, was incredible. I moaned, and looked down, watching the way her full breasts shifted around my cock.
She smirked. "Does it feel as good as you remembered?"
I just nodded. I could feel the control I had wanted to bring to this encounter slipping.
"Lauren said you wrestled one of the werelions and actually came out on top...is that true?" Viv sounded intrigued.
"Yeah I...ah...I train in brazilian jiu jitsu," I confirmed. It was increasingly difficult to talk. To do anything besides just enjoy the sensations.
"Wow." She seemed genuinely taken aback. "Stupid, but brave of you. Lions are strong. Dangerous." She gave me an amused look. "I'm sure she was pissed. No wonder one of them found you today. What did she want?"
"She, uh..." I trailed off, not sure what to say. She told me you all are just using me? She called me a quick-cumming loser? Neither felt right.
Viv made a knowing, understanding sound. "She made fun of you, huh? Trying to reestablish dominance of the territory. You're covered by the truce, but they can still talk shit, so that's what they do. Like I said, they're into the whole pecking-order, alphas-and-betas animal-pack bullshit. What'd she say? It would've been whatever she thought would hit your confidence hardest. Something about your dick size, I bet." As she spoke, Viv started moving her tits in earnest.
"N-no..." I grunted out the answer automatically, and regretted it immediately. I should've changed the subject; her guess was already closer to the bullseye than I wanted. I didn't want to play twenty questions about this.
"No, huh? What, then? It would've been something about your masculinity, I figure. They're simple like that. Maybe about how you can't get hard? How you can't fuck properly? Or how you're a minute man? " She asked the series of questions, rapid-fire. With each question, her tits slid up and down my shaft. God, she was so good at this.
I didn't reply, just closed my eyes. I didn't really want to answer anyway, and I was trying to keep in control. "Fuck, Viv. You feel good," I moaned. I hoped she'd just focus on what was happening.
"Mmm," she acknowledged, "I'm glad. So...it was your stamina, huh?" She sounded simultaneously amused and sympathetic. "I'm not surprised. Those lions sense weakness like they can smell it or something. Maybe it's one of their supernatural gifts."
She was going even faster now. I was prepared for it -- not like on our first date, when only a few seconds of this treatment had sent me over the edge -- but it was still overwhelming. She knew just what to do, pressing her tits together with her hands to make the slick channel of her cleavage even tighter, her tits rippling along my length smoothly.
I opened my eyes, looking down at the way her full tits made my cock disappear. I still wanted to last.
Was trying to last.
But I could feel the orgasm racing towards me anyway.
"You're awfully quiet," Viv mused. She was composed, totally in control even as she relentlessly bounced her tits along the length of my cock. "Did what she said bother you?"
I shrugged. It was all I could muster in the moment, watching her tits shift and wobble around my cock, the orgasm about to sweep over me. I felt humiliated -- in spite of my best efforts, I was on the cusp of proving Brooke right, already.
Viv must've seen something on my face, though. The amusement disappeared from her smile -- it was all sympathy and seduction, now. "I don't want you thinking about her. I want you thinking about me. About how this feels...about how hard you're about to cum..."
She was right, I was about to cum. A few more pumps, and I could feel myself cresting over the edge. And she was right, I should be enjoying this...
And then Viv's eyes shifted. She glanced at the clock.
Exactly the way you might if jump-starting your magical batteries were taking a little longer than expected and you were worried you'd be a bit late.
Exactly the way you wouldn't, if you were actually emotionally engaged in what was happening.
"C'mon, cum for me, I want it," she murmured. "Show me how much you love my tits..."
That single little shift of her eyes made my heart sink. But my body didn't care; I was too close, she was far too good at pleasuring me with her tits. A few more enthusiastic, smooth, up-down motions of her breasts along my cock, and I crossed the point of no return.
With a grunt that became a groan, I exploded, my cock spasming, spurt after spurt of cum erupting across those big tits.
Physically, the orgasm was perfect. I came hard, and she used her tits, working me through it, cooing appreciatively as she watched me paint her chest.
But emotionally, I felt a flush of...loneliness.
Maybe Brooke was right. Maybe she was using me.
---
Two minutes later, Viv had finished cleaning herself up, was pulling her crop top back on. She gave me a smile. "Hey, look. I can tell what Brooke said got under your skin. Don't let it. Like I said, they've got a knack for saying just the right thing to take people down a peg. And personally, I think we're having lots of fun." She winked at me.
I forced a smile. "Yeah, thanks, Viv."
Viv probably likes that I cum quickly because it makes getting power from me take less time. It's not like she's doing this for her own pleasure anyway.
The bitter, insecure thought flitted through my mind before I could stop it.
She looked a little concerned -- I think she could tell my heart wasn't in it -- but she glanced at the clock again. "Okay, sorry, but I really do have to go. Look, we'll talk again soon, okay?"
She left.
I sat there for a long while.
I knew, rationally, that I was probably overreacting. Viv wasn't my girlfriend. She was a woman I'd been on...what, three dates with? I wasn't even sure of our interactions counted as dates. More like hookups. Of course she had other things going on. She was allowed to look at the clock.
And she was allowed to want magic from me. I liked her, wanted to help her.
But it still didn't feel good.
Comments
tinatickles
Loving this series. Love how all the witches have an incentive to drain him of his cum and magic. lol
roxas_duh
This story is getting more interesting by the minute! I love how you are able to put distinct characteristics to all your characters from their introductions. Can’t wait for more Brooke too
