Story: Barbed Wire

[nsfwords]

This fills the "Barbed Wire" square of my January Public Domain Day Bingo card. 620 words, this is the 6th story snippet in the OtherWorldy series.

Barbed Wire

   The music pounded through the floor of the club and reverberated in Carnelle’s ribcage. She surged and thrust against the press of human bodies crowded against her, caught up in the fevered dancing. Settling her hands onto the thick rounded hips of the young woman right ahead of her, Carnelle leaned forward to whisper against the curve of her ear, “Hey lovely, want to dance somewhere private?” Carnelle plastered her overheated body to the young woman from ass to shoulders, continuing to grind with the beat.

   “Nah, I’m just dancing tonight. No hookups.” The stranger flashed an apologetic grin over her shoulder, then stepped away into the crowd. Carnelle’s hands released the woman’s hips immediately; she knew how to behave when she was turned down. No big deal, she thinks to herself, I’ll entice another one.

   However, she doesn’t immediately turn to the other dancers to find a convenient meal, instead her attention is caught by the grey and black figure of Costa at the bar, gripping a cocktail and holding himself eerily still. Barbed Wire was a fetish night club, on the tamer end of what the city had to offer, and after enduring the grueling effects of the Sun Carnelle had talked her new partner into meeting back up after dark. Her goal had been to have a quick backroom snack before the Somnia arrived, but apparently, she was out of luck until after business was concluded. Striding off the dance floor, Carnelle wound around the display of a sub reposed on a low bench, strapped down at wrist, ankles, neck, and waist, and made her way towards the Dream.

   “At least you’ve got a decent look for this place,” she stated as she tweaked the black vinyl suspenders running across Costa’s slim frame down to matching black vinyl pants.

   “I asked a satyr friend who hangs out here if I could borrow something,” was his quiet reply. “Seems incredibly loud in here to discuss the Hunt.”

   “I needed a pick-me-up; damn Sun drained me dry.”

   “Doesn’t look like you’ve had much luck,” Costa replied. There was no heat or censure in his voice, so Carnelle wasn’t sure how to take the comment. Another Succubus would have been gently teasing or mercilessly scornful. Costa just seemed to be noting the facts of the situation. Carnelle just rolled her shoulders and shrugged it off.

   “Yeah, a bust so far, but there’s bound to be a few who’ll take my offer later.” Carnelle quickly snatched Costa’s hand and tugged him from the barstool. “Follow me, we’ll go to a backroom for our chat. Hey, by the way, professional curiosity, do Dreams ever get it on?”

   Costa followed smoothly as Carnelle drug him towards a deep red door in the back of the club. “Not particularly. Some of my brothers are responsible for Bad Sex Dreams. I think that’s as close as we can get to human intercourse.”

   “Do you have some other sorta ‘course? If none of you bang?”

   “I don’t. If one of my brothers does, I think I’d have heard about it.”

   “Poor guys. You’re all missing out, seriously! How do you let off steam!? Or get satisfaction?”

   “I find my duties rewarding. I’ll miss making people dream about their fights with family. That was incredibly satisfying. Otherwise, I don’t have a lot of steam that needs blowing, I guess.”

   Carnelle snorts as she strong arms her way through the crimson door. He just set himself up with that one. Her musings on the sex lives of the Sons of Somnus would have to be put on hold, much like her plans to satiate her Succubus nature, because right now? They needed to talk about this “partnership” problem.

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