Faerie Tale Lover

This wasn't what she was expecting. Not this. Not an actual home, not an apartment with views of the very human city. She didn't know precisely why she thought that the fae man she had accepted a night with would whisk her off to some kind of magical forest where the trees had been bent and whispered into providing a perfect shelter and the air shimmered with a glamor she could only begin to imagine but that was not remotely what was happening.

Wait

, she thought as she stepped through the threshold and into the admittedly spectacular penthouse loft.

When did I start believing this story about faeries? Do I really think he is a faerie?

She glanced at him as she walked further into his home. He was very attractive. If someone asked if he were attractive in an otherworldly sort of way she might be forced to say yes. But she was very, very far into her cups and that might be the booze speaking.

"Are you trying to figure out if I am telling the truth?" he asked in that husky voice as he closed the door. He turned to her with a smirk that she could read plainly. He was having fun with this.

Smiling back she cocked her head to the side. "Wouldn't you be doing that yourself if you were me?"

He simply shrugged at that and moved to take her coat. "I can't imagine a situation where I would be in your position."

"Right." She had to physically stop herself before she rolled her eyes. "Because you're a fae lord."

Why am I even here?

"Yes." His response was smooth, as smooth as his steps as he glided toward his bar and as smooth as the whiskey pouring from bottle to tumbler. "Because I am a fae lord and while I am fascinated with humanity, divesting myself from my own... gifts to such an extreme extent is something I simply cannot fathom. Can you imagine giving up all of your cognitive abilities and sinking to the level of an insect?"

She snorted but accepted the glass. "I wouldn't try to woo an insect."

"Is that what I'm doing?" he asked coyly. Then he shrugged again. "It is indeed an imperfect metaphor. You are not an insect in most senses but when it comes to my... gifts, well, there you are, shall we say, at a disadvantage."

"And what exactly

are

your gifts?" she pressed. She took a sip without thinking about it then stared down at the liquid she was holding. "Humans aren't supposed to accept food or drink from the fae, right? Did I just fuck up?"

"Oh, my dear, you've been accepting drinks from me all night. I was the one who paid the bar tab after all."

He had her there, she realized. Well... In for a penny, in for a pound. She took a long pull of the liquor and savored the smokey taste on her tongue. At least however she was damning herself was going to be an exquisite experience.

As though he were studying something he watched her, searching her face for some sort of clue. There was something in his gaze that was rapturous. Something about the light hitting his irises and sclera that made them shimmer like prisms. Was it her imagination or were his ears tapering? Why did it hurt to look at him? There was something

feral

in his features she hadn't noticed all night. Something was changing.

"You didn't answer all my questions," she spoke quickly.

"You asked a number of them, to which do you refer?"

Her breath caught before she could reply right away. His features were definitely shifting. Becoming sharper, finer, more beautiful. They had to be. Her pulse was starting to speed up and she was suddenly very, very aware just how close he was standing. "What are these 'gifts' you keep bringing up?"

"Oh, those?" He stepped even closer and lowered his head, lips brushing the hair near her ear. "I can show you."

"Oh." It was all she could manage.

He lightly placed a hand on the small of her back and brought her close enough that her breasts were against his shirt, pressed to his chest. It was not unpleasant. "Would you like me to show you?"

Would she? Was this a step she was willing to take? She hadn't committed to serving him or even acting as a paramore. It was one night. What could that do? She could do this for one night, couldn't she? And how often would an opportunity like this arise? The chance to fuck someone who wasn't human? Who was... Who was that beautiful, that potentially talented?

His body so close to hers left no question what he wanted. She could feel him behind those leather pants, stiff and straining. The warmth of his body leached through to her, exciting something inside and awaking that telling heat, the kind that spread down her legs and up her torso. The kind that made her bite her lip and blush for fear that someone could guess what she was thinking. She looked into his eyes and she knew what she wanted. His devilish smile that grew with the wet glow between her legs led her to believe he knew too.

"I want that," she said softly, almost moaning. "Please. Please show me."

Those were the right words. His mouth pressed against hers as soon as the words had been expressed, tongues meeting and caressing as his hands roamed her body. She could feel her bra unclasp and the clothing she wore melt off. She wasn't entirely sure it didn't literally melt away from her like a fog, she was so enraptured with the planes of his body. So clear and firm under her hands. His own clothes, those buttery trousers and the expertly tailored vest and shirt, vanished just as mysteriously and it was only their nude forms held tightly together.

The feel of his skin against her own only inflamed her own arduous desires. She gasped as his hands ran softly along the sides of her breasts and tongue traced her collarbone. When he held her wrists behind her back and began stroking her nipples with his other hand she whimpered, thrusting her chest forward urgently.

