Monthly story - male kelpie x female reader (nsfw) (Patreon)

Well! I know we had the Twelve Days of Monstermas, but that didn't mean you didn't get a story in December, and it doesn't mean you don't get one in January either! 

We start the new year's set of monthly stories off with this one, featuring a rather creepier looking kelpie than my pretty boy Aonar, whom some of you might know from Tumblr. This one is nsfw, and features a little bit of blood too, but it's nothing too gory, I promise! 

With that, I hope you enjoy this one. It's set in the world of the Fae Realm stuff I've been posting recently, but instead of featuring royalty, it features one of the more ordinary denizens of the Fae Realm. I'm really quite pleased with how it turned out, with how the mood played out, but as ever, I leave the judgement to you! 

“Come on, come on, come on!” one of the woodcutters’ children chanted, racing along the path through the dense pine trees towards the clearing ahead, where the Winter Solstice bonfire was waiting to be lit. The gaggle of children raced past you, almost toppling you backwards into the trees as they hared along the soft, spongy path of dead, coppery pine needles, fringed with bowing ferns and bracken. 

The midwinter cold bit into your skin and you drew the thick furs up around your neck, though your shivering was due only in part to the cold. You loved this time of year, when the longest night drew on and on, and the people of your village warded the darkness away and welcomed the coming light with a huge bonfire in the clearing, telling stories and sharing food and drink until the dawn. 

Your younger sister was already there, and she smiled at you, the light of the torches around the circle of bare earth catching in her eyes. She looked so like your mother sometimes, it was hard to believe it wasn’t her standing before you. You tried to smile back, but it didn’t reach all the way to your eyes. 

She murmured your name and held out her hand to you, and you joined her in standing beside the carefully stacked logs of the cold, empty fire. “You’re always so quiet and serious,” she said. “Have some fun for once, will you?” she said. 

Her eyes were the opposite of yours, and they looked up at you the way they had done when she was much younger, when you had been the one to take care of her. You could refuse those eyes very little, and you smiled, hugging her briefly. “I’ll try,” you promised. 

The village elder and his son stepped forwards once everyone was gathered, mothers tucking cheeky children to their sides for perhaps the only serious part of the evening’s festivities. 

Elder Phillip took the burning torch from his son, who was perhaps a year older than you, and raised it aloft. He wore his usual bear-fur collar and thick, red, woollen cloak, the colour of fresh blood, and a great iron and gold chain hung heavy around his neck. The links glimmered in the light of hate torch in his hand as he cleared his throat and began to speak. 

“This night we gather as a united people,” he intoned, gazing into everyone’s eyes, “To give thanks for another year, safe from the fae who would prey upon our kind for sport. We give thanks that the darkness which shrouds them is retreating, and the sun is growing in strength once again. I add my personal thanks that my son has returned safely to us from the city to join us for this special ceremony,” he said, casting his dark eyed son a smile. “As the sun sets tonight to slumber for the longest night, and shall rise tomorrow, gaining in strength each day, so may we too grow in strength, to protect our people and our lands from the unnatural terrors in the night. May we stand strong as iron!” he added with a roar. 

“Strong as iron!” the gathered folk chorused, raising fists and tankards high to toast the blessing. 

“Now,” he went on, “I light this fire as a symbol of our defiance, the bright flames dancing in the face of fear! Come, one and all, and share in the warmth and safety I offer you with the lighting of our Winter Solstice fire.”

The answering cheer filled the clearing as the flames caught the oil that had been placed around the kindling. The logs went up, the bark crackling and splitting, shooting sparks high into the gathering night as the sun sank below the horizon. 

The shadows between the trees pressed closer, as though testing the strength of the newly-kindled fire, but you felt only the heat of the flames on your face. And yet, as you turned to answer the elders son as he approached you, you caught a movement between the trees. Little more than a shadow in the blackness, it might have been nothing at all, save for the reflection of firelight in a pale eye that was gone in a heartbeat. 

A hand on your arm made you flinch in surprise, but you managed to laugh it off, turning your back on whatever was prowling out there, either in the depths of your imagination or between the tall, silent pines themselves. It was only your sister, inviting you to come and join the crowd pressing closer together. 

