The Thaumaturge Ch. 30

"I think that -- as fun as that was -- we shouldn't do it again." I was trying to pick my words carefully in the silence that Lauren had left behind.

"I guess not, huh." Viv heaved out a sigh. "Maybe she likes it in the moment, but afterwards she's embarrassed by how much she likes it?"

I blinked at Viv, studied her a little more closely. Tried to look past the blonde-bombshell exterior -- which was, admittedly, difficult. She was still naked, and the flawless tan curves, the flush to her face, were distracting.

But I managed it. Studied her face for a moment, the concern in her eyes for her friend.

It's not like Viv was totally self-absorbed. I knew she cared. But she seemed like she probably just didn't really get what was going on in Lauren's head.

I waffled, for a moment, on just outright telling Viv what I thought was happening: She's embarrassed by how much she likes it because she's in love with you. She likes watching us do this, but you're who she really wants, and every time the three of us do something it's a reminder of what she doesn't have.

Two things stopped me: first, Callistryllaxia's admonishment, from a few nights back. Men always think it's their job to fix women. It's for them to sort out, not you. Two women's feelings for each other aren't your problem or responsibility.

The moment brought her advice into extremely clear focus.

And beyond that, it wasn't my news to share anyway. If I was right about what Lauren felt... she should be the one to tell Viv, not me.

So I let out a sigh as well. " Something like that. I'll text her, maybe try to talk to her later."

Matt: Hey. Let's not do that again without a long conversation first. I care a lot about you and I don't ever want to make you feel embarrassed or hurt. Can we talk later?

And with that message sent, I started re-dressing, and looked at Viv again.

This time with a different set of eyes.

Viv absolutely crackled with my power. I could see it racing through her, could see little sparks of it arcing off her skin, like she was barely containing the current. Where Diana had been a bonfire, Viv was like... a live wire, a thunderstorm, just brimming with potential.

"You're staring." Viv sounded pleased, brought her hands up to cup her breasts.

"Not for the reason you think." I broke into a slow smile. "Let's test some things."

"Okay, so, to recap: Diana's in love with you, and as a result you could do magic on her? But only magic related to her Affinity?"

Viv had pulled the hoodie and shorts back on; I'd redressed as well. We were sitting at her little dining table. Her mouth twisted on the words in love, like they tasted wrong.

I just nodded.

Viv looked skeptical. "So. Try to use my Affinity. Make me float, or something."

So, without further ado: I grasped the magic inside her. The electricity running through her writhed in my mental grip like a living thing.

"Wow, uh, okay," Viv stuttered out. "I can definitely feel you touching... something. That's um... pretty intimate, Matt. I'd make sure you're only doing that with people you know well."

I leaned forward, focused on manipulating the power I could feel in her. Make her float. Make her fly.

Nothing. It was that same sensation I'd had when trying to use Diana's magic to make a gust of wind, that it simply didn't work like this.

I sat back, frustrated.

"Try to do something else," Viv urged. "Maybe... make me glow with light. Or... or make a wind blow through the apartment, like you tried with Diana." I could hear something competitive in her voice now, like she was taking it personally that I could do this with Diana but not her.

I tried again, straining, but it was just... impossible. Like trying to bend your arm backwards. There just wasn't a way for me to move the magic that way.

"It isn't working." It made sense, I supposed, but I couldn't keep the disappointment out of my voice.

So much for throwing fireballs around.

Maybe if Viv liked me more.

The thought was silly and unfair. I knew that, but I couldn't escape it. I glanced over at her.

She was looking back at me like this was some personal failing of mine. "Well, this is all new for you, right? Maybe if you practice."

"I don't think it's practice-related," I said, rankled. "It would've been weird if Diana's love let me use your Affini-"

I stopped, realization dawning. Diana's love let me use Diana's Affinity.

I was testing the wrong thing.

I focused again, gripping the magic inside Viv. This time, I thought about Viv being faster, moving the way I'd seen Diana move.

Crackling energy snaked under my hand, sparking and fizzing faster, being consumed by my will.

Viv's eyes widened. "Matt, what're you-" She reached out a hand to grab my arm across the table.

The movement was a startling blur, she did it so fast.

Magically fast.

Viv stared at her hand. "Holy shit. That's... that's one of Diana's tricks."

I nodded, suddenly feeling smug. "Let's test things."

Everything that had worked on Diana, worked on Viv. I could make her move faster, be stronger.

It did seem a little less efficient. Perhaps because the magic wasn't her Affinity. I could feel myself burning through the power I'd given her faster than I had with Diana.

But when I told Viv that, she just shook her head in disbelief.

"It's way more efficient than what I'd do, if I were casting spells on myself." She was watching as a cut on her arm rapidly reknit itself. "Faster, less power consumed... and you don't have to chant words, or use gestures... nothing. Just focus."

"Yeah." I was watching, in my mind's eye, the magic arcing through her. She still had plenty of my power left. I marveled at being able to see it, to reach out and touch it.

She shook her head. "Wow. I'm a little jealous of your powers."

I grinned, pleased. "I've spent the last two weeks incredibly resentful that my talents amounted to being the equivalent of a magical diesel generator for witches, so it's nice to have the tables turned."

She laughed. "Fair enough."

I glanced at the time on my phone. Shit. There was just too much to do, and not enough hours in the day.

"I've gotta go, but there's one more thing I wanted to ask you," I said, hastily. "I need to talk to the gorgon. The one who, uh, locked away my orgasms. I want to clear the air. I don't think she'll try anything -- she sent a pretty friendly note, and I'll be on-campus, covered by our deal with the werelions. But... I haven't talked to her since then. Any suggestions on how to keep myself safe if things do go south?"

Viv considered. "She sounded really powerful. I think if she actually had it out for you, you'd already be a statue or her pet or... whatever. But I'd bring someone else just in case she tries something again."

"Okay. Want to come?"

Viv grimaced. "Sorry, I can't. I've been lazy today after all the action this weekend, and I want to check on a few things before tonight."

