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Food Poisoning	By : Kaitrin Category: +S to Z > Slayers Views: 2777 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Slayers. If I did, it would have a whole heck of a lot more romance, instead of being mostly action/adventure! I only write for fun and will make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Food Poisoning
- 1
Of all the nights that they had to be sharing a room, this was probably the worst possible timing. Lina suppressed a sigh and rolled over for the umpteenth time, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the ache between her legs, and most of all, trying to ignore the fact that Gourry was sprawled on the other side of the bed.

It was not the first time they had shared a room. It was not even the first time they had shared a bed. In fact, most of the time, the bed they shared was more like half the size of this one, which was large enough to give them both plenty of room to spread out. It had never been an issue before, and it probably would not have been an issue now, except that Lina had spent much of the afternoon in the library. This time she did sigh as she rolled over again, pressing her thighs together and wishing the ache would just go away.

She had to be honest. It was not the library itself that was the problem. No, it was more what she had found in the library. Specifically, it was what she had found in the margins of the ancient text she had been consulting. Someone had decided that the wide margins of the text should be filled, and had furthermore decided that the most appropriate topic for said margins was a very vivid, very detailed, and very lengthy account of her sexual encounters. Lina had encountered smut before. Several times, in fact, but she had never found it very compelling or interesting. Endless repetitions of “fuck me, baby,” and “oh yeah,” not to mention the fountains of jism that erupted from insanely huge cocks and seemed to always hit girls in the face . . . all of it left Lina feeling rather soiled, and she had learned to avert her eyes whenever she encountered it.

Right now, she really wished she had averted her eyes when she started reading the marginalia today. It was probably the distinct lack of cocks, jism, and fucks that had done her in. Without those obvious cues that screamed “smut alert, skip!” she had been ensnared by a story that started out innocently enough by talking about a harvest festival and moved quickly into a tale of seduction that first spun out the unresolved sexual tension before getting the couple into bed together. By the time the natural light had started fading, Lina had read through half a dozen similar stories and received a crash course in several possible ways men and women could pleasure each other. She had also discovered exactly how it felt to be incredibly turned on with no relief in sight.

For the first time in her life, she found herself actively contemplating sex. And not just in the abstract sense, either. Her imagination had latched on to Gourry as the object of her fantasies. She had loved him for years. He was a good friend and a great partner, even if he did have the intelligence of tartar sauce and insisted on treating her like some kid-sister. She could not imagine her world without him, and she knew that when she had been faced with the decision of Gourry or the safety of the universe, she had risked it all for him. Because he was that important to her.

But now, lying in the same bed as him, all she could think of was what it would feel like to run her hands up his bare arms . . . to kiss her way across his broad chest . . . to hear him moan in pleasure and know it was caused by her touch . . . to feel him slip his fingers inside her . . . . She felt a surge of wetness between her legs and she groaned deep in the back of her throat.

“Lina?” Instantly, Gourry was leaning over her. “Are you alright?”

Lina curled herself into a tight ball, drawing her legs up to her chest. She could not look at him. She absolutely could not face him, because if she did, she would throw herself at him. She knew she would. And it would ruin everything. What man could be attracted to a girl he viewed as a kid-sister? It would be like incest or something, and she knew Gourry was too noble, too conscientious, and too honor-bound to ever consider something that perverted.

“Are you sick?” he repeated, his voice thick with concern. He reached around and placed his hand on her forehead. “You seem kinda hot,” he announced. “Just hold on, I’ll get some cool water . . .”

She heard him climb off the bed, but most of her awareness was focused on the memory of his hand against her skin. His long fingers so gentle and sure, the lightness of his touch combined with the rough calluses left by years of gripping a sword . . . she could just imagine those clever fingers unbuttoning her top, exposing her skin . . .

Something had to break soon. She was slowly driving herself insane. With a tremendous effort of will, she tried to list all the different animals and their proper categories. She started with dragons. Greater dragons, like the gold and ancient dragons, lesser dragons, lake dragons—good for eating, so she had been told—ocean dragons, like the one they had fought on the trip to Sandoria, where Gourry had bust out of his drag outfit, exposing his chest . . . his legs. No! She stomped on that train of thought. Ocean dragons, she reminded herself. What else lived in the ocean? Dolphins, fish, jellyfish . . . She needed something else, she thought desperately. Not animals. How about—

“Lina?”

She cracked an eye open. Gourry stood by the bed, holding a basin of water and a damp white towel. He had lit the lamp on the other side the room, and it outlined him with a golden glow, catching in his hair and highlighting the muscles of his bare chest . . . . Lina felt her breath whoosh out of her, and she knew that if she let him touch her one more time, she was going to lose it for sure. She bolted out of the bed and raced down the hall for the bathroom, slamming the door in Gourry’s surprised face and turning the lock. The ache between her legs was so intense, she pressed against it, groaning involuntarily at the wave of pleasure that flooded through her at her own touch.

“Lina?” Gourry was knocking on the door.

“Go away, Gourry,” she said in a thick voice, even as she pressed against herself again, eliciting yet another groan. “I think I’m going to be sick, and I don’t want to do it with you standing outside the door!”

“Let me in, Lina!” She could hear the concern and worry in his voice. “I want to help you!”

She half-hiccupped and half-laughed at that, but it came out sounding more like she was gagging. “Go away,” she repeated when it passed. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” he asked one more time. “I’d really rather help you—”

“Just please go away,” she pleaded, “trust me, I’ll be fine.”

