Chapter 39
Trewoofe
Avice had never been lovelier than she was now.
Here she was, rosy and beaming in his arms as they danced together. To Trewoofe, she was a night sky goddess who had lowered herself to dance with a humble Sidhe King. She was raw, vulnerable, fierce, truly herself in ways he had seen more of in their time together.
As they spun, clapped, and stomped, cascading waves of magic pulled to them from the singing Faerie choir, bursting out of their undulating bodies again in pulsing cascades.
Dancing together, the magic escaped from his ward, sweeping away the snowstorm like a wind scattering leaves.
He tore his eyes from Avice and looked above.
Their efforts had blown away the clouds.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he saw the full Moon.
The light added to the shimmering air now cast everything in an ethereal glow.
The crackling magic set his blood aflame, and the King danced faster and faster, just as he would if he were competing with another male for a female Knucker’s attention.
And there was no female Knucker.
There was only Avice.
She was all there would ever be for him.
Realisation struck him. He was courting his little witch; she just did not know it yet. Trewoofe twirled her. Her bare feet kicked up loose petals, and the pollen tickled his nose, making him sneeze.
“Bless you, my King,” she giggled, running her hands down his chest in a way that made his display colours brighten.
“I like it…” he panted, sweat peppering his upper lip. “…when you call me that.”
She twirled around him, spiritedly dodging his grasping hands, trailing her fingers from his belly, across the point of his hip, and the small of his back.
Desire skittered up his spine, making his clawed toes dig into soil.
He rippled under her touch, moving his body in the hypnotic way a snake moves across the earth, his erection pressing painfully against his clothes.
Never had he wanted her so much. How he longed to lower her to the thrumming earth beneath them and rut her into the flowers that grew from their combined efforts.
“Avice,” he growled playfully. “Your warmth is needed.”
She laughed as he reached for her, allowing herself to be caught.
He snagged her by the elbows and swung her in the air.
She whooped in delight as the shimmering magic settled onto her sweating skin and tousled hair.
She slipped down his torso, her soft curves rubbing up against him in a way that made him weak at the knees.
Finally, as the Faerie song tapered out, she gasped as he dipped her.
His arm cradled her back and neck while he brushed loosened strands of her hair from her eyes.
Trewoofe grazed his nose against hers. He sucked in a breath at the sultry expression she gave him, peering up at him through her eyelashes. She covered his hand with her own, blunt nails gripping at him.
One heartbeat.
Two.
The world stopped when she pressed her lips to his.
He blinked in surprise before pushing back into her. He felt the knotty raise of her scar amongst the plush of her lips, letting out a desperate moan.
Avice pulled back and slapped a hand to her mouth. “I am sorry, Lord.”
Trewoofe panicked then, planting her flat on her feet. “Why are you sorry?”
“I should have asked before I kissed you,” she explained, touching her reddened lips.
“Is that what it is called?” he asked, cupping her cheeks with his hands.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Have you not been kissed before?”
He shook his head, eyes trained on her. “Never.”
She licked her lips. “Neither have I.”
“I would like you to do it again,” he blurted, hunching over so their faces were close. “I liked it.”
“So did I,” she admitted, tracing her fingertips over her pendant, and then brushing his flushed throat.
“Can we do it again… please?”
Avice giggled at his shameless begging. His eyes rolled back into his head as their mouths crashed against each other like a tide against the shore. Neither of them was particularly adept at this ‘kissing’, but to him it felt like paradise.
Trewoofe did not know what to do with his hands as it deepened.
She had settled for stroking one thumb along the pulse of his neck, and the other down the blade of his cheek.
So, in a mirror fashion, he ghosted his claws across her inked collar bones and trailed them over the nape of her neck, following the whorls of her tattoo.
He had not expected the effect her little sighs would have on him, but when he heard them, he wanted to drop to his knees and run his forked tongue over every single part of her. Then, to his surprise, her tongue probed his lips, asking for entry into his mouth. He opened and eagerly welcomed her.
They were cautious at first, but quickly found a tempo in their exploration, lashing and dancing together with matching moans and whimpers. At one point, he filled her mouth with his tongue, and she let out a squeak of surprise.
Trewoofe withdrew. “I am sorry. Was that too much?”
Avice’s expression was heady. “No, not too much.”
She reached and grabbed the collar of his tunic, tugging him back down.
Their lips collided again, but she did not stay on his mouth.
She peppered feverish kisses down his jaw.
Trewoofe rumbled, breath ragged, as she nipped his ear and made her way to his coloured throat.
She licked there first, followed by the press of her scalding lips.
“Oh… little witch,” he moaned.
She drew back, her eyes wide. He swept her up into his arms. His hands were on her rear as her thick thighs encircled his waist. Trewoofe could not resist massaging her.
She was soft but firm beneath his touch, and she let out a sigh as he looked up at her.
The Moon framed her silhouette. Her raven hair glinted under the ethereal light, the tiny flowers in her crown braid sparkled, and her skin glowed from the dusting of magic that had settled on it.
She was perfect.
“Let me court you,” he blurted.
Her face fell and she took a moment before responding. “I will never marry, Trewoofe. It is vulgar. A sin against someone like me. It is an act that makes a woman less than a man, and I will never submit to one again.”
A muscle feathered in his jaw. “I said nothing of human marriage. I asked to court you, to let me be your lover, to let me serve you in all the ways you deserve.”
Her breath hitched. “I dream of that,” she admitted, her voice raw. “I have dreamt of a love so heavy it makes my chest ache—”
“Avice, I—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Let me finish, words like this do not come easily to me.” Trewoofe nodded, and she traced along his jawline.
“I have dreamt of real love. One so heavy that it makes my chest ache. A match of equals. In my dreams, I have a lover. I have never seen him as it is always dark. But he makes love to me like he is separating the light from the Moon.”
Trewoofe purred and leant into her touch. “Let me court you?”
She stared at him, still caressing his cheek. “Yes.”
She kissed him hard.
And he kissed her back.
Mad on Moonbeams.