The Moth And The Flame 1

Lorelei's Note: While this story is framed as wholesome, the types of 'consent' given are not the sort you can rely upon with a stranger, as these characters do in the fantasy! In the real world, affirmative consent and power negotiations are always critical. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story!

This story is probably unconnected from the lore of my other works.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the midst of an endless ocean of black ink, a woman drifted in place and gazed in rapture at nothing at all.

She was dressed in a pale, translucent dress, flowing and insubstantial, ghosts stitched around her tall, slender form. Behind her back fluttered a pair of beautiful moth wings, each one a stained glass window of iridescent indigo, shimmering in the black like mother-of-pearl. Next to her feet rested a large blue silk bag, resting lopsided and lumpy as if filled with a viscous liquid.

Starbloom smiled. This was the last time the universe would ever look like this. She wanted to take her time and make sure she never forgot it, to hold onto the view, because she would be the only being who could. At least, the only being she dared name. Her only other company out here was things that knew to keep their distance.

Those things had been her only company for some time now.

She would have to remember the world like this. Her eyes drifted over the empty expanse, and her smile slowly faded. Lonely as it might be.

She bent to retrieve her bag, twirling a delicate paintbrush between her fingers. She dipped the paintbrush in, and it came out dripping silvery blue.

And she began to paint the skies.

The goddess's paintbrush danced as she flitted through the black. Wherever the brush fell, a bead of brilliant light began to form. Then another. Then another. A trail of birthing stars trailed in her wake.

She laughed and twirled in the air, her wings guiding her in graceful arcs. She did not place most of her stars at random. Her bright beautiful tapestry wove in patterns no one but her would ever know, would ever see.

But every now and then, she snuck in some mischief—three stars right beside one another, a scattering of galaxies casually drawn in the shape of her wings. Private jokes no one but her would ever laugh at.

Starstong had been painting for several hours when she first noticed the lights.

She squinted. At first, she'd assumed it was just some of her stars she'd placed outside the patterns, but she'd noticed something odd. The light wasn't the pale silver of her stars. It was a warm, brilliant gold.

Starbloom's head tilted to the side. She gazed at the flickering light, and realized it was...

... something she'd never seen before.

It was beautiful.

The golden light blazed with warmth—not the nerve-searing heat of her stars, but warmth, passion, welcome. It flickered and burned and pulsed faintly in the distance to a steady, inviting beat.

"... oh." Her lips parted slightly. The light seemed to expand to fill her vision, and suddenly the rest of the world seemed small and unimportant.

She wanted a closer look. She wanted to see more.

The mothgirl's wings fluttered, and she found herself drifting closer.

She wasn't sure why, or why she moved so recklessly. Her only companions out here were horrid things—the Remainders, or the Gray Lady, things she dared not approach. They never showed themselves to her like this, but surely anything she didn't know had to be ten times as bad as the things she did.

And yet the light called to her. Just staring at it from here, from an eternity away, invited that warm, comforting glow into her mind. Starbloom felt kindness in that light, a sweet, enticing invitation. An intoxicating one.

And so she drifted. Her flight was uncharacteristically clumsy and uneven, and she knew she ought to correct herself, but it didn't seem to matter right now. The warmth was spilling over her mind like warm, oozing sweetness, and she wanted more. She craved that mysterious light.

But even as she flew closer, the light seemed to be moving away from her. A soft moan of disappointment came from Starbloom, and she flew faster. She dimly knew her mouth was hanging open, but her gaze was full of golden light, and no thought occurred to her but getting closer, closer...

And gradually, as she drew near, the light blossomed into a person.

Starbloom managed to halt herself, and the effort of doing so made her head slosh forward like a too-full pail of water. She blinked, and tried to shake herself, tried to understand what she was seeing.

It was a woman. A beautiful woman with brilliant bronze skin and hair like... like someone had spun that gorgeous, brilliant orange flame into the finest, softest silk and allowed it to spill down her broad, powerful shoulders. The woman was muscular, fit, buxom, clad in a gown of gleaming silver scales that seemed less designed for protection so much as to remind the viewer that the beautiful lady they were ogling knew how to fight.

It certainly wasn't for modesty.

Behind thee woman rustled a pair of wings, like Starbloom's. These, though, were weighty, feathery, framing the woman's breathtaking form like a cloak of white down. Her lips were full, her ears pointed, her piercing eyes a nebulous blue beneath thick lashes and sculpted eyebrows. Her whole form shone like a star, but a star made of that warm, loving light. Starbloom stared at her in rapture, and briefly forgot not to drift closer.