Damn. Viv would've been perfect, but I really wanted to talk to Elana today. "Okay. I'll, uh, ask one of the other ladies."

"Speaking of tonight, we still haven't talked about that. I'm worried Michelle's gonna come in with some half-thought-through crusade to go take on Vincent and Stephanie that's just going to get us all in trouble or killed. We need an alternative we can offer her that's better thought-out."

It was a troubling observation. Viv was probably right.

But I just didn't have enough time to do that right now. "Sorry. I've gotta go. I'll try to get here a few minutes early so we can talk about it?"

Viv pursed her lips. "Okay. See you tonight."

I turned to go.

I couldn't help it. At the last second, before I walked out the door, I mentally reached out for the power thrumming inside of Viv again. Not taking hold of it, just touching it, lightly.

She let out an audible gasp of surprise. "Matt!" She complained. "That feels like... like you copped a feel, but you aren't even near me."

"Sorry, sorry."

But it was hard to feel too sorry.

After all, I could do magic.

It wasn't until I was outside the apartment that I pulled out my phone, considering.

Who to bring with me?

I could feel myself naturally gravitating towards Diana. She was the easy choice. I trusted her. She had good judgment. Maybe I should just bring her.

Except.

Except I knew that if I kept hanging out with her, I'd miss my chance to connect with some of the other women around me. To enhance my abilities that way.

On the one hand, it felt juvenile, wanting to have my cake and eat it too. And slightly manipulative. I liked all these women, but it was hard to feel like I was genuinely pursuing relationships with them with the carrot of more power in front of me.

On the other hand, I couldn't stop replaying the scene's from Michelle's memories: Vincent catching the spear Michelle's father had thrown. Throwing Michelle's father against the fireplace hard enough to crack stone.

I needed to be stronger, I suspected.

I sighed. I wished I'd had more time to talk to Samantha this morning. She'd seemed uncharacteristically interested in giving me advice, which I suspected I could use.

But I put that out of my mind. I needed somebody to bring with me, ideally someone who wasn't Diana.

I ran through the other options:

Viv didn't have time.

Lauren was out. I didn't want to ask her to do anything, not right now.

Brooke was... well, Brooke. A loose cannon. I might pick her if I knew I was walking into a brawl but probably not otherwise.

But who else was there? Michelle? Bring the unstable monster-hunter whose father might be dead to meet a gorgon? Hardly a good idea.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought Brooke might actually be the right call. If Elana was hostile, Brooke would be a werelion, in werelion territory.

It would mean an awkward conversation with her, I was sure. But the decision felt right.

I pulled out my phone to text Brooke, but was momentarily distracted as a text from Lauren came in, right at that moment, responding to my earlier message.

Lauren: I'm ok. I just... needed some time to cool off. And think.

I thought of Lauren, all alone in her apartment since she'd left Viv's, just thinking.

I winced. It didn't strike me as a sign that all was well.

Matt: Whatever you need, ok? I care about you.

Lauren: Thanks, Matt. How'd testing go with Viv?

Matt: Interesting.

I quickly recapped the tests that Viv and I had run.

Lauren: Huh. Fascinating. This sounds really powerful. I have a bunch of questions and thoughts; we should talk soon. Gotta run, though, I'm late.

Matt: Ok, see you tonight then.

She thumbsed-up that; I stared at the emoji reaction for a few moments.

Lauren did not seem okay.

But I had to get to office hours. I turned my attention to crafting a message for Brooke.

"This had better not be you asking me to stand outside an art studio while you and a gorgon have sex, Matt." There was suspicion in Brooke's green eyes.

"What? No." I rolled my eyes.

The werelion was in her usual workout attire; she'd said she was headed to the gym after this. She seemed to pretty much live there, which did a lot to explain her looks.

We were on our way to the sculpture studio where Elana held both classes and office hours.

I frowned at her. "That's exactly what I don't want. Last time I... um, did something with her, it didn't go well, okay? I'm talking to her just to make sure she's not... holding a grudge. I just want you there in case it turns out that she is."

"This sounds like an extremely stupid idea." Brooke crossed her arms.

"We're on-campus, in werelion territory," I countered. "And I'm under the pride's protection. If something happens here, you go get Clint and whoever else, and they turn her into gorgon stew, right? Or are you saying you don't think that the pride can protect me?"

She growled at me. Actually growled, an aggrieved, irritated sound. "Of course we can."

"Right. Okay. So there's no problem." I kept my voice cheerful.

And then, trying to be surreptitious about it, I looked at Brooke. Really looked. Not just with my eyes.

Like Lauren, and Viv, there wasn't much of my magic left in Brooke; the ritual they'd performed had used it up.

But what was in there, I could feel, just like with the witches.

Now, it's a little hard to describe what my magic looked like inside Brooke, alright? It wasn't nearly as straightforward as with the witches.

Ever been to the zoo, and looked at an animal enclosure that's apparently empty? You're peering through the bars or the plexiglass or whatever. It's one of those big exhibits, clearly intended for a large animal. You're expecting to see a gorilla, an elephant, something.

But you don't see any posted sign on the exhibit. Maybe, you think, the exhibit is empty.

Then you start noticing other things. Context clues.

There's a metal bowl, a big cut of bloody, raw meat in it, only half-eaten.

A tree that's been used as a scratching post.

Then the sense of menace registers.

Like you're being watched, by something large and predatory. You can't say where, exactly -- there's a rocky outcrop; it could be behind that. A little shadowed alcove; it could be in there. Or maybe it's hidden in the tall grass on the other side of the exhibit.

You aren't sure.

But what you can say for sure is that whatever's watching you is really pissed off to be all cooped up. Your hind-brain becomes aware -- without even seeing the animal -- that the only thing keeping you alive is some metal bars, a few panes of extra-thick plexiglass.

That is what the magic inside Brooke felt like. Raw animal rage. Contained, but only barely... and fucking livid about it.

