The Shores of My Mind

A Byronic Hero with Machiavellian Flaws & Bohemian Tendencies, living in a Pirate's Time, Exploring this World to Discover the Treasures of Truth. I blog things that I find aesthetically pleasing. Welcome to the shores of my mind.

Falling with the Incubus

Moira stepped out of the steaming showers of the Erlking’s personal bath chamber, where Carla, a handmaiden he had tasked to attend to his guest’s every need, stood awaiting with clean cloth to pat her dry. It felt odd to her, being waited on hand & foot. She was used to performing maid-service for Kane, not being pampered herself by a servant of her own.

After she was dry, Carla scuffled quickly yet efficiently to rub her down with lavender oil, gliding her hands over her limbs to the ends of her nails, polishing her neck & breasts until her collarbones & the tips of her nipples shone like pearls, finally running calloused palms down the length of her spine, massaging her tense shoulders & brushing her behind, smoothing her hand between her thighs to coat every inch of her pelvis, which caused Moira to exhale slightly at the sensation, & ending the ordeal by rubbing the soles of her sore & blistered feet. She then washed her hands & began to cleanse any corners Moira might have missed in the bath with fresh mint leaves, again going over parts she had no reason to venture toward.

Moira kept quiet & refused to protest, although she seated herself most obediently when Carla brought her over to the couch by the vanity table & mirror. She untangled any knots that had formed in her hair from the drying with a silver comb & then brushed a fine line of gold dust over her eyelids.

During the chores, Moira got a better look at her attendant through the full-length mirror hanging on the tiled wall. She was a mouse of a woman, petite yet neat & lovely to look upon, her auburn hair pulled up into a tight bun, giving clear view of her face.

The Erlking was notoriously known for employing women of unnatural beauty & Carla was no small exception. She was fair & lean with plump yet hard-set lips, green eyes the shade of leaves right before the coming of fall, & thin brows knitted in concentration at her work. Moira noticed the muscles that moved beneath the woman’s work gown & felt certain awe as she glanced at the full length of Carla’s frame. How does a serving girl gain the structure of a warrior? It took her a moment to remember where she was: The Fae King’s domain. And where the Fae walked, the world was never short of oddities from normalcy. But did Carla not work for hound of Hell, herself? It still came as a shock to her, to remember what had occurred the previous night, ‘Or was it two nights ago?’ She could not recall. The king had woken her most gently but insistently, telling her that it was past time she awoke for they had work to do. She felt as those she had slept for seasons.

When she was clean & glistening, even with the oils having soaked into her skin, Carla brought over her gown. When she unfolded it, Moira couldn’t suppress her gasp swiftly enough before it escaped her lips. “That… is for me?”

Carla seemed irritated at Moira’s slow sense but amused all the same. “Yes, m’lady, the king requested that you honor him by donning this.”

“It is I who feel the honor… Give him my greatest of thanks, would you?” Moira said, as she eyed the ivory-colored lace gown studded with diamonds & sapphires.

“You can thank him yourself when you see him,” Carla replied.

Moira was taken aback. How could the servant be so brazen in her speech to a guest, regardless of whence she came? ‘You are in Fae,’ she chided herself into remembrance. ‘The queer is a simple stepping stone here.’ “Thank you…” was all she could manage to whisper.

Carla helped her into her smallclothes & then the gown, stepping back after she buckled the belt to hold it all together, so Moira could address her image in the mirror. When she looked, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She looked beautiful & entirely unrecognizable from the person she was in the Crow’s manor. The gown fit her snuggly, highlighting the curves of her hips & bosom while baring her chest & shoulders down to ample cleavage, the sleeves long & dragging but slit to her wrist so that she may bare her hands freely. It trailed just a little behind her & the small belt at her slender waist clinched perfectly above her hip bones. The serving girl piled up Moira’s hair into a heap above her ears, & with a foot of rope & two jeweled long-needles, tied it all together to form an elegant nest of black curls.

“There,” Carla sighed, “not as half bad as you were when he brought you here.” Moira smiled & studied her reflection a little more boldly. She had grown immensely thin from the last time she remembered gazing unto herself, who knew how many years ago. Time did not exist around Hell. Her face was narrow & pale, her cheekbones jutted out, her slender nose was pink from the cold & her frozen-mulberry-colored & bruised lips looked too small for even words to flow through. Her pale, brown eyes held a self-pity & dulled longing that should have belonged to a prisoner of war & suddenly, she felt ill looking at how pathetically the figure in the mirror seemed to mock her. ‘Who do you think you are, to feel this free to appreciate yourself?’ she heard it whisper.