Then she realized the woman was staring back at her, and she felt her cheeks flushing with clouds of burning stars. She wanted to look away, but... not as much as she didn't.

The woman giggled. She put a hand on her hip and unabashedly looked Starbloom up and down, eyes sparkling. Starbloom felt naked beneath that open, admiring gaze. "Oh, my,

hello

there."

"I... um..." Starbloom's mind was swimming through nebulas trying to catch up to her reality. Every time she thought she was breaking free, the woman's form seemed to flash, to glow brighter, hotter, and all thoughts of pulling her gaze away seemed to melt into a puddle. "H-Hi," she finally squeaked.

The woman put a finger to her lips. Her eyes flickered in undisguised delight. "Are you seeing something you like?"

The mothgirl swayed slightly and barely held in a whimper. She blinked rapidly. The light was so... so

pretty

...

The woman smirked. Her golden light pulsed once, twice more, and Starbloom felt like her whole being could dissolve.

The woman reached up and, right, in front of Starbloom's face,

snapped

her fingers.

It was like a thunderclap. The spell shattered, and Starbloom suddenly realized the woman had gotten very close. Too close. She reeled back, eyes widening. "I—you—"

"Sorry about that," the woman said smoothly, tossing her shimmering hair back over her shoulder. "It seemed like you were enjoying yourself, but..."

Starbloom's eyes drifted over the woman's ample cleavage. She realized her own nipples were tenting the thin fabric of her dress, and she couldn't help but squirm as she noticed the woman's gaze.

"Um." Starbloom coughed. "S-Sorry, I, um."

Starbloom had no idea how to talk to people. She'd had no idea

people

were even something she might one day have to worry about at all. But she especially had no idea how to talk to, well...

girls.

"I-I'm Starbloom," she managed, avoiding eye contact.

"Starbloom." The woman's smile broadened. "It's

so

nice to meet you. My name is Dawnsong, but you can call me

Dawn

, if you like."

Vocabulary was a strange thing for goddesses at the edge of creation. So many words lingered for things that didn't exist yet—things which had existed in the last multiverse, things that Starbloom remembered the names of but not the forms or meanings.

And yet the word

dawn

made her think of that sweet, enticing warmth. The word

song

made her think of the woman's entrancing, rhythmically pulsing lights. "Dawnsong," she whispered, briefly meeting the goddess's gaze, and immediately ducked her head, flustered, when the goddess returned it.

"You can call me whatever you like, of course," Dawnsong said sweetly, shrugging those beautiful bare shoulders. Her words dripped with suggestion, with invitation, with temptation.

"N-No!" Starbloom blurted. She swallowed. "Um, I-I like Dawn."

What do I say? What do I say? What do I say?

"What are you doing here?"

She flinched, mortified at how that sounded. But Dawnsong only laughed again, that sweet, gentle moonbeam giggle. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting." Her eyes darted down to Starbloom's bag of paints, then up into Starbloom's eyes. Starbloom struggled to look away, and her struggles again fell short. "Did you make all this?"

Starbloom felt suddenly shy. She hadn't expected anyone else to see... all of this. "S-Sorry, it's—well, I mean to say, I'm still working on it--"

"It's

beautiful

."

Starbloom finally tore her gaze away and barely resisted the urge to hide behind her hands. "Th. Thank you."

"I'm, um, not sure what they are, though." Dawnsong's beautiful clinking-coins laugh sounded a bit sheepish. "I mean, they're breathtaking, but I've never... seen anything like them before."

Starbloom blinked. She looked at her paints, then around them both. "They're

stars

."

"Stars." And Starbloom dared meet those eyes again, and saw wonder in them, and knew that Dawnsong was recognizing the name, just as Starbloom had recognized the word

dawn

. "Yes, of course they are. And you made

all

of them?"

Starbloom nodded proudly. She was still a little shy, and part of her worried Dawnsong was just being polite—that if she started talking about them, she'd only bore the breathtaking goddess. So she carefully held it in, kept herself contained. She could not talk this woman's ear off. She had to make a good impression, keep her head on her shoulders—

"What... are they? How do you know where to place them?"

Starbloom's whole spirit lit up, and before she could stop herself, she was off like a comet.

First, she focused on the literal answers—what

were

stars? Well, it depended on how you looked at them. They could be paint on a canvas, they could be spheroids of molten, glowing plasma, they could be holes in the sky, they could be shards of the previous multiverse slowly burning away, and no answer was exactly right or exactly wrong.