Clearly pleased with her reaction, he chuckled. Hand still encircling her wrists, he maneuvered the two of them to somewhere he could lower her to her knees. He stood before her, looming tall, sturdy, and powerfully erect. Another wicked grin and then he was closing the minimal distance between the two of them, free hand taking a fistful of her hair at the base of her skull, and thrusting himself into her mouth with a force that was simultaneously surprising and alluring. He pumped rhythmically, filling her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat, hand guiding her head in a way that was somehow both cruel and tender.

Dropping her hands, he allowed her to cup his buttocks and give herself a better angle as he used her mouth. It felt as though it were endless and she was prepared for it to never end. She let him control her movements, her lips parting again and again, working his shaft with lips and tongue as best she could. This was more about his command over her body than her own performance but she still wanted to contribute to the process. All the while his hips and hand forced him in and out of her throat.

A profound, throaty groan escaped him. It reverberated through her bones until she was positively tingling, making her feel animalistic, as rabid and as reckless as she had ever been. It was almost as though there was a primal strength within him that she had never experienced before and it pulled out an equally primal lust within her she never knew herself capable of.

He pulled her away but this time did not bring her back down. With deliberate precision he flipped her over the back of a luxurious couch (was it truly a couch?), ass up and utterly at his mercy. She had never been treated so much like an inanimate object but she enjoyed it thoroughly in this context.

A hand stroked the back of her thigh, starting low and gradually working its way up, twisting and twining and leaving behind a trail that set her afire anew. She knew what he had in mind but when his fingers spread her open and plunged inside, a movement made deft by her wetness, it caused her to jerk. There was little time to process as he braced her firmly between the furniture and himself, his fingers working within her. In and out, twisting and twining just as they had on her thigh but in new and wholly ingenious ways. Once again she found herself nearly wild with a feeling she hadn't known she could achieve. Though she had so little room within which to work she pushed back into him, driving those dexterous fingers deeper into her. His other hand wrapped under her to stroke her clit. A surge of pure sexual gratification started to build within her, rolling over her and threatening to crest...

"Not yet," he commanded.

Something between a whimper, a squeal, and a sigh pushed itself through her lips into the space between them. But she didn't cum.

"Good girl," he purred from behind her. She wanted to snarl but the phrase lit a fire within her and once again she had to struggle to obey.

The feeling of him moving inside of her, of fingers on her clit, became her whole world. A part of her was aware of the sounds she was making, the cries and moans escaping her as he worked her body, but she was so tied up in what she was experiencing and the way her body stretched and how it felt to be filled. It was all she could do to maintain herself, even just fractionally, and not lose everything she was in that moment.

She didn't know how long that lasted. What she felt swept her away, bringing her to the point of climax again and again and it took everything she possessed to keep herself from capsizing under the intense onslaught of waves. Her entire world narrowed to that singular sensation of pleasure and she couldn't concentrate on anything more.

His movements grew more deliberate and forceful. "Cum for me," he murmured, voice barely perceptible over her own reverberations.

When she came it was like she shattered, peaking and exploding. The swelling, the release, tore her apart and repaired her in one motion that was both swift and protracted at one time. She had never felt a thing like it and knew in that moment she would do anything to feel it again. He allowed this to happen repeatedly, pushing her further and further until she was sure her legs would buckle and she would never recover.

Then suddenly his hands disappeared from her cunt and she let out a desperate whine of disappointment despite her body's definite necessity of a refractory period, however minimal. He didn't let her go though, he kept her pinned in place with his own body, sheathing himself inside of her, one hand now on her waist, the other stretched out and grasping one of her heavy breasts roughly. She found herself filled in a wholly new way, one that stretched her differently, uniquely.

There was nothing gentle in the way he used her. He pumped powerfully, slowing and speeding in time. His fingers dug into her breast hard enough to leave bruises while his other hand held her close, a vice-like grip on her waist, allowing him to thrust into her as far as his body would allow.

For her part she arched her back and pushed, rocking into him regularly and driving him further into her body. If it had any effect on his action she couldn't tell but it felt right to her, allowing the length of him to split her apart and send her into another blissful, rhythmic reverie.

He came with a wordless cry and final impact, restraint not letting up until he emptied himself entirely. Only when he was done did he allow her room to move. Her legs felt like gelatin and as she went to stand fully he offered her a hand to the other side of the couch to sit and recuperate. She still wasn't entirely sure if it existed physically or if the plush comfort that enveloped her was a construct he created. She also didn't care.

Their eyes met and she smiled shakily. "Impressive."

"That wasn't even the best part," he crooned.

"Oh?"

"Just rest for now. We'll address that next time."

Next time. She could already feel herself readying for the promised next time. If this was what a faerie lord could do to her, she wanted to experience it as much as possible. Over and over. If there was a price she would happily pay it. There was a peculiar glow inside of her she had never felt, something seductive and addicting. Something she wanted to hold onto more than anything else but also something that felt completely alien to herself. It snaked its way through her veins and maybe she should be concerned but all she managed was euphoria.

Her damnation was indeed exquisite.