It wanted out.

"You're staring." Brooke was watching me, curiously.

"Sorry." Jesus. Did she walk around with that inside her all the time?

"Matt. You look weird. What's up?" Brooke prompted.

"Just, uh, a lot on my mind." I smiled at her. "C'mon, tell me what to expect from the Midsummer Rites."

"Like I said, it's a celebration. There are games -- competitions, feats of strength, that sort of thing. You don't have to participate in anything you don't want to. Although there's a hand-to-hand combat tournament I'll certainly be trying to win."

I could hear the determination in her voice. It clearly mattered to her. "Would that help your standing in the pride?"

She nodded, vigorously. "Yeah. Not only would it help my standing, but Clint arranges some prizes each year and they're generally really good."

Something occurred to me. "Is it against the rules for me to help you?"

She tilted her head. "You can't be inside the ring when the fight starts, if that's what you mean."

"But I could use my magic to support you?" I very carefully kept the wording intentionally vague.

"I mean, yeah? I'm hoping you'll give me power beforehand. It'll help me win." She looked confused.

"Cool. Let's just make sure that I really understand the rules," I said, neutrally.

I didn't want to get Brooke in trouble, but if what I could do for Diana and Viv was any indication, I imagined I could turn Brooke's supernatural speed and strength into something seriously formidable. If the rules of the tournament allowed for it.

"Uh, sure. You're being super weird." She gave me a look. "Are you like, trying to think of ways to make up for not picking me to go into Michelle's head with you?"

"Brooke..." I hesitated. This wasn't the moment I had wanted to bring this up with her, but I wanted to talk about our relationship in broad strokes before she found out that Diana had told me she loved me. So I bulled ahead. "I don't want you to think this is something it's not."

"What do you mean?" She gave me a guarded look.

"I like you. A lot. In spite of how we first met, the whole kidnapping thing."

She made a small sound, but I just waved it off, kept talking.

"But I'm not your boyfriend. I'm a thaumaturge. I'm going to have close relationships with other women. It comes with the territory."

She stiffened. "Yeah, I-I know that, obviously."

"You don't have to like it. But it has to be okay. I don't want to dance around it with you, or pretend like it's not happening." I gave her a steady, level look.

She scowled. "Are you seriously giving me a speech about how you're some magical fuckboy?"

I cracked a grin at that, but stood my ground. "I seriously am. You tried to kidnap me. Michelle tried to kidnap me. I've had a run-in with a gorgon. Stephanie's out there. So is Vincent. I need allies, and I need to give them power. This isn't optional or negotiable."

She tossed her head, irritably; her blonde ponytail bounced. "I still think you should just throw in with the werelions. The witches aren't powerful enough to properly protect you."

"One, I like them. I'm not just going to cut them loose at this point. I'd tell them the same thing if they suggested cutting you out."

She blinked. "Oh. Seriously?"

The words had come out of my mouth before I'd really thought them through, but I decided it was true. We had a... charged relationship, but I liked Brooke.

"Seriously. And two, I don't think you'd like it better anyway if I threw in with the pride completely. I mean, that would probably mean giving power to some of the oth-"

"Okay. I get it, Matt. You're going to run around fucking whoever you like and I can either accept it or take a hike. You think you're the first guy to ever come up with this concept?"

"I mean, I'm kind of suspecting that other guys don't have the whole being-kidnapped-for-their-power thing happening with them, but maybe you're about to surprise me."

"No, you're obviously so special and unique." Her voice was angry, and the words came out clipped; there was a long pause after she said that. "It's fine. You and I can just keep making deals then. Like the power you're going to owe me after I wait outside while you don't fuck this gorgon. Who probably shouldn't even be on-campus anyway. This is our territory."

I sighed. "Okay." Brooke's reaction to this conversation did not bode well for how she would react when she realized how close Diana had gotten with me.

We were approaching the art studio space; I checked the time on my phone. We were arriving in the last fifteen minutes of Elana's office hours. At least I'd made it, though.

I glanced at Brooke at the big garage-style doors that were currently open. "Can you wait out here? If you hear anything weird from inside, come running, okay? Or maybe call in for help from the pride. Use your judgment. Just... don't make eye contact with her." I shivered at the memory.

She gave a single nod. "Sure."

"Thanks. I will owe you."

She just looked more irritated by that, but I was out of patience; I just wanted to get this over with. I took a breath, steeling myself, and stepped inside.

The studio space was big, with tall ceilings and machinery all over the place. The area where Elana lectured and held classes was on the other end; this side was full of smaller workstations -- potter's wheels, drafting tables, and the like. A few kilns were against the wall.

Elana was, currently, bent over at a table, working on something.

I paused when I saw her. It was the first time I'd seen her in-person since she'd used her magic to lock away my orgasms, and I had an immediate, visceral reaction.

First and foremost was a fight-or-flight response. I remembered how the loss of control it had felt -- needing and wanting to get off, but knowing I couldn't do it, not without her.

Second was the memory of how it felt to lose myself in her eyes. That floating sensation of warm lassitude. The way she'd... massaged me, mind and cock both.

It was like my body was having two completely different responses: adrenaline and arousal both raced through me.

I stared, silent, for a moment, at Elana's back, trying to gather myself. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, like the last time I'd seen her, some kind of apron tied around her front. Same curvaceous silhouette. Same wavy brown hair gathered up in a practical ponytail.

She stood and turned. "Matt." Her voice was pleased. "I was worried you'd decided not to come."

"Professor Callis. You said we should talk." I kept my voice neutral. And I didn't meet her eyes. I kept my gaze in the vicinity -- her chin, mouth -- but didn't let it drift up. She was wearing her eyeglasses -- simple, dark frames -- but I could still feel the pull of her eyes tugging at me.

"I did." She set down a small scalpel-like tool she'd been using to shape a clay statuette in front of her. She gestured to a pair of stools near one of the workstations. "Sit with me."

I sat, choosing the stool that put me closer to the open doors.

