Dark Matter

-Harshvardhan

Part I--As You Like It.....

She struggled under the blankets, but only just so. "Struggle" is a
harsh word to use, though. Perhaps "squirmed" would have been better.
Yes, most definitely so. Penny McArthur was squirming under her
lover's touch, as his nimble fingers slipped and slid all over her
nubile body, his deft hands exploring crevices he'd been visiting for
four years now. She let out a whispered moan, the force of which
pushed Ryder Black's raven hair to the side. Even with her eyes closed
she was marveling at how handsome he was; how familiar he was
with her. The thought made her moan again, louder.

Ryder rode her like a stallion--fast, hard, but with such elegance and
élan, she almost placed a bet on him. She finished him with her own
long, sensuous fingers, feeling his juices hit her with impassioned
heat. They moaned together, the sound carrying out the open window,
making the birds chirp louder, as if to drown out their perverted
exclamations.

He straightened up, exhausted but glowing with pride, the fruit of his
efforts gleaming on her beautiful body. He'd lasted longer this time.
Practice DOES make perfect, he thought.

Bending low over her to kiss her forehead, and then deciding that a
few inches lower would do no harm, Ryder took Penny's upper lip
between his own and gently rubbed them together, noting with
satisfaction that he was ready again. By the sound of her breathing,
it seemed that she was, too. They kissed for a while.

She pushed his face slightly away, smiling happily at him--the smile
of a thoroughly pleased woman--gazing long and hard at his features,
taking in his almost Adonis-like looks. He bent low again, aching for
another go, but she held him at bay, teasing him, taunting him,
tempting him. Penny herself had an insatiable appetite for intercourse,
but the thought of driving Ryder out of control seemed insanely
sexy...at the time.
Pushing against her, her hands holding his face away while his lower
body desperately ground against her molten pelvis, he breathed out the
question which would change their lives
forever..."P-P.....Penny......so how.....ugh......so how.......how
was I?".

Penny McArthur embraced her mortality when she breathed out her answer.

*****

Part II--In The Shadow of the Master.....

He woke up hours later, drool forming a hulking pool under his cheek;
he could feel it all the way down to his chest, violating his most
sensitive area.....the one that had, a while ago, transferred itself
to his head......

My penis was in my brain.....my penis WAS my brain......

And then, morbidly:

I'm a dickhead.....haha.....Penny, did you hear that? I'M A DICKHEAD!

Ryder rolled over onto his back, holding his knees up to his chest,
the way Penny used to after they'd made love--apparently, the position
made conception a foregone conclusion; they had had no children. Just
remembering her naked form contort so seriously into a misshapen
pretzel froze him over.

He was thirsty, but he didn't want water. He was suddenly scared of

it. Water, that is. He was scared of it. He wondered fleetingly if he
had contracted rabies somehow. AIDS, maybe. But Rabies? I know I
called her a bitch many times, but that didn't really make her one,
did it? Hahaha......I did the bitch doggy style!

Getting up in one fluid motion, he stretched his back, yawned and

turned around. If not for the fact that his hands and legs were
trembling to a nether tune, Ryder looked and acted perfectly
nonchalant. Almost bored, if you can digest that.
His eyes locked onto hers......black pupils battled red retinas.
Drooping eyelids mocked open ones. Scarlet streaks stretched across
both sets of sclerae.

For all intents and purposes, they were both dead.

*****

Part III—The Lion Sleeps Tonight…

She was blue in the face. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, her hair matted to
her forehead, wispy and wild, mirroring the look in her wild eyes. Violet
veins were popping out all over her body as he bent low over her, staring
into her retinas.

His hands were pressed hard against her, pressing down with all their
force. He bent lower, the pressure increasing exponentially.

Finally, she spat out the water.

Penny sat upright while Ryder dusted the sand off her back and hair; she
took in long, dry gulps of air, making up for the lost minutes. Her
windpipe was so constricted, it actually hurt her to breathe at all.

She berated him over and over again for letting her venture out alone;
Penny had a mouth on her and it could shoot off at times. Usually when it
was least needed.

One day, you’ll be sorry.

And then,

I love you, Penny.

***

Part IV—For Your Thoughts…

Had the signs always been there? The desire, the thirst to mutilate that
piece of art? Had he always known that Judgment Day was round the corner?
He couldn’t tell.

But as he looked into her crystallized eyes, staring up as they were, he

began to weep silent tears, those of a man whose burden far exceeds his
strength. He knelt down beside her, afraid to touch her, yearning to touch
her.
The last foundations of his sanity crumbled as he took her within his arms,
digging his nails into her back as he wept uncontrollably. His tears seeped
into her cracking skin, passing over the contours of her perky breasts,
running down her nipples like a melancholy river. In another time, another
place, the sight would have stirred him into action; he would have lost
control and leapt on her, throwing caution to the wind, the only sound that
of his desire throbbing against his skull.

Ryder lost control.

Ryder leapt on her.

Ryder threw caution to the wind.

Ryder Black’s dying, wilting, screaming passion pummeled and punched Penny
McArthur’s senseless form. She had been dead for hours and days, but the
last remaining dregs of his sanity, backed up against a fiery wall, let
loose a volley of unconnected, unnecessary and altogether unnatural whims
upon her…..

For Ryder Black, the world had stopped going round and round.

***