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I held on to his hair, my grip a stranglehold on my willpower to enjoy the careful and precise way he played my pussy like a violinist.
“Come for me, Banfhlaith. I want to drown in the divine taste of your pleasure,” he purred across my clit, sending humming vibrations straight through my nervous system, killing every last shred of reservation I had.
His lips wrapped around my clit, and he hummed and suckled, the sound oddly harmonic like he was singing a devotional hymn to my pussy. Another finger joined at my entrance and curled into a gentle twist.
“How much can you take of me, my Pearl?” he murmured against me, buzzing across nerves screaming for more. Another finger joined the two as they slowly found my depths and stroked a part of me so deep that it rattled within my bones.
“All of you,” I murmured, my voice thick with husky need and unleashed desire.
“Show me,” he purred back. “Show me how much you can take. Come apart at the seams for me.”
Another finger joined the three, stretching soaked flesh around him, and our groaning indulgence matched, mine for the burning sizzle of a pussy too drunk on desperate primal need and his a sound of abject satisfaction.
“More. Please, more. Oh gods, more,” I whimpered as he twisted and plunged, always sure to catch that one spot that liquified my bones and turned them to jelly around him.
A low, dangerously pleased sound rumbled in his chest, and his lips traveled up the length of my body to hover just a hair from mine. “More, she says. More my Banfhlaith commands. I would give you everything if you but let me.”
His fingers curled, his fist slowly closing within me, and the sensation of fullness, of being pushed beyond my limits and needing more had me shivering, clawing at his back, and whimpering. My hips came alive on their own, thrusting and rocking on the massive intrusion filling me beyond limitation, consuming every thought. His kiss swallowed the pleading sounds falling like rain, his tongue finding mine to claim me fully. His own whimpered desperation was not far behind mine as his fist closed fully and slowly twisted and delved within my flooded, starving pussy.
“Feel how my fist fills you up.” He murmured against my lips. “One day I will fill you so full you’ll know nothing but the endless pleasure of it. You take my fist so well, like you were made to be stretched to your limits and fucked into the divine web of magic.”
A growl of primal hunger rippled through my mouth, and he tore his lips from mine, swiftly returning to the bounteous meal he had abandoned. His lips curled around my throbbing clit and suckled as if he had been graced with life for but this solitary task, and he intended to make the most of his short life. All the while the full, burning stretch of his fist within me twisted and plunged fractions of an inch, lighting torches in places I’d never explored before.
It was too much. It was all too much sensation.
And yet it was exactly what I needed, just that feather-light push across the edge, and I was soaring into a dark purple sky, anchored only by the grasping fingers of a fiery leaf-adorned oak tree.
“Yes. Fuck. Come for me, my Pearl. Feed me your ecstasy. I’ve ached for it for so long.” He groaned as my pussy clamped down on his fist, a conflagration of fire that was almost too intense for me to survive.
My body shook, all the energy of holding myself back fleeing knotted muscles as his fist finally plunged deep and hard into my quenching depths, and I was sent into another orgasmic tailspin, a scream of euphoria caught in my throat.
Not to let any drop of what he had wrought escape him, he swallowed an even more moaning cry with a ravenous kiss too sharp and too brutal, yet exactly what I needed to balance the sweetness of his desire.
He forced me to come for him three more times against that rock before he was finally satisfied. Not a single time did he let me down to revisit the favor upon him, satisfied only with the meal of my pleasure.
When I finally begged him for reprieve, he smiled, face glazed with the trophy of his triumph and wrapped my legs around his waist. I expected him to finally plunge his forgotten hungry cock inside of me and take his own pleasure, but instead he pulled me tight against his chest and walked us back into the hot springs.
His thumb, glistening with the crystalline delight he had provided, found my lips. “Taste. Taste what you have made for me.” The thumb slipped past weak lips, and my tongue danced along it, lighting fires in Brittle Spears’ black eyes. “Do you taste the power you have bewitched me with? The bounty you have shared with me? You have made me an acolyte. Where you place my altar, I will bow and worship.”
He sealed his pledge with a kiss around the wedge of his thumb before pulling it from my mouth and licking his hand clean with a satisfied, purring groan. His lips fell to my forehead, and he crushed me against his chest as if to keep me from floating away.
The water was warmer than most of the baths he drew for me, naturally scented with moss and the richness of the forest and sharp cut of frost rolling off the distant mountains. We floated in silence, me clinging to him, his head resting on mine as he clung to me.
“I could have waited,” He finally whispered into the crown of my head.
“I couldn’t have,” I responded, turning to lean my head back into him.
My gaze drifted up into the rocky bowl that the hot spring pooled in. It was beautiful; all around the high edges, oak trees with exposed roots and red and orange leaves, dipping into its space and shading it from the sun overhead. One lone tree stood out on its own, smaller than the rest but with a crown of leaves much grander. Around it, what looked to be a dead tree curled its roots and branches around the smaller tree, frost perpetually forming icicles that melted and refroze with the heat of spring.
Magic felt thick here, thick and heavy like a choir holding its breath waiting for the liturgical queue.
“What is this place?”
His smile spread warm and wide against my hair. “I should have been surprised you found me here. And yet somehow, I was not. Every court has a place like this within its territory. A place only the one who is crowned as the chief scion of their god may go to worship, hold vigil, and commune with the power of their patron. It is supposed to be a place only that one Fae and the gods may tread—this one is the Harvest Maiden’s seat.”
He raised my hand, warm droplets of water dancing back into the pool and steam rising from our flesh. “Legends say this was a gift from Lord Túathal on the occasion of the Harvest Maiden’s marriage to the Giant of the Dúluachair.”
“It’s just a tree? And what do you mean you weren’t surprised to see me here?” I tilted my head, watching the smaller oak twisted up in the dead tree. What a strange gift.