Elana sat across from me, crossed one long leg over the other, and regarded me with those dark eyes. I could feel her gaze on me like heat from an open oven, even though I wasn't meeting it.

"You're avoiding my eyes," she observed. "I want to start by saying that what happened between us was..." She paused, choosing her words. "... not deliberate. Truly."

"You'll forgive me if I can't just take your word for that," I said, diplomatically. "Locking away my orgasms wasn't intentional?"

"No." She said it simply, without defensiveness. "I know that sounds difficult to believe. But my abilities are not always... precise. Especially when it comes to thaumaturges." She was studying me, thoughtful. "I thought I'd be more able to help you with your stamina than I turned out to be. I maintain that what happened wouldn't have been so bad -- but you've resolved the situation on your own, I see. That must've been... tricky."

"It was." I was trying to gauge whether she was lying or not. It was surprisingly difficult to do without looking her in the eye.

"And you've been accumulating allies," she noted. "I hear murmurs, of course. You seem to be doing quite well for yourself, given how new you are to all this. You're a resourceful young man."

I didn't respond to that, just inclined my head slightly.

"At any rate, I don't expect you to take my word for it, dear," she said, in the silence. "I'd be cautious too, after what happened. I respect that. So I'll just say this."

She paused, gathering herself.

"I've known a few thaumaturges who have grown powerful. Every single one of them thought they were the hero of their story, and they all, universally, nursed grudges."

"I have no interest in being on your list of scores to settle. And I don't especially want to get you out of the way and put a target on my back from the witches and werelions you've befriended, either. I've been alive a long time, Matt. Much longer than most. And one thing I've learned is that making enemies is exhausting work." There was a dry, tired humor in her voice. "I haven't lived this long by fighting dramatic battles, subjugating others. I don't want you under my thumb, and I don't want you as an enemy, either. I've lived this long by focusing on living. "

"Okay," I said. I still felt guarded; I'd trusted her once. "If not enemies, then -- what are you proposing?"

"Friendly neighbors?" she offered, her cheeks dimpling into a smile. "I'll be someone you have no reason to bother, and who has no reason to bother you." She paused, and then added, "Perhaps every now and then one of us needs a cup of sugar, a few eggs -- and the other can provide it. And I'd love for you to continue to show up to class, dear. You've got lots of potential as an artist. It'd be a shame to squander it." The last sentence was admonishing.

I snorted. It sounded so reasonable. It would have been reasonable, before she'd locked my orgasms away. I wasn't sure how easily our relationship could come back from that.

She rested her hand on her chin, staring at me, thoughtfully. "Still skeptical. I'll tell you what. Indulge an older woman's curiosity and answer a question for me, and then, perhaps I can offer you a little help in return. Just friendly conversation between neighbors." She gave me an indulgent smile.

Now I was curious. "What's your question?"

"You're quite a bit more powerful than the last time I saw you. I can tell. I've met thaumaturges over the years, some who have grown quite powerful indeed. What has it required of you, to grow your power so quickly? Any... violence, say?"

I saw what she was asking. I shook my head, vehemently. "I'm not interested in that particular path to power."

"Good. I thought not; it doesn't seem like your style." She gave a single approving nod.

Her apparent familiarity with how thaumaturges could attain power was more than enough to pique my interest. "You said you've met thaumaturges who've grown powerful. What can you tell me about them?"

"It's only been a handful, across the centuries." She said the words slowly, thoughtfully. "They are rare to begin with. The ones who grew truly powerful are even rarer than that. But the ones that managed it all kept one thing in mind."

"What's that?" I was better at keeping the eagerness out of my voice than I expected.

"They understood where their power comes from with tremendous clarity. Whatever road you walk, thaumaturges are fundamentally about other people. And other people are complicated." Her voice had gone contemplative, almost gentle. "The thaumaturges who last manage their relationships wisely, because they know the cost of getting them wrong is significant. And often you don't pay the price exactly how you might expect."

"That's... kind of cryptic."

She laughed, a bubbly little sound. "Sorry, dear. Let me be more direct, perhaps with an example. Your friend Diana, the one you sketched in class. She likes you; I could tell when I met her at the exhibition. Perhaps she even likes you enough to provide a specific type of... raw material... that thaumaturges require to grow their power."

That was so on-the-mark that I couldn't even think of a reply. I didn't say anything, not wanting to reveal too much.

"You're keeping it close to your chest. Good. Very wise; you see that your relationships are both assets and vulnerabilities. Now, if I wanted to make your life difficult -- to be clear, I don't dear, I'm just saying if I did -- what might I do?"

She didn't wait for me to reply.

"You might say that the easy thing would just be taking Diana away. But that might be complicated. You'd be angry, so would she, your other allies would see me as a threat to them as well... all very messy."

I blinked. "... So what, then?"

She shrugged. "I'd just find another pretty young girl who wants a relationship with a thaumaturge, wind her up, and point her in your direction. Maybe one who could expand your power in a specific, interesting way, something you could really use. Maybe a girl who would make Diana jealous."

"Diana might be okay with it," I countered.

"True, she might be. But maybe you'll wake up one morning realizing that you're only interested in the new young woman for the power she might grant you. Perhaps you'll end things with her, because it's the right thing to do. But even that might be a problem; maybe Diana will think: wait a minute. Maybe he's only with me for the power, too. He's not willing to use her that way, but he would use me? Perhaps that sours her on you, and now you're left with no one."

This felt a lot like the ethical quandaries I'd been turning over in my own mind. Maybe I needed to be taking some kind of moral philosophy class instead of art.

But I tried to rally. "Maybe you're underestimating my ability to manage interpersonal relationships."

"Maybe. So then I'd just send another pretty girl who'd be useful to you." Her voice was steady. "And another. And another. My experience is that eventually, every single thaumaturge overextends themselves. Makes a mistake, a bad call. One relationship too many in the name of power. One bargain with a new ally that feels necessary, but destabilizes the relationships that they already have, upsets someone they count on, who they can't afford to upset. And everything collapses, like a house of cards."

