There was a faery sitting at a table in the far back of my bar, and ye gods, wasn't he *beautiful* in his own wild way? Oh, those with less sight, i.e. *everyone*, only saw one of the legion of weirdoes New York has to offer, but I saw beyond that mask to what truly lay beyond his glamour.
His hair, a mass of midnight black lay around his face and shoulders, strands of it flying artlessly up and about in a wind-thrown mane. His face was angular in shape, with perfect cheekbones, a long straight nose, and a marvelously sculpted mouth frowning pensively at the whiskey glass in his long-fingered hand. He was dressed in a black vest and odd white, skin-tight trousers that buttoned at the fly...very early 19th century. He wore with these a long gray coat, a pair of black finger-less gloves, and a pair of heeled knee-high boots that buckled on the sides up to the knee.
The clothes and hair might be found on any young malcontent looking to improve his or her dull life with a dash of mystery, but I could see his ears, rising from that tousled mane, their tips tapering to delicate points. Not very long, but longer than mortal ears. Longer than a tamer fae's as well. No, what I had here was a *wild* fae, and he was so beautiful to these eyes that I could only stare.
I wanted to see his eyes. I was overridden by this desire, to see his eyes. I wanted this almost as much as I wanted to simply tear off my clothes and dive into his lap, to take his face in my hands and claim those wonderful lips for my own. But I kept it under control-although a show like that might have improved business. My poor pub did not attract many patrons, and I feared I would have to close its doors all too soon. It would be a shame. I loved this, having my own place to watch people laugh and find a few hours' enjoyment in this vale of tears...
He'd had a whiskey: Bushmills. I quickly reached for a bottle and a glass and poured another, then walked to his table before my nerve broke. I could feel the puzzled stare of the other bartender on my back as I went, but I ignored him. My eyes were only for the fae staring into his empty glass as if it were a crystal ball.
He looked up as I stopped at his side, and my breath caught in my throat at my first look into his eyes. Thickly lashed they were, thick and long, perfect frames for eyes the same color as a burgundy wine. The corners were tilted, making him look at exotic as possible...even if he hadn't been fae, he would have drawn any woman's attention with those eyes...if he let anyone see them.
Mutely, I held out the glass to him, knowing I had to look like a dying fish, all gaped mouth and wide, staring eyes. I gave myself a mental shake and finally managed to say, "On the house."
"Thankee," he murmured, and oh, wasn't that voice like the darkest chocolate and just as sinful? "You must be a mind-reader."
Then he reached up to take the glass, and those long fingers met mine. I froze, unable to think of anything but the fact that he had *touched me*. I certainly couldn't think to let go of the glass, and he finally had to lift it out of my hand. His eyes met mine suddenly, and a sly, knowing smile slid over his beautiful face. The heat that came into those wine red eyes sent a heat of my own flushing over my body, and I turned and fairly fled back to the bar. I could feel his eyes on me every step of the way, and it was all I could do not to grab my partner's shirt and shake him while demanding the time. Instead, I politely asked him while keeping a death grip on the edge of the bar.
"About one, why?" was his not so puzzled reply.
Instead of answering, I lifted my head and bellowed, "LAST CALL!" * * * *
"Night, Robert," I said firmly, shoving my partner out the door.
"But there's still one guy left," he hissed, grabbing the doorframe. "I can't just leave you here-"
"Yes, you can," I insisted with one final shove that sent him nearly sprawling out on the sidewalk. "Good *night*, Robert."
I shut the door firmly in his hurt face and locked it.
"This is a very nice pub you run," said the faery from his table. "It has a cozy, welcome feel to it. Like inns back in the old days, where it wasn't so much the drinkin' that sent you there, but the people."
I leaned against the door, listening to him talk, and wondered how the hell I was going to get him upstairs to my room without seeming like a gigantic slut. But then those long-fingered hands were sliding their way down my bare arms to rest atop my own that lay splayed against the heavy oak of the door, and I could feel the warmth of his chest pressing heavily against my back.
"Do you have a room here, beauty? Or shall I simply *ravish* you on that wonderful bar of yours? Beautiful carving on that, by the by. Did you do it yourself?"
