17. The Enchantment
17
THE ENCHANTMENT
S affron was already flushed enough from the wine and dancing around the fire—but stumbling toward the treeline, then into the encroaching darkness of the surrounding Fall Court, his body still boiled hotter. In anticipation, in suspense for what Cylvan had enticed him with. Like it was more obvious than Saffron let on exactly how much he liked the thought of being caught off guard by something greedy and sensual between the trees; and there was nothing, no one he’d want to bend beneath more than an insatiable night lord.
The air outside the firelight was expectedly colder, making him shiver as he tripped over a lump of grass and caught himself on the side of a tree with a little laugh.
“It’s not often a human stumbles this way.”
Saffron jumped, turning quickly, but Cylvan hadn’t stepped from the shadows where he hid. For the briefest moment, in his inebriation, Saffron even second guessed it was Cylvan who said it at all—having to remind himself of mimics. Creatures who could copy voices, even appearance. Oh, perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
“Cylvan?” He asked. No answer came at first, except a little whistle of wind.
“Calling for help so soon?”
Saffron turned again, that time certain something hovered just behind him. When there was still nothing, he let out a little laugh, claiming a step back from the tree. He hesitated where he stood, before turning and hurrying in the way he thought the bonfire to be. Not to retreat so early—but hoping to at least keep the light within reach. Just in case.
“This way.”
Saffron stopped. He bit his lip, taking a few steps in the direction the voice beckoned. It sounded like Cylvan. Saffron had no reason to believe otherwise.
“Come this way, little witch.”
“Cylvan?”
A low chuckle wafted from the shadows, and goosebumps rippled over Saffron’s arms. Branches reached out to trail over his bare shoulders and across his chest as he wandered between the trees, tugging on the beaded chains he wore. Once—he was certain a clawed fingernail even reached out to hook beneath one of them, making Saffron turn quickly again, still only finding darkness on the other side.
He’d long wandered too far from even the ambient light of the bonfire, deep into the ancient wood where his human eyes fared poorly compared to wild fey, high fey. He bit his lip again, pausing to try and listen for the music, the singing. But there was only the wind, the sound of crickets and distant chirping of night birds.
“Are you lost?”
Saffron jumped. That time, when he turned on heel, his breath caught as something stood silhouetted in the overhead moonlight. Broad-shouldered and standing bare, pale skin translucent and as white as the moon. Black hair draped in waves down his naked chest and back, two horns curving from the crown of his head. Two black horns, neither donning the silver cap the prince had been wearing. It made Saffron take a nervous step back, heart thumping in uncertainty. The smallest twitch passed over Cylvan’s expression, though Saffron couldn’t see well enough to know exactly what for. He extended a hand, sharp nails flashing in the moonlight.
“Come with me,” he said. “I’ll show you where to go.”
Saffron understood in that moment, more than ever, why there were so many stories advising humans to mistrust the fey. Don’t give them your name, don’t make any deals; don’t accept their help, don’t follow them down a path you don’t already know . Still—Saffron’s heart fluttered. His eyes flickered back up to the horn that should have been capped in silver, swallowing against the nerves tangling in the back of his throat. It may have been only a trick of the light. It may have been a glamour. He didn’t know—but his heart raced in flushed misgiving, compelling him to extend a hand and accept the one offered to him. Wanting to know what the creature of shadow would do with him, after all.
The daemon pulled him closer, and Saffron felt the heat of his warm skin through the darkness. Interweaving their fingers together, he held his breath as Cylvan’s sharp nails teased over the engagement ring Saffron wore, before his amethyst eyes flickered up to look at him.
“Is this alright?” He asked in a whisper, the smallest peek through a crack in their game. Though sídhe fey could still compel with their ashen state, making Saffron’s ring still a protective charm—Cylvan technically owned it, meaning he could have compelled Saffron all along, whenever he wished. But Saffron’s heart still raced faster, face flaring hot at the implication. The game, the fantasy. He nodded, still a little drunk, overtaken with how beautiful his raven was up so close.
“I trust you,” he whispered. Wishing to kiss him, wishing to touch Cylvan all over. Like it was his first time seeing him so clearly; unable to resist pressing his opposite hand to Cylvan’s bare chest, then trailing it down the muscles of his stomach. Bare and captivating, like it truly was his first time seeing him.