Carla noticed it & something lit up in her eyes, a certain flame of anger that frightened Moira. Before she could say anything, the maid picked up after herself & put away some things here & there before departing. She turned back halfway out the door & said with a slight smile on her face, “Try not to look so self-loathing in front of him, would you, miss? He hates that.”

And then Moira was alone.

She went into the bedchamber & gazed around at the small but comforting stone walls. The ceiling didn’t reach too high & the fire was glowing welcomingly in the hearth. The walls were lined with wooden shelves & each was filled with more books than she could count. She studied them for a moment before seating herself on the enormous bed. As she trailed her fingers over the fur covers, magnificently red & stripped with black that reminded her of tigers, a voice uncurled itself from a corner by the door.

“You’ll have to excuse Miss Jormaine. She isn’t used to scrubbing the smell of sulfur & ash from the tiles.”

Moira jumped & let out a small squeak of fear. The Erlking chuckled quietly as he dislodged himself from the shadow by a desk he had been leaning on. The small expression of amusement seemed to vibrate throughout the room & crawl up her spine like a sensual hand, tickling her nerves & sending gooseflesh across her exposed skin. She shivered & huddled her arms & legs closer to herself, but not crossing them to avoid offending him.

As she looked upon the man who orchestrated her escape from purgatory, she felt the same sense of respect, anxiety & shock return as when she saw him charge through her bedroom door the first night with a bloodied sword, flashing eyes & savage grin, his armor coated in dust, blood & gore, which had been a sight of horror too much for her to bear after Kane’s most recent rape & torture, causing her to faint before the king scarcely finished saying ‘Hello’. He had carried her out of the house himself that night, she was told. The Wild King rarely saved strangers in the midst of battle, as it was her understanding. Now that she looked upon him again, she got a closer look at her savior.

He was dressed in a white, long-sleeved shirt which he left unbuttoned just enough to bear his chest & dark trousers that reached to his ankles above bare feet. He was not painfully tall, nor scornfully short, but stood a good head taller than her, lean in physique yet toned throughout with iron-banded muscles; broad at the shoulders & chest, with a handsome yet fierce & leonine face framed by raven-black hair & a close-cropped beard engrained on strong jaws, & inset with eyes the color of dark onyx that radiated an imposing awareness as he gazed at her. He moved toward Moira with a lithe grace, calm & collected in demeanor, exuding a presence of reserved yet confident & authoritative gravitas, yet absolutely nonchalant in formality or pretense. He was smiling at her, a lazy yet knowing smirk without shame, & his eyes glittered with abundantly with amusement.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, my lady,” he annunciated with a voice that resonated through the chamber like a trapped sparrow as he drew closer. She felt herself shift back a little away from the sheer force of power that carried the sound. He stopped walking, his face instantly going blank except for his eyes, & stared at her intensely from the small distance. Her heart started to beat frantically against her rib cage. ‘Why did he stop walking?’ she fretted to herself. He smiled again as if reading her thoughts & paced around the bed to her side.

“Cat got your tongue?” he mused.

She shivered again. ‘Why does he keep doing that?’ Every sense in her tensed body told her to run while her mind screamed “Danger!” & her stomach did a backflip that brought a small whimper from within. He stopped again, but kept the smirk, & leaned his hand against the bedpost with the other hanging lazily, idly brushing fur on the bed.

“Do I truly scare you so much, dearie?”

“N-no, pardons, my lord. I’m not so used to being granted such honorable company.”

“Oh?” he chimed. The single questioning expression hung in the air like a bell rung long ago but which vibrations continued to float. “Did Kane never grant you his ‘honorable’ company within your own bedding? I heard he had a habit of lying with the women in his hovel.” His smirk seemed to deepen.

Was she being insulted? Did it matter? “He often visited his servants, yes, my lord.”

“Darling, ‘my lord’ seems like a mouthful once said too many times, don’t you believe? You can simply call me Davius.”

“My apologies, my l-… Lord Davius.”

The Erlking sighed & plunked himself on the bed, his head barely an inch away from her knee. He gazed up at her sleepily, like a cat bored from a day-long nap. She stared at him wide eyed, admiring the way his eyes glowed in the faint candlelight despite their inherent darkness & felt herself shift respectfully away from him. He chuckled softly again & turned to lie on his stomach.

“Are you always this shy? I didn’t know Hell preached a level of modesty from its slaves.”

Moira couldn’t help herself from stammering, “It is… unbefitting, my lord… for a servant to sit s-so closely… to a noble.”

“And who told you that silly old rule?”

“My mas- the Crow, my lord.”

“Again with the ‘my lord,’” he sighed. “If you do not cease from that addressing me so foolishly, Moira, I may have to undress myself, right here & now, & command you to call me, “my fool,” just to get you to stop.” He grinned exuberantly at her horrorstruck face.

