The Faerie's Honeymoon (7 page)

Her
body seemed to tingle from the bones out when he slowly complied for her. “I’d rather be sucking you off,” he threw over his shoulder.

She shivered - he was skilled with his mouth - but she stuck to her guns. “Once we get past this, you can choose whatever you want to do next.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

Though he put this out as a joke, his voice had grown tense again. She laid her hands on the balls of his shoulders, the muscles there warm but tight. His back was simply a back: beautiful, strong, the skin that wrapped his shoulder blades as smooth as cream. She kissed the vertebrae between them. Duvall let out a little groan.

“Beloved,” she murmured, brushing her lips across the hollow. “Let out your wings for me.”

She stroked from his shoulders and down his sides, his ribs a pleasure for her palms to skate over. She noted the faintest glimmer around his scapula. Encouraged, she stroked the phantom fire, not on his skin but an inch above. Possibly he felt this more than an actual touch.

“Belle,” he gasped, and suddenly his wings were there.

They were folded up like living origami, attached by glowing muscles to his shoulder blades. Layered and transparent, the two pulsing notebook-size packs fit so compactly against his skin she doubted they’d be seen even under tailored clothes. This must be how his people kept them private.

Intrigued, she touched them gently with her fingertips. The effect her stroking had was dramatic. Colors streamed wildly across his wings’ surface. Though intricately veined, they were smooth in texture. They didn’t feel like skin, but they didn’t feel like anything artificial either. When she pressed, lightly, they were pliable and warm. As she traced one of the larger veins with the pad of her thumb, miniscule golden stars followed in its wake.

The stars twinkled the same as his faerie dust. Magic must be the blood that ran through these veins. No wonder he called them the essence of his power.

She was so fascinated by her explorations that it took a while to notice Duvall was shivering.

“Are you cold?” she cried, instantly repentant. She stepped closer, wanting to warm him with her own heat. She didn’t squeeze him, in case that would do damage, but she did wrap her arms around his trim waist.

“I’m warm enough,” he said with a gasping laugh as her cheek settled by his neck. He wasn’t kidding. Every inch her body touched was feverish. “What you were doing felt erotic.”

“Oh,” she said, her own temperature jumping as she realized the crest of his cock nudged her wrist. “Should I do it some more?”

“Just step back,” he said huskily. “My wings need room to unfurl.”

Belle stepped back and was treated to a show very much like the Northern Lights. Flashes of green and blue, of pink and tangerine and lemon danced through and around his unfolding wings. How anyone could find this anything but beautiful she couldn’t imagine. Gradually, his wings took on the tall dragonfly shape she’d caught glimpses of in dreams.

When they were fully out, they extended over his head and all the way to the floor. They were thicker than before, as if his magic had plumped them. Duvall shook them with a twinkling rustle and exhaled with his whole body. Settled then, he magicked away his trousers. Belle got her first unobstructed view of him as he truly was. She understood then, at least a little, why he’d been afraid to bare himself to her. He wasn’t simply an unnaturally well shaped man, not just a tight pair of buttocks, great legs, or broad shoulders. He was Other, in the most basic sense of the word.

With those tall wings gleaming real as day behind him, he was a prince of the fae.

He turned to face her before she could think what to say. His extremely upright erection caught her eye, but it didn’t seem right to fixate on that. Interestingly, now that he’d bit the bullet, he was calmer. He took both her hands in his, stroking their backs with his thumbs.

“I’m different from you,” he said quietly, “but in all the ways that matter, you and I are the same.”

“I think you’re prettier,” she burst out.

“I think
you’re
prettier,” he returned, breaking into a crooked grin.

“Can I hug you?”

“I wish you would,” he said, gazing down at her fondly.

“It won’t hurt your wings?”

“They’re the strongest part of me.”

She felt strangely shy as she slid her arms around him again. His growl of pleasure helped her get over that. Before she knew it, they were squished together in a lovely full-frontal hug.