Cylvan pulled the ring away, tucking it onto his own finger for safe keeping. He then pulled Saffron closer, whispering, “Tell me what you’d like me to do with you.”
Compelling him in a way that was terrifying and—erotic. Setting Saffron’s nerves on fire and made colors brighter, made him taste every scent on the forest air, to feel every inch of Cylvan’s warm skin beneath his hands. Speaking without being able to stop himself, fully giving his trust to the dark creature who could dominate him, body and mind.
“I want you to use me how you please,” Saffron said, gazing up at him. “Show me what an ancient fey might have done with a lost human in the woods—for their own self-centered amusement.”
Cylvan smirked. He took a handful of Saffron’s hair, tilting his head back slightly. In the same compelling tone, he added: “You will tell me honestly the moment you’re no longer enjoying yourself.”
Saffron nodded. Cylvan’s hand tightened in the back of his hair, before pulling him close again.
“Get on your knees for me.”
Saffron obeyed. Even if he hadn’t been enchanted, he would have obeyed. Lowering slowly, he held Cylvan’s eyes as he did, trailing his hands down the length of Cylvan’s chest, his stomach, over his hips as his cock hung half-erect between his legs. Without having to be compelled, Saffron pressed his mouth to the skin just beneath Cylvan’s navel, still holding his gaze. With Cylvan’s hand still grasping the back of his hair, he pressed Saffron into the curve of his hip, and Saffron instinctively parted his lips.
“Go on,” Cylvan purred, stroking fingers through Saffron’s hair. “Show me what you’re good for, apart from scrubbing floors or casting spells.”
Saffron wrapped his fingers around the base of Cylvan’s length, feeling how it twitched with an instant rush of arousal. Stiffening as Saffron aligned the end of it to his mouth, kissing the tip before teasing it with his tongue. He closed his eyes as Cylvan exhaled a satisfied breath, rolling his hips slightly as Saffron took his time stroking and lapping at him, before finally sliding it fully between his lips and over the back of his tongue.
Cylvan curved both hands behind Saffron’s head, pulling him closer, until Saffron’s nose pressed flat against his stomach. It made Saffron jolt, swallowing against the gag reflex that clenched at the back of his throat, reveling in how Cylvan released a tight breath of pleasure at the sensation. Digging his nails into the prince’s thighs, Saffron bobbed his head over the length, thrilled by how Cylvan’s thigh flexed beneath his hands, how the muscles of his stomach clenched and he couldn’t help but roll his hips in and out over Saffron’s tongue. Pressing into the back of his throat and making it tighten every time, summoning a growing desperation from Cylvan as he fought to maintain a rhythm of control. But that wasn’t what Saffron wanted—he wanted to be run ragged, left threadbare by the time Cylvan was done with him. By the time the ancient fey who’d found him wandering the wood was satisfied.
Cylvan tightened his grip in Saffron’s hair as he suddenly thrust his hips forward, making Saffron choke as the prince groaned with gratification, spilling down the back of Saffron’s throat. Dripping in long strings as he pulled away and Saffron looked up at him, eyes half-lidded and still wishing for more. Still too much in his right mind, wishing to come undone.
Cylvan knew it—he could see it, that look in Saffron’s eyes that begged. He said nothing, dropping to a knee to roughly grab Saffron’s face and wrench him closer, kissing him. Kissing him with devouring intent, teeth scraping across Saffron’s lips and leaving them raw, reveling in tasting himself over the bump of Saffron’s tongue.
He stole all the breath from Saffron’s lungs, until Saffron had to pull away and gasp—only to be grabbed again.
“Bend yourself over,” Cylvan commanded in a low voice. “Present yourself to me, witch—show me why you are something I might enjoy.”
Saffron obeyed, sinking backward and catching his breath for a moment, before turning onto his knees. Angling his hips upward, curving his spine to display the roundness of his ass.
