The Fae Hunter Ch 02 1

My heart was pounding faster than I could ever remember it beating. It was exciting and scary. I almost stopped, but I could sense Cynthia's excitement as well. It matched my own. She was kissing and licking my cock head. I didn't need the extra stimulus. I was hard as steel. I grabbed her hair and pulled her off me. With an almost careless flick of my hand, I sent her tumbling on to the bed.

"Yes," she panted, laying on her back and spreading her legs apart. She pushed two fingers inside her pussy. I hovered over her before darting my lips down to capture hers. It was a hard, urgent kiss. A kiss that demanded her obedience.

"Anything I want," I growled into her ear. "I will take whatever I want."

"Yes," she moaned again. My desire wrapped around her, pushing her to further heights. She was close to cumming. So very close.

I flipped her over on to her stomach. I got down onto my knees behind her, grabbing her hips and pulling them back up towards me - forcing her up to her hands and knees. I put my knee between Cynthia's legs and pushed them apart. With my palm, I pressed firmly down on her lower back. She flared her ass up and towards me.

"Yes," I snarled. We were using the same word, but mine was possessive and demanding. "Open up for me." She spread her legs apart more. Arched her back more. Opening her pussy and asshole to my lustful gaze. I roughly pushed a finger into her pussy.

"Yes!" she shrieked. Normally, so aware of the neighbors that she made almost no noise, now Cynthia was lost and consumed in the sex. I added a second finger. And then a third. "Oh gods," she panted and squealed. She pushed back into my hand. I fucked her forcefully with my fingers. I pulled out completely, leaving her pussy gapping open and quivering for more. "Please," Cynthia begged me. I grabbed my cock and placed the head against her opening. Even abused and used by my fingers, her pussy wasn't open enough to handle the head of my cock easily. I grabbed her hip with one hand and held my cock with the other. I lined up and forced the head into her. "Oh fuck," she wailed. "So big. You're so fucking big."

"Take it," I commanded her, ramming the first few inches of my cock into her. She tried to move forward and down, but I held her in place. I stopped with the first three inches inside of her. My cock was spreading her pussy lips apart. I pulled back until just my tip was still inside her. Her lips peeled back. I jammed forward. Piercing her with more of my cock.

"Oh. Oh." She cried out. I stopped to let her get accustomed to me being inside her. As her breathing started to normalize, I pushed in another inch while I pressed my pussy wet finger against her asshole. I pulled back but kept the pressure of my finger against her puckered hole. "What?" she gasped. "What?" I pushed my cock forward at the same time I firmly pressed my finger in. She was tight around my finger. So tight it almost hurt. Getting my dick inside was going to take a lot of work. I started fucking her strongly. My cock in her pussy and my finger in her ass. In and out. I added a second finger and she came hard. Screaming and crying as she collapsed on to her belly. I followed her down. Not letting up with my fingers. Her pussy gripped and convulsed around my cock. I kept fucking her ass with my fingers while letting my cock just rest inside her. Once Cynthia had calmed down, I pulled her back up on to her hands and knees. I pulled my cock out. "I don't," she moaned. "I can't." I rotated my fingers around inside of her. Stretching and opening her ass even more. "I can't," she said again. I pulled my fingers out and pressed the head of my cock against her open asshole. Before it could close up, I pushed in. She cried out and tried to move away, but I quickly grabbed her hips and pulled her back against me.

"Oh no, you don't," I said. "Whatever I want. However I want."

"It's too big," she moaned. I pushed another inch inside. "Oh fuck!" she screamed, cumming for a third time. She clamped so hard around the few inches I had forced inside of her that I couldn't move - either in or out. I rode out her orgasm. She was so incredibly tight that I was riding the edge between ecstasy and torture. And suddenly, with no warning, I started shooting cum deep into her bowels. My cum splashing inside her ass had her crying out again. Or maybe it was the involuntary thrusting I was doing. Her orgasm redoubled and intensified before she blacked out.

