The Inquisitors
by Minna S. Lunney


Despite his mounting excitement at what inevitably lay ahead, Lion-O approached the door with a small sense of trepidation.

Should I be doing this? What if he...

King of cats, lord of his domain, and even so he found himself completely humbled, at a loss in his own lair, his most secure of sanctuaries. Such, he was quickly beginning to understand, was her power.

It opened, unveiling only the faint, innocent outlines of the bedroom smothered in darkness, and nothing more. The soulless sight confused him— surely this was the right chamber, but where was she?— but he remained more or less resolute. He glanced behind himself suspiciously one last time before cautiously stepping within.

In an instant she was upon him, wild and bare and natural, pouncing as her ancestors might once have done to trap their prey. He caught her up instinctively in his arms as she draped her own around his shoulders, tilting her face upward until her golden tresses brushed against his fingers. He grabbed and tugged at the soft strands without thought, bringing a sly smirk to her features as her eyes bore into his own. “Good of you to come.”

He did not know what to say in turn, not wanting to ruin the moment, and so remained silent.

“No one followed you up here, I hope?”

“If they did, wouldn’t they be here too?”

She laughed almost mockingly and pushed away from him even as he felt a burning blush arise in his cheeks. He was suddenly grateful for the dimness that draped his surroundings. “Silly little cub.” She ambled carelessly toward her bed, sitting down at its edge and spreading her legs teasingly.

He clenched his fists and moved purposefully in her direction. She swiftly checked him, placing a foot against his midsection. “More direct this time... I like that. But there’s something to be said for taking a little time to savor the moment. Do you know what I mean?”

“Sure... uh, should we—”

“Just quiet down, would you?” she gently admonished, focusing a doe-eyed gaze upon him as she gave him a decisive shove backward with her foot. “Little boys shouldn’t speak unless spoken to, and you’re much cuter with your mouth closed. Besides, you’re the one giving orders day in and day out. Wouldn’t it be nice to simply follow orders for a change?” Smiling devilishly, she lay back upon the soft bed and stretched her arms out invitingly. “There, now. Come.”

He gingerly climbed upon her, captivated by her siren-like charm. She braced his head desperately against her breast, where he could hear her steady heartbeat as it mingled with her slightly amplified words. “I couldn’t stand it anymore,” she sighed, stroking his wild red mane. “He always wanted to talk, and talk, and talk... After a while, all that waiting gets so stale... oh, you poor thing. You probably don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I— I can imagine, Cheetara—”

“No, no... we don’t want to make the same mistakes, do we?” she murmured.

He propped himself on his elbows. “No... but... we can’t just—”

“Oh, we can, Lion-O. Yes, we can.” She stretched underneath him, from her wrists to the tips of her toes, letting her arms fall back limply against the tousled corona of hair surrounding her head. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think so as well.” Suddenly she smiled, closing her eyes pleasurably. “Are you afraid, cub? Is that it? Are you afraid of me, or of him? Don’t be. Fear is never an option, especially not for a lord. A lord... think of that. The world is yours for the taking, and in time you must learn to take what you will without fear.” Her voice dropped to a half-whisper, eyes still tranquilly closed. “I’ve already shown you the thrill of conquest. The taste is under your tongue, I know,” she asserted, cupping her right breast in her hand. “Go on, taste it again, as often as you want, until—”

He silenced her with his lips, and they quickly submerged themselves in a flurry of kissing, sighing, grasping. The lion’s confidence was never greater, as his partner eagerly responded to his assertiveness, the sort of command and voracity that her legitimate mate had never been able to offer. She directed him less and less as they became more and more one another’s willing slave, subservient to the baser desires that their birthright as purebloods disallowed. But it was unavoidable, there; for the sake of pragmatism and the satisfaction of mutual needs, some of Thundera’s old rules were just that...

A strange noise, like the echo of marching feet, began to sound outside the thin walls of their chamber, but neither took any notice. It was not until a chill breeze began to stir in the draftless room, and a harsh, rhythmic pounding rattled the locked door in its frame, that the lovers were snatched from their trance.

Terrible, faint screams reverberated throughout the Lair as the violent pounding persisted. Shivering, Cheetara clutched at Lion-O’s shoulders as they bolted upright, locked in a desperate embrace, her nails digging into his skin as she strove to get a glance at the door around his powerful frame. “What in hells?”

Shocked speechless, the Lord of the ThunderCats could only look back in horror as the sliding door eventually gave, blown off its track, tumbling and clattering into the room like a scrap of paper in a windstorm as something even more disturbing followed closely in its wake.

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