"I want her," he said. His words were met with incredulous laughter.
"Out of the question."
His heart filled with the ache and longing of an eternity of damned souls, and he felt a fire of rage begin to burn beneath his traditionally stoic exterior.
"Brother...I must have her," he said again. The laughter subsided, but the expression of incredulity remained.
"You liken her to an obsession." He growled.
"That is because she is my obsession. I cannot...I will not exist without her beside me," he said. The humor faded from his brother's eyes, and he became thoughtful.
"And you desire no others?"
"No, never. I recall no others, and I will have no others. She is desire," he replied.
"Does she return your affections?"
His eyes lowered and he shook his head.
"I have not yet made my presence known. However...if I may have her...I swear upon all of my power that no harm will ever come to her. I will earn her love," he replied seriously.
"And you are aware of the innate dangers in taking a mortal lover?"
He paused. While it was true that the mortals were created in the image of the gods, their forms were fragile and breakable. They were smaller and weaker, vulnerable to injury, sickness, and death. They were dying the moment they were born.
"I will be gentle with her. Always," he answered.
The humor returned to his brother's eyes.
"I've watched her mother, and she will never let you court her daughter..."
Calista gently dropped her basket of flowers and sat down on the grass, smiling delightedly. She bathed in the sun, reveling in its warmth and the secret pleasure it brought. Her mother had expressly forbidden her from spending too much time outdoors, warning her of the way the harsh light would pale her hair and darken her skin. Calista had always been an obedient girl, but sunshine was something her mother could not prevent her from enjoying. It was as if she had been born to worship it.
She removed her sandals and pressed her dainty feet in the cool stream, wiggling her toes in the water. She splashed playfully, letting the moist droplets soak the warm skin of her legs.
She looked across the stream and noticed a woman and a man, who appeared to be around her age of twenty, chasing each other across the meadow. She squinted to see them more clearly, and gasped when the man embraced the woman roughly, to the woman's apparent delight, and kissed her.
Calista brought her fingertips to her lips, wondering how it would feel to be kissed.
The man pulled the woman to the ground, and playfully wrestled with her until he was on top of her. Calista's innocent eyes widened as the man began to kiss the woman with more earnest, moving his head this way and that. Her eyes widened in shock when his hands began to travel all over her body, squeezing her large breasts, her waist, her bottom, and underneath her dress. Calista wondered why he was squeezing her so hard, why he seemed to want to touch the woman in the oddest places.
Calista blushed and looked away when the man began to disrobe, but a strange imp within her made her bring her eyes back to the lovers' scene. She watched in wonder as the man brought the woman's legs high around his waist, and he reached in between their bodies, and thrust his hips against hers.
Calista squinted and leaned forward, trying to see what he was doing. He was bucking his hips furiously against the woman's, but Calista did not understand why.
She continued to spy on the lovers, and fanned herself when she realized watching them was making her feel feverish, especially on the inside. But despite the heat, she couldn't bring herself to look away. She was fully entranced in watching their activity.
The woman pushed against the man, tumbling him onto his back, and she mounted him, straddling his hips with her strong thighs. Calista gasped when the woman began to bounce up and down on his lap, her head thrown back in what appeared to be pleasure.
Calista was about to feel faint from fever, but a sudden cool breeze subdued the harsh heat. Cold air gently flowed through her hair and across her face, and Calista let out a long sigh of relief. The sweat that fell from her temples cooled to icy droplets, and goosebumps appeared on her skin in reaction to the sudden chill. She continued to watch the lovers, wondering what it would be like if she could be the woman on top of the man.
Calista lowered her eyes to her own body, surprised that the breeze was having such an effect on her tender, heated flesh. She felt it intimately touch her stomach and her legs, cooling her feverish skin, and she sat still in anticipation, wondering if it would quell the heat that remained between her legs.
The breeze rose higher, blowing away her dress and touching her inner thighs. She was shockingly aware of the warmth between her legs, and even more shocked that the wind could make her so sensitive.
Calista stood on shaky legs then, frightened by the sensations in her body. She gathered her basket of flowers, and ran home, trying her best to ignore the feelings the sight of the lovers evoked.
Daemon waited for his heart's passion to return to their usual space, at their usual time. He had begun to think of it as "their time", even though the young woman was unaware of his presence. Her mortal eyes could not see him on the mortal realm, unless he willed it so. And he was not ready to reveal himself just yet.
He cherished these private moments they had together, even if he was merely an outsider looking in on the world he craved. He knew he didn't fit in her world, was wrong for her in every possible way, but he desired her nonetheless.