I woke up slowly. This must be hell. Everything hurt. Horribly. My chest radiated pain in every direction. My limbs felt weak and useless. I didn't even want to open my eyes. I laid there for a long time. Waiting for the pain to dissipate. It didn't. Instead, I felt colder and colder. I rolled over onto my side. I opened my eyes to see the long extinguished fire pit. It was night, but there was a dim light coming from the moon and stars that shown down in the small clearing. Everything should have been in shadows, but instead the clearing was crystal clear - in a way that was disconcerting and unnerving. The normal shades of green and brown looked washed out and inverted into grey. I blinked, waiting for my vision to be normal. It refused. Instead, a little dirt got into my left eye. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, trying to reach my eye with my hand to rub the dirt away. Both movements were a mistake. The world started spinning and my stomach revolted. I fell back over onto my side.

Blood loss,

I thought as I slipped out of consciousness again.

The next time I woke up, it was daylight. I groaned in pain. I felt marginally better, but not by much. Gingerly, I pushed myself to a sitting position, expecting nausea to overwhelm me. It didn't. It was only once I was confident that I wouldn't fall back over from my seated position that the revolting stench of death caught my attention. I gagged from the combined smells of rotting and burned flesh. Eilen's half burnt dead body was still laying near the old fire pit. I wondered briefly why wild animals hadn't dragged her off. Or killed and eaten me. My thoughts scattered in the pain and confusion I felt. I saw Cynthia gazing down at.

Are you dead yet?

Her voice echoed in my pounding head. I saw the dagger sticking into my heart.

Are you dead yet?

I looked down at my chest. Where there should have been a large puncture wound was only a puckered, healed scar tissue. I traced the scar with my fingers. It was rough and raised to the touch. A starburst of dark, purple lines radiating out from the wound. Each line was a different length. The ones on the right were no longer than three or four inches, but there was one on the left side that almost reached my shoulder. I idly traced the lines. They felt like my normal skin. Part of the stink that I was smelling, I realized, were my clothes. They were saturated with blood. My own, I supposed. I stood up and looked around. Apart from Eilen, there was nothing left to the camp site. I took a deep breath and settled my mind. I closed my eyes. Breathing in and out in a slow cadence. Once I felt ready, I re-opened my eyes and looked again at the campsite. I wandered around slowly, taking everything in. Niles had ridden off on his horse three days before. I must have lain there, in a blood loss coma, for three days. I paused in that thought. So many questions. Ones I couldn't answer. There was a tickling of knowledge, just out of reach, that told me that there was an importance to the three days. My brain, hurting and fuzzy, couldn't retrieve the knowledge. I found the spot that Cynthia had stood while watching me die. My mind stuttered and lost concentration. Cynthia looking down at me. Her eyes cold and dispassionate.

Are you dead yet?

I took three slow, deep breaths. I gathered my attention and continued my hunting, working out the events as they had happened. When I had stopped struggling to breathe, to live, she had pulled out her knife, causing a cascade of blood to pour out of me. Enough blood, I saw clinically, to easily kill me from blood loss alone. Not to speak of the blade straight into my heart. She had gathered the few things left at the campsite before following the path of the war horse. I ended my search near Eilen's body. I sat down beside her. Her slit throat grinned malevolently at me.

"I'm sorry," I told her, my voice raspy and painful. I knew her death wasn't my fault. But I felt the responsibility. If I didn't stop Niles, Cynthia would soon follow. Assuming she hadn't already killed herself. I reached over and touched Eilen's shoulder. "I will stop him," I told her dead body. "I don't care about the bounty anymore. I want him dead." I doubt my words were much comfort. I took off my torn and ripped shirt and placed it over her face. I wanted to avoid her dead, rebuking expression. Something was cathartic about taking off the bloody shirt, and I quickly shed myself of all of my bloody clothes. Soon I was naked except for my boots.

Without looking back, I walked quickly to my backpack, hoping it was still there after three days. It was. I paused as I looked at the pack. Animals had investigated it. Including a wolf. But the carnivore hadn't entered the campsite, where there was easily obtainable food. Curious. I didn't know what to make of that. I added it to the unanswered questions swirling in my head. I was glad that I hadn't been eaten, but it didn't make sense. And that made me uneasy. I shrugged. I contemplated putting on my spare clothes, but I wanted to avoid putting clean clothes on until I had scrubbed the blood off my body. So, just wearing my boots, I went searching for water.