Clawed hands took ownership of him; one carved into the soft flesh of his hip, the other reaching to graze up the center of Saffron’s chest. Hooking under his chin and tilting his head backward. Saffron blinked through the bleary darkness of the trees, cursed by his weak human eyes, left to only know who touched him by their breath, the sensation of their hands. The shadow that loomed over him, long strands of black hair draping like a curtain over his back, across his shoulders. Enshrouding him as a mouth tilted into his, and he closed his eyes to kiss it back. Hungry and aggrieved for satisfaction—as the hand on his hip squeezed, before thumbing his ass apart, allowing a thick shaft to slide against him, the tip teasing his tailbone.
Saffron arched his back further, narrowing his waist, allowing him to stretch his neck a little longer to press into the mouth that bit at his lips; desperate for that sweet pressure, the pinch of pain that would leave residual throbs up his spine, down his legs for days to come. He’d been patient, he’d resigned his desire for so long—and if that daemon who’d captured him didn’t give him what he wanted, he would surely become as wild and mad as a beannighe washing bloody clothes in the creek.
“You want me,” the broad shadow purred, clutching Saffron’s hip again while rolling his own, gliding his length up and down the center of Saffron’s ass. “You’ve been left wanting for too long, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Saffron exhaled, vision glazed and desperate.
“Are you so eager to be made use of?” A sharp thumb pressed into Saffron’s bottom lip, stretching it downward as a mouth hovered, so close to kissing him again. Saffron attempted to reach it, but he was being teased. “Has it been so long, that you crave the feeling of being split apart? Pressed open wide, until your legs are splayed and trembling?”
“Yes,” Saffron begged in a whisper. The daemon chuckled, trailing a thumb over Saffron’s waiting mouth again.
“You so eagerly wandered into the night—like you hoped to be found, to submit to the aches of someone like me. I think you may come to learn what happens to such soft, pretty things as you, when you don’t dare to heed the darkness.”
The hand on Saffron’s hip slid around to his stomach, fingers splaying over his navel, before trailing lower to grasp at his cock. He jumped, gasping just as the teasing mouth finally pressed down into him again. Flattening their lips against one another, demanding in its movements, in stealing every one of Saffron’s hitching breaths as he was stroked and played with. Until his legs trembled, until he dripped pre-cum over the daemon’s hand. All the while, the wild darkness complimented him, calling him sweet and lovely, as pretty as a flower to be plucked and enjoyed.
The hand between his thighs left his arousal dangling between two quivering legs, sliding fingers from his tailbone to his entrance, where it teased inside. Making Saffron squirm, bending onto one elbow as the invading force was enough to make his heart leap after so long without a single touch.
“D-don’t wait—” his voice shook. “Don’t tease me?—”
“Arrogant to think this tight hole of yours can take me so easily,” Cylvan whispered, casting goosebumps over Saffron’s skin. “Especially with how you clench around only my fingers—I would tear you apart, the moment I pressed inside.”
“Tear me apart,” Saffron begged. “Please—I want you. God, I want you, don’t make me wait any longer—open me with your cock, not your fingers.”
Cylvan’s breath scattered over the bare skin of Saffron’s back, before his warm mouth pressed into the peak of Saffron’s spine. A hand soon replaced it, pressing down on Saffron’s nape until Saffron had to submit to the strength of it, flattened facedown into the dirt with his hips still raised, his back still arched.
“Look how you bend toward me,” the daemon said, as his length returned between Saffron’s legs. “Begging for it, desperate to be used by me—by any wicked thing that claimed you, first. Is that it?”
Saffron had no chance to respond as the head of Cylvan’s cock nudged his opening, stretching his rim and forcing the air from his lungs. Saffron’s mouth gaped wide, clawing at the dirt and moss beneath him as Cylvan’s opposite hand held him pinned down into it.
“Mmmh,” Cylvan breathed, edging himself inside another inch. Saffron’s legs clenched tight, toes curling as he bit back a groan. “Tight , like an obedient beantighe—you keep yourself this way on purpose, don’t you? To better please that prince of yours. It’s no wonder—he prefers to fuck humans. Tight, and warm—brave, despite themselves—desperate to please, even if the cock stretching them wide is enough to stop their heart.”
He bent forward over Saffron’s spine, the angle of it pressing his length deeper inside and making Saffron clench.
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much to bare, won’t you?” He asked, voice smooth and alluring as ever. “I’ll gladly tease you until you’re ready, beantighe—until I can fully sheathe myself in your warmth, until you feel it pressing through your stomach.”
