What Lies Beside

This erotic story excerpt by Sonni de Soto from What Lies Beside was originally published by SinCyr Publishing and is a finalist in the Good Sex Awards Best Use of Sex Toys Category.

Best Use of Sex Toys
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Solomon leans in and tightens Nicholas’s blindfold. “The god of this world hath blinded the minds of the unbelievers, that the light…the glory…should not shine unto them.” Fascinated by Catholicism—the ritual and pageantry of it all—she’s the first to admit that she’s more of a biblical fangirl than a scholar. She appreciates the poetry and imagery, even if she, having grown up in a fairly faithless family, doesn’t always do so in complete or accurate context.

She cringes. God, that sounds offensive.

She doesn’t mean it to be.

She knows how important Nicholas’s faith is to him and she never wants to make him feel like she’s making fun or light of it.

That’s not what this is. It’s not what she wants it to be.

She wants to give him this. A transcendent moment. An impossible fantasy.

She strokes his hair, fixing the blond strands so they don’t get tangled in the cloth. “You shall not fear the terror of the night.” She kisses his lips before she walks away from him. “Let them curse it who curse the day, who are ready to rouse up Leviathan.”

She sees it the moment he puzzles the pieces of the scene, of her gift, together. She smiles at the playful lift of his own lips and moves to gather her props. “Tell me what happens.”

He clears his throat and swivels his head as if trying to orient himself. “I’m trying to make my way through a dark forest, but it’s hard to see.” He reaches out his hands and tries to feel his way through the foyer into the living room. “I have to keep moving because I can hear it behind me.”

“What’s behind you?” She wants him to say its name. To give it, to give her, that power.

“The Leviathan.”

Solomon smiles. With heavy steps, she stomps behind him, the boots sounding loud in the quiet room.

Nicholas’s head turns at the clatter. A slight chuckle touches his voice, but he continues to play along. “It’s catching up.” He gropes for the sofa before hitting his shin on the coffee table. He winces, but keeps going.

She plods forward too. If she’s honest, there is something ridiculous about all of this. Clomping around the house with props strewn about, pretending to be some biblical monster, she has to admit, this is weird.

But, as a dedicated cosplayer, kinky roleplay just makes sense. With both, you get to slip on a costume and step out of yourself. You get to experiment with identity and play with different parts of your personality that, most of the time, don’t fit perfectly with the one you present to the world.

Even from this distance, she can see excitement flush Nicholas’s skin as he scampers away from her. The years and stress of life melt away, making way as the magic of the scene takes over. She can practically smell his anticipation—hot and musky—filling the room, mixed with a bright, almost childlike glee.

She marvels that, with just a little imagination and ingenuity, they’re letting go of what is, for the exploration of what could be. Together, they’re birthing a miracle—a myth—from boots, a boner, and a blindfold.

Which might very well be weird, but it’s also wondrous.

Slipping the boots off, she grins before she pounces, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him to the floor. This close, she can feel his breath hitch and his heart race. She leans in close, huffing hot breath on his face. “What happens when it gets you?”

“For a moment, we just look at each other.” In the quiet room—with no TV or computer or device playing, with neither of them talking about their days or puttering around the space, with nothing but them and the scene—his voice sounds so intimate.

“What do you see?” The question seems so much bigger in this setting than it should.

He looks at her, even with the blindfold between them, as if even without sight he can see her. He clears his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “It’s terrifying and magnificent.” His voice sounds awe-struck. “I am frozen in its presence. It leans down over me with a face as the appearance of lightning, and its eyes as flaming torches, and its arms and its feet like unto burnished brass, and the voice of its words like the voice of a multitude.”

God, it’s so wrong how sexy it is that he can quote the Bible off the top of his head. It took her days to look up and memorize relevant passages, but he just knows them. Why does she find that so hot? Is she fetishizing his faith? She doesn’t want to disrespect him or his beliefs. She doesn’t want to damage him with her desire. She knows she really shouldn’t find someone else’s sacredness sexy—if that isn’t a straight-up sin, what is? Yet she does.

And so does he. She can feel his hard length as their hips press together. “It looks at me, hunger in its eyes. Its mouth opens and its fearsome breath blows my clothes away.”

Emboldened by the bulge rubbing against her, she slides down his body, stripping him of his shirt. Breathing hotly on him, she inhales him too, taking the scent of his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his belly into her. Her mouth waters at the scent of sharp fear, peppery sweat, and sweet heat.

She flicks her tongue over him, tempting herself with the taste of him. She touches the stiff tip to his soft tummy, right above the buckle of his belt. He groans as his hips hitch.

Echoing that longing sound, she undoes his pants before tugging the trousers off him. Naked, he looks so vulnerable. Literally bare before her. She touches his body, reveling in sleek skin the color of a peeled apple. He is beautiful. “Your heart was lifted because of your beauty… Your splendor.” She pushes his hips, her palms spreading over him as she presses him into the carpet. “I will cast thee to the ground, I will lay thee before kinds, that they may behold thee.”

