The Dinner Party: Part One He had used
her, he had manipulated her... and it was only because
she got lucky that she had escaped him before it got any
worse. Before he...She doesn't know what he would have
done, but she's not going to find out. Taking a deep
breath, she at last crosses over that border, following
the well-trodden path to the clearing where she had always
done her magic before.
No, stalks.
He moves towards her like a big cat following its prey
through the trees before it strikes. Another chill goes
down her spine and the air around her becomes colder. She
stares at him, color rising in her cheeks as the cold all
around her makes the heat between her thighs feel even
stronger.
The details
of his appearance grow clearer as he draws nearer. His
facial features are sharp with high cheekbones and large,
almond shaped eyes with bright, violet irises, ringed
with thick dark lashes and heavy kohl. His lips are
painted (she thinks, painted) a dark blue-black and
formed into a perfect pout. He's tall -- probably over
six feet -- with long graceful limbs and an unnatural
beauty all about him. She stumbles back, nearly stepping
into the fire as she process the last detail: the tips of
long, pointed ears that peek from between his deep,
violet curls.
Her entire body goes stiff, her heart pounding harder than ever. A smell comes from him of spruce and juniper, the bitter and metallic scent of a moonless night in the dead of winter...and something else. Something primal, something...familiar. Like a spark, it calls to her.
The circle! How could he have gotten past it? She was sure she had drawn it correctly! But if she had, he wouldn't be here now. He wouldn't be touching her. Oh god, where he's pressed against her seems to be burning, suddenly. Fear and arousal mix in a cocktail so potent that it makes her head spin.
Dread
descends on her. His body isn't cold like the vampires
she was used to but it isn't quite warm either. It gives
off heat but... Something about that heat is wrong, is
false. Like the heat of alcohol as it goes down the
throat, a burn that only leads to growing colder in the
end. But god, she wants to be closer to it. She wants him.
He turns
her to face him, their faces so close that they could
kiss... part of her desperately wants to -- to bring his
lips to hers, to just give in to the way her body screams
for him. But... no. No, she learned her lesson about
strange, beautiful, predatory men... that was why she was
in this forest to begin with.
The faerie grins at her, revealing all those sharp, sharp teeth, his eyes glittering with something that might be mischief, that might be lust... that might be hunger. She realizes quickly that this was the answer he wanted.
He releases her, stepping back,
the smile on his face remains fixed there and he gives
her quite a wide berth. Morgan's eyes are
impossibly wide, staring at the beautiful faerie, her
heart pounding in her ears. This can not be
happening -- this has to be a dream. She must be
hallucinating she...
The moment
the word "run" left his lips for the second
time, she's turned, wheeling around the fire and running
into the woods. She's not thinking, panic is clouding her
thoughts. She should have run right past him while
he was counting, back towards her grandmothers' house,
back towards the safety of the thresh-hold and the laws
of hospitality. But no, she was afraid that if she had
tried to run past him, he would catch her. Her feet fly
across the gravel path, the trees going past in a
blur.
She knows this path, she knows it very well. In a few yards, a bridge crosses a small creek that winds for miles through the woods. A part of her mind cries out for her not to cross the bridge but by the time that inner voice reaches her conscious mind, she's already sprinting across it, her foot already touching the opposite side of the creek. At first, nothing changes. The trees are still familiar and she still knows where she is...
But it's not the way she came. The creek is gone -- along with the path itself. White mist curls around her feet and the air is growing ever colder. She's standing in the middle of a clearing in the middle of a great pine forest. How long will she have to outrun him for? Can she even outrun him here? The thoughts flutter across her mind but skitter away like fallen leaves. Panic, the primal fear of being prey has overtaken her rational mind now. If she can just run long enough, she'll leave him behind. She just has to keep going. After only a moment, the fae is in front of her again and this time, she doesn't get a chance to run away -- he's on her in an instant, slamming her against one of those gnarled, ancient pines. The force of it knocks the air from her lungs and she cries out in pain and surprise. His body, the entirety of his weight is pressed against there with his fingers wrapped around her throat, holding her surely in place.
Morgan shivers, more from those sensations than the cold...her cheeks burn and she feels light headed. Is it the faerie blood in her veins that draws her to him like this? Or is it something unique to him? She doesn't even think she's felt so attracted to her ex... who she barely managed to get out of the club with him before screwing his brains out... But she's trapped by the fae, his body pressed so hard against her that she can't move even an inch. The predatory look doesn't leave his eyes but... something about it changes -- it goes from looking like he's going to eat her up to... Well, like he's going to eat her in an entirely different way. His fingers wind into her hair and he brings his lips to her suddenly with such roughness that her lips feel bruised. His tongue slips into her mouth and a sudden rush of excitement goes through her body, leaving behind pins and needles. His mouth tastes like cold, like snow, like brilliant starlight and the bite of midwinter. Morgan kisses back, unable to stop herself from searching his mouth with the same eagerness he searches hers. Her hips rock upwards, trying to press herself closer to him. With each passing second, the intensity of the kiss grows until she feels like she's on fire and would burn away if it weren't for the bitter cold of the air all around them. When he
pulls back, the edges of her vision go dark and the world
whirls around her and the thoughts begin to drain from
her mind -- save for one. She wants him. She wants to
feel him inside her, wants something to relieve that
heat.
He takes her lower lip between his teeth, tugging softly... The hand that had been tangled in her hair moves slowly over her, ghosting over the ample hills and valleys of Morgan's body before finally, his fingers find the meeting of her thighs... Morgan moans when he begins, slowly, to stroke her lower lips through her shorts. She can't stop herself from speaking now:
He laughs, pulling his hand away from her aching cunt and releasing her throat. He steps back and suddenly, her silver knife glitters in his hand. Snow begins to fall, dark gray clouds moving in to block out the starlight. The clearing darkens and she can barely see. Something sharp -- the tip of her own knife -- is pressed to her throat.
