Chapter 18: Reality Check
The taste of ink and cheap incense still clung to the back of Emily’s throat as she stepped out of the stale, neon-lit chaos of Mark’s apartment and into the cool evening air. Her fingers absently traced the smooth, cold metal of the bell at her collar, a habit now, each silent chime in her memory sending a fresh, unwelcome jolt through her. She was so deep inside her own head, replaying Mark’s predatory smile as his fingers had traced the design of her cursed holy symbol, that she didn’t register the figure leaning against the gnarled oak at the edge of the quad until a hand closed gently around her wrist.
She jumped, a gasp catching in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs. The world snapped back into sharp, terrifying focus.
“Whoa, easy there,” Cody said, his familiar grin softening into concern. “You okay? You were a million miles away.”
“Cody!” The name came out too bright, too sharp. She forced a smile, willing her pulse to slow. “Sorry. Just… thinking about my Poly-Sci paper. It’s a mess.” The lie was smooth, automatic. A different kind of role-play.
“On a Friday night? Brutal.” He pulled her into a hug, his body warm and solid and real against the phantom sensations Mark’s proximity had sparked. He smelled of laundry soap and the faint, sweet scent of the granola bar he always ate after practice. A clean smell. A simple smell. It made her feel a sudden, aching guilt. “I was hoping I could come over. Miss you.”
Her mind raced. Sarah was at her dorm, likely already prepping for tomorrow’s session. Mark’s words echoed: “This item… it’s a mirror. It doesn’t just reflect magic. It reflects desire. The caster gets exactly what they project, but amplified, turned back on them. It’s… intimate.” She needed to be alone. She needed to think. To plan.
“I miss you too,” she said, her voice softening into a more believable tenderness. She leaned into him, tilting her face up. “I’m just so swamped tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”
His smile faded just a fraction. The disappointment was clear, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” His eyes dropped, not to hers, but to the hollow of her throat. To the silver chain and the small, incongruous bell. “Hey, this is new. Cute.”
Before she could react, his finger reached out and tapped it.
Ding.
The sound was faint, almost pitiful compared to the resonant chime in Mark’s quiet apartment. But the effect was immediate and visceral. A cascade of ice-water seemed to flood her veins, followed instantly by a wave of heat so intense it stole her breath. It was the same electric thrill, the same unnerving vulnerability, but now underscored with a desperate, frantic need. A need to do something. To control something. To erase the calculating look in Mark’s eyes and replace it with this—with Cody’s honest, uncomplicated want.
“Come here,” she breathed, her decision crystallizing in a flash of panic and desire.
She took his hand and led him off the main path, past a towering hedge of untamed boxwood and into the narrow, darkening alley between the chemistry building and the old library. It was a space of utility, littered with discarded cigarette butts and smelling of damp brick and distant dumpsters. Faint laughter and chatter from the quad filtered over the roof, a world away.
“Em, what—?”
She pushed him back against the cold, rough brick, silencing him with a kiss that was all hunger and no tenderness. Her hands fumbled with the buckle of his belt, then the button of his jeans.
“I can’t have you over,” she muttered against his lips, her voice low and thick. “But I’m not letting you leave pissed off either.”
Understanding dawned on his face, mixing with shock and a swift, rising arousal. “Here? Someone could—”
“Then be quiet,” she said, and dropped to her knees on the gritty pavement.
The cool air bit through the denim of her jeans. The concrete was unyielding. She didn’t care. This was a penance and a power play all at once. She yanked his jeans and boxers down just enough to free him. His cock, already half-hard, sprang out, thick and familiar in the dim, orange-tinted light from a distant security lamp.
She didn’t tease. She took him into her mouth in one smooth, deep motion, swallowing him until the broad head pressed against the back of her throat. He groaned, a strangled, helpless sound, and his hands flew to her head, his fingers tangling in her hair.
“Fuck, Emily…”
She pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his shining tip. She looked up at him, his face a mask of stunned pleasure. “You taste like soap,” she said, her voice deliberately crude. Then she dove back down, hollowing her cheeks, applying a ruthless, practiced pressure. She worked him with a furious intensity, her jaw stretching to accommodate his girth. The physical strain was a welcome anchor, pulling her out of the whirling chaos of her thoughts about Mark, about Sarah, about cursed artifacts and twisted game sessions.
She lost herself in the rhythm. The slick, salty taste of pre-cum on her tongue. The way his thighs tensed. The muffled, choked-off curses he uttered into the night air. The rough brick against her shoulder. The distant, meaningless sounds of campus life. This was real. This was hers.
His hips began to buck involuntarily, his cock sliding deeper into her throat with each thrust. She gagged, tears springing to her eyes, but she pushed forward, taking him deeper. The burn, the ache, the sheer fullness—it was a perfect, brutal distraction.
“I’m gonna… Jesus, Em, I’m gonna come…” he hissed, his voice taut.
She didn’t pull away. She kept her mouth locked around him, her tongue dancing along his frenulum. With a guttural groan that was almost a sob, he climaxed, his body rigid against the wall. Hot, bitter spurts flooded her mouth. She swallowed reflexively, once, twice, until he was spent and softening.
She stayed there for a moment, catching her breath, her forehead resting against his thigh. The taste of him was overwhelming. The silence, save for their ragged breathing, was absolute.
Slowly, she got to her feet, her knees protesting. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and met his dazed, grateful eyes. He was fumbling to tuck himself away, his face flushed.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, a goofy, post-coital smile breaking through. “That was… aggressive.”
She leaned in and kissed him, letting him taste himself on her lips. “I told you I missed you,” she said, the lie now layered with a strange, gritty truth.
As they walked back toward the dorms, his arm slung over her shoulder, her mind was already moving forward, cycling past the soreness in her jaw. The memory of the strain, the stretch, the undeniable challenge of it clicked into place alongside Mark’s lesson on amplifying sensations. Cody was big. Mark’s implications were bigger. A cold, practical resolve settled over her.
She needed to be ready. She needed to practice.
I have to get a bigger toy, she thought, the plan forming with crystalline, chilling clarity. Something I can barely take. Something that hurts a little.
The bell at her collar was silent, but its echo seemed to pulse in time with her quickening heart.