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Aberrant: 200X - Pecaminoso [Mature]


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In the new City of Sin - Havana, Cuba - the Hotel Saratoga sits on the corner of Paseo del Prado and Dragones, practically across the street from El Capitolio Nacional, the former House of the Senate and Representatives (before Castro took over) and now the sight of the largest natural history collection in Cuba. The lobby of the Hotel Saratoga is surprisingly small, considering that many claim it’s the finest hotel in all of Cuba. While the Hotel Saratoga may lack the historical prestige and enviable by-the-sea location of the Hotel Nacional, the Saratoga makes up for it in sheer class, luxury, and service. And so, while the lobby is by no means large or ostentatious, it is extremely classy, cozy, and comfortable.

None of this means shit to Kazuo, however. He just chose this place cuz it’s where he’s stayed during his various forays into the city’s vice trade over the years, so he knows the place. Kazuo cares about the subtleties of true class and opulence about as much as he cares about the subtleties of basket weaving. He’s not even sure that Jael really cares about this kind of thing either – on the one hand, she’s a girl, and they tend to get strangely emotional over stuff like this (something Kazuo doesn’t even make an attempt at understanding), but on the other hand, she’s already given Kazuo lots of reason to think she’s one of those girls who likes it rough and likes it dirty. But as far as Kazuo’s concerned, it doesn’t (or shouldn’t, at least) matter one way or the other, he just wants to make some serious nani* with this girl someplace other than the top of a famous American landmark surrounded by god only knows how many photographers and/or nosy baseline tourists (though he has to admit, fucking Jael on top of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame would make a pretty damn good story – he’d be getting free drinks out of something like that for a long time).

And so it happens that, in the middle of Saturday, April the 19th, the air in a corner of the Saratoga’s lobby begins to distort, contorting and twisting in on itself until it suddenly expands into a hole that shows, briefly, what looks to be a rooftop overlooking a lake somewhere that is very obviously not in Cuba. Kazuo walks through it, with Jael following after. Kazuo doesn’t stop to look around to try and get his bearings or anything like that, he just walks right up to the front counter and one of the receptionists. She is speaking on a telephone and, at Kazuo’s appearance, she gets a look of recognition on her face, says something into the phone and hangs up.

“Hi”, says Kazuo, in English, to let the lady know how (in what language) to address him. “Hello”, she answers, “you are Kazuo Kanai, correct?”

“Yeah”, says Kazuo.

“Very good”, the receptionist is all efficiency and professionalism, considering that she is suddenly faced with not one, but two novas who’ve both just appeared through a hole in the air right in front of her – one might think this sort of thing happened on a regular basis or something – and it is increasingly obvious why the hotel has such a good reputation as she begins calling up information on her computer screen. “We just received a call from a Ms. Kawada on your behalf, requesting one of our suites – that was her on the line when you walked in”, says the Receptionist, by way of explanation.

“Great”, says Kazuo.

She looks at her monitor for a moment, scanning some kind of list, from the look of things, then she looks up and asks, “we have one of our Suite Capitolios available at them moment, will that do?”

“Sure”, says Kazuo.

After that, it’s just a matter of formalities, since it’s obvious that most of the details were already being handled before the two novas arrived (presumably by the mysterious “Ms. Kawada”). Kazuo displays some ID, signs some paperwork (which, if Jael looks, is done in a curious mixture of English and Japanese Kanji characters), and, noticeably, doesn’t once get called on to produce a credit card, cash, check, or any other form of currency to pay for their stay. Apparently that has already been taken care of as well.

Once Kazuo gets the room key they are directed to the elevator, which rapidly but quietly hums its way to the sixth floor where it dislodges them, and they make their way to their room (number 612). The suite itself consists of one sitting room with a balcony commanding a very nice view of the Capitolio and the Parque de la Fraternidad, a guest bathroom, and a very classy bedroom with a king size bed, and a second, adjoining bathroom off of that. The entire suite feels larger than it is, due to the high ceilings, the tall French windows let in lots of natural lighting, and the marble floors give it an elegant feel. The decoration is colonial, and the colors are all very warm and bright, and perfectly suited to the semi-tropical environment (not that Jael has had much of an opportunity to become acquainted with Cuba’s environment, having not once stepped out of doors since arriving here). All in all, it’s a pretty nice place to get laid.

