Chapter 40
Trewoofe
As they kissed, Trewoofe – with his hands still firmly on Avice’s glorious rear – walked them over to the closest tree, so her back was supported by the vine covered trunk.
Needing to breathe, they broke apart, their chests rising and falling in unison.
He was throbbing beneath his hose, his cock so hard it hurt.
The space between the top of her delicious thighs – he did not know the human name for it – was separated from him by thin layers of clothing.
It would be so easy for him to shred the material and push into her.
Her gaze burnt into him, and without removing her eyes from his face, she rolled her hips and ground down onto him.
“Avice…” he groaned as she repeated the motion. “My first time serving you will not be rutting you against a tree.”
Still writhing against him, she dotted her mouth along his jaw. “What do you mean ‘serving me’?”
“In any way you wish,” he stated. “With my lips.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her cleavage.
“With my fingers.” He kneaded her rear, eliciting a delicious whimper.
“With my tongue.” He licked her, forks exploring her skin, from collar bone to ear lobe.
This deepened her neediness, and she rolled her hips again, wearing down the thin threads of his self-control. “And with my cock.”
Her gaze widened at that. “What would you do with it?”
“Anything you want,” he promised, rubbing against her through their clothing.
She tightened her grip at the nape of his neck. “Please tell me, I want to hear it.”
Trewoofe swallowed. How could he tell her all the things he had dreamt of? The reason why he needed to pleasure himself to her image; how he wanted to fill her up; overflow her with his seed; see her rounded with his offspring.
“I…”
She pouted and massaged the bottom of his scalp. “Please.”
He leant into her, languid beneath her touch.
“I want to fill you up,” he gasped. “Put my cock into you…” He thrusted, grinding into her, fighting the urge to rip their clothes away.
“…right here.” She whimpered, wiggling back into him.
“I want to rut into you, again and again.” He gave her another thrust, and she let out a gasp, his cock teasing her through the gauzy materials.
“Until my seed overflows from you…” He stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away.
“…and your belly rounds with my offspring.”
She stopped her wiggling; her swollen lips rounded in astonishment.
Panic clawed at his chest. “Little witch?” He squeezed her rear. “Did I speak too much?”
Avice shook her head. “No. I was just taken by surprise.” She kissed his forehead. “I liked it. I want it all, with you.” Her throat bobbed. “More than anything.”
That was all the permission Trewoofe needed. The single fraying thread of his self-control snapped. Just as he was about to rip their clothes away – throwing caution to the wind – Ashling hovered in his periphery, distracting him from his important task of serving Avice.
You two, Bramble yipped at his feet, are behaving like wild animals in heat.
He burnt with embarrassment – and irritation. He and his little witch were finally getting somewhere, and they were being interrupted.
“What of it?” he asked, suppressing the growl in his voice.
Ashling, ever the peacekeeper, flitted between them. “You still need to give the Good Neighbours their offerings. It is only right. They braved the blizzard and worked hard to give you their magic this evening.”
Trewoofe had forgotten – in their dancing, kisses, and caresses – that they had an audience the entire time. It had all fallen away when he stepped into the garden to help her.
“I… uh.” Avice looked left and right. “Lord, please put me down.”
“Of course.”
Flustered, Trewoofe placed her lightly on her feet.
He had gone too far, gotten too carried away.
He fidgeted with his claws as she stepped out of his shadow.
What if Avice only said yes to him in the heat of the moment?
What if, brimming with magic, she was not thinking clearly?
What if he had moved too quickly? Why had he asked to court her so suddenly?
The whirling unease in his mind silenced the moment she offered her hand to his. He interlaced his fingers with hers, sweet relief cooling his embarrassment. She gestured for him to lower his head, which he happily did so.
Her lips tickled his ear. “We will continue this later.”
The soft words sent a skitter of delight up his spine. “I am at your service,” he replied, kissing her forehead.
Avice! Bramble yipped.
She waved her hand. “Yes, yes, I know.”
Trewoofe hefted out the baskets overflowing with floral crowns, bracelets, and necklaces. Ashling zoomed around the Good Neighbours, herding them into an orderly queue. Bramble sat between him and Avice, as though he needed to chaperone the two to ensure the task was completed.
The Grim was not wrong. Trewoofe twitched to hold Avice in his arms again. He swelled with pride as she turned to address the Cap Queen. It has his flowers she offered. Jewellery he had woven with his own claws and helped Avice assemble in their cosy time inside the cottage.