“I apologi-“ But he cut her off by flinging his legs up to avoid the bedpost & over the edge of the bed, propping himself upright to sit next to her with their shoulders touching.

Her demanding instinct to move away was an internal scream, but if she were to move anymore, she would fall off the bed altogether. Smiling, he said, “So, tell me. What has gotten a lovely lady such as thyself to fall into the “honorable company” of a man in the likeness of Kane the Crow?”

They were so close to each other, she began to feel lightheaded. ‘Or is that just the fragrance he’s wearing?’ she thought. He smelled exquisite to her. An air of mint & rosemary clung to his breath as he spoke, backwashed by a subtle hint of chocolate that seemed to hail from his dark hair & another subtle scent of roasting nuts, fresh pine trees, & salt flecked the aroma that might have been radiating from his bare chest. She then noticed the expanse of his shoulders & then downward as her eyes trailed to his waist. It was littered with scars.

Dozens upon dozens of slashes & sealed wounds marked the tanned flesh, many of them jagged & many more were clean cut as if done with a blade. The middle of his chest held a sparse amount of dark hair that ran down in a thin rivulet to his navel & then disappeared into his waistband. Her gaze rested just a little below & she noticed how tight his pants were where underneath he was stretched taut & bulging beneath the cloth. She came back to her senses as she felt her face flush & turned to look away, but caught a flashing glimpse of the Erlking grin & she knew he had noticed. He turned to pour some wine into two fragile-looking cups on a stand at the corner foot of the bed.

“I’ve lived through many a battle,” he said as he picked up & sipped at his drink. “Perhaps I’ll allow you to explore & count how many after dinner, if you wish?” He offered her the second cup.

She could only shake her head & squeak unintelligibly as she kept her gaze averted, but then quickly remembered her manners & turned slightly to look at him from the corner of her eye. He was in the midst of another swallow but as he noticed her glance at him, managed another smile with his mouth full. The expression was so overbearingly ridiculous for a king to make but it reminded her of an adorably mischievous child & before she could help it, she felt herself smile & giggle. How did he do that; suddenly go from an anciently feared monarch to looking like an innocent & playful youth?

He swallowed & smiled again, no wickedness mingled within it, but just a simple & friendly smile, apparently happy that he had gotten her to show some positive emotion. She wrung her hands a little but took the cup from his hands, nodded graciously to acknowledge shy thanks & allowed herself a small sip. The wine was unearthly delicious & tasted of brandy, peaches & mangoes with hints of cinnamon & vanilla. She felt a soothing calm come over her & her tensed back relaxed.

He set his cup aside & leaned with his elbows on his knees, entwining his fingers & tilting his head to look up at her. “So, Oh, Giggling Nymph, tell me… How does one such as your youthful countenance end up in the Outskirts of Hell?”

She felt the mirth slowly slide away & her mouth fall back into a dull line. He continued to stare at her, ever-smiling with that knowing look in his eyes, yet seeming friendlier than before.

“I was to be married, to a merchant from The Ways Away,” she suddenly found herself answering his question, “before the war began… Our city was raided by army after army & left barren for the crows. My father lost his business & decided to take our family & flee to the Western Hold. We arrived on a crossroads several days into the travel & a man approached us, demanding payment to get through. We had nothing to give, but his eyes set on my youngest sister & told us that we may pass if she remained behind. Naturally, my father refused & turned back to find another way. But before we could walk away, the man transformed… A monster stood where he was, skin & clothes lying at its feet. I don’t know what it was, just a blue-red giant with horns & glowing gold eyes. He roared & my father screamed at us to run. I grabbed my two sisters & we ran, as my mother followed close behind with my little brother in her arms. I don’t know what happened to my father… As we fled through the woods, more monsters gathered to chase after us. My youngest sister, Jenine, she slipped & fell. I turned back to help her but was knocked aside by one of them & they grabbed for all of us…”

“Go on,” the Erlking whispered gently. His eyes gleamed & his smile was gone, replaced by a steely expression of seriousness & strict attention.

Moira took another sip of wine & felt energy invigorate her narration, even though her hands were shaking slightly & her breath came out shaking. “W-we were taken… to a small den at the edge of the woods… They had killed my father & tied his body over the side of the house. My younger sisters & mother were crying & my baby brother could only stare. The man at the crossroads had returned. He told us that if we had only given him the youngest, he would have spared the rest of the family… But now, we would all die. He took my mother first. She cried but before they could drag her into the den, she made us promise that we would be strong & that everything will be alright.”

By now, tears were flowing freely down Moira’s face. The king sat patiently & lifted her cup to her lips, urging her to drink some more. She did & felt the heat come back a little. She stared at the fire for a few moments before she continued.

