celtic mythology

AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is an authorized, but unofficial sequel to Groade’s story “The Chase”. I strongly suggest that you read his story first. While the one before you now can be read on its own, you will profit from reading “The Chase” first.



All characters of legal age (18+).



*~*~*




The hotel room shuddered as a truck thundered by. Shadows danced to life, chased across the room by the headlights, but Lindsay did not stir. He only heaved a sigh once the squalid little room had quivered back into silence and darkness.



Weeks, even months of headless, precipitate flight had taken the fight out of him. It mattered little that in this short time span his savings had melted like snow in the summer sun. It mattered little that he was running out of ideas where to hide next. The truth was, Lindsay was tired. Too tired.



In the evenings, after waking up, the face of a stranger looked back at him from the mirror. Instead of the spunky, doe-eyed, well-groomed youth he was used to see, he was greeted by a scruffy, tired, ashy face with a distant, far-gone stare.



At night he kept passing back and forth between bleary-eyed waking moments and minutes of fitful, dream-filled sleep. From time to time, he would press his burning forehead against the cool window of whatever bus or train he found himself on. But soon, his neck would ache and he would slump back into that feverish languor.



During the days, he curled up on whatever cheap bed he could find, the door locked and bolted, the blinds shut. At times, he would start at the slightest sound, fearing that he had been caught up with. At other times, he would lay in a drowsy, indifferent stupor, staring into the darkness for hours without moving.



Outside, the bus arrived with a hiss and a squeak. This was the night-line bus Lindsay was supposed to be catching, but he sat still on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. The bus departed with a laboured roar — but without Lindsay, for Lindsay was tired. Too tired.



For how long he sat there, he could not say. Only the smarting of his wrists told him that time was passing at all, but still he would not stir.



Nor did he stir when there was a tiny, metallic scrape at the door: The bolt slowly, carefully slid back on its own, as though unlocked by an unseen hand. Then, the key began to turn in the lock, and with a cold click the door was unlocked.



Lindsay didn’t even need to look to know what was going on, nor did he care. He had seen it happen so often now…



The door swung open, and there she was. As Lindsay peered through between his fingers, he felt — guiltily — a twinge of relief that she had caught up, that there was nowhere for him to run: At least it meant an end to all the exertion. At least he wouldn’t have to bother anymore.



Sifania, for her part, simply stood there. Something was different this time, and she could sense it. Lindsay wasn’t trying to run, or to fend her off. Usually, he always had some new and useless trick up his sleeve, some resource, some little hope. Not this time. He just sat there, slumped over, resigned, tired.



Although a Sidhe might neither reason nor feel quite in the strange and crooked ways of a human, Sifania definitely felt a sharp pang as she saw him like this: A pang of pity, of compassion, of sadness.



And so, she did something she had never done before with him. With a kick of her heel, she closed the door; and kicking off her shoes, she sauntered over to the bed, dropping her purse, and her jacket, and taking off the soft leather gloves on the way there. And then she simply sat down next to Lindsay, sliding one arm around him, her sleek, claw-tipped fingers digging into the soft side of his slim belly.



She smiled bitterly as he started at her touch, and his body grew taut with suspense, and fear. Still, he hid his face in his hands, and still he would not look at her.



“Lindsay,” she murmured softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.



“I cannot do this anymore,” he muttered into his hands.



Sifania lifted her head, staring at him through the silvery bangs that covered her eyes, but remained silent.



“I’m tired, so tired. I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want any of this, I-”, he trailed off.



The fae slowly tugged his hands from his face, squeezing his hands with her long, pale fingers. In Lindsay’s eyes, there was neither defiance, nor anger, just a deep, hopeless resignation. Sifania stared back at him, the golden glow of her eyes shining through the wisps of hair that ended just above the tip of her nose.



“I am growing weary of this as well,” she conceded with that ancient, melodic accent of hers. “For a while, the chase had its own merit, and your resourcefulness gave it zest. But no more.”



“Then why do you keep doing this?” Lindsay whispered. “Just let me go home, just leave me be.”



The Mahdron Sidhe crinkled her cute nose, and her perfect lips parted into a smile, revealing two rows of razor-sharp fangs.



“We’ve been over this, my sweet. I follow you, because you are my lover. My chosen male. My groom. I love you, and you will love me, eventually. It is our destiny.”



