He never truly cared for food. Even as a young autumnal prince, he ate scarcely, now, when he fed on the gods’ power, he didn’t need anything other to nurture himself. His vein were filled with liquid magic and his body was slowly refusing to accept anything more. Darkness circled in him, feeding all his needs for food.
But he had one weakness.
The apples from the core trees. The beating veins of Dal’coler. Their taste was like a spell itself and poured over his throat like a flood of sensations which evaded comprehension. Their texture was another thing, too. Soft, like made of storm clouds.
And it was filled with pure blood.
The blood of the Ain’asel and everyone it devoured, which beat in the heart of his castle. Growing on the glimmering branches, bound inside by higher magic.
He took one of the apples in his fingers and his gaze drifted on the woman, who just emerged from the darkness which was only meekly alight with the fairylights, dim and casting shadows on the walls.
Lorian leaned in his seat, his lips curled in a vicious smile.
Nymre looked stunning tonight. Her white, lilac-touched hair was falling in cascade over her naked arms, a small tiara – which he gifted her – adorned her temple, gleaming above her beautiful, wide, blue eyes. Her slender body could be naked, that revealing her robe was – a gossamer of white thread, a stark contrast to her black wings, which now spread behind her, moving slowly… she knew he liked the touch of her feathers, and she tempted him with a promise of a caress – and he couldn’t not admit that it works on him.
She slowly approached him, coming more into the fairy lights, which were surrounding him, attracted by his shadowed magic. They desperately wanted to light it up, following their inner instinct. Lorian felt as their glimmering and soft magic tried to hush his power, but failed miserably.
“I see you like their attention” purred Nymre and her fingers closed over one of the lights. It started to pulse in her hand, trying to escape. “Maybe I should be jealous.”
“You blame the creatures of light to be attracted to darkness” his smile playful, a spark dancing in his black eyes.
“Perhaps. Too many of them wander in this palace” laughed Nymre… and released the light, which started to dance frantically in place.
“I prefer… less pure” his features darkened but a smile still present on his lips. “More depraved.”
Of course he liked pure, though. They were more delicious to deprave. But Nymre didn’t need to know that. Now, only her and him were important. He enjoyed giving her all his attention.
“Oh, so you think of me as a depraved fairy” she teased him and slowly, her hand ran through his chest. Pressed his abdomen. Lingered there, to tease him and test his patience. And landed between his legs. His eyes crossed with her gaze and she slowly started to caress him, deliberately, with precision, that – to be completely true – only she possessed.
He felt he was becoming harder. His need grew, fast. Her caress each second slower and more tasty.
He bit through the flesh of the apple he held.
It hit him with a wave of pleasure, the soul of Dal’coler flooding his tongue with blood, and all hopes and fears of its victims. It was not a caress, it was a lustful explosion in his mind. Something only high fae could feel, and he took it all in, allowing it to spread over his body with hot crimson.
He pulled Nymre closer, dragging her between his legs. She willingly complied, he felt her pulse beat faster, in her mind – a delicious scenarios, which worked him up even more. He smiled even more hungrily, blood trickling slowly off the corner of his lip, and staining his fingers.
“I think you really need it now” he purred and dragging her even closer, he offered her the apple. She laughed darkly and slowly started to lick his fingers which held it. She was good at it. Doing it in such a tempting and perverse way. Her eyes never lost contact with his, to catch every change caused by lust, which could appear in them. Until her tongue found the fruit and she voraciously bit into it. He could see how strong sensation ran through her body and he released tendrils of darkness; they slowly crept through her skin, entering through her pores and Nymre wailed.
He loved it when she was doing it. No one cried like Nymre, when the pleasure was coming. He caressed her face, leaving blood droplets and she leaned to his touch, a sigh escaping her lips.
“You were right,” she murmured. “I really needed it.”
“I always know what you crave for” he was aware that she can clearly see how that worked on him. And he enjoyed letting her know.
“I know so well what you need, my beautiful lord.”
She descended, each move a caress for the eyes. Her hands slowly started to untie his trousers, her tongue licking off the blood from her lips. He had to admit, she was stunning. He never loved any of his lovers. But he loved her, both her inner darkness, and her tempting beauty. When she pulled him out, she cocked her head and purred seductively.
“I think it lusts for invigorating treatment too” and her bloodstained tongue ran over his skin. He felt himself throbbing already and it was such a good thing. He never had enough of it. Of her soft tongue, of her sucking lips, of her supple fingers. And it all was his.
Her work on him was so sloppy when he took him into her mouth. She knew exactly, oh how well, how he loved that. Being sucked loud and filthy. He allowed her to do it to him, feeling more and more tension between his legs. He knew she would adore it, if he came into her mouth, but he didn’t intend to. It would be too fast. Way too fast.
“You are so thirsty” he sighed and when she nodded and released him from her mouth with a loud smack, he knew he couldn’t hold the need anymore. He wanted to fuck her, just as she liked most, just as he liked most. Their tastes in sex were similar, both liked rough.