Once into the suite itself, Kazuo takes a moment to remove his sandals, leaving them at the entryway and taking a cursory glance at the sitting room while he does so. Then he heads directly into the bedroom, where he proceeds to produce a wallet, a zippo, and a mostly empty pack of Lucky 7s, all of which he places on the bedside table, joined immediately by his watch. Then Kazuo takes off his shirt and turns around to face Jael. His torso is covered with over a dozen prominent scars, ranging from long slash marks across his chest and back, to a couple of what look to be bullet wounds near his right shoulder. If Kazuo feels self-conscious about his scars, he does a fantastic job of hiding it. Underneath the scars his muscles ripple and flex visibly with a preternatural smoothness as he turns in Jael’s direction. Once he’s facing her, he just stands and watches her without saying anything, but somehow his message is clear: since Jael seems to like his scars so much, he’s putting them on display, and giving Jael an obvious set of targets for what comes next.

*((The Japanese are extremely fond of euphemisms and circumlocutions, and so a very common way of referring to the act of sex is to call it nani (literally, “what”). To us this sounds ambiguous, but to the Japanese ear its meaning is very clear.))

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Jael followed Kazuo quietly, her stomach tightening in slow knots. The lobby didn't give her a pause; she didn't really give it much mind, though she would have liked it if she had. Instead, her attention and focus was on the man she'd arrived with, and there wasn't room for much else.

Waiting through the check-in process was torturous, and Jael almost reached out and grabbed Kazuo, just to get a reaction out of him, and to feel him again. She didn't like the delay, or even the moment when she had to share him with the clerk. It wasn't a possessive sense that would last; it was a definite claim that right now, this was hers. Not Kazuo, not directly, but the experience she was about to get.

On the elevator, Jael leaned back against the wall, watching him with blue eyes, almost challenging in her gaze. She made no attempt to talk to him or touch him. Just watched with those cold blue eyes that somehow burned with intensity.

She continued this focus into the room, ignoring the fantastic surroundings for the more interesting feature in the room. At the door, she paused to kick off her sandals, wiggling out of them without unfastening them. Her ankles did things that human ankles weren't supposed to do, but that was normal for novas. Barefooted, she padded after him, dumping her jacket in the sitting room before stopping in the doorway to the bedroom.

He seemed to slow down, like in the movies, as he goes through the motions of removing barriers. All of them are layers and obstacles that need to be shed, and she loves that he's removing them first, before anything else. It's oddly sexy, removing those trappings of civilization without revealing anything else.

However, all that fades in comparison to his body, when he takes off his shirt. Jael hadn't probed the flesh beneath his shirt much, yet, and so his bare chest is a new delight, and not just because of his skin and rippling muscles. No, it was the scars that drew her eyes, that locked her blue orbs to his body.

He was marked - beautifully so. Each ripple of scar tissue was a mark of something that had touched him, something that he would carry with him forever. Each one told it's tale - not just how or why he'd gotten them, but who gave it to him, how they'd done it and what had come before and after the mark. Her heart was pounding as she walked forward, stopping close enough to touch him. She lifted her hand and gently traced the edge of one of the bullet wounds, circling it counter-clockwise.

After a moment, her hand dropped and she walked behind him, tracing the same bullet hole on his back. After a moment, she placed her other hand on the center of his back and trailed soft fingers down his spine. Each scar she passed over brought a small sigh breath out of her, almost a moan. She stopped only when the valley between his back muscles was intersected by his pants. She could have explored his scars for a long time to come, but she decided to save some for later.

She circled back around him, moving to stand in front of him. With her back to him, she pulled off her shirt, shaking her long, wheat-golden hair out so that it brushed half-way down her back. She tossed the shirt aside, sending it fluttering through the air to land on one of the expensive chairs.

Jael turned around slowly, standing in her skirt and bra, a simple strapless undergarment made with a white, silken fabric. She clasped her hands behind her back and waited, letting him take his turn to explore her flesh.

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Unlike a lot of guys, Kazuo likes foreplay. See, most guys will agree that a lengthy session of foreplay (i.e. one that lasts much longer than it takes for both parties to remove any offending items of clothing) is more enjoyable than an afternoon at the dentist’s, but only marginally so. For Kazuo, however, it’s different. Or at least, it has been since shortly after his eruption.

Before Kazuo erupted, he was probably not much different than most men in the world. He didn’t mind a little bit of naughty fun and games before doing the deed, but his libido could only tolerate so much before it took over and finished what Kazuo had started (apparently a common failing amongst the male of the species). Ever since he erupted, however, things have been different. With his eruption came an across-the-board increase in his body’s endurance and staying power, and that included his libido’s ability to remain active and very, very demanding, even after multiple sexual encounters within a short period of time. Back in the early days, in the first year following his eruption (and very much to Utopia’s chagrin), Kazuo would sometimes take two or even three professional baseline “pleasure providers” (more commonly known as prostitutes) to bed for an all night sex-a-thon. Several hours and a whole lot of fucking later, all of his partners would be sprawled out in exhausted heaps, affirming with weak voices and great confidence that they simply couldn’t manage another go-around in the sack, and after all that Kazuo’s libido would still be running at full boil. It totally sucked.