I was silent. Thinking of the speech I'd just given to Brooke.

Of Lauren, silently leaving Viv's apartment.

Diana's ultimatum about if I said I loved someone else before I loved her.

In the periphery of my vision, Elana's brown eyes were sympathetic. "Everyone starts off thinking the path of violence is the hard one, the dangerous one. But the truth is that there aren't any easy paths. Just different difficult ones. The ones who grow to power and last a while appreciate how delicate it is; they tread carefully and thoughtfully, knowing that every new relationship, each step further down a path, adds complexity to their lives." She paused. "Or they just start killing people. It's not easier, but it is simpler."

"Thank you, Professor," I conceded. "That's something to think about for sure."

"Oh, just neighborly conversation," she repeated. She brushed her hands together, as if wiping away imaginary dust. "Now. I'll send you my lecture notes from last class and the instructional assignment. I wouldn't normally do that, but you're rapidly becoming one of my favorite students. Just don't tell anyone, dear." An indulgent smile.

I opened my mouth to thank her again, but closed it after a moment when I heard a sound.

Voices, outside. Raised voices. One of them was Brooke's.

The other I didn't immediately recognize.

"-fucking following me? Are you serious right now, Serena?"

"You're sneaking around with the thaumaturge behind the pride's back, so yeah. Does Clint know what you're up to?"

I placed the voice, now. Serena. One of the werelions from the house.

"This isn't behind anyone's back, and you need to back off-" Brooke's voice was almost snarl, now.

"Or what? You've always been a fucking runt-"

There was a series of sounds: a scuffle, a sharp impact, something hitting the wall just outside the open garage doors.

I was on my feet in an instant.

Elana, however, didn't stand. She simply raised one hand, made a languid, rolling gesture with her fingers, and two statues near the studio entrance moved.

The sight was unnatural, deeply unsettling. Both statues were half-completed figure studies -- the kind used to show concept and technique to students, helping them to learn how to sculpt human figures from stone. They were not intended to ever be finished pieces of art. They weren't made from quality material, they were rough-hewn, from clay and plaster.

They looked, in other words, a bit sloppy. Messy. And I would've expected shambling, herky-jerky, zombie-like movement.

But instead, they were fluid. They unexpectedly flowed, like very smooth stop-motion animation.

They were out the garage doors in an instant, and back again.

One of them was lifting Brooke overhead. She was twisting, catlike, forcing the statue to constantly adjust its grip and position, but it was managing to hold her.

The other had Serena crushed against it, like it was embracing her. She was scrabbling ineffectually at the stone.

"Are these friends of yours, Matt?" Elana's gaze was on me, curious.

I did not immediately respond.

I'd seen a handful of impressive feats of magic so far. I'd used magic to dive inside Michelle's mind. I'd seen the witches summon a succubus. I'd teleported from a spell Lauren had put on my phone.

But watching two statues that had to weigh hundreds of pounds each move of their own accord was, definitively, the most dramatic display yet.

I would not want to get on Elana's bad side.

"They're both werelions." I pointed at Brooke. "Friend. I brought her just in case you were, uh... less neighborly than you have turned out to be." I pointed at Serena. "Her, I can't say. Just eavesdropping, it sounds like. She probably followed us; my apologies."

No way in hell was I about to go to bat for Serena based on how she'd behaved so far.

Elana made another twisting gesture with a hand, and the statue holding Brooke set her down gently. Brooke backed away hastily, rubbing one arm where it had grabbed her and staring at it, wide eyed and furious.

"Let. Me. Go." Serena grunted out the words with effort. She was bracing herself against the statue's chest, like she was trying to perform a push-up off of it.

The statue creaked, ominously; the sound of fired clay straining, maybe cracking slightly. But it held her tight.

Damn. She had to be strong.

"I shall put you down now," Elana said, mildly. "And you'll explain what you're doing here."

Another gesture, and the statue set Serena down on her feet next to Brooke.

I studied her as she turned to face us, bright blue eyes glaring. Serena was tall and blonde, wearing a loose skirt and an off-the-shoulder top. Where Brooke was built like a gymnast or a cheerleader, Serena had the frame of a model -- a good six or eight inches taller than Brooke, slim and willowy.

"You-you shouldn't be on campus." She was glaring at Elana, now. "This is our territory."

"I'd call it Clint's territory, personally." Elana was still perched on her stool, regarding the werelion like she was watching an especially petulant child act out. "And Clint and I go way back. We have an agreement, little kitten; one that pre-dates all the cubs like you running around. You can ask him directly if you like."

Elana's utter nonchalance seemed to deflate Serena a little bit, or at least redirect her; her eyes shifted to me. "And you."

"Serena-" Brooke started, warningly.

"I heard you two talking on the way here." Serena spoke over Brooke but kept looking at me, contemptuous. "Your little magical fuckboy speech. Cute. Really pathetic that Brooke goes along with it at all, obviously. But then, pathetic is practically Brooke's middle name. I can't say I'm surprised."

I was pretty sure the only thing keeping Brooke from tackling Serena was Elana. Brooke bared her teeth, but gave Elana a wary, respectful look.

I gave Serena a tight smile. "If you're jealous of her, you can just say it, Serena."

"Of her? Please." She turned her attention to Elana, then back to me. "And speaking of pathetic: the gorgon probably has you wrapped around her finger anyway, doesn't she? I heard what you said about locking your orgasms away. You have no willpower."

"You don't understand at all, young lady." Elana's voice was mild, almost bored. She still hadn't stood up from her stool. "My powers work on anyone. Thaumaturge, witch, werelion." Elana waited, let that land. "Anyone."

Serena's jaw tightened. Something defensive flickered in her expression.

"It certainly wouldn't work on me," she said, flatly.

Elana's eyebrows rose. The faintest ghost of a smile touched her lips.