The children gathered not far from the fire to hear the tale of the ghost horse who rises from the swamp on this very night, drawn by the lights of the fire, only to be driven back at dawn by the rising of the new sun. It was an old folk tale that everyone had heard as children around this campfire, and you leaned closer to hear it told once again. There was a familiarity to it that comforted you instead of scaring you. It was told as a warning to the children not to wander away from the light of the fire, lest they genuinely fall into the weed-strewn lake not far from the clearing. A child lost in the woods, with the threat of being swept away by fae or sucked down by the treacherous banks of the lake, was a threat more frightening than the supposed ‘ghost horse’ with weeds in his mane and a skull for a face. 

In fact, you'd been lost as a child in these woods, not long after your mother had passed, and had found yourself at the murky shores of that lake. You’d felt no terror then, seen no ghost horse come to drag you away beneath the surface and, as some believed, take you off through the portal below to the Fae Realm itself. All you’d heard was the peace of the place; herons standing like carved sentries above the mirror-calm lake, frogs peeking shy eyes above the water, ghostly egrets flying on silent wings through shifting banks of fog… 

As the tale reached its dramatic end, with the undead horse fleeing, galloping away through the trees, the rising sun sweeping a tide of purifying light behind it to leave only blackened, rotting hoof prints in the forest floor, you smiled and turned away from the children's amazed faces, and moved to the trestle table where a mug of warm, spiced cider might very well drive away the cold that was creeping into your bones despite the heat that the enormous fire was throwing off. 

You yawned, and discovered that the elder’s son was at your side. “Henry,” you chuckled. “I thought you’d be getting ready to dance by now?” you asked, nodding to where the small group of villagers who could play the pipes and fiddle and drums with varying degrees of talent had set up on the other side now that the storytelling had finished. 

“I hope I will be dancing soon,” he said, holding out his hand. “Will you do me the honour?” His was a scholar’s hand, stained with ink, and with little calluses on his fingers from holding a pen. 

It was impossible to say no, and since he was technically a childhood friend, you smiled and nodded, and let him lead you to the cleared area as the group struck up a lively tune. You danced and even laughed, but as he swung you round, you glimpsed a figure standing at the edge of the clearing, skin an unearthly white, so pale it seemed to glow like starlight, with long hair that hung limp around his gaunt face. 

He was staring straight at you.

Your feet faltered and you missed a step in the dance, only saved as your partner caught you and whirled you out of the dance to set you down on a smooth log nearby. “You alright?” he asked, and you blinked. The spot where you’d seen the figure was now dark as the night sky above. There was no one there.

“I… I’m fine. I must have just… tripped on a root or something,” you said, waving him off and standing a little shakily. “Really,” you insisted as he continued to stare at you. 

Something in your blood was singing, and you felt alive and excited for the first time in years. You recognised the work of a fae, even as your mind screamed warnings at you of the butchered corpses found in the woods, with the symbols of the court who had found them carved into their chest. The enmity between the two realms, of Mortal and Fae, ran millennia deep, and yet something called you away from the light and the fire, into the shrouded trees, like a voice calling you home. 

You waited until Henry had grown bored with your monosyllabic answers to his questions and attempts at conversation, and once you were alone, you slunk to the edge of the gathering, leaving your spiced cider behind and walking alone into the darkness along the path. 

No lanterns guided the way back to the village, but you knew the path like the back of your hand. As your sister’s provider, you had hunted the sparse game through these woods all your life. You knew how to move quietly, and as you stalked through the trees, your eyes adjusted quickly. 

Mist rose in eerie drifts the nearer you got to the lake. You knew you were being idiotic, but the expression on that fae’s face had been one of such aching loneliness that you simply couldn’t believe it was a trap, even for one as cunning as a fae. 

You froze at the first sound you heard, turning your head slightly, straining for clarity. The syncopated rhythm of hoof beats at a slow walk through the trees set your heart lurching for your mouth. It couldn’t be true, could it? The ghost horse?

Up ahead between the trees, on the shores of the half frozen lake, you saw the creature sliding from the forest onto the frozen pebbles of the shore. It didn’t appear to have seen you, and you clapped your hands across your mouth to stifle the scream. The body of the horse was so emaciated you could see its ribs through its dark hide, its spine protruding like standing stones on a ridge top, its pelvis jutting sharply against the backdrop of pale mist that swirled behind it. Water weed dripped in its tail and long, ragged, mane, but none of that was as horrifying as its head.

