It Lives! (MrM and Octo)

{{For the record, her name is Ingrid, but she doesn’t know that yet.}}

Something was sliding around in her mouth, strong and slick against her own tongue. It roamed around, exploring, massaging, pushing. A kiss her mind offered. Someone was kissing her. The world was dark, undefined clouds in ambiguous colors drifted in her vision. Opening her eyes, the swirling darkness of her lids was replaced with an obscenely bright light and the abstract view of a face pressed closed to hers. Obviously the kisser.

Quelling the panic of why and who might be kissing her she tried to take a mental stock of the situation. Position: Upright. Body: Whole, naked. Arms: Two, immobile. It felt like some sort of a wide straps were immobilizing her wrists but try as she might they would not budge. Okay, she’d come back to that. Legs: Tw, free, wrapped around something, a throbbing, growing something pressing hotly between them. Even more intriguing was the hot, throbbing sensation in her own body. Instinctively she knew it was to do with the other thing, that growing thing, and it was a good... thing... Sex, sex, sex... provided her brain again. This time the thought had a hurried, desperation to it.

As her tongue was otherwise held hostage by the kisser, she moaned loudly, a high pitch of confusion edging the noise. Pulling away from the lips as much as should could with her wrists cuffed above her head, she looked down at her body. Slender and pale, she noted the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed and the tight roundness of her pink nipples with the awe of the completely new. She noticed the way the table’s straps dangled freely where her ankles should be. She was about to start with such important questions as “Who are you, why am here, what are we doing?” when some corner of her brain overrode the questions, and substituted an another, throatier moan as her hips bucked against his of their own accord as if they wanted to be together again.

Answers could wait.

He returned to the kiss hungrily, tongue and lips seeking, sliding, pressing, breath pushing against hers. His hands, his hands were all over, sliding on her sides, her ribs, gently but with a passionate hurriedness across her breasts, fingers flickering over the arousal-stiffened nipples. He was clothed, simple working clothes under his lab coat, but they seemed too tight, too restrictive. Certainly, where her legs clutched him to her, where their groins ground against each other, where his stiffening strained to contact her moistening, that area was far too encumbered.

He'd anticipated her surging hormones, as part of the process, but he was surprised at his own response. Perhaps a corollary discharge of pheromones, getting him revved up while she was aroused and... and... it was hard to focus on the potential side effects when her flesh was so hot and soft and willing beneath him. He hoped the amnesia was also in place, as predicted, otherwise... there could be trouble.

Her moans only incited him further. But he had to do something about this ... this ... CLOTHING situation. He pulled back a little. "Ingrid," he said, then kissed her again. "Ingrid," he said on his next breath, before their lips met again. "Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid..." he panted, finally, looking in her eyes. Her... amazing eyes. Had the process changed the eyes, too? He shook himself to clear his brain. "Ingrid, I have to, have to, have to get this off. Loosen up, so I can, you know..." he found himself blushing, "...get ready."

His close-cropped dark hair was disheveled and damp, his light blue eyes intense as he looked into her face, just a bit of wildness in his expression, almost lost in the lust. His frame was tall and rangy, not athletic but built up by certain special procedures. He practically trembled with desire as he gazed at her, reluctantly struggling against the grip of her legs, wanting to get free momentarily so he could return and... get deeper.

She looked around her quickly. No one else was around. Okay, so he was talking to her. Obviously she was Ingrid. She'd known all along. Of course she'd known her own name. Obviously! The name cut through the foggy cloud around her memory, trying to expose the memories there, but just as quickly the clouds rolled in again, obscuring her brain.

As the man pulled away from her, she pushed against the restraints. This only succeeded in pushing the shockingly cold table against her naked skin. The newly realized Ingrid's body tried to follow him in a vain attempt to feel that throbbing bulge again. Her legs kicked and pushed, thrashing her about like a wild thing in a vain attempt to bring her body closer to his. She wanted it- no, needed it pressed to her. Pressed in her. Inside her, filling her, filling the aching need that inflamed her.

Moaning Ingrid tried to form words, though somehow her jaw seemed to ignore her commands. After short series of keening mumbled moans, she gasped out, her voice breathy and hoarse from disuse and lust, "Now. Need you- now..." Going slack in her restraints a thought occurred to her, that making this other person want as much as she wanted would speed the process. Raising her slumped head, she peered at him, her large blue eyes framed by tumbling blonde hair. Focusing all the heat and lust she felt into her expression, in her eyes. In a softer, warmer tone, Ingrid whispered, "Now..."