“She didn’t scream or cry out. When he came back out, he pointed at me to come next. Two of the brutes with the bodies of men but the legs & horns of rams plucked me away from my siblings. They cried & I had no words to give them. I went quietly. I saw my mother heaped into a corner along with other bodies. He undressed me then, but before he could start, we heard a horn sound from down the road. The rest of his company were shouting from outside & he got out to go look. I don’t know what happened outside. There were screams & sounds of fighting. I came back to my senses at that & ran to go find my siblings. But by the time I got outside with only a piece of my gown to scarcely cover my womanhood, the fight was over & most of the creatures lay on the floor, dead or wounded. And that is when I saw him.”

Moira would never forget the first time she saw Kane. He was a tall figure, where she would only come up right beneath his elbow, but seated on a horse black as night, he towered over the entire company like a mountain. He was built like a warrior & studded head to toe with black leather & chainmail. A great broadsword slung from his hip & a hunting bow was strapped to his back with a quiver filled with arrows. His grand helm was held in one gauntleted hand while the other held the reigns to his beast. He had hair black as dead coal but his eyes were what caught her attention. They shone with red irises the color of blood & as merciless as any she had ever dared imagine.

He looked at her from his mount upon the road & spoke in a language unknown to her. Only then did she notice the rest of his company. They were at least two dozen riders, clad in menacing black but none as grand or terrible as their leader.

“Kane was leading a small force across the Midland woods for business I never learned about, but I discovered later that the man at the crossroads was one of his own. Kane was furious to learn that Galis was attacking people when his work was to simply turn them away & leave the road clear for Kane. He was smitten down by Kane himself when he arrived. After that, I was ordered to be carried back to his manor. My siblings… I didn’t know what he had done with them until a score of days later in his service. He sent Jenine & Isabelle to work as tavern girls down south where he held a small land from the raids. He sent my brother to train for servitude in some parts undisclosed to me. I learned all of this from Kane himself, to torment me. But during that time, my siblings being alive mattered more than whatever fate they were suffering. He made me his concubine & servant… among other things. I was sixteen.”

“My mother always taught me that it was rude to ask a lady’s age, but that was before I accidentally almost bedded a fifteen year old girl when I was nineteen, all because of some foolish rules of chivalry. Would you take offense, my lady, if I asked how old you are now,” the Erlking inquired.

She felt her face flush at his politeness & softly said, “I’ve been in Kane’s service for four years now, my lord.”

He sighed & rolled his eyes, grinning. “Again with the “my lord” nonsense.” He paused for a moment, staring at her intently. “You have beautiful eyes; did anyone ever tell you that?”

Heat rose from somewhere deep within her stomach & rose to her cheeks. She felt tears sting her eyes & turned away. “You are most kind, my l-… Erlking.”

She felt his weight shift on the bed but before she could turn to look, he was at her lap & rested on a knee & a foot. He gently took her hands in his & gazed into her eyes steadily. “You are safe now, Moira. For the while you choose to stay in my lands, nothing from the likes of Kane or his ilk shall harm you. I promise this, & I never make a promise I can’t keep with certainty.”

Moira could only whisper a small gratitude. She was entirely lost in his eyes. ‘They’re so deep & dark, but full of magnificence &… something else.’ In his hands, she felt safe. It was as if his hands & the weight of his eyes alone would keep her from floating away into oblivion like she had felt herself fall into so many times before coming here.

He bowed his hand & brushed a kiss across the knuckles of one of her pale hands. “Now, how about some dinner?”

She felt embarrassment flood her from head to toe. She leapt up & knelt before him, her eyes downcast respectfully to the carpeted floor. “What would you like to feast upon this evening, my lord?”

He boomed a laugh so loud & hearty that Moira jumped a clear inch off the floor. “I meant would you like to join me for dinner, Moira?”

By now, she was thoroughly confused. “My lord?”

“I swear, woman, you keep calling me that & I’ll have to jump off my damned balcony.” Yet he did not at all sound cross. His voice still bubbled with laughter. “Would you, sweetheart, like to join me for dinner this very evening?”

“My… Sir, Davius… It’s not befitting for a king to sup with his servants.”

“My darling, are you truly that slow witted,” he chided her.

“Sir, my dear king, it’s not becom-“

“It’ll be becoming because I said it is. Now… come have dinner with me?”

“But sir-“


“… Davius… I beg of you, allow me the chance to show you repayment. I swear it upon the life of my beloved sisters & lost brother, I will make a good maid within your home, if it pleases you.”