His hand spread over Saffron’s navel again. Saffron couldn’t find the words to speak—he didn’t know how to explain that Cylvan was indeed splitting him in half, but the pain of it was ambrosial. The sensation of it, white hot and sharp, turned his thoughts into milk and honey, swirling more deliciously than any wine could ever compare.
“Fuck me—until it’s easier,” was all he could manage. Fuck me until your pleasure loosens inside; until you’re all I know, or will ever know again. Kissing him until he could no longer support the weight of his head, arching backward as Cylvan eased out, and back in again. Moving slowly, intentionally, despite all his sensual threats of dominating Saffron in every way, until the tightness subsided. Until Cylvan’s own pre-cum allowed him to slide with more ease, in and out, until he could press all the way to his hips. Taking Saffron’s hand to press into his stomach, where Saffron blinked through watering, hazy eyes, with a drunken smile when he was certain he indeed felt the prince’s length piercing him all the way through.
A hand returned to Saffron’s front, stroking him with a hand while fucking him from behind, until Saffron trembled all over. Clutching at handfuls of wet moss and leaves, crying out in pleasure against the earth, hips pinned upward by Cylvan’s arm when he could no longer support himself on his knees.
“Don’t cum until I give you permission ,” the daemon cooed, just as Saffron’s insides were beginning to clench—and he audibly moaned, writhing and gasping as Cylvan’s pace never slowed; as his deft touch drew the growing orgasm closer to the surface, right to the edge, right at the tip—but Saffron’s body wouldn’t cross the precipice. Despite how he begged, internally and vocally into the ground, Cylvan’s enchantment kept him obedient. Kept him fuckable, tight and warm and wanting, until tears filled his eyes with a sweet agony he’d never felt before. Sparking like lightning in his veins, setting him on fire as he begged and begged.
“Please, let me cum,” he sobbed. “Oh, god—please, please, let me…”
“Not yet,” Cylvan cooed, pressing his mouth to the nape of Saffron’s neck, before biting down hard enough to leave half-moon bruises on his shoulder. “Gods, beantighe—you feel so good. You’re impeccable—truly a feast, for every part of me—groveling to be fucked, used up, suppliant and beautiful.” His strokes drew out slow, slamming in deep before easing out again. “I could fuck you like this for an eternity—so greedy of you to beg, knowing how it drives me mad. What will you give me—if I let you finally cum?”
“God,” Saffron moaned. The enchantment wore off just enough to flush him with heat, dripping between his legs as the climax inched ever closer. “Anything—anything, please, let me?—”
“Then show me, exactly how unraveled you’ve become.”
Saffron’s entire body clenched, flooded with ecstasy as the climax rocked through him, from his hands to his chest, up his legs and into his hips. Spilling out of him into the leaves, as Cylvan buried himself deep as ever from behind. Throwing his head back, a strained cry of sweet reprieve escaped Saffron’s mouth, pulled upright until his back pressed flush into Cylvan’s chest.
Cylvan pinned him there, one hand on Saffron’s stomach, the other cupping the front of his throat, still fucking him at an uncompromising pace. Pressing against his stomach until Saffron’s eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open as his head sank limply over Cylvan’s shoulder. Biting back another gasp of delight as a second wave of orgasms filled and flooding out of him, just as Cylvan slammed into him a final time. Breathing heavily as his thick, warm satisfaction filled Saffron to the brim, immediately slipping out and down his leg the moment Cylvan pulled free.
Saffron slumped instantly, evoking a sharp sound from Cylvan who caught him before he could collapse fully to the dirt. Through the haze, Saffron heard him chuckle—before gently lying him back on a patch of fresh moss, pushing hair from his sweaty forehead and kissing him gently.
“I think I’ll keep you,” he whispered. “I’ll come to you every night to satiate myself, for the rest of your human life.”
Saffron smiled, weary and barren of any remaining strength. He meant to say something coy in response, but couldn’t find the words, let alone his mouth to speak them. He just groped into the darkness for Cylvan’s body again, kissing him once more, before opening his legs and inviting the prince to settle between them. To press himself back inside, to fuck him as endlessly and mercilessly as he pleased, until he was satisfied.