The stories were right. The creature’s head was completely bare of flesh. Two, dark, knife-like ears stood up from the roots of its lank, black forelock, but the hair fell forward over pale bone, and the natural ‘smile’ of the jaw was corrupted by the row of pointed, carnivore’s teeth which were visible in the glimmering moonlight from the lake. Its eyes were dead spheres, dull and grey like the surface of the moon. And yet, despite the terrible vision, your fear suddenly drained away entirely, and you saw nothing but the elegant grace of its slow footsteps towards the lake. You saw too the weight that seemed to drag its head down as it neared the shore, sighing a rattling breath out that sent the sheets of mist drifting and swirling over the surface of the water. 

Every movement it made spoke of the agony of its lonely grief, and your heart cracked as you watched it take its first steps into the rippling water. Chunks of ice ground together as it disturbed the glass-perfect surface, sinking further and further in as it returned home, not with the racing terror of a hounded beast from the tales, but with the despondent footsteps of one resigned to its fate.

Once it was up to its chest in the icy, black water of the lake, you knew it wasn’t coming back. You might not get the chance to see it again until the next year, and so on impulse you darted from your hiding place behind the pine tree, shoving yourself off the trunk and into a stumbling run, the rough bark scraping your palms. “Wait!” you called, your shout shattering the shrouded silence. 

The horse went utterly still, and then it slowly swivelled its dolorous head to gaze at you. It made the tiniest side to side movement, and then turned away again. No.

“Please, don’t go,” you hissed, your boots crunching on the loose shingle of the frozen shore. Its tail trailed behind it like water weed in its wake, and you realised that its coat was not black, as you’d first thought, but a deep green. “You’re the horse, aren’t you? The one in the story?”

It turned fully this time, barely making any waves as it came about in the water, and regarded you with that monstrous face. It bowed its head. I am. 

“You can understand me,” you breathed, amazed. 

Again, it bowed that strange head. I can.

“Do you live alone?” 

You weren’t sure quite where your question had come from, but your voice cracked as you asked it. You already guessed at the answer, but were surprised when the horse shook its head. 

“No?” you asked. “There are others like you in the lake? Is that why we’re warned not to come here?”

A wheezing inhale was rapidly followed by a cavernous exhale of frustration, more mist swirling, but this time it came from the skull’s empty nostrils. It jerked its head sharply up the beech. Go away, go back.

Your heart sank. You couldn't explain why you felt so broken, so strangely jilted, but it hurt to think of going so soon. “You really won’t let me stay?” you murmured. 

A harsh, scraping male voice, like the heart of winter itself, like the shifting ice of the lake, filled the air around you. “Turn around. Let me appear before you in a form that’s marginally less… grotesque. I will answer your questions, human.”

“Oh,” you said. “Thank you.” And you flashed him a delighted grin, elation flooding in to replace the strange, curdling fear in your chest, and promptly did as asked. 

With a rush of falling water, something pulsed through the air like the throb of distant thunder, and you resisted the urge to peek. He had asked you not to look, so you would obey. Perhaps this was his price for questions answered?

“You may turn around again,” said a voice that was clearly from the same being, though it sounded a little different now; less harsh, but no less pained. It no longer came from every side, and it seemed so much… smaller somehow. 

Slowly, you obeyed, and saw a figure standing before you on the frost-rimed stones of the lake shore. Incredibly, despite the cold, he was barefoot, with a long green cloak about his shoulders that fell to the ground and soaked up the lake-water swirling around his ankles like a sponge, and beneath that, he wore a simple, unadorned, green tunic and dark leggings. He was undoubtedly the fae you’d seen between the trees. His face was pale, still glowing in reflected moonlight from the water, the sockets of his dark eyes hollow and shadowed, almost bruised, and the hair which hung down his back was soaking wet at the tips. 

“What are you?” you breathed, eyes wide with wonder. 

His pale fingers, long and slender, hung limply at his sides, and his expression was so sad, his back so straight and rigid, that you wanted to hold him until he caved in and relaxed. “I am the guardian of this lake,” he said simply. 

“The horse… the legend… the lake,” you mused aloud. “You’re a kelpie, aren’t you?”