She dared to look up at his face & instantly regretted the decision. The Erlking’s eyes were narrowed as he stared at her, like a cobra measuring its prey. She began to stammer an apology but before she could get any clarity to form in her sentence, the king grasped her by the elbows, firmly but gently, & lifted her to stand. She kept her eyes low which gave her a moment’s warning before he lifted his left hand… and placed a finger softly under her chin, guiding her face to up to his own.

“Miss Santiago, you are free to go & do as you wish.”

She felt a sickening shock run through the pit of her chest. ‘Is he casting me out? Of course he would. I’ve spoken too far out of line & angered him.’

“Don’t look so horrified, darling,” he said in mock horror himself. He chuckled. “You are free here, Moira, as is rest of the household. We’re all free here. We are the Wild Fae, sweetling. We have no taste for slavery. I may command, yes, but that is my duty here. I am the commander of the Goblin Force of Fae, not a sovereign that sends servants skirting through his halls at every lazy whim. Carla Jormaine is my friend, not my toy. I am of service to her as much as she is to me. She simply likes wielding a broom more than a sword & the opposite is true for me, although we both occasionally trade occupations from time to time.” He chuckled again.

Moira could only stare. The Erlking’s scent was filling her with a sense of wonder & desire, an urge to touch his face & smooth out his hair, to taste his lips & see if they were as sweet as he smelled. His eyes, she noticed, were beautifully shaped with long eyelashes that clumped together at the sides, giving them a feathered look. She also noticed that his irises were not pitch black, but a smoky brown of the darkest shade with an odd halo of electric blue circling them. Moira began to feel dizzy staring into them & placed a hand on his chest to steady her.

“Sir Davius, I… I have nowhere else to go, despite this blessing. I have lost my home, my family, even my virgin’s sanctity. Please, allow me to use this freedom to serve your castle. I promise you, I will make a good maid.”

He huffed a small sigh mixed with a chuckle & she felt the heat of his breath brush her cheek like the softest yet swiftest of caress. “’A virgin’s sanctity’…” He let go of her chin then & placed the hand on her waist, pressing closer to her with their faces only two inches away from brushing the tips of their noses. She felt his thigh pressed against hers as he held her close. “My dear Hellmaid, your sanctity lies within your soul,” he whispered, the resonance of his voice vibrating through her being & sent her pulse racing into a fainting beat. “Innocence is of no use to those who must survive this world & the evils within it. And you are a survivor, have no doubt about that. No other being has managed to walk through, much less serve, under Kane without losing their life nearly a year later. You survived torment of the most excruciating kind for four. I don’t need virgins in my house, Miss Santiago, I need warriors. And you have proved yourself by simply remaining stubborn enough to refuse to take your own life under the rule of a madman.”

“Please… call me Moira,” she exhaled with effort.

The king let out a short barking laugh & she felt an earthquake of joy flow through his chest & into the tips of her fingers, sending a warm light of mirth through her, as well. ‘The wine is making me brazen, to be flirting with a high lord of Fae,’ she thought to herself. She smiled at him.

He looked back at her, into her eyes & she felt his gaze literally search into her soul. It was the oddest of sensations, a level of intimacy that made her shy but unable to look away. He whispered again, “Would you truly wish to be a part of this house, Moira?” He leaned closer & the scent of mint & rosemary & chocolate sent a wave of pleasure down her parted lips, past her breasts & stiffened nipples, through her belly & straight into a tightness she didn’t recall summoning between her thighs.

She felt a shiver rack her spine & her hips thrust themselves into Davius, completely against her wishes. “M-my… my lord?”

“I said, would you truly wish to be a part of this house, Moira?”

“… Yes,” was all she could manage through the ache & sheer need that suddenly assailed her.

Both his hands gripped her waist now & both of her hands were holding onto his chest to avoid tipping over in drunkenness, their lips only an inch away from brushing. “Then, you must know, my dear, that we have an initiation process. All those under my house go through a certain… ritual, in order to gain the power necessary to carry out our work. That is all I require from you: allow me to make you powerful, so that none like Kane can ever touch you again.” His whisper licked at her lips like a phantom tongue.

The smell of burning pine made her eyes droop & her thoughts felt like sand, hard to grasp any clear sense to form proper words. “Please…” was all she could moan out. She wanted him, this much she knew. No man before had given her this much notice apart from her lost fiancé, who had already bought & paid for her before they were even allowed to set eyes on each other. No other man besides Kane dared touch her so brazenly, but unlike Kane, the Erlking did not hurt her. Far the opposite, he was gentle & friendly, when he had every right to simply command her, but he didn’t. He had asked for her opinion & thoughts, he had regarded her feelings. And she wanted him. She wanted to taste him, to enjoy the scents that she now knew were a part of him, not a fragrance that was applied. The Wild King held Moira like she was a long lost lover & for the first time since she could remember, she felt safe. Kane had hurt her, brutally & cruelly so, even for a Hellspawn. But the king did not so much as raise his voice at her, he simply asked her if she wanted to stay with him a while. ‘I want to stay with him for as long as I can,’ she reflected.