Eventually though, Kazuo’s wisdom caught up with his accelerated accretion of experience in the fine art of fucking another person silly, and he finally learned what nearly all women understand instinctively, but which most men don’t learn until they’re very nearly too old to do anything about it anyway. Namely, that there are orgasms, and then there are Orgasms. The former feels good while it’s happening, and can assuage the average man’s sex drive for up to a couple of days, under optimal conditions, before it will reassert its dominant position in his mind, and then it’s right back to business as usual. But the latter, the latter stays with a person long after it’s over, and even the randiest of men can sustain themselves off of its energies for truly mind boggling periods of time with no ill effects. A person won’t forget such an orgasm anytime soon, and the very best will become the standard against which all lesser orgasms are thenceforth measured. And the best and surest way of attaining these near-mythical misfirings of the human nervous system is foreplay. It isn’t the foreplay itself that does the job, though interestingly (and somewhat off-topic), whereas many men completely fail to comprehend the important part that it plays, many women suffer from an unfortunate misconception that it is what does the job (just chalk it up to one more in a long list of proofs that nobody’s perfect).

When people engage in sexual foreplay, they are in fact enacting an ancient set of rites, almost sacramental in nature and myriad in form. These mysterious rites can never successfully be performed the same way twice, and they are some of the oldest and most powerful of all the rituals known to humanity. And their purpose is to divine the exact moment at which the carnal bodies of our erotic universe are properly aligned so that we may consummate that oldest of all rituals (sex, for those of you who aren’t paying attention). The result, if all is done properly, is magic, and will briefly transport its user into the heart of bliss. Of course, it’s possible to attain these mystical heights of sexual pleasure without all the fuss, to just dive right in and bang genitalia together, hoping against all the odds that the final result will be a sexual explosion of mind-shattering proportions, but only the most naïve or deluded put their faith in such things. The wise know better.

Kazuo doesn’t really go in for all of this poetic and romantic shit, though. He just knows that if you put in the hard work, and exercise a little patience, the end results can assuage even his quantum-enhanced libido (for a time, at least). And that’s why he really doesn’t mind turning the simple act of removing his and Jael’s clothes into some kind of ceremonial procedure that takes whole minutes to complete.

With Jael standing in front of him, with her shirt off and her hands clasped behind her back, Kazuo nearly forgets all about his much-vaunted “wisdom” (if that’s what you want to call it), and has to fight the urge to just grab her and have his way with her right here and now. Instead he steps up behind her and, reaching around in front of her, he runs his fingers lightly up her stomach along either side of her navel, increasing the pressure very slightly as he reaches her rib cage and extending his thumbs upwards to run along the side of her silk-encased breasts. His hands follow his thumbs and he gently, firmly, and very briefly caresses Jael’s breasts in his large hands, exploring them through a silken barrier before pulling reluctantly away. He grips her arms just below her shoulders, almost subconsciously pressing himself against her as he leans forward to take in the scent of her skin and hair.

Lowering his head, Kazuo begins kissing Jael on the shoulder, tracing it in steps as it curves up to her neck. Once there he continues right on up, past her jaw, and nibbles briefly on her ear. Pulling back, Kazuo uses his grip on her shoulders to turn Jael towards him and, without waiting to see what she’ll do this time, he kisses her full on the lips.

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Whereas Kazuo had a world of experience with the opposite sex, Jael had almost none. She didn't understand that what he was doing was outside of the norm for guys. She didn't know that this was going to take far, far longer than she thought it would. She was starting to get that hint, when Kazuo didn't immediately fumble for the clasp of her bra. Her perception of Kazuo's performance was aided by the fact that her sexual experiences were limit to one bumbling high school boy. Jimmy wasn't a bad boy, but he wasn't a nova, and he didn't have nearly the number of notches in his belt that Kazuo had.

The tension in the room thickened when Jael took off her shirt. Before that moment, it was there, a hint of tightness in the room, of feel of muscles preparing. It blossomed when Jael removed her shirt, ratcheting the tension up another notch. For Kazuo, it was simple desire; a beautiful woman was disrobing in front of him, and there was clearly going to be some serious nani soon. For Jael, it was a quiet acknowledgement that she was doing something that she'd never done before - she was in front of a man wearing her bra. She'd worn bikinis before, but when stripping in front of a sexual partner, a bra was something very different. Just the look in his eye was enough to send her eyes flicking downward to his groin. And what she saw there was enough to make her clench her hands around one another tightly.