Dawnsong didn't seem bored. She watched Starbloom eagerly, eyes bright, and asked prompting questions whenever the explanations seemed to be slowing. That fascinated gaze would have flustered Starbloom, but she was already moving on to explaining how a star was born, and then she was on a tangent about how slowly light really traveled compared to her—

"Oh, I'm glad those wings are good for more than just being

gorgeous

," Dawnsong murmured.

Starbloom blushed furiously.

"Oh, please," Dawnsong said innocently, "do go on!"

And after a moment's stammering, Starbloom did. She gushed. She was hopeless now, completely drunk on a joy she'd never felt before. She told Dawnsong how she'd put some stars clustered together so they would circle one another, how three stars orbiting one another were so beautifully unpredictable. She even pointed out a couple of the patterns she'd designed, though none of the really secret ones. It took all her restraint not to show those off, too.

When she was talking about the stars, Dawnsong's gaze didn't fluster her so badly. She could almost return it without flinching. Dawnsong asked

such wonderful questions

—questions it had never occurred to Starbloom alone to ask. She was listening, really

listening

.

Starbloom had the stupidest grin on her face, and her voice was beginning to tire, by the time she finished the explanation. She felt like she could keep talking forever, but as she slowed a grain of insecurity managed to creep back in. She bit her lip. "Oh, I—I'm so sorry, I've been talking so much."

"Mm. I don't mind at all, little flower." Dawnsong smiled slyly and reached for Starbloom's hand.

Instinctively, Starbloom flitted back. Her cheeks were hot.

"Oh." Dawnsong's head tilted to the side. She smiled slyly. "Is something wrong?"

Starbloom's heart was racing. The thought of Dawnsong touching her—touching her bare skin, drawing close enough for Starbloom to smell her scent—it intoxicated her, but it also scared her a little. "I-I'm just... used to keeping my distance, is all."

"Oh! Well, that's quite alright." Dawnsong's voice was smooth and soothing, and Starbloom immediately felt more at ease. "Just having you to look at is such a

treat

~"

"O-Oh," Starbloom whispered.

"I hope you don't mind that." Dawnsong giggled, tilting her head endearingly to the side. "Only, well, I've sort of noticed you staring yourself, so I assumed you wouldn't."

Starbloom squirmed. She really had been trying to stop her roaming eyes, but gushing about stars had gotten her off her guard. It was so hard to

not

stare at Dawnsong. Dawnsong was so beautiful, so magnetic, and that glow just felt so... encouraging.

Seductive.

She swallowed. She had to try to be a little confident, at least. Dawnsong was flirting with her. The most beautiful woman Starbloom had ever met was flirting with her. She had to flirt back.

She'd never talked to someone like her before, though. She wasn't yet quite sure how. What kinds of things did people like to hear about?

She realized Dawnsong was still waiting for her to respond. The fire goddess was shifting from foot to foot, her smile slipping ever-so-slightly. Starbloom wondered if Dawnsong herself felt unpracticed in this, but she seemed

so

sure of herself, how could that be possible?

Enough. She had to say something. Had to fill the silence. Had to...

"Your l-light is very, um, beautiful," she blurted.

Dawnsong's whole face lit up. "

Awww!

" It was all Starbloom could do not to melt in place at that adoring coo. Dawnsong's eyes gleamed. "I'm so glad you like it," she purred. "And you know, I'm so glad you're enjoying staring into it. Any excuse for me to gaze into those pretty eyes of yours."

Starbloom flushed. She stammered something—it might have been agreement, it might have been flustered, reflexive rejection—but it was so hard to tell what. So hard to tell .

Because Dawnsong's eyes were... Starbloom licked dry lips. They were inescapable. Like brilliant golden suns, so full of warmth and affection and passion. They flashed, twinkled, shone a radiance into Starbloom she had never even imagined.

Unthinkingly, she drifted a little closer.

"That's it," Dawnsong purred. "You... don't mind me being a little

forward

, do you?"

"N-Nnuh..."

"Hey." Dawnsong giggled and snapped her fingers again. The snap jolted Starbloom back to wakefulness, and her eyes widened. She blushed and flitted away again, heart racing. She'd—she hadn't meant to— "Stay with me, sweetie. Unless..." Dawnsong's eyebrows arched. "Unless you

like

it when my light... takes you?"

Starbloom's heart began to pound in her chest. She stared at Dawnsong, rooted to the spot not by hypnosis but of sheer flustered panic.

"Oh,

my

. That isn't a no, is it?" Dawnsong laughed, and Starbloom realized with burning cheeks that her wings were fluttering with excitement. She forced them still. "My

goodness

, are you some kind of... hypnoslut?"