He smiled at her & backed away. She clawed a hand & clung to his shirt. He laughed & tugged her toward him with a hand. She went willingly as he sat upon the bed & in one smooth motion, pushed her feet apart with his own, pulled her into his lap & kept her from falling anywhere else with a hand on the small of her back & another gripping her right thigh for support. She sat there straddling him in shock, holding onto his shoulders, with the bottom of her dress having shift above her calves but still long & billowing enough to fold & allow her to be completely seated as he stared into her eyes again, smoldering & alight with a fire only a man can get when he hungers for something that exists only within in a woman. She had seen this heat of passion many times before, in plays & old taverns her father took her to while traveling & even within Kane’s eyes, whose cold cruelty mingled with lust could scare a bull into hiding. But Davius was an entirely different subject. He was not forcing her, in a sense. He was assertive, indeed, but not in a way where he would fight her if she chose to turn away. This was a dance to the Fae king, as the folk of the forest were known to celebrate. Lovemaking was an art to them & required every ounce of emotion as it did skill, just as within a dance.

She looked deeply into his eyes this time & with attention, allowing herself to drown in them. She was taught the art of seduction in Kane’s manor by his other mistresses whom he sent out at times to seduce men he needed, although Kane was never patient nor soft enough for her to try them on him. This time, she was not rushed nor was she being punished for not pleasing someone.

The king smiled at her. “I hope you don’t mind this seating arrangement, but I do find it exceptionally proper for a host to be as close to their guest as possible. It makes for a warmer welcoming.”

She smiled at that & reached to touch the scar on his face. He didn’t move nor stop smiling as she laid a careful hand on his cheek but his eyes turned to solid steel. He leaned back & rested with his hands on the bed, submissively allowing her to touch him & do as she wished. She took the chance to survey his face with tranquility. He was beautiful to look at, if one took the time to note all of the little & unique features. His nose was long & straight, not too large nor at all flat, but ridged near the top. His lips were supple but not full like a woman’s, in the color of ripe peaches bitten by ice. His beard was soft to the touch & the faint scars on his face each told a story. The greatest of them was the long, dark line on the left side. It was slightly jagged on above the eyebrow but straight beneath the eye. It was not puckered or deep, simply healed skin that refused to forget the day the scar was born.

Moira ran her fingers through the bangs of his hair & felt the silk-soft locks cascade through her hand like water. She traced the right side of his face from temple to jawline with her forefinger & tentatively touched his lower lip. She used her thumb to smooth over & feel the contours of its shape, feeling the way it curved up to support his calm smile. And without a second thought, she kissed him.

It was the bravest thing she had ever done & she lost all thought of who she was. Her only thought was on the soft firmness that was beneath her mouth & the taste of minty wine mingled with the scent of burning wood that caressed her emotions. He leaned back into the bed & she held his face as he held her thigh while the other hand tangled itself in her hair, urging her forward. She opened her lips & traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, slow at first, but after the first contact with his tongue, she drank more eagerly. They kissed & the king took over. He squeezed the flesh of her thigh & ran his hand up the dress to cradle a buttock. He squeezed slight again & darted his tongue to curl around hers, sending a spike of electric shock down her throat. She let out a moan & surfaced for air, the break of their kiss audible & wet. He growled & flipped her over.

As he crawled over her & propped himself on knees & hands, he looked down & grinned happily like a wolf that had just brought down his prey. He kissed her cheek & moved down to her neck, coming back up to catch her lips & playing with her face by showering it with kisses. She couldn’t help but giggle & then felt him grind his hips against her loins. The dress & his trousers prevented the full force of the action from taking effect, but the simple movement sent a wave of pleasure through her.

“Can I take your dress off? It’s annoying me.”

“If it pleases you, my king.”

“Woman…” He growled in frustration but also excitement & dark lust. As he kissed her again, he looped a finger at the top of her bodice & yanked back, popping the buttons as he ran his finger down the opening of the cloth without looking to check his progress. He began sucking on her lower lip as the bodice came apart & slowly began shifting his way to her throat. He spent some time there, sucking & kissing, licking & biting, sending moans of pleasurable ache soaring from her mouth. He moved again toward her collar bones but her undershirt kept him at bay yet only for a moment. He mimicked the movement & her breasts spilled out in all their scant glory.