There was a stream not far from the road. I wanted to be further away from the campsite and Eilen's dead body, so I followed the stream for about a mile until I came upon a nice swimming area. The water flowed gently, deepening to just under waist deep at the center of the stream. I waded in, letting the water flow over me. Washing away the grime and grit and blood covering my body. I ducked my head in the water to wash my hair and face. When I came back up, there was a disturbance in the air. Something was watching me.

"Hello," a woman's voice called out behind me.

I turned to face her, not knowing what to expect. She was tall and strong, with features to match. Her dirty blonde hair was chopped short, with little regard for how it looked. Her clothes were utilitarian. Heavy pants and shirt that were perfect for working in the undergrowth of the woods. A small knife was on her right hip. A wood axe was strapped to her left. Across her shoulders was a wooden pole with a large pail dangling from each end. She stood next to my backpack, neither apprehensive nor aggressive. Just waiting to get water. Just waiting to see what kind of person I was. Like a key fitting into a lock, her presence blossomed in my mind. As if I were hunting her, but more in depth. I knew what she wanted. What she needed. I gave her a smile as I started walking out of the stream toward her.

"Good morning," I said pleasantly. "I needed a wash. I'm sorry for using your watering spot."

"That's quite alright," she assured me. Her voice was husky and friendly. "There is plenty for every - oh, my god," she broke off in a startled exclamation. Her eyes captured by the swaying of my cock as I approached her. She liked what she was seeing. I could see it in the sudden shifting of her feet. Her eyes transfixed on my groin area. Her tongue licking her suddenly dry lips. The abrupt attention and desire made my cock start to rise and harden. My arousal had a cascading effect on her. I could sense the blood engorging her pussy. The scent of her pussy wafted towards me. By the time I was within touching distance, I was almost completely hard. Her breath was tight, breasts heaving in desire.

"Here," I said upon reaching her. "Let me fill those buckets for you." I stopped walking when I was so close to her that my cock head was touching her stomach. She was glued in place, unable to move. I reached over and lifted the pole from her shoulders. I pushed my cock into her stomach as I lifted the pole high. She gave an almost imperceptible moan. "No sense in both of us getting wet." I smiled down at her. I knew her pussy was quickly becoming drenched. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and startled. Her stomach pressed back against my cock. My smile broadened. I let the image of her kneeling in front of me and sucking on my cock shine in my eyes. Me grabbing her head with my hands as I forced my cock down her throat. I doubt she had ever had a cock as large as mine, as demanding as mine. I could take her right now, my eyes promised. She started to pant and rub her thighs together. I turned away and took the water pails into the river.

"No," she groaned in a frustrated whisper.

"My name is Mikal," I said as I filled the pails.

"Emma," she replied breathlessly. And then gathered herself. "My name is Emma. Thank you for getting the water."

"No problem."

"Have you been traveling long? We have a home not far from here. If you would like to rest."

"Thank you," I said, bringing the water pails back up. I placed them on the ground and started to get dressed with my spare clothes from my backpack. Emma watched closely until my cock was hidden behind my pants. "I ran into some trouble and could use a little more rest and some food. I can pay for both," I assured her. I was hungry and exhausted. My body still craved rest - even after three days of enforced sleep.

"No trouble at all," she waved away the promise of payment. "We would enjoy the company." I insisted on carrying the pails of water, though I quickly started to regret it. My vision started to blur, and I stumbled as I tried to keep up with her.

"Is it you and your husband at the house?" I asked, trying to keep my mind off the pain that was starting to radiate from my chest wound. "Do you have any children?" My vision narrowed. I didn't hear her responses. I think we talked, but all of my concentration was on putting one foot in front of the other. I stood in front of a bed. The water pails long gone. Cynthia was helping me take off my clothes. I was laying on the ground in pain. She looked down at me like a bug collector looks at a pinned butterfly. Waiting for me to die. I shook my head, the pain in my chest waking me up from my half stupor. It wasn't Cynthia standing above me watching me die. It was Emma standing there, looking at me with concern. She gently put a cover over my body.

"Rest," she murmured. "You look very unwell." the concern in her voice was laced in disappointment. I wanted to question her. Wanted to talk to her. I fell asleep.