"No?" she asked, softly. "How sure are you, dear?"

Serena squared her shoulders, chin lifting. "Completely sure."

"Really?" Elana smiled, all kindly dimples. "Perhaps a little test, then?"

"I, uh, wouldn't," I warned.

"Let's just leave." Even Brooke looked concerned, now.

"Very wise," Elana nodded, agreeably. "There's no shame in acknowledging when you can't handle something."

Serena looked at Brooke, then me. Then tossed her mane of blonde hair, crossed her arms. "Shut up. I'm much stronger-willed than either of you."

I was tempted to just grab Brooke's hand and go, but the conversation was like a front-row seat to a train derailment -- I was stuck watching it with fascinated horror.

Serena had that werelion stubbornness, that animal pride that seemed to make backing down from a challenge physically impossible. I knew it pretty well from Brooke.

And Elana clearly knew it well enough to goad Serena into doing something I knew to be really stupid.

"Wonderful. It would be so nice if the younger werelions knew to steer clear of me; I think this will help." Slowly, Elana lifted a hand up, removing her glasses. "Just look me in the eyes, then, dear. Simple for someone as strong-willed as you."

The studio went very quiet.

I was keeping my eyes, carefully, on Serena, not Elana. I angled myself away from Elana, so there was no risk of accidentally meeting her gaze.

"Fine." Serena's voice was tight, confident. "That's easy. I can... o-oh-"

Whatever she'd been about to say just trailed off into nothing.

Her gaze went slightly vacant. Her breath stuttered. Her whole body went slightly lax; she wobbled, a little, on her feet.

"You... you can't... I shouldn't... mmm." Serena's breathing had gone a little ragged. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Now, dear," Elana's voice was conversational as she stared into Serena's eyes, unblinking. "Don't worry. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do; we'll just focus on things you do want. And, of course, no permanent changes; the arrangement I've made with Clint precludes that. But I do want this to be instructive, so Clint's other younglings know to give me a wide berth."

She tapped one finger against her lips, thoughtfully.

I glanced at Brooke. She was watching Serena, a vindictive expression on her face.

"You know what I find interesting about werelions?" Elana stood up. Her tone was pleasant, unhurried, like she was delivering a lecture. Which, I supposed, she was. "You're all so physical. So in your bodies. Witches, when I do this to them, they try to think their way out of it. Build mental walls, recite incantations, that sort of thing. It rarely works, but they try."

She tilted her head, still not breaking the eye contact. She was studying Serena with an almost clinical interest.

"But werelions aren't like that. You're so connected to your physical self. Just a cocktail of hormones and chemicals in the driver's seat of your brain." She let the sentence hang. "It must make this very intense, hm?"

"I-it feels..." Serena's voice was throaty, and she trailed off into a sound: half-growl, half-purr.

"It's alright to say it, dear. It feels good, doesn't it? Different than you expected, but good. It's okay to feel it. Fully." Elana's words -- maternal, encouraging -- seemed to land on Serena differently than I expected. Instead of getting angry, she shuddered. Her whole body trembled, and a flush crept down her neck, spreading across her chest.

"Oh god," Serena breathed, shakily.

I recalled the feeling of looking into Elana's eyes, but it was something else entirely to see someone else come undone. Serena's arrogance was gone; her eyes were glassy, lips parted.

"Now," Elana continued, "Let's talk about what you want, dear. Let's get to raw honesty. I could turn this off, right now. Just look away. You'd be embarrassed, probably. Angry, certainly. You'd storm off and tell yourself it wasn't that bad." She paused, meaningfully. "But I don't think you actually want me to turn it off. Do you?"

Serena's breath hitched, audibly.

"Be honest, dear."

"No." The word came out of Serena small, ashamed. "No, I... don't want you to stop. This... this is... good."

"Good girl," Elana said, affectionately. "Now. You seem... excited. Tell us what you're thinking about, Serena. Share with the class."

"Matt's cock," she mumbled. "I-I saw it yesterday. Wasted on Brooke. Not fair."

Elana's eyebrows climbed. "Goodness. I suppose I knew you've been busy, Matt, but I didn't expect that." She redirected her attention back to Serena. "Why isn't it fair, dear?"

"S-she's weak. Doesn't deserve it. My station is higher than hers." You could hear the venom in Serena's voice. "Thaumaturges are rare. I've never had one. Should be me."

Brooke made a strangled sound of outrage behind me.

"That's very honest of you, Serena. Thank you." Elana's voice was warm, approving, the way you'd commend a student for a correct answer.

Serena practically wallowed in the praise. "Y-yes..."

"I understand," Elana said, reassuringly. "I mean, Matt's a handsome young man and a thaumaturge. Beyond that, his cock is -- if I do say so myself -- a work of art."

Serena let out a needy whimper.

"And, of course, sex with a thaumaturge is different. Getting filled up with power. I mean, I'm sure Brooke here knows. Uniquely pleasurable, isn't it?"

"It feels really good, yeah." Brooke was watching Serena.

"I want it," Serena said. Her voice was hoarse. "Please."

"Well. I think that's up to Matt, dear." Elana didn't glance my way, kept her eyes on Serena. "What do you think, Matt?"

I didn't answer for a moment. I almost made eye contact with Elana, but didn't.

I was turned on, there was no denying that. Serena was hot. The women discussing my cock, what it was like to have sex with me, had gotten me hard.

But: wasn't this exactly what Elana had said she'd do, if she wanted to make my life difficult? Throwing a pretty girl at me?

I opened my mouth to object, but Elana spoke again before I could.

"I mean, she's sensitive. Primed and ready. She wants it. Serena could be your next conquest." Elana put special emphasis on the last word.

"Yes -- please, Matt," Serena whispered.