He wanted to fill her up.
He took a bite again, hungry one. The bleeding juice poured and dripped on her face, her smile becoming wider, pure lust. He pulled her and his lips met with hers. She tasted of the core apples’ flesh, so much. Everything in her tasted of blood. A beautiful and sinful taste of pure magic. Darker than starless night. More dangerous than the rotten branches that grew off the decaying tree.
“Lorian…” she sighed into his mouth and he raised up, lifting her with himself, her blue eyes alit. “Do it. Hard. Crave me.”
He chuckled. Oh yes. He never wanted to do her otherwise, not when living spells circled in his veins. He pulled her up so their hips aligned and he carried her on the bed, to lay her there and again join her in a kiss, stained with blood. The already tasted apple still in his hand, pressed the skin on her stomach. He quickly, hungrily, removed the gossamer dress of his way, her chest heaving in anticipation, her skin glestening in faint light.
He took the apple and, looking into her eyes again, intensely, he squeezed it over her breasts. She gasped as the blood dripped onto her skin and began to trickle down.
“You look stunning in crimson,” his voice was deep and seductive, like the murmur of a distant and impending storm. He lowered himself and began to lick the blood from her, feeling her body tense at the touch of his tongue. His fingers slid between her legs, slowly massaging her. She was so heated. And so was he, for her. He took the trickling strand of blood and guided it to where she felt it most. The sound she made rewarded him a hundredfold.
It was so delicious. He wanted to please her until she collapsed beneath him, exhausted and sweating.
His shadows released tendrils again, and they danced across her wrist. Her smile widened as they closed on her hands and bound them above her head, intertwining with the bed frame. She could never escape from this bondage, even if she wanted to.
But she didn’t.
He felt it in his mind, her desperate thoughts sending lust through his veins. Her wings curled over his back, drawing him closer.
“My beautiful lord,” she murmured into his arm.
“My hungry raven,” he replied with a vicious grin and thrust into her, hard and deep.
He loved it when her legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him so close. His hands left slight traces of blood on her skin as he moved inside her, pulling away from her walls and licking her from the inside out.
“Fuck me, Lorian,” she moaned, her voice deep and almost threatening. And he loved that too. His need grew even more, pulsating in his groin, as Nymre tried to wriggle her hands free of his shadows, to embrace him.
“You’re trapped,” he huffed into her ear, his hands moving up her arms and higher until they reached her palms and stayed there, holding her in an even tighter embrace.
“I love it,” she grunted. Her wings closed completely over him, her legs spreading further to allow him to go deeper.
She was all his. Her body, in adoration of him, at his disposal. Her mind, now swirling with wild thoughts, feeding his desire. And even her soul, it was his too, forever. It was so good to lose himself between feathers and skin, to feel the soft flesh stretched over him, welcoming him inside. He loved her and her bright darkness, his beautiful shining side of the moon.
He felt the pleasure building inside him. How he throbbed and how it worked on Nymre. The scent of blood and magic was stronger now, as their mixed auras began to absorb each other. He felt her pale glamour clinging to his skin as his darker power travelled over her body, pressing into her, making her feel everything he felt. It was intense in the best of ways.
He knew she was close, he felt it both in her mind and in the way her folds began to cling around him. He buried himself deeper, so deep, even deeper. She moaned again, a sweet, almost pained sound that he liked so much. And she came, closing over him, pulsing in delicious synchronicity with his own throbbing.
“Come, come…” she urged him. “Fill me up.”
His last thrust buried her deep in the sheets, pinning her to them as he released. The sensation was so strong that his form flickered and his shadow self slowly began to emerge from a deeply hidden place. His form changed, for a second, for a moment, and for that moment he was nothing but pure, solidified night, a beast of shadow and darkness.
A form Nymre loved.
Her legs buried in the night that washed her in moonlight and stars, white and shining. Just into her. Filling her until she dripped.
Time stopped. As it always did when he changed. It felt like eternity as he felt her gaze penetrate his darkest form and bury itself in his soul. He felt with clear intensity how wet it is, how she pulsates slowly, how the blood of the apples fills his veins with strong sensations, circling in him with damned souls that he himself ended.
It was perfect, hot as a white flame. It was him. It was them. Two dark creatures feeding on each other’s pleasure.
When he re-formed, she lay beneath him, just as he had wished – exhausted and sweaty, her white hair scattered untidily across the bed.
He grinned wildly at her, hunger never leaving his lips.
“Your night… it’s enticing,” she smiled, a tired, contented smile. “Darkness that suits me so well. I can’t say no.”
“Why should you?” he ran his fingers through her hair.
“I don’t have to,” she smiled even wider. “And that’s the best part of all.”
His shadows danced against the candlelight, shaping reality with light and dark, intertwined like he and she. Bending the night to their will.
They were like those candles… hot, blazing and burning fast in their passion. It ate them, like a carnivore. And they loved to be devoured by it… to the very last bone and drop of azure blood.
The only thing they were prey to… only because it allowed them to be predators too.