The Queen bowed her head, her mushroom hat glittering from all the residual magic that had settled on the brim. “My Lord, what an evening to have you with us.”
He fidgeted under her gaze, surprised that she recognised him in his human shape. “It was my little witch’s night. Not mine.”
Her lips twitched. “I assume there will be an announcement of the courtship soon.”
Trewoofe burnt under her steady gaze. “You heard that?”
“My Lord, everyone heard that,” she replied with a chuckle.
“There will be an announcement,” Avice interjected smoothly.
“The Well King asked to court me, and I said yes. We must discuss the particulars first.” Her eyes flicked to Trewoofe and back to the Faerie.
“But we are courting. And without my Lord’s intervention this evening, we would have suffocated under a mountain of snow. ”
Bramble butted his clenched fist, and Trewoofe scratched behind his ear, grateful for something to ground him. He was bewildered at Avice claiming him so freely, at her speaking so plainly to the Cap Queen about her acceptance of his offer to court her.
It did nothing to squash the desire he had to steal her way into the woods and rut her into the wildflowers. He placed a hand on his chest and let out a shuddering breath. His attention was drawn by Avice’s firm voice to the nosey Queen.
“I would like to give you an offering, my Lady,” she said, sweeping her hand over the row of baskets. “Grown from my King’s magic and made by our hands. Take one and consider our bargain done.”
The Queen smirked but said nothing else as she perused the offerings.
She walked up and down the row of baskets, cupping her fleshy grey chin.
Trewoofe had to respect it in a way, she paid no heed to the swarms of Good Neighbours behind her and took her time selecting the boldest of the floral crowns.
She held it up to the light. Trewoofe admired how his blooms illuminated under the Moonbeams, sparkling with the dusting of magic that saturated the air. The Cap Queen nodded and placed it on top of her mushroom hat.
Avice rubbed her tired eyes. “Well chosen, my Lady.”
Trewoofe studied his little witch as the Queen moved away to make room for the rest of her flock to make their selections. Avice’s shoulders drooped, and her jaw clicked loudly as she yawned.
He reached and squeezed her shoulder. “Avice, are you well?”
She smiled weakly up at him. “I am tired. It takes a lot out of me.”
His expression fell. “I thought it would not hurt you, after I joined in.”
She pressed her cheek to his hand. “It did not, but it is still exhausting. Now all the…” – she smiled shyly – “excitement has passed, I feel drained.”
Trewoofe went to move next to her, but Bramble stood firm. “Little familiar,” he chided. “I am not going to pounce on your witch when she is like this.”
Do you promise? he huffed.
The King chuckled. “Yes, I mean only for her to lean on me.”
“‘Her’ is right here,” Avice interjected. “Bramble, I am dead on my feet, please let the Lord through.”
The Grim retreated, slipping around Trewoofe’s legs. To his delight, Avice leant heavily into his side, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. They waited together while the Caps completed their selections, squawking and fighting over some of the more flamboyant pieces.
Ashling flitted by. “Why not go to the pallet and sleep?”
Avice yawned again. “You know why, I have to address each Queen and ensure the bargains are done.”
The Wisp flickered and floated up to perch on Trewoofe’s horn.
Once the Cap flock had finished their collection of the offerings, they marched down the garden path in a promenade, practically skipping behind their Queen as they stepped out of the ward and into the balmy night.
The Knockers came next.
The wizened Queen shuffled forward. Her arm was hooked through a younger male’s, who Trewoofe assumed to be the Prince Consort. They were small, reaching only to Avice’s knee.
“My Lady.” Avice nodded. “Thank you for coming tonight. Please take one.” She swept her hand over the row of baskets, now looking worse for wear after the Caps had claimed their share. “And” – she yawned – “consider our bargain done.”
“Well done, young witch,” the Queen said before dipping her head at Trewoofe. “Congratulations, Well King. I wish you a fruitful courtship.”
He dropped his gaze. Had all the Good Neighbours heard him telling Avice all the things he wanted to with her?
He bristled at the thought. The words were for them, said in playfulness, to make them more comfortable at the passion that was blooming between them.
It was his own fault; he knew that he had gotten carried away and should have waited until a more private time to say those things to her.
Plus, given what salacious gossips Faeries were, soon the entire woods would know about it.