I froze. Stared at Serena. She did look really, really aroused. And really, really submissive. I had no idea if this would count as a conquest -- I was, evidently, the object of Serena's desire, but it seemed to me that Elana was doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

So was this Elana making a peace offering, then? Or was the idea of a conquest just Elana putting more bait on the hook?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elana's lips quirk up, like she knew what I was thinking. Like she'd intended that, that this was as much a lesson for me as for Serena. "You're being careful. That's good. But please believe me that I wouldn't warn you of something I was planning to do moments later. This is just... a cup of sugar for a neighbor who's got a baking project? Ah, the neighbor metaphor is becoming a little strained, I suppose."

I hesitated, still uncertain.

Brooke leaned in. "She's bullied me since I first became a werelion. If you fuck her this one time," she whispered in my ear, voice low and savage, "if you show her what she wants so badly but can't ever have again, I'll call it even for me coming with you to see the gorgon."

Even Brooke, of all people, wanted me to do this.

"Serena." I said her name quietly. "You really want this?"

"Yes." No hesitation. Not even a flicker of misgiving. "Yes, please, give it to me -- I'm so -- I need-" She let out a frustrated, keening sound, unable to finish the sentence.

"Need what, dear? Use your words, kitten." Elana's voice was gentle, coaxing. "You can say it. Nobody here is going to judge you."

"His cock." She said it like a confession, her face burning red, her body swaying slightly. "Please. I need his big cock. Please, I-I-"

I'd be lying if I said it didn't do something to me.

It wasn't only that she was attractive, although she was, objectively, gorgeous: tall, blonde, those sharp cheekbones and full lips. It was the inversion of her ego. The total collapse of her composure, her desire laid bare.

She wanted me so badly. Maybe, under Elana's influence, she could be a conquest. And I doubted I'd have another chance like this one.

It was worth the risk that I was playing into some trap the gorgon was setting, I decided. I stepped toward her. Serena's eyes flickered towards me, hungrily, for an instant, before the gravitational pull of the gorgon's gaze dragged her back in.

I moved behind her. She was maybe an inch shorter than me but her posture had collapsed a little -- her shoulders rounded, knees slightly bent, like her body was trying to curl inward around the need between her legs. Up close I could actually see the rapid fluttering breaths she was taking, her chest rising and falling.

I reached for the hem of her skirt, pushed it up her thighs.

"Yes-" The word became a desperate sound and her hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking contact.

Holy fuck. Underneath, her underwear was soaked. Not damp, not wet, but soaked, the fabric of her panties darkened and clinging to her.

I pulled them down over her pert butt, her shapely legs. She stepped out of them clumsily, nearly stumbling, still locked in Elana's gaze.

"Oh, my," Elana observed mildly. "Someone's quite worked up."

The inside of Serena's thighs were slick, glistening. I could actually smell her arousal.

I undid my jeans, pushed them down. I was fully erect, now. Serena was panting in front of me.

"Matt, please, just fuck me," The words tumbled out of her. "I'll do anything, I can't take this, I-"

Her hips were rocking, subtly, grinding against nothing. Her hands were clenched at her sides.

I put one hand on her hip to steady her, moving to stand directly behind her.

"Oh god oh god oh god-" She was chanting it, a mindless loop, her whole body quivering in anticipation.

A moment later, when the head of my cock brushed against the wet opening between her thighs, she let out a broken cry that echoed off the studio walls.

I pushed into her.

What happened next was immediate, violent, and complete.

The instant I entered her -- not even fully, just the first thick inches spreading her open -- Serena's entire body seized. Her back arched, her head snapped back, and she let out a scream. Not a moan, not a cry; a shriek, high and sharp and utterly uncontrolled.

She clamped down on me so hard it was almost painful, rhythmic contractions working my cock as she came. Her legs buckled; I had to grip both her hips to keep her upright, pulling her back against me as her orgasm tore through her.

"Fuck -- oh, FUCK-" She was shaking violently, her inner walls spasming around me. I wasn't even thrusting. I was barely inside her. She was cumming just from the first stretch of my cock pushing into her.

God. The sounds she was making, the feeling of dominating her, was intoxicating. I could feel my body responding. I tried to ignore it, sank in deeper.

Serena's scream broke into desperate gasps. Her hands flew backward, grabbing at my thighs, my hips, anything she could reach, pulling me into her.

"M-more -- deeper, more -- please, all of it, I need all of you-"

I gave it to her. Pushed all the way in until I was buried to the hilt, my hips against her ass. She was soaking wet, absolutely drenched, and I could feel her arousal running down both our thighs.

"Yes, fuck, you're so big-" And the words dissolved as she came again. Or maybe it was still the same orgasm; it was hard to tell. Her body hadn't stopped shaking. Another wave of contractions clenched around my length, and she made a sound that was barely human -- a growling, keening wail that came from deep in her chest.

"There it is," Elana murmured, approvingly. "See, dear? Just like I said. Werelions are so physical. All those hormones, all that animal instinct. It makes you so responsive." She paused, watching Serena with the eye of a sculptor studying raw material. "I imagine you've never cum that fast in your life, have you?"

"N-no-" Serena's voice was wrecked. Hoarse, small. The arrogant edge was gone entirely, replaced by something naked and stunned. "Never -- I've never -- oh god, he's so deep-"

"Mmm. And he's not even moving yet, dear."

That observation seemed to hit Serena like a physical blow. She shuddered, squeezing around me again. She was impossibly tight -- tighter than I would have expected for someone her height, and the rhythmic clenching of her orgasm hadn't fully subsided.

Fuck, she felt good. And how quickly she was getting off was so hot. But -- with effort -- I was managing to hold off my orgasm, at least for now. The situation was so bizarre, so far outside any normal sexual context. The adrenaline Elana's trick with the statues, from the confrontation, was making the orgasm build in me more slowly than it might have otherwise.

So I brought one hand up from Serena's hips to her hair, gripping it at the nape of her neck. I pulled back slowly, dragging my cock through the slick grip of her, and then thrust back in. Hard.

"Ah-" Serena's voice cracked. Her legs trembled; she was leaning back into me. If I hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed.

I fucked into her again. And again. Slow, deep, forceful strokes that drove my full length into her each time.