She had never been blessed with a large bosom, but her mother had promised her that when she was good & married with children, she would wish for her young & petite breasts back. Now, with Davius bearing down on her with a hunger of a man having without food for a week, she no longer cared. He certainly didn’t seem to mind.

He looked toward her eyes, hesitating, as if waiting for permission. It was such a simple & courteous thing to do, so unfathomable, that a man in the midst of stripping a woman would even regard how she must feel about being half naked in front of him, giving her the chance to say no, to push him away. She saw the look he gave her, one that pleaded to allow him to continue, but also a shadow beneath that, one that held a small amount of nervousness, perhaps fearing that she would turn him away when they had already come so far. She felt a swell of affection for him & gave him a small yet the most sincerest of smiles, that she accepted what he was doing & welcomed him to herself.

He grinned & his eyes shone like glowing coals, catching the light from every candle in the room. He laid his torso gently onto her belly, one of his legs entwined with hers, the other propping most of his weight on a knee, & ran the fingers of one hand through her hair which relaxed her & delicately cupped her right breast in the other. He bowed his head & she felt warm, wet flesh engulf the tip, kissing & licking, sucking & nibbling. A serpentine sensation uncoiled itself within her & she stretched her body as long as it could go, taking in all the pleasure from such a small trick of lips. He switched to her other breast & encircled it with more kisses, then took in the tip & some flesh, sucking, licking & nibbling some more.

Moira was lost in a whirlpool of red & blue, smoke & limbs, mint & lips, pale upon tan, Davius. She glanced down at him & seeing her own breast lost in his mouth with his torrential & burning eyes on her face sent a fresh & new rush of enjoyment through her veins. And then he abruptly let her loose.

She moaned out in complaint, but he began kissing the center of her chest & trailed down toward her belly, kissing & nipping at the smooth skin. The light butterfly steps & teasing pricks quieted her protest & she reached up to grip her own breasts, kneading & rubbing them in rhythm to his attention. He trailed down farther & he neared the foundation of her greatest physical ache.

He took his time to tease her there, softly kissing & breathing heat in between her thighs, but never touching the spot that craved a kiss & was still covered by the lace prison. She groaned & tried to push her hips into his face, but he held her legs down with his body & kept a vice grip on her hipbones. He lifted a thigh & she felt an elation of excitement. ‘Finally!’ But again, he teased her, only gently licking & kissing the inside of her thigh. She wanted to scream at him to stop being so cruel to her & urge him inside, but he looked up at her face & silenced her with a fiery stare all the while continuing to kiss down the length of her leg.

“Patience, darling…” he whispered, although with a calm collectedness as if they were simply dealing with counting currency.

He reached the side of her knee & planted another gentle kiss. Then he swiftly climbed back up again, his soft tread of lips became an urgent run of biting down on her flesh. By now, the well inside of her had overflowed & soaked the lace thoroughly. He drifted over her womanhood & looked up at her. Then, with grace far too gentlemanly for the action, laid one kiss directly on the hot & soaked fabric. She squealed & thrust herself against her lips & his lips parted & became open-mouthed kisses with the occasional flick of his tongue. She tried to reach to rip away the cloth but he grabbed her wrist & pinned it to the bed. She tried with the other & met another iron vice. Both her hands were pinned to her sides & he continued the torment.

She cried out & he released her. He let out a chuckle & peeled away the lace to bare the fruit & flesh beneath. She held onto her breasts again & whimpered, looking down to see what he would do. He laid another gentle kiss but then opened his mouth & began to kiss her in earnest. The lips of his face melded with her lower lips & she threw her head back as she felt his tongue glide in & begin to explore. He brushed the walls inside & caressed the tender spot, the strokes of his tongue sending lighting strikes of joy coursing through her spine, like the hand of Zeus throwing bolts of fire & ice into the very center of her being & granting her a bliss that could have only belonged in Heaven.

She looked down again to see his face in between the crevice of legs & saw that he was watching her while he worked. But there was something odd about his eyes – the darkness was gone & now his irises glowed an electric blue. A brief thought touched Moira, that maybe she should be afraid, that this was not normal, but then again, ‘What is normal in Fae?’ She told herself to stop caring, this was more important, the way he kissed her down below.

His lips worked as diligently as his tongue, causing her to let out more & more of her inner stream of pleasure. An eternity passed & her eyes began to roll upward as his strokes grew more vigorous in rhythm, building a pressure in the pit of her loins, an ache that screamed to be relieved & she felt fear of what would happen if she let go. The bliss was mounting. What if the fibers that held together her conscious & soul ripped apart under the weight & sent her into nothingness?