At these words, a spark of willpower seemed to return to Lindsay. He shook his head and protested:



“No, no, no. That’s nonsense! If you loved me, you would respect my wishes. If you loved me, you wouldn’t hurt me each time we are together!”



Her smile vanished.



“It wouldn’t hurt if you wouldn’t resist me.”



“I wouldn’t resist if you wouldn’t hurt me,” Lindsay hissed. His weary eyes lit up with anger.



Again, Sifania’s lips curled into that fangs-bared, unnerving leer.



“It would seem we have reached an impasse,” she murmured in her musical, lilting tone. “But you will have to accept that fact, too, eventually. You resist — my body senses it. You try to escape — my body holds you in place. It is nothing I can control.”



She paused and her forked tongue moistened her lips, lightning-quick.



“Just think back yourself: So long as you were willing, did you not always feel pleasure? And did it not only hurt when you resisted? It is your own behaviour alone that causes you pain.”



Lindsay averted his gaze, staring at his hands, and at her claws holding them.



“I’m scared of you, Sifania.” He said it as simply as it was.



“Don’t be,” she replied just as simply. To her, it was all so easy!



“I’m scared of falling under your sway, and what you might do to me if I give in,” he insisted sullenly. “I’m scared of the pain. If you really do love me, don’t hurt me anymore,” he implored her with a subdued whisper.



The Sidhe sighed. She loved Lindsay, but she did not love useless repetition.



“I won’t, so long as you don’t resist.”



She stood up abruptly, and roughly pulled her top off over head. For a split-second, Lindsay caught a glimpse of those feral, brightly glowing eyes as the top brushed her hair aside, and he dry-swallowed. Sifania hastily undressed, dropping her pencil skirt to her ankles, impatiently tearing off her stockings, until at last, she stood there in all her naked glory.



Despite himself, Lindsay could not help but admire her unearthly beauty. She stretched her perfect, lithe form in the moonlight, glorying in his gaze. She saw his gaze wander over her pert little breasts, and she cupped them in her disturbingly long fingers with an inviting purr. She spun round, showing him her back as she stretched herself long; an athletic, inviting back — but covered in a host of mean, short spikes, like the thorns of a rose. She grinned at him over her shoulder, and that sweet, alluring smile, and that lovely, soft chin and those perfect, pale lips almost let him forget what lay hidden under the hair that covered the upper half of her face.



She turned round again, a tiny sway of her hips inviting him to look further down, his eyes racing over her white, almost diaphanous skin, to her taut belly that sported no navel, and below that the silvery, tufty triangle of hair.



He stared at her graceful legs as she sidled closer to him, and he gave a surprised little squeak when she ripped his shirt open in one go, not bothering to unbutton it. She ran her sleek, pale hands through his golden hair, pressing his face against her belly, and she giggled when she felt his stubbles tickling her. Even in this disconsolate, dishevelled state he was incredibly sexy to her.



She gave another inviting purr, and he could feel her tummy vibrate softly against his lips. Just then, Lindsay awoke from his sullen stupor. He planted kiss after tiny kiss on her belly, part of him hoping that his surrender would appease her, would spare him that infernal pain this time — and another part of him was genuinely, incredibly turned on.



Sifania gently tugged at his hair, urging him to his feet. As soon as he stood upright, she tore his jeans apart faster than he could look, again in just one swift go. He stood there, naked, aroused, confused by his conflicting feelings: Fear and passion, worry and desire.



Another guttural purr escaped her throat as her glowing gaze passed over his lean body. Always on the slim side, the exertion of the past weeks had only made him leaner; but as her hands followed her gaze, Sifania found that there were still plenty of soft spots here and there.



To her delight, Lindsay began to respond to her caresses. His touches were tentative at first, trying to work his hands around the massy thorns on her back. But when she drew him into a tight embrace and nuzzled the side of his neck — kissing, licking, nibbling — he abandoned all apprehensions. The nagging voice that used to yell warnings at him from the recesses of his mind was silent, and Sifania’s unwonted tenderness drew him to her with the irresistible force of a strange magnetism.



He tried to wrap his arms around her, but immediately winced as the spikes on her back pricked his arms, and he squirmed and shifted until his arms settled into an awkward, but delightful embrace: his one arm wrapped around the back of her head, urging her to continue pleasuring his neck, his other hand resting on her derriere.