The reality of the situation hit her with acute realization; she was in a strange hotel room, with no really good idea of where she was, with a man she met just a couple of hours ago, if that long, and she was about to have sex with him. She felt her first twinge of misapprehension, but it was quickly smothered by a rising sense of desire. And that desire fed on the sense of anxiety, twisting it from something wrong into something tantalizing. Jael was learning the delight of a situation so wrong it's right.

As Kazuo walked toward her, Jael kept her eyes on the bulge in his pants, fascinated by the sure knowledge that she'd be fitting that into her body. It didn't seem that it would fit, not without pain. But she knew that it was supposed to work out alright, according to the sex talk she'd had with her mother, and occasionally fantastically. Jael had a theoretical knowledge of what was going to happen in the near future, though she had little hands-on experience of the mechanics of physical intimacy. That was the point of today, despite the fact that it was setting her up for a lifetime of disappointment with partners who didn't take the same focus on their partners.

Her eyes rose just before he passed behind her, and this time the burning intensity in his whole eye caught her off guard. His posture and actions had been so casual thus far that this new, focused Kazuo was surprising. A shiver of delight passed through her body as he passed behind her, standing so close she could feel his warmth against her back. She jumped a little when his hands touched her, rubbing over her skin in a way that warmed her body and made goose bumps rise.

A soft sound escaped her throat when his fingers curled over her breasts. This... this is what she'd been hoping for, waiting for since the first time she'd heard of sex. Her head tipped back as he ever-so-slightly leaned into her, sending her hair cascading over his bare chest. His caress was far shorter than she thought it would be, and he made no move to undo her bra strap. She was getting a little confused, but only a little; there was too much going on for her to really worry about what was happening at the moment.

He grasped her arms gently, warming the skin that the air in the room had cooled. His head bent forward and Jael heard him softly sniff at her. Some women would have been creeped out; for Jael, it was natural for him to get her scent. He smelled wonderful, and with him so close, it was as if his scent were wrapping around her, like it was something she could pull around her body and cuddle into. She could smell all the chemicals and reactions that made up a body, but they didn't smell like anything that came out of a lab. Once they'd been filtered through flesh and blood and bone, all they smelled like was sex and life and power.

It was strange, but she suddenly felt like she was the only thing in the world for Kazuo at this moment, as if all his focus was on her. And while that would be the natural situation, Jael felt as if he was so completely focused on her that his needs and desires didn't register. Her previous encounters had impressed on her that men focused on themselves as much as on their partners, but she wasn't getting the feeling from Kazuo. She decided that was absolutely fine with her, even as she decided that she'd exchange the favor; if he was focusing completely on her, and she completely on him, then it should work out wonderfully.

He kissed her shoulder, his lips sending more goose bumps over her skin. And he didn't stop there; he kept going up her neck to her ear, where she briefly felt the sharp pull of his teeth on her skin. His hands - large and firm, almost rough in texture but somehow still gentle - turned her; her head fell back so that she could see his eyes again. The dead eye didn't bother her; it was part of him, and Jael accepted it without qualm. His kiss stole her breath away, coming on the heels of the other soft caresses from him. Her hands moved, resting on his hips, her fingers digging onto his jeans as she returned his kiss. This time, her lips opened to his and he accepted the offer eagerly, deepening their kiss. Her thumbs played with his waistband, slipping onto his flesh and back onto his jeans, taunting him with the suggestion of more intimate contact.

Her heart was racing as she flicked her tongue against his mouth, giving him another permission, one for which he had been waiting patiently. As they began a more earnest exploration of each others' mouths, Jael reached up and took his wrists, pulling his hands away from her shoulders. She guided them down to her backside, smoothing her hands over his until he was cupping her ass. Once he had his grip, she reached to the small of her back and unzipped her skirt.

She'd installed full bottoms in all of her skirts once she'd learned how to fly so that she could retain her modesty in the air and continue to show off her legs. They clung to her hips a little tighter than her skirts, allowing the skirt to cling loosely to her hips. Her actual underwear appeared just above the gaping hem, a thin line of pink lace; had Jael known she'd be having sex today, she would have coordinated her bra and underwear. An unexpected benefit of her tailored skirts was that even if Kazuo removed his hands, her skirt wouldn't come all the way off, not without a little effort - effort that Jael fully intended Kazuo to expend when his hands did move.

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