I nodded breathlessly as he leaned forward, resting his cheek against mine. I felt him smile and closed my eyes as I tried to get a hold on the emotions swirling like a maelstrom within me. *No one* had ever affected me like this piece of magic behind me, and though a small part of me knew that's what most of this was...magic...the rest of me simply didn't care. After so many unfulfilling romances and affairs, I was more than willing to take a bit of faery glamour to finally feel this way in a man's arms. Of course, he wasn't a man, but I wasn't splitting hairs now!
"And here," he murmured, moving one hand to trace the leaf patterns that covered the doorframe. "You're a talented one, beauty. But I have my talents as well. Shall I show you?"
Oh, *gods*!
I spun around between his arms and leaned against the door, staring wordlessly into mischief-filled eyes as I silently willed him to start already! His hands slid up to cup my face, those eyes searching me for any sign of reluctance...
...and then his mouth came down on mine, and the world seemed to shrink down to the size of two bodies pressed together.
Had I ever really been kissed? If this was anything to judge by, then no. All were mere grandmotherly pecks to this. Lips nibbling just *so*, tongue exploring so expertly every part of my mouth, fingers brushing so delicately over my cheeks and temples before dropping down behind me to stroke the length of my back...it was heaven.
His hands came back up to brush the sides of my face and he pulled away, a light smile on his face. "You never answered my question. Do you have rooms here? Or do you live elsewhere?"
"Upstairs," I sighed, feeling myself begin to collapse. Then I was just suddenly in his arms being carried in quick strides across the floor towards the stairs. He put me down just long enough so I could unlock the door to my rooms, then threw me over his shoulder and quickly searched out the bedroom...which he found with preternatural ease.
I found myself being tossed down on my unmade bed, and then he was kneeling at my feet, working on the laces of my boots. I found myself suddenly stripped of footwear and pants with supernatural speed, and then he was on the bed straddling my hips, his mouth again on mine as his fingers worked the buttons on my leather vest. I felt myself being lifted up, and then I was lying there in nothing but a pair of black cotton panties.
And he hadn't even taken off his coat yet. And as he slid back down onto the floor, taking my legs with him, I started to realize he wasn't going to, either. But then my legs were being tossed over his shoulders and his mouth was pressed to my inner thigh, and I could have cared less about what he was wearing. My palms pressed flat to the bedding as his mouth moved in tantalizing little inches up my thigh, and shuddered as he pressed one hard cheek between my legs.
My eyes were closed, keeping me from seeing his next move. I doubt I could have made a move to stop him had I known, but either way it didn't matter. I lay there reveling in the feel of him pressed against me there when I suddenly felt something cold and sharp slide between my skin and the cotton of my panties high on my leg. I opened my eyes to see a small blade suddenly slice through them, flicking quickly to the other leg to repeat it. Then it disappeared to wherever it had come from, and he flicked the remains of my underwear to the side.
"Nice trick," I gasped as he ran his tongue between my folds.
"I have better," he murmured against me, his hands running along the outside of my legs. He ran his tongue up over my stomach and between my breasts, then worked his way up to my face. As he brushed his lips against the side of my mouth, he smiled lazily and said, "You know what I am, don't you? You see right through it."
"A faery," I moaned, lifting my arms to wrap them around his neck. "A-a trickster."
"A hobgoblin," he corrected further. "The puck's wilder cousin. And you, pretty, have a very unhealthy dose of second sight."
I nodded and he sighed happily. "Oh, wonderful! I can't remember how long it's been since I haven't had to hide myself while bedding a human."
He moved my legs from off his shoulders and laid me full-length on the bed, then quickly settled himself comfortably atop me. He rubbed himself delightfully against me, and I could easily feel that he was already hard and full. But it also reminded me that he was still fully clothed, down to the coat, boots and gloves, and frankly, it was an incredible turn-on. He nuzzled his face in the sensitive skin behind my left ear, licking me there, making me squirm against him as his hand settled on my right breast, giving it an affectionate squeeze before thumb and forefinger began playing with the nipple. His other arm was wrapped behind my back, lifting me into him so that we were pressed together as tight as possible, letting me feel every lean, hard contour of his body. *Oh*, didn't it feel wonderful? I wasn't going to be able to sleep with a human male after this...*ever*. I'd remember the feel of this immortal body against mine long after my mine was no longer desirable.