Now it was Lindsay’s turn to purr with delight, his head tossed back, his eyes closed. He moaned softly as the forked tip of her tongue danced under his earlobe. He giggled as her fangs tickled him when she gnawed on his trapezius, and he gasped when she bit down a little harder, the points of her fangs pinching him like so many tiny needles.



Only once the side of his neck glistened with her spit she let up. Without a word, they stared at each other for a while, until Lindsay responded to her amorous leer with a wan, furtive smile. He tried to brush her hair out of her face, wanting to see her eyes, but she caught his hand in hers.



“Not yet, lover,” she whispered.



And with a strength that belied her slender body, she pushed him down onto the bed by his shoulders, making him sit on its edge. Quickly, she moved onto him kneeling over his lap with her legs on either side of his hips. She smooshed his face into her chest, and while he kissed her snow-white breasts, he felt a warm, womanly soft hand gripping and caressing his erection, and he sighed with delight: Had she always been this tender with him, he would never have thought of fleeing her…



Sifania leaned her forehead against his, and Lindsay waited in vain to feel those bony ridges that sloped over her brows, contorting her face into an eternal, savage scowl. He could only make out the yellow glow of her eyes shining through her silver hair while she softly nudged and rubbed the tip of her nose against his, making soft, reassuring sounds.



Nonetheless, Lindsay tensed up as she slowly lowered herself onto him, his apprehension and his fear returning with a force.



Sifania held onto him roughly, unwilling to let go now, and sat herself completely down in his lap. Although her sex was so slick and wet that he slid into her with ease, he whimpered at the painful tightness. Instinctively, his hands reached for her hips to pry her off him, but her body sensed his intentions and clamped down on him savagely.



“Ow, Sifania, please…” he yelped.



“Don’t resist now,” she growled into his ear, crushing him against her, her fingers digging at his back.



With all the little strength and willpower he possessed, he slid his arms around her, pressing himself against her, hugging her against him. He whined as the thorns on her back stung his arms.



But then, the Sidhe’s body realized he was no longer fighting her, and all at once, the pain was gone. The thorns on her back receded into sizable, but perfectly smooth bumps. Her vagina relaxed its strangling grip, softly embracing him instead. Sifania’s taut, sleek form now felt unspeakably soft and warm, inviting him to melt right into her.



“There, Lindsay, that’s better,” the fae murmured into his ear, licking his earlobe. Lindsay gave a little moan, and another, louder moan followed as she began to move.



Sifania loosely rested her arms on his shoulders, smiling at her chosen mate. His velvety, soft moans were the most delicious melody she had ever heard. His willing surrender — so long had she dreamt of it — turned the loving glow in her heart into an all-consuming fire. Finally, she thought, this sweet man, her destined lover, was hers, and now he would feel what pleasure a Mahdron Sidhe could bestow…



“Oh, Sifania, oh!” he moaned, her slow, steady rocking motions driving his pleasure higher and higher, washing away any memory of the pain she had caused him before. She again hugged him tightly, both lovers caressing each other blindly, drunk on their mutual lust.



Sifania drew Lindsay into a deep, soulful kiss, and he moaned into her mouth: At the same time as her forked tongue softly played with the tip of his tongue, her sex tightened once more. But this time, her vagina held him very gently, trying to pull his seed from him with its soft, milking grip.



Once more she lifted her hips, and once more she brought them down, taking him inside to the hilt. Lindsay again moaned into her kiss, louder than ever before, and she held still as his slender body stiffened and shuddered in her embrace, knowing she had won. He clung to her, desperately, trying to snuggle up to her as closely as possible as his climax hit.



He broke the kiss and gasped for air, only to again cry her name with each successive spurt he shot into her welcoming sex.



“Yes, Lindsay, that’s it, let me have all your pleasure,” she murmured in her ancient tongue, weaving a spell into those words, a spell that would keep him ejaculating inside her until she would decide he’d had enough.



“Oh, Sifania-ah-ah-ah!”



Lindsay moaned and sighed her name over and over as spurt after spurt was milked from him by her vagina. The pleasure that coursed through his body left him reeling, stars dancing before his eyes, but more importantly it breathed a glow of genuine, tender affection for the Sidhe into his heart. He squirmed in her arms as she showered his face with wet kisses, sending fresh sparks of pleasure to his loins, but soon it was more than he could bear.