I woke up feeling completely rested. My mind clear and my body strong. I looked down at my chest. The scar tissue was faded, no longer rough and raised. The purple lines were longer, the color deeper. I jumped out of the bed and looked around. It was a nice, simple room. The bed frame was solidly made without frills. A journeyman workmanship - solid without ostentatiousness. Next to the bed was an equally well-made chair, where my clothes were neatly folded. A glassless window showed the view of a garden. A real garden. Not like my poor attempt at one. I heard the quiet footsteps of a person coming near the doorway. I felt that it was a woman. A woman fighting arousal. I moved quickly to intercept her. We collided as I stepped through the doorway and she turned to come into the room. I grabbed her by the shoulder to stop her from falling down from the collision. Instinctively, I pulled her in towards my body. I looked down to see the sturdy, no nonsense features of the woman by the stream. Her mouth opened in surprise. Her eyes, a lovely shade of warm brown, widened in surprise. Looking further down, I noticed that she was no longer wearing her outdoor clothing. Instead, she wore softer, thinner clothes. Her shirt was billowed open at the neckline, giving me a clear view of heavy, unencumbered breasts. As my cock thickened and pressed firmly into her body, her nipples hardened and raised. My left hand slid down her back to cup her ass. It was firm and tight. I sensed the blood flowing to her pussy. I felt her breath turn ragged and short with desire. My cock was a steel rod, pressing against her body. I pushed my hand under her pants to feel the flesh of her ass without cloth to hamper me.

"My...my husband is in the front room," she gasped quietly. She didn't move away, but did look back down the hallway with concern. "I was coming to see if you were awake and wanted to eat dinner with us." She panted and squirmed against me.

"Oh," I said. With an effort, I pulled back away from her. She gave a small whine of disappointment. Something was wrong with me. My libido was out of control. My hard cock bobbed in between us. "Yes, of course. Your husband."

"Frank," she said. She licked her lips as she watched my cock. "His name is Frank." I wasn't convinced whether she was telling me or reminding herself.

"You are Emma," I said. Our earlier meeting was foggy and confused. But her desire, her wants and needs, sat in my mind clearly.

"Yes." She reached her hand out to grab my cock.

"Is he awake?" a voice called out from the other room. Emma's hand stopped inches from me. She stepped back, putting her hands behind her. Stopping herself from grabbing me.

"Yes," she called out loudly. "Maybe get dressed and meet my husband?" she murmured to me. "We would both love the company."

"Of course," I said. I stepped back away from her, shaking my head, confused that I hadn't gotten dressed first thing. I looked her up and down. She was shapely and curved in all the right places. Her breasts pressed against her shirt, nipples hard and jutting out. She was almost panting with desire for me. My hard cock bobbed between us. I imagined her dropping to her knees and sucking on it. She gave a small moan of desire. The thought of servicing me, being a receptacle for my cum, gave her a small orgasm.

"Of course," I said again, taking another step away from her. I turned toward the chair and my clothes and like a spell had broken, we both started breathing again.

"We will be getting dinner ready," she murmured quietly.

"I'll get dressed and be out there shortly." I didn't turn to look at her. Afraid that the sexual connection between us would reopen.

Emma's husband was a solidly built man with a full, black beard. He was still in heavy work clothes. As we shook hands, I could feel the rough calluses caused by the wielding of wood axe on tree hour after hour. He squeezed my hand just long enough to let me know his strength before letting go. He avoided eye contact. I didn't take it personally. My eyes were disconcerting for most men.

"I..." He stepped back, uneasy in my presence. "I heard that you were pretty out of it this morning. Slept all day long."

"Yes. I'm hunting a thief and he got the better of me at a campsite. I was out for a few days."

"Got the better of you?" Frank asked warily. He eyed me with distrust.

"Poison." I shied away from trying to explain waking up after getting stabbed in the heart. This was the easier explanation.

"Do you like Ale?" Emma asked in the silence that threatened to engulf us. She was busy pulling bread out of the oven, but cognizant of the strain between her husband and me. A thick stew was filling the room with the aroma of venison and potatoes.

"Yes," I assured her. "I've been trying to make my own." I shrugged. "It's been coming out very bitter." Those seemed to be the magical words to lessen the tension.

"You have to get the right ratio of hops to sugar," Frank said, eyes lighting up. He still avoided meeting my eyes, but his enthusiasm in the art of beer making trumped his inherent unease to my presence. "Let me grab a few pints." He mock frowned at Emma. "She doesn't appreciate a good lager." He hurried outside. To get the ale, I assumed.