Dust is caught not in a trap or on glue or in strings or in any such thing he's learned to avoid while creeping through the apothecary's laboratory - the giant apothecary catches him directly out of the air when he's flying to the gap in the window, his hand wrapping around Dust's waist.
"Lemme go!" Dust cries out, struggling and kicking in the apothecary's hand, and the big man grins down at him.
He's called Erik, and Dust wouldn't ordinarily risk picking through a human's home the way he does here, wouldn't fly in and out of his windows or creep in through gaps under his door or in the wall, but Erik grows the most delicious magical fruits in tanks and under lamps in a chamber off his laboratory, and it's worth stealing them for the taste of them.
He's been trying to catch one of them for weeks, and Dust is the unlucky one - fear cuts through the whole of his body, making him shiver, as Erik brings him over to one of his tables, above which stands a tall shelf full of jars and bottles and boxes of his alchemical ingredients.
"There there," says Erik, chuckling. "I'm not going to hurt you." He brings a pipette to Dust's mouth, and Dust attempts to turn his face away and refuse it, but he has no way of struggling free when Erik can hold him still so easily in one hand, his thumb pressing against Dust's cheek and keeping him pinned.
The tip of the pipette slides between his lips and over his tongue, making him choke, but when Erik squeezes Dust can only swallow it down to keep from drowning in it. The potion is thick and fizzy and slightly sweet: Erik does not pull the pipette back from his mouth until Dust has finished swallowing, until all of it is in his throat.
"Good," he says, smiling down at Dust, and Dust feels a stirring in his belly and a heat that rises into his cheeks. Erik is a handsome man, all told, big and plump and hairy with a neatly trimmed beard and delicate fingers that are marked and scarred all over with chemical stains and tiny burns.
Dust lies obediently back against the desk surface when Erik lowers him, suddenly willing to be dropped back and no longer remembering, exactly, why it was so important than he should run away, why he should flee. Erik is handsome and his fingers are gentle as they tug on the front of Dust's tunic and tears the woven fabric, made of grass fibres, apart.
It occurs to Dust in a distant fashion that perhaps he should protest, because now he's naked, but it doesn't seem all that crucial a matter. Erik's fingers feel good on his skin, touching over his chest, over his thighs, and Dust shivers and spreads his thighs apart, letting Erik touch one finger between his legs.
It's huge compared to the rest of him, but it makes his cunt throb and his cock jump as it touches against his lips and slides back and forth against him. Dust is wet, and he spreads his legs wider despite the fact that Erik's fingertip is surely too big to fit inside him, even to prod against him and make his cunt spread wide. Dust can feel the stretch, and he moans, his wings fluttering against the table, his thighs twitching.
"Good, good," Erik purrs, and as his finger continues to rub back and forth, gathering wetness from Dust's open cunt on the tip of his finger, Dust moans and turns his head to the side. His face feels as though it's on fire, all his blood rushing to his cheeks and to his cunt, too - when he turns his head, he sees that he's been reclined back on one of Erik's notebooks, recognises his neat, square handwriting.
Blearily, he reads the column he's sprawled out beside:
Ethics
? is written on the top of a column, and then crossed out. The words "elasticity" and "convenience" are scrawled after, and Dust tries to make sense of this, what exactly the notes are referring to, but then Erik grips at his hip with his thumb and forefinger and holds him still, sliding the index finger on the other side inside Dust's cunt.
Dust has been fucked plenty of time with other fairies, has even tumbled once or twice with gnomes and the smaller elves, let them lick and tongue at his cunt, or wrapped his body around their cocks to manipulate them, but this?
Erik is a
giant
compared to him, his index finger easily as thick as Dust's leg, and Dust cries out in anticipation of pain that doesn't come, only sensation, only
stretch
: Erik's finger slides slowly forward, making his cock throb, dragging at his inner walls and making him moan and writhe in his place.
When Erik crooks his finger, massaging the upper side of his cunt with his fingertip, Dust sees his belly bow out, sees the shape of it under the skin.
He's thought about it before, of course. Erik is a handsome man, and this isn't the first time he's noticed - once, sneaking in to steal from his garden in the middle of the night, Dust had seen him touching himself and had been hypnotised by the sight of Erik's cock in his hand, how thick it was, how bright and shiny-pink its slick head was. Liquid had pearled from his cock hole and slid down the shaft of his cock, and Dust's mouth had watered at the thought of the taste of it, how overpowering it would be to swipe his tongue over a giant's cock, how he could wrap his arms and legs both around its shaft and not even remotely cover it.
The thought makes him wetter, and he can feel the tingle and heat rush between his legs; Erik moves his finger in a careful circle, rubbing against the edges of his cunt, and Dust moans incoherently, grabbing and pushing at the paper surface he's laid back on.
"You're very wet, very good," Erik murmurs, and he starts to thrust his finger inside him, dragging it out of Dust's tight cunt in a way that makes his head spin before he slides it forward again, sinks in so deeply that Dust feels he must be impaled on it, feels it might well go right through him.
Erik picks up a pen, scrawling on the page beside him, and Dust's eyes are blurring so that he can't quite read it all, but he makes out the word "capacity" and then the word "slut".
Dust shudders, closing his eyes tightly.
"I'll try your cunt first," says Erik. "I can sample your ass another time." He's still rotating his finger inside him, and Dust can feel himself stretching, feel the edges of his cunt pushed outward with the movement of the finger: when it pulls out, he's left empty, feels as though he's gaping with it, and he moans helplessly.
"
Please
," he whines, and Erik laughs, his cock dropping forward. Dust's eyes widen at how thick it is, how the fat head of Erik's hard cock lands between his legs, easily as thick around as his torso. It can't possibly fit, can it? It can't do. It can't do--
Erik braces his fingers on Dust's shoulders and his thumbs either side of his hips, keeping him pinned in place like the butterflies he has in glass cases on the wall, and slides his cock forward.