“There, there,” she murred happily.



Sifania noticed that he was about to swoon with pleasure, and she smiled. Pressing him against her, she murmured an ancient word, and suddenly — Lindsay could not tell how — they were lying on the bed, Sifania on her back, Lindsay lying atop of her, joined as tightly by the hips as ever. Their embraces mirrored each other: One hand caressing a shoulder blade, the other groping at a shapely tush. With each well-timed squeeze Sifania gave Lindsay’s rear, he delivered another delicious spurt into his supernatural lover, and each time he moaned her name, and she gasped and purred with delight, knowing that he was falling deeper, and deeper under her sway.



At last, he came down from his high — the most wonderful he’d ever felt, without doubt — and he lay on her, his body going limp in her arms, and he still moaned and panted her name in appreciation.



This time it was her turn to muss up his hair, to caress him with tiny touches, to bathe him in tender kisses until he was half asleep.



“Was it better this time?” she murmured “No pain, as I promised, right?”



“Mmm-hmmm,” he hummed, already in a deep, languid state of relaxation. “You were wonderful.”



Sifania grinned over his shoulder, petting the back of his head. No, she would resist the urge to get him hard and willing again right now. She would let him rest. She brought her mouth very close to his ear:



“Then promise,” she whispered, “promise that you will not run from me again.”



Lindsay purred his consent.



*~*~*




When Sifania awoke, dawn was already breaking. She could tell even with her eyes closed from the racket outside, the birds singing their lungs out, the traffic on the road. She stretched herself long on the bed.



“Lindsay?”



She pawed around herself on the bed, still not opening her eyes, groping for her lover. Her hand met a warm spot on the mattress, but no Lindsay. The Sidhe’s eyes blinked open, and she immediately realized that there was no Lindsay. He was gone. Even his duffle bag was no longer by the bedside. She sat up abruptly, listening for any sound of him — maybe he was just taking a shower?



But there were only the birds, and the cars passing by outside.



Sifania’s heart sank. Oh how she longed to finally wake up next to him! As powerful as she was, the Mahdron Sidhe could have had almost anything she wanted, but the one thing she wished for eluded her: Lindsay’s love. She could easily have chained him to the bed with a spell, preventing him from running away, but she wanted him to stay with her willingly. She could easily have used the sway she gained over him to make him follow her, as though on a string, but she wanted him to be with her on his own accord. She didn’t want a puppet — she wanted a willing lover.



She drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin in her arms. He had promised to stay with her, and now he was gone. She had tried to show him her tender side, hoping that it would relieve him of his fear. And yet…



Finally, she got up and went to take a shower. She had been through this exact situation often enough, but this time — after the moments of warmth and gentleness they had shared, after the promise he had given and broken — it was especially bitter. As the water purled over her face, she just wanted to cry with disappointment.



A muffled sound woke her from her sad reverie. She immediately turned off the shower, and listened intently.



“Lindsay?” she whispered quietly.



Again, there was a muffled sound, and she thought she heard Lindsay call for her.



“LINDSAY?!” she yelled, and her voice sounded strange and choked, her heart moving up into her throat.



The bathroom door opened, and Lindsay stood there, holding his duffle bag in one hand, running his other hand through his hair in embarrassment, and tried an apologetic smile. He saw Sifania gnaw on her lip, and had immediately guessed everything from that, and from her cry of his name.



Sifania made a tiny, strangled sound, but only continued to bite her lip.



“I was, you see…” he guiltily pointed to his duffle bag. “My laundry…at the coin laundry…while you were asleep…”



She barely comprehended what he was saying; all she understood was that he was back, and that he was sorry. She didn’t need to hear more.



The Sidhe suddenly pounced forward, crushing Lindsay against her. She pulled him under the shower, with his clothes on and all, turning the warm water back on.



She kissed him madly, sighing between two kisses, glad that the water streaming over her face would hide her tears of relief. Within seconds his clothes were drenched with water, and she giggled as she played with his wet t-shirt: Once white, now semi-translucent.

