Admissions 1.7: Emile
Welcome (back) to Europa University: Admissions! Quick links if you need 'em:
Content notes (chapter-specific):
- Mock knife play (no actual edged weapons + flesh tho)
- Undressing
- Breast and nipple play, including a trans man using this terminology and enjoying the experience very much (non-dysphoric)
- Biting (too hard)
- Sensory overwhelm
- Very brief memories of consensual rough sex and BDSM
- Going from "top drop" to "back on top" in record time
- Reorientation/renegotiation/reinitiation
Still. Breathe. Feel. Remember.
Cylie's words, echoing through his mind. Like he was as vast and empty a space as the shining cavern encompassing them.
Emile closed his eyes, and stayed still.
The grating of the platform would have been uncomfortable beneath his back at standard grav, especially with Cylus atop him. But everything felt so light, and his heart was beating so fast, and—
A cool touch kissed the skin of his neck.
Emile inhaled, all his focus turned towards that single point of contact, and did not move.
"Good." Cylus' voice pitched low. The touch withdrew. An instant later, Emile felt a sudden release of tension over his chest. Something rolled, clinked. "Such pretty buttons." Another abrupt loosening, further down. "I hope you have extras." Another.
Blood roared in Emile's ears. One of the prettiest, most captivating people he'd ever met was cutting his clothes off. Like he'd asked. Like he'd fantasized about, since reading a similar scene in a particularly graphic romance, pilfered after a guest abandoned an anonymized tablet reader packed with erotic stories in the tasting room.
But now it was happening for real. Another button gave way, ever closer to the heated place where Cylus sat atop him, legs clamped tight to his sides.
Emile moaned, and kept still, though he longed to rub his thighs together, to touch himself or beg Cylie to touch him, or do anything at all to ease the needy ache building within him.
Instead he tried to memorize every second of sensation, unsure whether to bless or curse himself for wearing a vest with so many buttons.
He lost himself in the soft snap of thread yielding; the metallic chime as each button tumbled through the grating beneath them; and the weight of Cylus atop him as each release left him more and more exposed.
At last, the final closure gave way, the vest falling open. With a rough tug, Cylus pulled Emile's silk shirt up, baring him to the chill air. "This bra really flatters you," he teased. "Such a lovely pattern, and it looks custom-fit. Are you sure you want it ruined?" That cool touch again; brushing between his breasts.
Emile reached for words; found only whimpers.
The cool touch withdrew. An instant later both of Cylus' hands were on him, groping through smooth fabric. Fingers found his nipples; pinched until he gasped. Cylus swore again, playful tone gone. "You liked it when I played with these before. What about now?" His fingers tightened; tugged; twisted. Emile thrashed his head and cried out; but he kept the rest of himself still even as the echoes of his voice rang out into the vast space surrounding them.
"Y-yes!" Emile managed to gasp.
"Open your eyes." As Emile obeyed, Cylus shoved the bra upward, freeing Emile's breasts as he bowed closer. His slender chest pressed against Emile’s abdomen, thin shirt sliding against some dense garment beneath with a textured sigh. Cylie’s palms pressed hot against Emile’s sides as he sucked one nipple into his mouth. His eyes were dark mirrors, fixing Emile as he bared his teeth, stained red by the platform's dim light.
He bit down.
Hard.
Pain pushed Emile from obedience into unthinking struggle as his voice lifted and broke. His body bucked, violently enough to set them bouncing in the low grav. For an instant, Cylie’s fingers dug tighter into his ribs, the hot gust of his breath radiating from where his teeth still clamped around Emile’s sensitive flesh.
But as Emile inhaled, breath fracturing into whimpering shudders, Cylus' bite eased all at once. Arms snaked out to steady them both in place, for Emile's thrashing had moved them a slight distance across the platform.
For a moment they remained still: wound together, breathing hard. A wave of dizziness swept through him. This was... This was...
Everything he wanted. Things he'd dreamed of, ever since his body had begun to waken to its own possibilities.
And it was so much. The vast, dim space spun around him, wheeling around Cylus' shadowed face. He felt abruptly aware of the chill in the air, in the metal beneath them, and a shiver passed through him with a chatter of teeth.
"Are... Are you okay?" Cylus released him, hands gentle as he shifted back. His voice was small, earlier confidence vanished. "That... That was too much, I let, I, I got—I'm sorry—"
"No, nonono!" Emile's words tripped over one another. "You're good. So, so good. I. I really, really, really liked everything you were doing. I just got..." Emile trailed off, searching for the right word.
Relief announced itself in the slackening of Cylus' body. After a moment passed, Cylus offered a soft, "...Overwhelmed?"
Emile realized he hadn't finished his sentence. "Overwhelmed, yes! That's so, exactly, right. I, I've done..."
His memory flitted like a butterfly: Marc’s soft brown eyes turning hard and playful as he relented, pushing Emile hard against the stable wall and driving deep with a single thrust; Xiomara’s ropes digging with calculated cruelty as she used them to pull him closer, one hand tangling in his hair and guiding him between her legs; the three of them in the forest, playing out a kidnapping scene they’d spent hours imagining together.