He moans and thrusts up against her. “When it raises itself up the mighty are afraid;” his voice is hoarse as he murmurs reverently. “They retreat before its thrashing.” His needy undulations make his cock jut up at her, insistently. “Who can open the doors of its face? Around its teeth is terror.”

She almost laughs. Subtle.

But since, yeah, that is the general idea, she tickles the tip of her tongue over the head of his waiting erection, letting the flesh’s flavor feel new again. An exotic experience. “It’s intrigued by how your flesh swells at its touch. Its eyes widen at the prospect of your whole body doing so as it slides down its throat.”

He writhes underneath her in a vain mockery of escape that only seems to brush himself against her tongue and lips more, as if secretly seeking connection, consumption.

After a longer lick that makes his back arch, she takes him into her mouth in a smooth, slick slide. He lets out a loud, satisfied sound only to grunt in confused disappointment, when she gets up. He pushes up onto his elbows and looks around blindly. “Solomon?”

She tuts at him. “The beast can’t be satisfied with just a taste.” She walks over to her phone and plays the audio file she prepared earlier. “It’s so hungry.” A roar erupts from her phone’s speaker.

Nicholas jumps. “What is that?”

“The Leviathan.” The recording makes an alien, almost metallic noise. “Right before the feast.” The screeching sound effect from the newest horror movie trailer speaks to that primal part of her brain that, even from the top of the food chain, fears feeling like prey and sends a shiver down her spine.

She grabs the folded-over weighted blanket that she sewed together like an open-ended sleeping bag. “It opens its jaws wide, eager to turn this morsel into a meal.” Tucking his feet into the bag, she slides it up his body, struggling with the tight fit of it as it squeezes him and swallows him whole.

She wrestles it onto him from collarbone to calf. He twists within it, thrilled confusion contorting his face. Before he can ask any scene-breaking questions, she says, “It tries to gulp you down, thinking you easy enough prey. But your wriggling body gets caught in its throat.” Even through the thick material and weighted plastic beans, she can see the ridge of his cock, trying to rise between his bound thighs. She reaches inside the convenient hole she sewed and fishes his ready dick out.

Once his length is free of its fabric prison, she grabs the three-speed, three-ring, wireless vibrating cock cage and carefully but efficiently puts it on him. She hears him snicker at the snug but familiar fit, hugging his length intimately. Yeah, he knows this toy; they’ve used it many times before.

But not like this.

With a grin, she reaches for her phone again and thumbs over to the Bluetooth toy’s app and sets it to sound-control. “Its frustrated howls rumble through you.” She feels like whooping when she hears the toy buzz and his echoing gasp as the dragon roar she recorded from their favorite TV show fills the room.

Perfect.

“Now’s your chance.” She strokes his cage-covered cock. “While it’s distracted, make your escape.” With an evil smirk, she reaches for the claw-like meat handlers and slides them onto her hands. “If you can.”

 

———

 

Nicholas can’t believe this is happening. Bless Solomon, she obviously worked hard to make this scene as faithful to his dream as possible.

And it is like his dream. Sort of. The sequence of events is the same—the darkness of the forest, the beast, and its hunger—but it’s not quite the same. The blindfold is tight around his head and pulls at his hair. Every time the muffled sound of movie monsters roars, the bullet vibrator cased in the silicone cage on his dick buzzes. And the fabric hugging him swelters, making it scratchy as he sweats.

It’s hard to stay in the right headspace with all these reminders that the dream isn’t real. Even with his cock hard, it’s difficult to not laugh at the picture they must make.

But the eager excitement in her voice and touch intrigues him, drawing him into her orchestrated fantasy. “You have to work quickly, if you want to break free from its jaws.”

He yelps and opens his eyes behind the blindfold when he feels something sharp graze his neck. “What is that?”

“Its teeth.” She says it so matter-of-factly, ignoring the heart of his question. He knows what they’re supposed to be. But he wants to know what they actually are. They almost feel like a row of teeth, not quite as sharp as knives but still sharp enough to pierce if pressed too hard against flesh.

He tries to lean away from them, feeling them poke and prick at him from all sides. He hears Solomon laugh sadistically. She would cackle, little witch. “Behold,” she says, her voice practically smirking as those teeth trail their long length down his chest and soft middle, “its strength in its loins, and its force in the navel of its belly.”

He hisses as she drags those teeth over and across his dick. He gulps and feels his body, from his spine to his sex, stiffen.

This isn’t the same as his dream. But, oddly, the thrill and threat of it feels the same. Sweat beads on his body and his senses sharpen, making the scene feel strangely real.

All because of her.

It’s not the same. It’s better. That Solomon would go to so much trouble, to make his dream literally come true, is beyond amazing. She is amazing.

With his sight blinded but his other senses on alert, his mind can’t help but fill in the forest scene, planting towering pine trees among the furniture and shelves. With his hearing sharpened in the quiet house, muted growls thunder from her phone and through his body, in his ears and along his hard length. He shuts his eyes behind the blindfold, retreating further into his imagination.