With each thrust, Serena made a different helpless noise: a whimper, a gasp, a plea. Her hands scrabbled at me for support. She was trying to brace herself, but it was like all the strength had gone out of her; every time I bottomed out, I was the only thing keeping her upright.

I spared a glance over at Brooke.

She was leaning against the wall near the garage doors. Arms crossed. Her green eyes were locked on my cock, disappearing into Serena, over and over.

Her expression was equal parts cold fury and savage satisfaction.

She also hadn't looked away.

"You," Brooke said, voice venomous, directed at Serena. "You've always called me a runt. Said I couldn't handle him. But look at you."

I wasn't sure whether she even heard Brooke or not; Serena wasn't reacting to anything besides my cock. And when she spoke, it was in an overwhelmed gasp. "Too much, i-it's too much, I can't -- I keep-" Another orgasm shook her, her whole body going rigid.

And that one -- the heat of it, the desperate clench around my cock, the sight of the arrogant woman completely undone in front of me -- pushed me over the edge.

If I was honest, I was surprised I'd lasted this long. I groaned as I felt it rush over me.

I buried myself to the hilt one last time and came.

The orgasm hit me hard. I felt myself pulsing inside her, flooding her, each throb drawing a responsive clench from Serena's body.

I lost my pace entirely, not that it mattered; Serena was writhing against me, incoherent, almost sobbing. The next thirty seconds were a frantic, messy coupling as I spent myself inside her, grunting. I was acutely aware of Elana and Brooke, both watching with satisfaction -- albeit for different reasons.

I could feel the magic pouring out of me into Serena.

"Fuck," she breathed weakly. "Oh, god." Her whole body convulsed, back arching so hard I thought she might hurt herself. She finally broke eye contact with Elana as she twisted.

Then she collapsed.

Her legs just gave out entirely. I managed to catch her, barely, lowering her to the studio floor where she crumpled, trembling, chest heaving, staring at nothing. Wet, flushed, and utterly destroyed.

The studio was quiet.

Into the silence, Brooke spoke.

"You couldn't resist the gorgon. And you came the second he put it in." Brooke's voice was quiet, devastating. "You didn't even make it one thrust. One. You think I can't handle him? I hope you remember this."

This time, Serena had to have heard her.

Elana replaced her glasses, gently, and absently smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked down at Serena with something approaching fondness.

"I trust," she said, pleasantly, "that you'll make sure the other werelions know to steer clear, yes?"

Serena didn't respond. She was still shaking, curled on her side on the concrete floor, one hand between her legs like she was trying to hold herself together. Little aftershock tremors kept running through her.

I pulled my jeans up, trying to catch my breath. My hands were unsteady.

Brooke pushed off the wall and walked over. She stopped, looking down at Serena -- at the mess of her, the sweat-dampened hair, the glazed eyes, the slick between her thighs.

She stood, turned to me, and her expression shifted: still complicated, still tinged with possessiveness and jealousy, but there was something else there, too. Gratitude, maybe.

"We should go," Brooke said.

Elana waved a hand, airily. "By all means. Serena can rest here for a bit. I'll make sure she gets home safely."

I looked at Elana. Tried, very carefully, to read her expression without meeting her eyes directly. She seemed genuinely pleased; not in a predatory way, but in the way of someone who'd just resolved a minor inconvenience very tidily.

"Thank you, Professor," I said. "For the conversation. And the, um..." I glanced down at Serena again.

"Neighborly assistance?" she supplied, dimpling.

"Yeah. That."

"Of course. I knew I'd need to do something eventually, so that the younger werelions don't trouble me; this was perfect. It was nice to meet you too, Brooke. Always good to meet Matt's friends."

"You too, ma'am." Brooke replied. Her eyes were on Serena, still; the words were tight. Controlled.

"Now, Matt," Elana said, briskly, "Do come to class on Thursday, dear. We're working with clay, and I think you'll enjoy it."

"I'll, uh, be there." I nodded, gave Serena one last glance -- she'd managed to push herself up onto one elbow, but her eyes were still unfocused, and her breathing hadn't fully steadied -- and followed Brooke toward the exit.

Probing my internal sense of my own magic, I could feel that my well of power had gotten deeper. I had more power to give, a good bit more.

It had counted as a conquest, I decided. Serena was a strong werelion. Another step down that path.

Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that it had counted; the only conquests I'd gotten to this point were while Elana's had locked my orgasms way.

I considered that, silently, for a few more steps. Brooke and I were a solid thirty paces from the studio before either of us spoke.

"Serena deserved that. But... but that gorgon is fucking scary," Brooke blurted out.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Now that I know she doesn't mean me any harm -- or at least is saying she doesn't -- I plan to attend classes and otherwise steer clear. Thanks for coming with me to see her."

A long pause.

"You know, you came pretty fast back there." Brooke said it without looking at me, but there was something odd in her voice.

I shook my head. "I doesn't count as fast if the woman's had a dozen orgasms when I finish."

Brooke let out a short, involuntary laugh -- genuine, surprised, like I'd caught her off guard with that response.

And then, after a moment: "If you ever fuck Serena again, for any reason, I'll kill you."

Elana's observations had stuck with me. Even this -- whatever she'd intended -- had made my life more complicated. Probably made me an adversary in Serena, if she wasn't one already. Raised the stakes with Brooke, who was already the most volatile of my close relationships.

But I didn't say any of that. Instead, for Brooke's benefit, I just let out a terse laugh. "Yeah, I know."

I glanced over at her, and, after a moment's hesitation, I added, "You're more my type anyway."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lips curve into a pleased smile. "Good."

She fell into step beside me, and we walked away from the studio in silence.

I couldn't tell you what Brooke was thinking.

But I was still thinking about Elana's comments.

About juggling.

How many relationships I could actually keep in the air at once before I fumbled one?

And -- when I dropped it -- would it bounce? Would it shatter?

Or would it explode?