That giggle broke her stupor, and she quickly freed him of his soaking jeans and his boxers. Finally, only his wet t-shirt remained, clinging to his body. She gave a sensual growl as she saw the bulge where the waterlogged fabric clung to his erection. Standing tip-toed for another fervent kiss, she reached under his shirt, gently pulling his foreskin back taut, then jacking him roughly until he moaned into that feral kiss.



She chuckled and flashed him an impish grin, but he gently pushed her hand away. He quickly pulled his wet shirt over his head and flung it out of the shower; and leaning into her, he gently bit her chin, making her squeak and laugh in surprise.



Lindsay’s lips travelled down from her chin across her neck, drinking the warm water from her collar bones, and then from her breasts.



Sifania’s pealing laugh turned dark and husky. In between her giggles, she murmured confused words of love and appreciation to Lindsay, all in her age-old language, but all as clear to him as plain English. Her giggles turned to tender, yearning moans as he reached her belly, and she buried her hands in his wet hair, urging him further down.



She froze when his caresses reached her sex. Her mouth agape, she gave several short groans as his tongue — warmer than faefire, softer than velvet, wetter than morning dew — caressed her nether lips and finally her clit in steady, eager licks.



“Lindsay!”



The Sidhe grimaced and squirmed with pleasure, her fingers raking through his hair. Her beloved lapped away at her as if she were a delicious treat, drinking the warm water along with her wetness. She bent over him, trying to meet his eyes with hers; as though he sensed her wish, he briefly opened his eyes, looking up at her, before he closed them again, giving a happy little sound as he kissed and licked her with redoubled vigour.



Sifania grunted, her hips spreading wide on their own, her hips curving forward, eager to help him love her. Higher and higher her pleasure drove her, her body taut and arched, her head thrown back, until she felt so close to floating, almost weightless.



“More-” she begged, squeezing her eyes shut, picturing Lindsay’s warm, affectionate gaze. She gently pressed his head forward into her lap and whined:



“Oh, Lindsay, please, more!”



She grunted again, loudly, when she felt his hands flitting over the bumps on her back, caressing each one separately, and she realized dimly that he was not afraid of her anymore, that he just wanted to give her pleasure. The thought jolted through her body like lightning, and she clawed at his hair, giving short, soft cries, her pleasure peaking in her loins.



“Lind-SAY!”



Sifania squeaked her lover’s name as her orgasm hit, and thankfully his instinct told him not to cease his caresses: So long as his velvety tongue was on her pulsing clit, wave after wave of pleasure kept coursing through her, until she finally lifted her trembling hands from his hair. Panting and teetering she stood there, all woozy and tingly, while he looked up at her with a warm smile. Her knees gave way, and she slid down onto her knees. Slumped onto him, she rested her chin on his shoulder, and they just knelt there while the shower kept them warm.



It took quite a while for Sifania to regain her breath. This time, she did not resist when Lindsay gently brushed the wet hair from her face.



Despite that bony ridge at her eyebrows, despite that petrified scowl he could not say that he found her ugly. Now that he was no longer scared of the Sidhe, her feral leer only turned him on more.



“So, you think you can get away with that, huh? Think you can pleasure a Sidhe without getting anything in return?”



Her playfully evil snarl startled him from his fascinated stare.



“Just you wait,” she growled menacingly, “now you’ll get your due.”



Hoisting him to his feet, she placed him under the shower’s warm drizzle. With a few lilting words, one spell firmly rooted his feet to the shower floor, preventing him from slipping. Another kept him standing upright, even if his legs should give in — the spell would support him.



She chuckled darkly.



“Remember the last time we did it in the shower?”



He just nodded quietly, too aroused to speak.



Effortlessly, she lifted herself off the ground, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He briefly noticed how light she was, almost weightless…



Then she dropped her hips.



“SIFANIAAAH!!”



Lindsay wailed her name as he felt himself plunged into her juicy heat, so silky and so snug, his erection immediately responding with an intense, wet spurt — so intense that he felt a sweet sting in his very tip.



“AH, SIFANIAH, AH!”



He cried out again as another spurt shot from his tip, and he struggled against the pleasure to keep his eyes open, overwhelmed by the perverse urge to stare into those radiant, feral eyes of hers that took possession of his very soul.



Sifania cocked her head to the side and smiled — she was radiant, beautiful! — and purred:



“Cum!”