Suddenly, he can almost see the beast. Can feel it loom over him, feel it swallow around him, like power personified. Feeling its teeth on his skin, he feels helpless, at the will and mercy of something stronger and larger than him. He is defenseless before the divine. Terror makes him shrink into himself, even as parts of him swell.

Solomon giggles, still taunting his taut flesh with those teeth. “Its tail like a cedar; the sinews of its thighs are woven together. Its bones are tubes of bronze, its members are like bars of iron…he that made it give it his sword.”

And then her hand, soft and sweet, wraps around his cock. Letting out a heavy sigh, he thankfully thrusts into her touch. She lets out a soothing, thoroughly satisfied sound. “His hard and great and strong sword,” her grip on him tightens as she strokes and says, “will punish…Leviathan the twisted serpent; and he will end the dragon that is in the sea.”

On a lusty groan, he arches his back. This is sweet torture. He whimpers and whips his body from side to side, feeling trapped, when all he wants is to thrust deep inside Solomon. But he is caught, his limbs bound tight to his body, making his every move small and futile. Try as he might, he can’t escape. Not without some kind of help, some heavenly intervention. “Am I a sea, or a sea monster, that you put a guard over me?”

She laughs. “The beast coughs.” A heavy weight plops onto his belly. He feels her legs squeeze along his sides as she settles on top of him. “It begins to swallow.” Her hands clasp his ankles, then up his calves and knees. She presses her hands over his thighs, pushing them together in a swallowing motion. The vivid image of him sliding down the beast’s throat washes over him.

He moans, feeling the sound vibrate along his erection. “How can I get away now?”

“You can’t.” She tsks. “It’s too late. You’re done for.” Her legs and hands move up his hips and sides, along his arms, before he feels her thighs settle around his head. “But then…”

Genuinely curious, he smiles. “Then?”

“You see its uvula dangle above you.” He feels her sex settle above him, the soft, seductive skin brushing his lips. “You know it’s a long shot, but your only chance is to—maybe, if you can…” He can practically hear tensely dramatic music in her pause. “Make it sneeze.”

He does laugh this time. He can’t help it. “Sneeze?”

“Unless you’d rather be eaten!”

In his dream, he always is. But, as he opens his mouth over her waiting flesh, he has to admit, this is a much better ending.

His mouth full of her heat, he moans as she takes off the cage with fumbling hands, less nimble than they’d been when she put it on, before her mouth closes over him too. She licks and sucks before letting him go to murmur hotly against his dick, “If one lay at him with the sword, it cannot avail.” She takes his shaft deep in her mouth again. “Nor the spear.” Her voice gets needier with each word, with each dip of her lips. “The dart.” And sweep of her tongue. “Or the pointed shaft.”

Matching her lick for suck, he eats at her like his life depends on it. He feels her moans in his cock, rumbling like a roar in her throat. He hopes she can feel his, too. “That’s it.” Her words sound strained. “Almost there.” He rubs his tongue against her slick sex, loving how her hips press deeper against him. “Almost.” Her body stiffens and her hips grind into him. She throws back her head. “Achoo!”

Her body rocks above him a moment before she collapses on top of him, taking him in her mouth again as she falls. Relaxed as she is, she lets him slip deeper down her throat while her climax rushes through her, making her shudder against him. She swallows hard, her throat clenching around the head of his cock in a rapturous squeeze. Fuck! His own body tenses right before he comes.

He opens his eyes, staring into the black of the blindfold as pleasure surges through him. Fuck. He can’t think, can’t feel, past the overwhelming sensation of his orgasm, pulling him helplessly, willingly, into the undertow.

Panting, he feels her lazily turn around to flop down on his blanketed chest, laying her head against his shoulder. On a huge yawn, she reaches up and removes the blindfold. “Its sneezing flashes out light, its eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.”

He squints and blinks at the bright lights, feeling like a dreamer waking. He tilts his head to rest against hers, the only movement he can manage, as she wraps her arms around him. Even sweaty and exhausted on the hard floor, he never wants to move from this spot.

The dream, the fantasy of it, still feels weird but, as the scene’s magic fades into sleep, he’s sure nothing that feels this right can be wrong. He’s certain sin shouldn’t, couldn’t, leave a person feeling so loved. It still doesn’t sit completely comfortably with him, still curious and strange. But, for the first time in his life, he feels like it someday could.

As Solomon sleepily nuzzles closer, Nicholas turns to kiss the top of her head. “Bless you.”

 

If you loved this story, vote for it in the Readers’ Choice awards by 20 June or buy the book.

Sonni de Soto is a queer author of color who knows that one of the best parts of sex play is that, with enough imagination and ingenuity, anything is possible. Society shames us into living according to set standards, but fantasy is a space that begs you to break free, to face the things that scare you and transform them into something intimately thrilling. de Soto has had the privilege of publishing erotica novels and stories with The Sexy Librarian, Cleis Press, Circlet Press, and many others.

 

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