His erection pressed up between them, and she was glad the garter belt didn’t get in its way. His arms wrapped her back, one hand wandering down to cup her ass. He squeezed a cheek, letting her know without words how attractive he found her. His wings settled closer to her arms, until they hugged her too. Now that she could compare, she noticed they were slightly cooler than the rest of his body. Metaphors involving silk and satin ran through her mind, but they couldn’t express how alive and heavy this part of him was.

“How could your wings have been so small before?” she marveled.

Duvall’s smile turned saturnine. “Lots of things start out small and get bigger.”

Belle snorted, one no-longer-small thing digging hotly into her belly. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. “The answer is that it’s magic.”

His openmouthed caress sent hot ripples through her body. “I like your wings,” she said with what remained of her verbal powers. “They’re not just beautiful, they’re sexy.”

“Want to rub them from underneath and see what happens?”

His suggestion was a sensual purr. His wings crowded closer to her hands, like cats angling to be petted. Belle pressed the backs of her fingers to them, slowly stroking what pushed at her.

Duvall liked that. He twisted in her hold and groaned, growing so excited that his cock leaked hot fire on her. When he kissed her, deep and heartfelt, Belle knew her ache wouldn’t be tormenting her much longer.

“Now?” he asked, breaking free to look at her.

“Oh yes. Now would be very good.”

He held her gaze as he lifted her by the butt. Belle re-fit her arms and legs around him, clinging to him at wide shoulders and narrow hips. She was so careful not to jostle or hurt his wings that she made him smile.

“I told you. My wings are the strongest part of me.”

The hot tip of his penis nudged between her folds but didn’t shove inside her. Belle was so ready for him to take her that she was panting, her vagina literally sore from longing to be stretched by him. She was very aware of the bed behind them, of the sturdy posts and the nice hard floor.

“Maybe you could take me against the wall,” she suggested. “I really want you to go deep in me.”

Duvall’s eyes darkened like midnight. “That won’t be necessary right now.”

He took one hand off her and wrapped it around the silver-gold bed post. Belle couldn’t tell where this was going, only that he was intent. He moved his feet into a more solid stance - a good sign, she thought. His wings stretched wider, tossing multi-colored twinkles around them. Like snowflakes melting, they winked out before they reached the carpet.

“Tell me if this bothers you,” he said.

His wings curled around her, supporting her back and thighs like a sling. The feeling was odd but not without appeal. As he’d claimed, their strength was substantial.

“You ...” She swallowed and tried again. “Your wings are like an extra pair of arms.”

“Sort of.” Something was happening to him as he touched her with that part of himself. His voice took on a new thickness. “My wings don’t have bones, just a lot of nerves.”

“Good nerves.”

“Yes.” His thigh muscles clenched, rolling his pelvis upward so that his cockhead prodded her gate harder. The pulse that beat in it was fast, like pelting raindrops between her labia.

Belle forced her next observation through a tight throat. “Faeries like having sex with their wings manifested.”

“Oh yes.” Her husband’s smolder gave new meaning to the term
bedroom eyes
. “When we find someone we trust enough to share the act with, we like it as much as making love to humans. What’s rare is ... being able to do both at once.”

Belle smiled. “Please do both with me, Duvall.”

He growled, his face flushing dark a second before his wings tightened around her. As they contracted, the crest of his cock pushed easily into her snug wet heat.

“God,” he groaned, repeating the action. More of his shaft slid home.

“Mmm,” she moaned, all she could get out for a few seconds. “Are you bigger than usual, or am I just really excited?”

He couldn’t answer. He grunted, and pulled, and then all of him was in her. The muscles in Belle’s sheath went crazy, fluttering up and down his length. That felt so good all she could do was gasp.

He had to say her name three times before she opened her eyes.

“Oh boy,” she breathed, her forehead resting on his. “You feel spectacular.”

“As do you,” he breathed back. He still held the bedpost with his left hand. He let go of her with the other, startling her until she realized he didn’t need it to support her. He slid his hand between them and up to cover her breast, his palm compressing the peak and turning to rub it. She was sensitive there, and it didn’t take much to get her going. Tingles streaked from her nipple to where his cock was embedded, the penetration satisfyingly deep and warm. He must have felt her twitch around him, because his smile broadened.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said.