Lindsay cried her name once more, as that one word, laced with a simple but effective spell, sent another orgasm to his hips. Sifania’s grin widened, showing off her sharp fangs, and she tightened the lock of her arms and legs, smooshing his shuddering, pleasure-shaken body against her. Three happy cries of her name, three pleasurably intense first spurts into her waiting, gripping sex – and then she purred again:



“Cum!”



And another orgasm crashed into the previous, driving Lindsay half-crazy with pleasure. One more time she repeated this playful sequence, then she let him come down from his peak. Without unhanding him, she sat them both down on the shower floor — child’s play for the spellcraft of a Sidhe!



Eventually, she lifted herself off him. Seating herself next to him, she put her arm around his waist, and they leaned together, neither of them speaking a word.



Sifania gently caressed his inner thigh with her free hand; she enjoyed listening to his breathing while it slowed from quick, dishevelled panting to a relaxed, tired rhythm.



“Better than the last time in the shower, huh?” she asked impishly.



“Incredible,” Lindsay sighed.



Sifania beamed.



“That’s what happens when you do not resist me,” she murmured. “No pain, only pleasure.”



Lindsay buried his face in her wet hair and cooed softly. He enjoyed the peaceful afterglow, and how sweet she seemed, and how happy she was. He knew that each time she made love to him, the Sidhe’s sway over him increased. But so long as she was this sweet and gentle with him, what did it matter? Now that her tenderness had subdued his fear, his warm, kind side fully returned to life — and he enjoyed the affection she kindled in his heart, instead of dreading it as before.



Lindsay reached over Sifania’s head to turn off the shower, but paused on a whim, and then grabbed the secondary shower head from its mounting. After checking the beam for temperature and intensity on his arm, he began to move it over her body in slow, small circles.



Sifania stretched herself long, arching her back, stretching her arms towards the ceiling. Lindsay let the warm spray travel up to her neck, and she responded with a long-drawn, luxuriating hum. He kissed her temple, and they both shifted and squirmed, awkwardly leaning into a passionate kiss. The way they sat now, Lindsay had to bend over her shoulder to meet her lips, and a soft ache in his neck made him break their kiss with a surprised little laugh.



Great Goddess, Sifania thought, how lovely that laugh was!



“Lindsay…”



She growled darkly, turning her head to shoot him a smoldering glare.



Lindsay smiled cheekily, playing with the shower head until the beam switched from soft rain to massage. With a look of concentration, he brought it to his lips, making sure it was warm, but not too hot. Then, he nudged Sifania into a comfortable position. She settled between his legs, resting her back against him, resting her head on his shoulder.



Lindsay hummed quietly, and the gently massaging beam once more wandered over Sifania’s body. This time, though, Lindsay quickly brought it down to her lap. Sifania eagerly lifted her hips, as the warm, caressing water reached the silver delta of her pubes. Petting her nether lips with the fingertips of one hand, he used the other to guide the shower beam to her clit.



FUCK!!



Sifania squeaked, her slim frame seizing. Lindsay quickly directed the shower away, worried that it was too intense and caused her pain: He had never heard the Sidhe swear before.



But Sifania immediately gripped his wrist, so hard that he gave a pained little yelp, and shoved his hand back down. As soon as the beam was back on her clit, her toes curled under, and her other hand clawed at his thigh, and Lindsay understood.



He dutifully kept the beam on her clit, kissing her wet hair, her cheek while she panted and squeaked. She squirmed and writhed in delectable agony, her mouth agape, grimacing with pleasure. She reached for his head, roughly petting his hair, his face, and with a hoarse, strangled cry —



“Oh Goddess, I-!”



– she gripped his other hand, pushing two of his fingers into her vagina. And then she gave another cry:



“LINDSAY! LINDSAY!”



And her legs kicked, and her fingers dug into his hand as her climax ripped through her with the heat and force of a comet. From her breasts on down and her knees on up, her body seemed to melt away into a spasming, pulsing, shivering mass. The first wave of her pleasure had barely washed over her, when she dimly felt his kisses on her cheek, his erection pressing against her from behind. She groaned, imagining that her vagina was not milking his fingers, but his penis; imagined him moaning her name in the throes of pleasure — and at that, another orgasm hit.



Sifania gave several maddened growls as the warm, massaging water worked its magic, bathing her hips in the most delicious, almost painfully intense contractions. She grimaced and squirmed, gripping his legs for support as she arched her nimble body into a perfect curve.