She didn’t care. Her body roiled & slithered in rhythm to his tongue & at the last possible moment, when she felt she could no longer hold onto her sanity, a sweet burst of relief flowed from her & she felt her body tense as thunder rumbled in a distance within her mind, leaving only a white static of quietness & bliss. And she felt Davius within her. ‘Moira,’ he whispered. ‘Take it, darling. Take the light & let it become a part of you.’ And she gladly accepted it & then instantly regretted it. She felt herself burn on the inside, in a place, deep within her heart that she had locked away long ago for reasons she could not remember. She felt the walls of her heart burn down & the flames engulfed her mind. She wanted to scream, to run, but everywhere she “looked” there was only fire. ‘Don’t fight it. I promise, I won’t hurt you. Take it, Moira.’ She reached out with her mind & touched the flame. It seared into her & suddenly, she felt as if every particle in her being was being warmed & illuminated. She saw herself glow white hot, somewhere deep inside & she felt a new strength grow within, like an ember she did not know she had being fanned into an inferno. It grew & did not stop until she felt as though she’d burn everything around her with only a thought. And then she felt herself go limp & her senses disjointed themselves from her body. She was floating, her consciousness a liquid form, lost in the warmth & bliss somewhere in her existence.

Moira didn’t recall how long the happiness lasted, but a quiet voice was urging her to leave the blackness & come back to life. She slowly opened her eyes & saw Davius lying down next to her. ‘When had his shirt come off?’

“Welcome back, sweetling.” The king gave her a soft & friendly smile.

She tried to move but felt as though she were made of honey. She gave up trying to move & focused on his face. “What happened?”

“You are now an honorary member of the Wild Fae Court.”


“I told you, this is a ritual. But in order for me to pass on a reflection of my power unto you, I had to get you to lose yourself & all control before it could find you.”

“I… don’t understand.”

The Erlking chuckled. “It’s alright. You are still Moira, you are still safe & you seemed to really like what I did.”

Moira felt herself blush & tried to look away. He shifted toward her & kissed her softly on the lips. The scent of mint & burning wood still clung to his skin, but now it was coated with hints of musky flesh, ravaged lust & chilled passion.

“You hold a piece of me within you now,” he said. “You have rights in the Wild & your own weapons to wield against your enemies. And whenever you call upon us, your house will answer.”

She felt the soft thrum of bliss flow through her veins like warm milk & the heat of his body so close to her stirred a desire to bury herself in his chest. She tried again & managed to press her forehead against his breast. He wrapped his arm around her & laid light kisses along her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me, my lady. It was a pleasure to steal Kane’s favorite toy & remind her that she is a woman to be respected & now feared, or adored, as she wishes. I was bored, anyway.” He snorted out a soft laugh.

She felt at ease despite his sarcasm. It felt comfortable & she made it a purpose to enjoy every moment of it with this strange & untamed king who allowed her the ultimate hospitality.

“You were amazing, you know…” she told him.

“Darling, I haven’t even gotten started.” He grinned mischievously. “Now, how about a bath & then some dinner?”

“Just grant me a moment, if you would be so kind, to gather my strength to move to another chamber,” she requested.

“Or…” he gave her a knowing smile, “We could save Miss Jormaine the trouble & simply shower together.”

She smiled at that as he lifted her in his arms & carried her to the bathchamber.


Tiger, Tiger by JLMphoto on Flickr.

Foreplay before the Foreplay

Imagine a bed, two lovers sitting, I’m behind you, running my hand down your bare back… My skin hot against yours, tracing your spine like my own personal diary of flesh… The heat of the blood coursing through your veins is my ink & your moans are the narrators of your deepest desires. Imagine me envelope & cup your curves & bend down to kiss you softly between your bare shoulder blades. My hand runs through your hair, tugging a fistful of silken braids, small butterfly kisses on you the nape of your neck, the most pleasing sensations run & ruin your arms with goosebumps… I notice this & begin marking your skin with fresh kisses, moving slowly down your back, as you lay & arch your curves against the swell of my hips, the tightness of my urge pressed against your most intimate of parts, as I end at your lower dimples, kissing & licking, smothering them with affection, my wildest temptations… Just a little more to go… And then I stop, flip you over like I’m trying to reach the cool side of the pillow, but in reality, I want the hottest gift your body can offer me… I lean in & kiss you only once, delicately, on the sweetest lips known as your womanhood… And then I resurface to gaze at your naked vulnerability, the light in your eyes, the smile on your lips…

And then I get up & walk away, leaving you want nothing more than me.

Everything about this is perfect, the way she kisses him and the way he looks at her.


Everything about this is perfect, the way she kisses him and the way he looks at her.

(via high-freedom)

(Source: climbhigher, via downeysalpacas)


Abaya - engraved rhinestones.


Abaya - engraved rhinestones.

(via nothingistruerthandeath)