He gave the same slow nod in answer as the horse in the water had done. “My turn. Why are you here?” he asked, his voice rough as though with long disuse. “Why did you follow me?”

“I saw you,” you said, not making a move to go any nearer to him in case you spooked him. “I saw you watching us.”

“I was watching you,” he admitted with a very slight smile. “But I enjoy watching your Solstice festival every year.”

“Why?”

He let out a dry chuckle. “It’s about the most exciting thing that happens around here…” he said. “It’s… quiet otherwise. As it should be, I suppose.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, taking a tentative step towards him. 

Instantly, he took one back into the lake, as though you were tracing the steps of a courtly dance together, his cloak trailing through the icy slush of the lapping waves, his foot splashing in the dark water. His black eyes were wide and fearful. 

“Why?” you pressed gently. 

He sighed, and the reeds at the edge of the lake rippled and quivered too, bowing to the breath of the master of this lake. “It falls to me to make this place hostile to your kind. I frighten you away to keep you from the portal.”

“Portal,” you whispered. “This is a way between the worlds, isn't’ it?” Again, he nodded silently, regarding you with those dark, steady eyes, so different from the dead spheres of his equine form. “It sounds lonely,” you said, a shiver passing up your spine as the night’s cold finally began to reach through your fur-lined cloak. 

“You’re cold,” he said, a slight whimper in his tone. “Please, don’t stay here. I never should have shown myself to you. I was reckless.”

“I want to stay,” you said. “I’d rather stay and talk with you.”

His brows buckled upwards. “I don’t understand.” He looked around questioningly at the harsh beauty of the lake in the moonlight, the chunks of ice bobbing on the lapping shore, the reeds standing tall but fragile as the bones of birds, and then he turned his gaze back to you. 

You only smiled and moved one step closer to him. And then another. He did not back away, though if he’d been in his equine form, his ears would have been back, his head raised nervously. As it was, he just watched you advance.

You continued to walk closer to him, until the toes of your boots came to a halt right at the water’s edge. He gazed down at you, perhaps half a foot taller than you, and his pale lips parted in a short gasp of surprise as you raised your hand and rested just your fingertips on his chest.

“What should I call you?” you asked, and he smiled, a twinkle in those deep, green eyes. 

“You may call me by my name,” he said in a soft voice. “Dolen.”

“Dolen,” you repeated, feeling the air shift around you. His name had a meaning, and though you felt it, you didn’t know what it was. “You’d just give me your name like that?” you gaped in astonishment at him. “I didn’t think fae did that kind of thing…”

He smiled. “I think I was yours from the very moment I saw you tonight,” he said sadly. 

His words took you by surprise. “I don’t understand,” you frowned, taking half a step back from him, boot crunching softly in the silence. 

Dolen’s breath billowed briefly in the space between you as he huffed a wry laugh. “You moved so beautifully. I… I was already under your spell, I suppose.”

“Gods, you’re smooth,” you scoffed, genuine delight making your lungs fizz and tingle. “Do you use that line on all the girls you lure into this lake?”

Dolen’s expression hardened and the wind scudded past you, snagging at your hair and your heavy cloak, biting deep into your skin. “How many have been lost to this lake in the last hundred years?” he demanded, voice harsh and brittle. “How many?”

“None that I know of,” you said. “I was only joking, Dolen.”

He took a deep, steadying breath, and the shifting air stilled. He stared at you a little while longer, and the smile he gave you was so sad it broke your heart and stopped that creeping uncertainty in its tracks. “Right,” was all he said. “Look, I must let you get back to your people, before they wonder where you are and come hunting the ‘beast of the lake’…”

His self-deprecating tone made you scowl. “No,” you said, reaching instinctively for him again. This time, your fingers latched onto his arm and his head snapped downwards to stare intently at the place where your hand now clung to him. 

Another ragged breath shredded itself free of his chest into the night. “Let go of me,” he said quietly. “You are meant for more than this… more than me.”

“And yet I feel otherwise,” you said evenly. “I can’t explain it, but something drew me to this lake tonight. Something drew me away from the fire, and here, to you. Please. Give me the rest of tonight.”

“You’re cold,” he said, raising his hand tentatively to your cheek. 

As his smooth, cool palm pressed against you, you leaned into his touch, eyes closing. It felt right, inexplicably right. 