Finally she batted his hands away, so sensitive that she winced at his touch. Lindsay understood, and simply wrapped his arms around her belly, hugging her gently. The Sidhe melted into his embrace, and a wave of post-orgasmic euphoria washed through her: It left her all giddy, giggling and chuckling in his arms.



“Sifania?”



“Mmmm.” Too lazy to respond, she just hummed.



“You’re incredibly cute when you come,” Lindsay murmured, his face buried in her wet hair.



Sifania turned her head to look at him, but from her position she could only see his chin. She playfully dug her sharp fangs into his chin, so gently that it only tickled. Lindsay squeaked and laughed, and Sifania again exploded into giggles.



But then she grew serious. “You know why I enjoyed it that much?” she asked, and continued without waiting for an answer: “Because you were here, with me. Thanks, Lindsay.”



Lindsay held her tight, fearing that his heart should burst in his chest. This wasn’t a spell of hers, this wasn’t the Sidhe’s control over him: He deeply, genuinely felt something — something for her. To give her pleasure filled him with purest delight, and to hear her thank him for it was more than his excited heart could bear.



He brought his mouth to her ear and growled darkly: “Well, you thought you could get away with it, huh? Thought you could pleasure a human without getting anything in return?”



Once more they burst into laughter.



*~*~*




Sifania refused to leave the room during the day. While the sun was up, her powers diminished, and she did not feel safe then.



So they waited for the night in that cramped little room, which left them little choice but to lounge on the bed. Littering the bedsheets with the crumbs of Sifania’s faerie biscuits, they spent their time alternately dozing and talking. Or rather, Sifania spent it talking: Her eons of existence condensed into a never-ending stream of twittering chatter, of droll stories from the other world.



Lindsay contented himself with listening. He smiled at the story of the spring nymph that wed a human youth and bore him ten thousand times ten thousand children — all girls who grew into dance-mad banshees, who stalked the wedding dances in neighbouring villages in search for a dancing partner. He sighed with pity at the tale of the goddess Diana, that great and haughty huntress, who fell in love with a sleeping shepherd boy and went so far as to give up her bloody sport for him, but was delivered only of abortions each year, as she had been cursed to infertility by Juno for once slaying a sacred doe. He laughed with Sifania at the anecdote of the wine-bibbing Leanan Sidhe who inspired her husband, a minstrel, to countless outlandish drinking songs, which got him filthy rich.



In short, Lindsay thought that all things considered Sifania was lovely company — now that he wasn’t afraid of her. He felt a little ashamed to have fully realized only this late, that although she was a Mahdron Sidhe, her emotions were not so very different from his own. Had he before even been afraid of her love — it had seemed ruthless, brutal, strangling — he understood by now that the love of a Sidhe was not so different from the love of a mortal woman: So full of passion and tenderness, of hopes and worries, of ecstasies and insecurities. And now that he understood her better, her infatuation flattered him, made her seem very sweet and even began to draw him towards her…



These thoughts and more flickered through Lindsay’s mind as they lay face to face, just smiling at each other, exchanging small caresses. Lindsay snuggled up closer to Sifania and, on a whim, brushed away her long bangs to get a glimpse of her eyes.



He started as he stared at a stranger’s face. Instead of the savage, otherworldly brow and the feral, glowing eyes he knew, the upper half of Sifania’s face now matched the ever-beautiful lower half: Soft, limpid green eyes, complimented by long lashes and softly arching, silvery brows completed a heart-stoppingly cute face.



But Sifania’s adoring, sweet smile faltered quickly, when Lindsay’s warm, caressing gaze crumbled into a surprised, strangely pained stare.



“What’s wrong?” she asked hoarsely, “don’t you like this?”



Lindsay’s eyes filled with a deep and bitter sadness that puzzled Sifania. How should she know that first he had felt sorry for her feeling the need to disguise herself for him — and then he felt deeply sorry for her disappointment at his reaction?



The Sidhe unwittingly covered her breasts with her arms — something she’d never felt the need to do with Lindsay — and bit her lip, disappointed, flustered and confused.



“This isn’t your real face, is it?”