“So am I.”

His hips gave a quick upward hitch, bouncing her up an inch so that her returning weight settled him deeper. Belle bit her lip at the delicious jolt. Duvall groaned softly, his cock throbbing like a drum.

“Under normal circumstances,” he rasped out, “almost losing you would make me want to fuck the life out of you.”

“And under these?”

He performed a smaller version of his previous hitch, then shook his head. “These circumstances are that times ten. You’ve no idea what I long to do to you.”

“Should I prepare myself?” she asked, not the least afraid.

“I think you should hold on. This ride is going to be different from what you’re used to.”

She held on, though he obviously had everything in hand. His wings held and moved her without effort. He was taking her strongly but with a measured amount of force - considering his warning.

His control wasn’t gone. It was simply at risk.

Though it probably didn’t help that control, she understood why he preferred to stand. He could touch her from every side, could work her up and down his cock so freely she felt like she was flying. That his wings were erotic hotspots she couldn’t doubt. Even as they wrapped her up and moved her, they also rubbed over her. Their many nerves couldn’t have been that different from his penis, and they seemed to be bringing him similar pleasures. Overloaded as he was, Duvall needed his grip on the post to steady himself.

Fucking her with his wings out was making him crazy.

His repeated moans gave her quite a thrill, as did knowing he’d locked his knees because he feared they’d buckle. She stroked his spine as she rode the bucking animal he’d become, loving the feel of his muscles tensing with each increasingly urgent thrust. His buttocks were rock-hard underneath her calves, tightened by his determination to drive into her as deeply as possible.

Belle’s sheath began its wild fluttering again ... only this time it didn’t stop.

Duvall grunted, his warm cheek against hers. He didn’t speed up, though she sensed he wanted to. His cock was digging in harder, his hips giving an extra press at the end. He seemed to need - or just really want - to rub his cockhead against her womb. The sensation didn’t displease her. Belle was so close to coming she feared she’d claw his back with her fingernails.

That wouldn’t do, given what she was planning to caress next.

She twisted her neck until her mouth was against his ear. “You’re my heart,” she said as they heaved together. “No one in the world means as much to me as you.”

He cried out incoherently - emotion and ecstasy tangling inside of him.

“Belle,” he gasped, seeming not to trust his control for any word but that. He pulled back a little, stroking her hair around her face as he tried to focus his gaze on her.

Belle didn’t want him to focus. She tightened her pussy, reveling in how his eyes glazed and re-sharpened. Neither looked away. Each longed to see the other unraveling. Luckily for Belle, she had an ace up her sleeve. She moved her hands from the sweating muscles of his back to the thick hot silk of his faerie wings.

She couldn’t have chosen better. Duvall drove into her so deeply her G-spot should have been seeing stars.

He snarled a word she didn’t understand. “Harder,” he said more clearly. “Grip ... them.”

He meant his wings. He
wanted
her to be rough. She sensed him struggling with all his might not to come just yet, fighting instinct, fighting pleasure, pumping fast because he couldn’t help it and holding off at the same time. She gulped in air, her own orgasm one reckless beat away. Hoping it was the right thing to do, she clenched his wings and tugged.

Despite his great strength, despite his seeming indestructible appendages, Duvall dropped to his knees like she’d taken an axe to them. This was what he’d yearned for: this intertwining of pain and pleasure at the precise moment of release. His mouth stretched wide around a scream he didn’t have breath for. His pelvis slammed into her and held.

As his cock released its pent-up load, all around them, a glorious technicolor laser show exploded.

This was his climax as much as the jets of seed that burst so intimately in her. It sent her over out of more than sympathy. The streamers his wings flung out shot into her body and up her nerves. If she wasn’t feeling exactly what he was, it had to be damned close.

She couldn’t scream any more than he could, but - God - the sensations that rocked her pussy were good enough for that. They were pleasure charges rolling one after the other into her.
Phoom
went one, spreading up and out from her clit.
Phoom
and
phoom
, until her body could only shake. Waves of golden sweetness swallowed her from head to toe, their softness somehow heightening the other spasms’ intensity.