As if following the thread of your thoughts back to its source, he let out another ragged breath. “You cannot stay out here much longer,” he growled. “It is too cold for you.”

“So take me somewhere warmer,” you grinned playfully, opening your eyes and smiling at him. 

“What makes you think the heart of a frozen lake in the middle of winter will be warmer than this?” he grinned, a hint of playfulness now coming into his tone. 

You fixed him with a pointed stare and let your flashing eyes speak for you as you simply said, “Magic?”

He laughed at that, a hoarse, rasping, rusty sound, but it lit up his dark eyes and eased the tension from his shoulders. “You know, for a human, you seem very open to allowing a fae to use his magic on you.”

“You don’t know my name,” you said. “You can’t have that much power over me yet, can you?”

Clearly following the line of your humour, he said, “Turn around.” 

You did, to his evident surprise, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw that the skull-faced horse now stood in the water. That unearthly, scraping voice emanated from everywhere, from the very air around you. “You obeyed the first command,” he said. “If you truly want to spend the rest of tonight with me, climb on my back.”

A little thrill of fear lanced through your gut at the thought of that. Everyone knew that once you were on a kelpie’s back, they could simply walk into the water of their lake and you would be powerless to climb off. You could drown. “You give me your word I’ll be free to leave whenever I want? That you’ll bring me back safely?”

The horse nodded. “I swear it.” 

“Alright. Come a bit closer. I don’t fancy getting my toes wet…”

“Don’t you trust my magic?” he asked. 

“You’re going to stop the water from soaking into my clothes? The cold from hurting me?”

He nodded, lank mane dripping forwards into those eerie, dead eyes, the emaciated body shifting idly while he waited patiently for you to stop pissing about on the shore and trust him. Taking a deep breath for courage, you dipped the toe of your boot experimentally into the lake. To your surprise, the water lapped around it in a very ordinary looking way, and you tilted your head suspiciously at him. 

He snorted, half reared, and in so doing, splashed you with water. It hit your face, but it wasn’t cold. In fact, you barely felt it, and it didn’t dampen your skin. 

“Now do you believe me?” he asked in a rattling, wheezing laugh. His dark body was like something hauled from a peat bog after a thousand years, but there was a grace to his movements that called to you, drawing you closer. His green-black tail trailed in the water behind him, almost indistinguishable from the water weed that was tangled in it. 

“Yes,” you laughed, wading in and springing up onto his bony back. You shuffled, getting as comfortable as you could with the knobs and lumps of his spine beneath you, clinging onto the thick, damp mane at his withers. “Alright, here goes…” you grunted, drawing a faint snicker from him. 

He turned, moving you both deeper through the water until it was up to your neck. You knew a brief flash of panic as it passed your lips, and you held your breath as you slipped under the surface of the semi-frozen lake. 

In fact, you needn’t have bothered. As he walked you along the bottom of the murky lake towards its centre, you found you could breathe as easily below as you could above the lake’s frozen crust. Up ahead, a great, gaping, black hole opened up in the lake bed, and your thighs and calves gripped him in sudden horror as it loomed closer. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking you in there,” his harsh voice murmured soothingly, caressing your ears like the creaking of shifting pack ice. He nodded up ahead, and you gasped. Near the void that was clearly the portal to the Fae Realm was a weed-strewn entrance to an underwater cave, and as he passed through it, you lifted the fronds aside, finding yourself in a warm, dry space. 

The smooth stone walls were carved with intricate, swirling patterns that reminded you of the ancient markings found on the field stones out beyond the pine forest. These had once been the ancient fae waystones that had long ago been destroyed to prevent the fae from using them to access the Mortal Realm. A myriad candles burned in little carved niches and alcoves, and at the far end of the modest, homely cave, a bed was hewn from the rock. Bookshelves lined the walls around the bed, and as you slithered off his back, steadying yourself on his smooth, now-dry shoulder, you breathed in the soft scents of lemon balm and moss which grew in a little flowerbed near the entrance. 

It was humble and beautiful. 

“It suits you,” you smiled, turning to find him standing before you in his fae form, having shrugged off his equine body for something a little less unusual. 

His eyes glimmered in the dimness. “I would offer you something to eat,” he said, “But I wouldn’t want you to think I’m trying to trick you into staying.”