Lindsay blurted it out quietly, tonelessly, and immediately he wished he could take it back: Sifania’s pale cheeks flushed crimson, and her face spoke of such embarrassment and dejection, she looked so miserable and so vulnerable — it felt like a knife twisting in his heart to see her like this…



“I-I thought it would make you happy, I-” she stuttered hastily, “I thought it’d make it easier for you to love me if I disguised myself, if I looked prettier, less repulsive-”



“Don’t.”



Lindsay reached for his inhuman lover’s cheek, caressing her softly.



“Don’t talk about yourself like this, it’s cruel!” he pleaded.



The fae dared not breathe. Her head spun with confusion, but she understood that Lindsay wasn’t angry with her; that he was being very kind with her; that there was a budding affection in his words.



“Please show me your real face, don’t hide it from me.”



The Mahdron Sidhe hesitated, but at last she quickly wiped one hand over her face. The lower half remained the same: The same cute nose, the same luscious pale lips, the same soft chin as ever. But above that, her face had changed again — reverted to its true self: The golden, searing eyes, the frozen scowl of her brow were back.



To Sifania’s disbelief, he seemed to be sincerely happy to see that scowl: Lindsay immediately covered her brow with tiny kisses. Then, he stared into her eyes, smiling coyly — that shy and sweet smile that drew her so irresistibly towards him, that smile that made her heart melt into a puddle — and again he returned to planting pecks and kisses on that hard, bony ridge.



“You’re beautiful, Sifania,” he purred, “so beautiful, so sexy.” Again he resumed his kisses. “Don’t hide your pretty face from me, it’d be a shame.”



Sifania opened her mouth, but no words would come out. She just gaped at him dumbly, overwhelmed with a flurry of emotions.



Before Lindsay knew what was happening, she had rolled him onto his back, had lifted his t-shirt and had dived under it, nipping at his flat tummy with her sharp, pointy fangs.



“Hey!”



Lindsay yelped with surprise.



“Oh, you better be quiet,” she growled sinisterly. “You’ve done it now, human…”



“Nnnnh!” Lindsay could barely stifle a squeal as her playful nibbling reached his chest and her tongue played with his nipple. As its forked tips grasped at his nipple, the tickling was hardly bearable, leaving him writhing in erotic torment.



Sifania growled again and gave his nipple a tiny little suck, enough to send him squirming.



“…you sweet, sexy human,” she chuckled, unable to keep up the sinister tone. With some lifting and shoving she managed to pull his t-shirt over his head, and her fangs went to town on his collar bones, leaving a sprinkle of tiny little bite-marks.



Lindsay purred and giggled alternately, mewing little protests in between. But Sifania would not let up: As his hands raked through her hair and petted her head, they guided her unwittingly. He might squirm and yelp when she nipped at his earlobe — but his fingertips would softly massage her head, urging her not to stop. He might give a velvety, tormented laugh when she took a nipple into her mouth, sucking as if trying to draw milk — but his hands gently pressed her head against his chest, begging for more.



Again there followed a little struggle as her greedy, impatient fingers fought with his jeans; but once she had gotten that kelpie-blasted button open, nothing could stop her anymore. Within moments, his clothes landed on the floor.



“I can’t just rip all your clothes apart, can I?” she grinned. “Or you’ll soon be walking around naked.”



Sifania glanced down at his erection, and the twin tips of her tongue flickered over her lips.



“Not that that would be a bad thing,” she growled.



Lindsay blushed, and Sifania quickly pressed her face into his belly, hiding a silly grin. He was so cute when he was flustered!



Once more her teeth and her tongue danced over his skin in slow, roaming circles. Bite by bite, these circles drew closer and closer to his sex: Now he felt her tickling fangs on his thighs — now on the side of his hips — now on his belly, so close that her cheek touched his penis. His giggles had long turned to gasps and tiny, appreciative moans.



During one of those circles, Sifania saw his erection pulse once. She quickly shifted position, scooting up to her lover until their eyes were at level. Laying half on him, one leg hooked around his, she fixed her eyes on his: Lindsay’s were dark with desire; Sifania’s burned bright hot with passion. Without breaking eye contact, she caressed his inner thigh, groping into thin air until her hand found his testicles. She cupped them gently, caressing them with the tip of her thumb.



“You think I’m teasing you?” she whispered.



“Mmm.”



“I’m not. We just had to get these all nice and filled up, so Sifania can milk them dry for you.”

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