His cold soul filled with warm elation as she emerged, a bright ray of light penetrating his darkness. He watched her with bated breath as she gracefully sat down on a clean sweep of grass, his nephew's sunny rays shining down on her golden skin, almost as if in worship of her.
Her beauty astounded him, how utterly feminine she was, and he found himself marveling at just how well she seemed to fit into the natural world. The scene did not enhance her beauty, but rather, her beauty enhanced the scene. Her hair was not the color of sunshine, but rather, the sun was the color of her hair. The clear blue of the stream was the color of her eyes; the pink of the flowers was the color of the flush in her cheeks.
She was tall and slender, and carried her body gracefully, almost regal-like. Daemon felt like she looked more of a goddess than the real ones he knew. Her body was fully and ideally woman, with large round breasts emphasized by a small waist, and gently generous hips. As far as he could tell, this woman was human perfection.
He observed her longingly as she dropped her feet into the stream and splashed, soaking her thin dress. He could make out the generous curves of her athletic, yet womanly body, and he silently crawled next to her for a closer look.
He watched her expressive face as she stared across at the meadow, adoring the quizzical look in her eyes. He looked across the meadow as well, curious as to what was fortunate enough to merit her attention, and he chuckled silently when he realized what it was.
A woman and a man, no older than she was, frolicking in the meadow. They quickly became intimate, and Daemon's eyes flickered back to the real subject of his fascination, curious to see how she would react. He was surprised to find that she was staring at them shamelessly. He smiled at his innocent little voyeur, strangely delighted to find that she was so interested in watching the couple's sex.
As the woman continued to watch the lovers, Daemon continued to watch her, noticing the way her golden skin became coated with sweat. Her breathing increased, and her heartrate surged, music to his ears. He inhaled deeply and slowly and could faintly make out the distinct scent of her arousal, and his cock instantly hardened in reaction. She was growing excited from watching them, even if she was too innocent to realize it. And he was growing excited from watching her.
She was more beautiful than ever, and Daemon knew he couldn't let her leave him today without at least touching her. He'd never dared even sit as close to her as he was now, but he couldn't help himself. He was beyond addicted to her, and he needed a touch, a taste, of the beautiful creature that captivated his every waking thought.
He reached forward and stroked her pale blonde hair, using every fibre in his being to contain himself. He willed his touch to be so faint that it would feel like a mere light breeze upon her skin. He groaned at a frequency lower than her ears could detect as he caressed her soft hair, fighting the urge within him to grab it hard and pull her towards him for a kiss.
Her lips parted in a soft moan, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind, barely touching her. He gently kissed her temples, his touch fainter than air.
He worshipped her skin with his lips, keeping his touch light, as he reverently kissed her neck and face, cooling her off with his cold skin. He gently ran his hands along her arms and her sides, and her soft, warm skin broke out in goosebumps in reaction to his coldness. He gently brushed her round, full breasts, and her nipples hardened beneath her dress.
Daemon reached for her legs, lightly touching the skin of her calves and knees. He slid his hands beneath her peplos and stroked her thighs, daring himself to touch the essence of her femininity.
The young woman's eyes were glassy, and she was slightly trembling. He wondered if it was just from the chill of his hands, or if somehow, miraculously, she was reacting to not just the erotic site of the lovers, but his touch.
His query was answered when she stopped staring at the lovers, and looked down between her thighs, almost as if she were expecting something. Almost as if she...wanted something.
Daemon froze, unsure if he could continue. He longed to touch her intimately, longed to pleasure her, but he wanted her to be aware of him, accepting of him. He would not be like his brother, a crass wretch who took advantage of unknowing, vulnerable women. He would earn this woman's love and desire.
Her legs parted slightly, and Daemon's sense of reason left him. The sweet, fragrant scent of her arousal was stronger now, and Daemon didn't need to see beneath the thin linen of her peplos to know that her moisture was copious. He no longer cared about being better than his brother. He needed to touch this girl, desperately.
Daemon exhaled, coating the linen of her peplos with his breath, blowing it above her hips. He admired her long legs, her soft, creamy thighs, and the sheer, utter beauty of her exposed pussy. He licked his lips in hunger, longing to touch and taste the dewy nectar of her pussy as he slid his hands further up her thighs.
He was about to cup her bare mound in his hand when she suddenly stood up, smoothing down her dress in desperation. Her water-colored eyes appeared scared and frightened, and Daemon wondered if somehow she knew she was being touched without her consent.