“It’s cosy,” you said, turning back to him. “I almost wouldn’t mind staying.” You glanced down at your dry clothes and giggled, “I did wonder for a moment if I’d made a mistake when we slipped beneath the surface…”

Dolen’s lips quirked upwards at the corners as he walked silently past you, reaching for a pitcher on a beautiful sideboard made from the colossal trunk of an ancient tree, and pouring himself a goblet of what looked like wine. He downed half of it in one go before turning back. “I would never let harm come to you, especially not while you’re in my care. I swear it.”

“How long does your ‘care’ extend for?” you asked playfully, stepping over to the bookshelves at the back of his home and running a finger along the spines of some of them. “And just how all-encompassing is that care?” 

Dolen finished his wine and poured himself another glass before he responded. “Whatever you need, it’s yours,” he croaked. 

“Whatever I need?” 

He nodded. 

“Why?”

He looked at you then as though you stood at the centre of the world. His eyes glowed eerily in the shimmering candlelight, like a cat’s at night, but they were soft and gentle, and so unlike everything you’d ever been taught about the fae and their tricksy ways. 

He sighed and his gaze slid from you to stare into his wine as he said, “They say a person’s soul is revealed when they dance. I don’t know if it’s true, but when you were out there, even if it was obvious you weren’t interested in that scholar, you seemed… I don’t know… you seemed to glow. I was drawn to you. I wanted to know you better.”

“Is that why you brought me to your watery lair?” you asked.

“You’re here because you asked me to bring you here,” he grumbled, taking another big gulp. 

“So what now?” you asked. 

He set down the chased and repousséd goblet, its glimmering forms seeming almost to come alive in the dancing light of the small flames on the walls, and he paced towards you, the hem of his long robe whispering as it trailed on the smooth stone of the cave floor. He reached pale hands to your face and you saw then in the light that they were mottled and freckled with flecks of green, almost like ink stains. 

Dolen took your jaw gently in his hands and tilted your face slightly. His expression formed a silent question, and you nodded. He kissed you, and he seemed to come alive under the gesture. 

Where before he had been demure, almost reticent, at the responsive groan you let loose, at the way your eyes rolled shut, at the way you opened yourself to him, he seemed to grow in stature and confidence. He tipped you back onto the bed behind you, removing your cloak and barely breaking the desperate kisses as he did so. He nipped at your lip with your teeth and you moaned, back arching. 

He took advantage of that lift in your spine to slip his hands under you and ease the rest of your clothes off you until you lay naked on his bed. He drank in the sight of you with wide, dark green eyes, his long hair falling forwards over his shoulders as he rested on one arm, just staring. 

You made a pointed gesture at his clothes, and he stood to slide his cloak off, ripping his long tunic up over his head and stepping out of his leggings to reveal a slim, almost lanky body that was mottled green underneath, with some patches dark as lily pads, others pale as moonlight. 

At the gasp you took at the sight of him, he shrank back from you, brows furrowing. You reached hurriedly for him before he passed completely out of range, and grabbed his waist, taking advantage of his moment of uncertainty to yank him off his feet and drag him down onto the bed atop you. His cock was half hard as it nudged against your legs, and you deliberately lifted your body up to add a little teasing friction for him. 

His whole body shuddered violently and he rasped a hoarse exhale, head lolling forwards, hands grasping your shoulders, hips pushing him against you so tightly there wasn’t a breath of air between the two of you. 

“You beautiful creature,” he whispered through gritted teeth, and you tried to squirm a little so that you could see his face. When you weren’t able to move an inch, you grabbed him by the roots of his thick hair and tugged his head back a short way. 

His face had sharpened, his features growing harsher, and his eyes had turned from deep green to that deathly white again. You let go of him in surprise, and he snarled softly, cursing and looking away. Every single one of his teeth had become sharp and pointed now.

“I’m sorry,” he grunted, regulating his ragged breathing as best he could. “I… I am finding it hard to control myself.”

“So don’t,” you whispered in his ear, before applying pressure on his earlobe with your teeth in a way that made him buck and growl with a crackling, feral energy. 

And he didn’t. 

Dolen unleashed a new side of himself on you as he shoved you roughly up the bed and lowered his head between your legs. You knew you should be afraid of him, that his kind not only destroyed humans utterly, but consumed them, but as his lips connected with your body, his tongue grazing and pressing against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, his hands gripping your legs and keeping them spread for him, even as his cock wept freely, twitching sporadically as he lost himself in the taste of you, you were not afraid. 