"Plenty of things... before," he finished lamely.
Cylie made a small noise that could have been either skeptical or encouraging.
"I mean, I guess I’ve never done anything like this with... as you said, a ‘live blade’..."
"Ah. Well, you... still haven't, actually." Cylus sounded shaken, and more than a little embarrassed. "I...” Sitting back atop him, Cylie produced a small object: a short grip ending in an asymmetric metal prong, with a sharp point on one side and a blunted nub on the other.
Emile blinked. He’d seen something like that before... when one of the household staff had asked him for help with a sewing machine repair. “I-is that...”
“A seam ripper.” Cylus’ tone was abashed as he tucked the instrument away again. “I thought... It'd give you the illusion, for effect, without being unforgivably rash."
"Oh." Emile blushed anew. "Well, that was clever, but now I feel even more silly... Are, are you okay?"
"Yes, of course," Cylus answered, too quickly. He shifted, clearly about to climb off Emile.
The prospect drove a sharp and sudden spike of longing into Emile’s abdomen. Before he could stop himself, he clutched Cylie’s shirt, its fabric light and slightly slick within his shaking fingers.
Both of them froze.
Agonizingly self-conscious, Emile let go, sweat cold on his palms. “S-sorry, I...”
A tremendous rushing noise sounded from beyond the platform. They both twisted to look, scrambling back in an untidy tangle of bodies and limbs.
A huge, dark curve of flesh surfaced. A geyser of air and water vapor erupted, peaking far above their heads. A triangular protrusion—a fin, Emile realized dizzily—sliced the surface.
Then sank, leaving churning whorls of turbulence in its wake.
Fine droplets misted down over them. Waves radiated out into ripples from where the great shape had vanished.
Emile blinked lashes suddenly heavy with water, the tops of his still-bare breasts now damp and frigid.
Cylus' voice wavered through still-misty air. "That was... large..." A pause. "Emile, could we..."
"Go somewhere less likely to get sprayed by... I’m pretty sure that was a whale?" Emile untangled himself from Cylie just enough to pull his bra and shirt back down, shivering with cold and self consciousness.
Cylus nodded, silent.
The air felt changed, tremulous, as they followed the red-lit walkway back through the rows of consoles, all gone dark as when they'd first arrived. Cylus was quiet beside him, and Emile's mind raced, wishing he hadn’t grabbed at Cylie when he’d tried to get up. The distance between them felt both narrow and vast: a chasm of silence that Emile’s mind filled with all the reasons Cylie might be regretting the choice to follow him down here.
Stepping back into the open circle of the elevator, he faced Cylie, stomach fluttering. "Sorry," he started.
"For what?" Cylus sounded surprised.
"For..." Emile fumbled for words, "For grabbing at you, and taking you somewhere so weird, and being so... sensitive, when you were just doing what I wanted..."
Cylie's hands found the scarf, which had ended up draped over one of Emile’s shoulders, and coaxed it around the back of Emile’s neck again. Taking hold of the ends, he used them to tug Emile closer, bringing them chest to chest. His voice was thick and strange. "You..." Their foreheads touched, and Cylie's breath warmed his face, the silken tether firm between them.
After a long, charged moment, Cylie took a step forwards; Emile instinctively mirrored him, falling back as the other advanced. "You still want me to touch you?” A note of disbelief softened the seductive heat in Cylie's voice. “Anywhere I want, like you said?" Another step.
"Please," Emile begged as they stepped once more.
His ass hit the rail next to the elevator's control panel.
Cylie groaned, gripping the rail to either side of Emile. "Well, then. I want to hear what sounds you make when I touch you under your clothes," he rasped into Emile's ear, body pressing all along his. "We've got the whole elevator ride back up. Would you like that?"
Emile's body convulsed. "Yes," he whispered.
"You sure?" Cylie's lips drifted across his. "Even if I want to touch you... here?" Releasing the rail, one hand palmed the breast he'd bitten earlier. Emile shuddered, arching into the contact. "Or here?" Cylie's hand tugged the waistband of his trousers, then teased lower.
"Yes, please, ahh!" Assent rose into a cry as Cylie cupped between his legs and squeezed.
"Let's go, then," Cylie murmured,
Grateful for the simplicity of the elevator controls, Emile reached over and hit the button that would send them upward. Golden light ringed them once more, and the platform started rising; far more slowly than they'd descended, though Emile felt acceleration build even through the protective field.
Still, he had a last moment to take in the grandeur of the cavern around him, as Cylie's other hand worked up under his shirt. The blue-green shimmer of algae-lit cables, reflecting from ice and water, dazzled him anew as they ascended. His imagination drifted after the beast that had surfaced earlier, following it down where the cables vanished below: wondering what it looked like, how it lived, what it saw as it swam...
Then fingers found his nipple, still sensitive with the imprint of Cylie's teeth, and Emile's exclamation rang out into the vast space like a bell before they were swallowed by the tunnel upward.
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