She listened to his footfalls moving down the hall, and then she surrendered to the lust that had taken over her body. Falling to her knees, she pulled off her top, and then lightly stroked her fingers up her sides, sighing as she felt her skin prickle into goose flesh and shuddering at the delicious shiver that went through her. She continued to stroke her fingers over her body, starting at the waistband of her pants, and exploring her abdomen, teasing herself as she would bring her fingers closer to the skin of her breasts and then let her hand fall away before actually making contact. When she finally brushed her fingers against her breasts, she felt an answering throb deep between her legs and yet another surge of wetness.

Lina leaned back against the door and placed both hands on her breasts, massaging the flesh, and then she focused her attention on her nipples. Using thumb and forefinger of each hand, she teased and tweaked them, feeling something deep and low in her belly tighten even as her nipples hardened into tight buds. Her breath was coming faster, and she bit her lips in a vain attempt to stifle her moans. She had never imagined it could feel so good to touch herself like this, and she shuddered to think what it would feel like to touch herself between her legs, to slip her hand inside her panties . . .

With a self-deprecating chuckle, she reminded herself that there was no need to imagine it. Spreading her knees apart, she slowly untied the drawstring holding up her pajama bottoms and then slipped one hand into her pants, while she continued to play with her nipple with the other hand. She prolonged the moment by teasing herself, slowly caressing the flesh below her navel before moving lower and toying with the edge of her panties. Then lower still, sampling the crinkly texture of her hair. Finally she could stand it no longer, and she plunged her fingers in, exploring folds that were slippery with her wetness.

It did not take her long to find that concentrated bundle of nerves, that female pleasure center she had read about earlier in the library. Nothing, however, prepared her for the sensation touching it evoked. Incredible heat flooded through her, and her entire awareness focused in on that one small point high between her legs and the waves of pleasure that crashed through her with the slightest tap. She could feel pressure building within her as her finger circled around that tiny nub, faster and faster, until the pressure took over, and she was riding the crest of a violent tsunami as it crashed into a dark abyss.

There was nothing in that abyss. No thought, no sensation, nothing, save a strong feeling of contentment. When she was finally capable of coherent thought, Lina wondered which was more enjoyable: the orgasm or the abyss. She finally decided that they complemented each other, and one would probably be less without the other. The violent sensations that had ripped through her accentuated the relief of not feeling anything. It was a little bit like dying, she supposed, not that she had any desire to experiment and find out for sure. One thing was certain, though. Now she understood how powerful the lure of sex could be. Her only regret was that she had not experienced it with Gourry.

As she picked herself up off the floor, Lina suddenly realized that she reeked of sweat and something else. She wondered if that was what sex was supposed to smell like. What she did not smell was the sour tang of vomit . . . and if she went back to their room smelling like this, it was certain to make Gourry suspicious. He may have the intelligence of tartar sauce, but his senses and instincts were incredibly sharp—at least most of the time, she amended. She was exceedingly thankful he had interpreted her distress as illness rather than something else. Now that she had dealt satisfactorily with the demands of her body, all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and fall asleep. Instead, she pulled on her top and then hunted down the baths.

A faint glow was shining under the door when Lina finally made it back to their room, wearing a complimentary robe. She had decided to wash her clothes as well, figuring that was the best way to deal with the smell. Slowly, she pushed the door open, hoping that Gourry would have fallen asleep. He was on his feet before she had even pushed the door open a crack.

“Lina?” he asked, his voice still thick with worry, “that you?”

“Yeah,” she responded as she entered the room. “Sorry to worry you.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, lots. I made a mess of myself, though, so I thought I’d better clean up before coming back.” She shook her nightclothes out, intending to arrange them on a chair to dry overnight. “Can I borrow one of your tunics to sleep in?”

Gourry took her wet clothes out of her hands, dropped them negligibly on the chair, and then carried her over to her side of the bed. He placed a cool hand on her forehead, and then compared it with his. “You don’t seem to have a fever anymore,” he commented, and she could hear the relief in his voice. He moved over to his pack, rummaging around for a spare tunic and tossed it to her. “Here,” he said. “You go ahead and get changed, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Lina nodded, holding his tunic to her chest, and waiting until she heard the door click before shucking out of her robe and pulling the tunic over her head. She could smell Gourry’s scent surrounding her, and for a moment she felt an echo of the previous ache deep in her belly. Fortunately, the sensation passed. She was too tired and sated for effective arousal. By the time Gourry returned, she was already snuggled deep under the covers in a half-dose, barely even aware when he crawled into bed beside her.

The next morning, when she awoke, Gourry was laying on his side, his head supported on a bent arm, looking down at her. “Morning, Lina,” he said with a smile. “Feeling up to breakfast?”

Lina sat up and pulled on a robe. “Definitely,” she answered, responding to his smile. She could not remember the last time she had felt so refreshed upon waking.

“Good!” Gourry jumped up from the bed and carried a tray over to her. “I let you sleep past breakfast, so I ordered a tray, just in case you were hungry.”

The tray had decent sized portions of bland food, the type typically fed to someone recovering from gastric distress: there was a bowl of rice porridge with small flakes of seaweed, a plate heaped with sliced bananas, a small stack of toast, and a large cup of tea. Not exactly her favorite sort of breakfast, but she figured she could hardly complain.

“By the way,” Gourry asked casually. “What do you think made you sick?”

Lina paused, holding a spoonful of rice porridge halfway between the bowl and her mouth. “I guess it was something I picked up in the library,” she replied with a straight face.

AN: This little story was written while I was writing "The Slow Seduction of Lina Inverse," and was simply to provide myself some background material.
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Food Poisoning