You simply had no room for fear. Pleasure filled your senses as he stroked and caressed, and occasionally took you between those now pointed teeth and tugged, scraped, gently at you, the sensation forming a harsh counterpoint to the delicate heat of his tongue. You thought you might break apart with how good it was. 

“Can I come inside you?” he asked a while later, raising his head just long enough to take in the sight of your face. His gaze lingered on the way your stomach and chest heaved, your breasts hard and tight with desire, a sheen of sweat between them, the muscles of your calves and the arches of your feet almost cramping now. 

You nodded desperately, knowing you were taking a concoction of herbs powerful enough to prevent any unwanted outcomes, and he responded by biting your inner thigh and sucking hard enough to bring a bruise blossoming to life there, but not hard enough to break the skin. You saw that row of dangerous teeth now, every one of them sharp, and you saw the unnaturally high cheekbones, the hollow shadows around his deep eyes, the misty sheen covering his dead eyes, the gauntness to his cheeks, and you moaned at him. He was undoubtedly fae, and there was a beauty to the terror of him that filled you. 

“Please!” you begged, reaching a hand blindly down towards him, praying that he would do something before you simply died of want. 

In response, he slipped two fingers inside you, caressing you with his thumb while he tested out the heat of you, taking his cock in his hand and idly working his length, watching you as he knelt between your legs still. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. 

“I’m close, please…” you panted as he made another circle of your throbbing, aching clit. “Please, Dolen!” 

At the sound of his name on your tongue, his white eyes went wide and he snarled, surging forwards, pressing harder and deeper, and it was the fierce look in his otherworldly face as much as the sensation of his fingers inside you that tipped you over the edge. 

As you yelled and bucked, clenching around his fingers, he withdrew them and immediately sheathed himself inside you, right to the hilt. 

While your body pulsed and writhed, he rocked his hips, picking up his rhythm until he lost himself in a snarling rush, head bent over you as you rode out your peak. His teeth closed on the curve of your shoulder, and he bit into you as he released deep inside you. 

His back curved, his hips drove him still further into you, and he gave himself to you with a muted grunt. His teeth had broken the skin, but the euphoria of your own orgasm masked the pain, and it was only when he drew back and you saw the blood on his lips that you realised what he’d done. He too realised it a moment later, tasting it, eyes going wide as he brought shaking fingertips to his mouth and dabbed at the crimson daubed across them. 

Dolen’s gaze slid to the bite mark at your neck, and he instantly lowered his hand to it. A heat, warm and gentle, washed through you as he healed you, mingling with the lingering euphoria of your release. Disgusted, he made to pull back, to withdraw from you, but you grabbed his hips and shook your head. “Stay,” you hissed. “Please… just… just a few moments more…”

“I…” The white glimmer in his eyes shifted and they returned to their former dark green, his features softening, his teeth returning to normal, with just two slightly more elongated canines as the only evidence of his deadly bite. That, and the dull ache in your shoulder. “I… I’m so sorry…” he said. “I lost it…”

You shook your head. “I told you not to hold back… Besides… some people like that kind of thing, you know?”

He growled, and you drew his body down atop yours. He cradled your head and nuzzled your ear, pressing gentle kisses into your cheek and temple. Your fingertips played along the ridges of his spine, making him shiver and gasp, even as you soothed him. 

“I liked every moment of that,” you smiled, kissing him back. “Of you…”

“I’m yours,” he laughed, and you believed him. 

“Dolen,” you murmured in his sensitive ear, and he trembled violently in your arms. 

A moment later, he withdrew and rolled onto his back, cock lying idle across his lean thigh. You felt the loss of him inside you instantly, and you shifted onto your side, laying your head at the hollow of his shoulder and draping your arm across his strangely mottled green torso. Idly you traced the patterns the blotches made, chuckling as he sucked a sudden breath in as you grazed a nipple and ran your fingers down his prominent ribs, down to his sharp hip bones. 

“Let me give you something in return?” you said, rocking your hips against his thigh as a reminder of quite how much he’d wordlessly given to you. 

“Careful,” he warned. 

You kissed his shoulder, and, a moment later, whispered your name in his ear.

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