Morgan's heart is doing cartwheels, her breath coming in desperate gasps and she can't seem to catch it. The heat grows more and more intense -- it feels like life coming back into fingers that've lost feeling to the cold: harsh, painful, full of pins and needles. She closes her eyes, biting hard on her lower lip to keep the words from being spoken. If she keeps them in her head, it'll be okay. Slowly, the tip of the knife works its way down from her throat, slipping into the crevice between her breasts. The sensation sends shivers down her spine and each shiver is followed by that same heat, those same pins and needles. With one swift motion, he cuts through her tank top -- leaving her standing there in her bra and jean shorts. The cold bites into her flesh more than before and she cries out, starting to shiver violently. The tip of the knife hovers at her belly button now, playing with the ring that pierces the skin there.
Morgan
shudders, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Please, please
let him go further... the tip of the knife slips under
the strap of her bra and Morgan flinches when he cuts
through it -- and then the other. She feels the point
pressing against the skin between her breasts, its blade
resting against the gore of her bra. The fae pushes the
knife in just a bit harder, just far enough to make it
hurt. When he cuts through the bra, he leaves behind a
thin, bleeding line on her chest... Which he presses
his lips to, his tongue dragging over the wound. The
moment the cold air hits her bare tits, Morgan starts to
squirm again, whining... her nipples feel frozen, her
piercings leeching all heat from them in an
instant.
But her
cunt aches, so hot and so heavy with need that she can't
even think straight, her juices soaking through the thin
denim shorts she's wearing and coating her thighs. The
wetness there only draws attention to how cold the air
is.
Morgan cries out, agony rolling through her when his teeth sink into the flesh of her breast. She tries to pull back, trying to lift her hands to move him away but... The dizziness only intensifies, her whole world seems to tilt on it's axis, sending everything askew. Tears roll down her cheeks, freezing to the skin as they go. It's getting colder and she's more and more aware of that low temperature as more of her clothing is cut away -- the tip of the knife drags over her belly, the blade slicing through her shorts and then her panties and then both are thrown aside, leaving her standing naked, pressed agains the tree by the fae. The cold air is unbearable against her, making her keenly, painfully aware of the dampness between legs and the fact that it's slowly dripping down her inner thighs now.... just as blood drips down from the corners of his lips.
God, he's
so fucking beautiful -- even more so surrounded by the
cold, empty pine forest. Like he belongs here.
Morgan
nods. She does, god she does. She needs something to
relieve that ache, to lessen that...burning but also to
chase away the chill. He takes her hand, pressing her
against the bulge in his pants... her fingers
twitch.
Without another thought, she brings her mouth to his again, her free hand tangling into his curls and causing him to groan softly into the kiss. She caresses the faerie's erection through his pants, fingers fidgeting with the lacing that keeps them closed and keeps her from being able to access what she so desperately wants. When she
pulls back from the kiss, she catches his lower lip in
her teeth, sinking them into the flesh hard enough that
she tastes the slightest hint of blood -- which serves
only to make her ache all the more. She's got the lacing
almost undone now, slipping her hand past his waist band,
feeling his bare skin against her. When she wraps her
fingers around his cock, he growls in her ear.
Morgan lays
a flurry of kisses on his throat and then bites -- soft
at first but some feral instinct, some inner beast takes
over and she bites down, harder and harder. When her
teeth sink into the flesh and draw blood, the faerie's
sharp intake of breath makes her shudder... He shoves her
back against the tree, the rough bark biting into her
skin, ripping it like tissue paper. The sudden jolt of
pain does nothing to lessen her need, does nothing to
draw her from the moment. If anything, the sudden
pain makes it worse. Like she can smell the blood
in the air and her entire body responds to it, screaming
for more.His mouth is on hers and then it's on her neck,
and then it's on her breast -- he leaves behind a trail
of bleeding bite marks and blossoming bruises as his
mouth moves down over Morgan's body. Her breath catches
in her throat when his lips ghost over her wet, aching
cunt.
The faerie
lifts her with ease, parting her legs as he does so.
Morgan whimpers, feeling the head of his cock as it
presses against her, feeling it part her lower lips,
feeling the throb of his blood rushing through the veins
just under the skin and then... Morgan's head falls back
against the tree, a scream catching in her throat. The
faerie groans in her ear, his first thrust into her has
no hesitation nor softness or gentleness -- he slams
himself into her with no care or thought of hurting
her. , nothing but feverish need and driving lust.
The second is just as rough, forcing the air from
Morgan's lungs as he drives every last inch of his dick
into her, stretching her inner walls to their limits. He
bottoms out inside of her, digging his fingers into her
thighs as he holds her up.
She swears
she can feel it inside her, spreading through her body
like lines of heat along the path of her veins. The heat
curls in her belly and settles there, radiating through
the rest of her body. Morgan feels the strength leaving
her body, the edges of her sight going dark as he pulls
his cock free from her, letting her slump against him.
Her toes don't even brush the ground, she's utterly
helpless... the heat becomes a freezing burn, pins and
needles through her entire body. Morgan cries out in fear
and pain. She can't....she can't feel her fingers, she
can't feel anything but that freezing cold. She whimpers.
She tries again to speak -- to ask what's happening, why she feels suddenly like she's been dunked in ice water, why it feels like winter itself has flooded her veins but she can't. The darkness closes in and fills her vision and Morgan's consciousness tumbles into an icy abyss of shadow and cold. |