Starbloom's whole mind dissolved into chaos. She couldn't muster cogent speech. "I—I, um, I—"

She was... She gasped, rubbing her thighs together. She'd never been... oh, fuck, she

was

.

It just... it just...

"It just feels so

good

," Dawnsong cooed, "giving in, doesn't it? Surrendering control."

"I—I didn't—"

"Shh." Dawnsong tilted her head to the side sweetly. "Do you want this?"

Starbloom stammered something incoherent.

"Starbloom."

The name was spoken softly, soothingly, in a delicate whisper that sent shivers and flutters through Starbloom's whole body. Starbloom... liked it when Dawnsong said her name. She wanted her to do it more. "You want this, don't you?"

Starbloom's head spun—not from hypnosis, but from that queer sort of panic rushing through her. Oh, yes,

yes

, she... she wanted...

"N-no," she stammered, squirming, "I... I shouldn't..."

"You shouldn't." Dawnsong's eyebrows arched. "

Do you want this?"

That voice brooked no argument, no opposition, no equivocation.

Starbloom looked up into Dawnsong's breathtaking eyes.

Dawnsong smirked. "I thought so~"

And her eyes began to pulse with light.

Starbloom's whole world went gooey. Her knees quaked, and a whimper escaped her quivering lips. The lights flashed, pulsed, strobed, and there was no escaping them.

No resisting them.

No resisting Dawn.

Those eyes were like... like thousands of dying stars. Starbloom gazed in rapture, swaying as she heard that beautiful tinkling laugh. She wanted to feel embarrassed, she could feel the heat in her cheeks, but none of that seemed to matter all of a sudden.

Stars died in her mind. Her knees nearly folded. She drifted closer, and now she was within reach.

And Dawnsong

laughed

at her. Her hand extended to caress Starbloom's cheek, rough and calloused in a way that showed she knew well how to wield a sword—and as it dipped down, stroking down Starbloojm's sensitive neck until she whined, Starbloom realized she also knew well how to wield a lover.

"Good girl," Dawnsong murmured. "My goodness, what a

mess

I'm making of that beautiful, adorable mind." Her eyes flashed. Pulsed. Bathed Starbloom's world in radiant light that made everything about her feel weak and everything about Dawnsong seem strong beyond belief. Unstoppable. Irresistible. "Poor little flower~"

The hand slid down Starbloom's side, stroking through the sheer fabric.

"Oh," Starbloom whimpered, "oh, oh, p-please—"

The hand paused.

"

Please?

Oh, but I thought you didn't want this, little flower!" Starbloom whimpered at the pet name. "Or rather, I thought you..." The hand slipped over to grope Starbloom's breast, "...

shouldn't

want this."

"I—I—" Starbloom felt that panic threatening to rise again, that flustered, anxious shame. She bit her lip, heart pounding hard enough, judging by that concerned look, Dawnsong could probably feel it.

"Shh." Dawnsong's other hand went to her hair, gently petting her with a delicacy that quite contradicted those callouses. "Shh, little flower. No more thoughts, my sweet. Be a good girl. Good girls don't need thoughts. Good girls don't need worries."

Starbloom's lips parted. She stared into those eyes, trembling as that hand gently stroked one of her sensitive antennae. "I—I, um—I... um... I..."

Her words seemed to be melting away from her. She whimpered, feeling as if she ought to hold onto them, but... why?

Why?

The eyes pulsed. Flashed. Strobed.

"You don't need those thoughts."

The eyes strobed. Pulsed. Flashed.

"You don't need

any

thoughts~"

The light flooded her v ision, flooded her world, closer, closer--

"

Give in,

" Dawnsong whispered, her lips brushing Starbloom's, so plump and full. Starbloom shyly tried to tilt her head away, but then Dawnsong's hand was on her chin, grasping her gently but firmly, forcing her to stay still. "Surrender to me. Surrender to Mistress~"

"M-Mistress," Starbloom moaned.

Dawnsong's smug smile returned. "Good girl~"

And she kissed her.

Dawnsong's kiss was tender, gentle, but hungry, too, unyielding, controlling. Her tongue slid into Starbloom's mouth, intrusive, demanding, and Starbloom practically dissolved. She found herself clinging to Dawnsong, her eyes longing to shut from the intensity of the kiss but still captivated in Dawnsong's gaze, still under Dawnsong's intoxicating spell. She moaned, pressing back, and felt Dawnsong laughing against her as that hand groped her breast eagerly, possessively, mercilessly.