She’s incredibly beautiful. I’ve seen her before in passing, though not as often, I’ll admit, as my fellow students who spend more time in the library.
I’ve never spoken to her. Her low, husky voice, has that same quality as Ares’—the ability to thrill, to slide over your skin like a physical touch.
I get the sense that she’s examining me as I’m examining her. Each of us curious for our own reasons.
I don’t know what she’s thinking, and I’m glad she can’t read my mind.
I’m remembering a rumor I heard once, that there was some kind of romantic connection between Miss Robin and Ares . . .
I thought it was funny at the time—just one of those things people say, jokes and speculation to enliven a boring school day. Miss Robin is in her forties at least, maybe even fifty.
Seeing her now, it doesn’t seem as ridiculous. She has a powerful presence at odds with her loose, knobby cardigans and thick stockings.
Not to mention the fact that Ares seems distinctly uncomfortable, glancing back and forth between us.
“We’ll let you get back to work,” he says, dismissing Miss Robin with little of his usual politeness.
Miss Robin only smiles. “No rest for the wicked,” she says.
She strolls past us, carrying the scrolls to the upper level of the library.
“Was she helping you?” I ask Ares.
“Helping me what?”
“Look for the ‘Ndrangheta chart.”
“No. They didn’t have it,” Ares says shortly.
A strange tension hangs in the air. I always know when something’s off—even if I don’t know what, exactly, is wrong.
I fucking hate that sense of misalignment. I hate words unspoken.
So I say to Ares, “Are you friends with Miss Robin?”
He looks at me, eyes narrowed. “Why would you ask that?”
“Some people said . . . that you might like her.”
“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head. “No. I don’t have a crush on Miss Robin.”
“Alright.” I shrug. “Just wondering.”
“I’m sick of people speculating about me,” Ares hisses through his teeth. “This school is a fucking fishbowl. Everybody watching, everybody talking.”
“Hey,” I say, laying my hand lightly on his forearm. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
Ares gives his head a shake, as if to throw off his annoyance.
“It’s not your fault,” he says.
Trying to change the subject in my usual awkward way, I venture, “I wonder what color her hair is really?”
“What?” Ares says, startled.
“Miss Robin—I don’t think it’s red.”
Now he’s looking at me like I’ve got two heads.
“You don’t think her hair looks natural?” he says.
“Oh, it does.” I nod. “It’s lovely. It’s more her skin tone—I get a little color in the summer, but come winter I’m pale as a ghost. She looks the same as when school started.”
Ares is quiet a minute, then he says, “You really do notice everything.”
I laugh. “And yet I can’t remember a single thing I learned in my banking class.”
Ares picks up his backpack from the nearest table, slinging it over his shoulder.
“So what did you really come here for?” he asks me. “I know you’re not here to study.”
I aim a punch at his shoulder that he doesn’t even bother to dodge.
“For your information, I was studying, right before I came here.”
We’ve come out of the library into the chilly afternoon air, the breeze tugging at our hair like a live thing after the stillness of the library.
“What interrupted you?” Ares asks.
“I wanted to see you,” I reply simply.
Ares looks down at me, his eyes clear and beautiful beneath his thick, straight brows. “You did?” he says.
“Yeah. I really did.”
A smile tugs at the edges of his mouth, showing a glint of his strong, white teeth.
“So how do I look?”
“Pretty fucking gorgeous,” I tell him.
“You look like if autumn was a person,” he says, taking one wild red curl between his thumb and index finger. “You look like if the woods came alive. And they were extremely competitive.” He grins.
“Come walk with me,” I say.
“Alright,” Ares agrees.
We leave the castle grounds, heading directly to the strip of forest bordering the field.
Though we’ve walked this way so many times, there’s a deliberate intention in our steps that was never there before.
We’re not speaking, no need for words anymore.
High — Sivik
Spotify → geni.us/spy-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/spy-apple
As soon as we step beneath the canopy of a vast sweet gum tree, Ares throws his bag on the ground and seizes me, his hands on either side of my face. He kisses me deeply, the fallen leaves grinding beneath our feet, sending up a dry, sugary scent.
This time, I don’t wait to see if Ares will pull back or go further. I slide my hands down his body, touching his cock through his trousers.
I let out a sigh as I feel the thick bulge straining against the wool. He wants me. He absolutely fucking wants me.
It’s like I touched a switch. As soon as my fingers graze his cock, Ares throws me down on the ground. We had a late summer and an even later fall—I land in a blanket of thick, crunching leaves. Ares falls on top of me, finding my mouth once more, thrusting his tongue into it as his fingers fumble with at the waistband of my pants.
He yanks my trousers down to my knees, my underwear going along with them. I expect him to touch me with his fingers, or maybe to just start fucking me.
Instead, he puts his head between my thighs and starts licking my pussy.
He eats my pussy exactly the way he kisses—his full, warm lips and his firm tongue attacking me in all my most sensitive places. He licks all over my pussy lips and around my entrance, pushing his tongue inside of me. Then he finds my clit and dances the tip of his tongue around it until I’m writhing and moaning, grabbing handfuls of his hair and grinding my hips against his face, begging for more.
He flattens his tongue and starts lapping my clit in long, steady strokes. At the same time, he slides one long, thick finger inside of me.
My pussy is on fire. It’s never been treated so good.
I’ve had sex before, but it was quick, secretive sex with one of my father’s soldiers. It felt good, but not any better than getting myself off in the shower.
I’ve never had someone worship my body with their mouth.
I’ve never felt like I was being eaten alive, while Ares’ hands roam over my body like the tentacles of an octopus, squeezing my breasts, sliding down my body, cupping my ass, pushing his fingers in and out of me.
Every place he touches me seems to come alive, warm and throbbing, extending the exquisite sensation of his tongue to all the other parts of me, until I feel like he’s licking me up and down the entire length of my body.
Leaves drift down from the gum tree, deep vermillion and five-pointed like stars. They land on my naked body and in my hair, cool against my flesh, smelling peppery-sweet.