“Come on dear~” You jolt. Desperately looking out the window in a vain attempt to ignore your current predicament backfired on you. Horribly. “Don’t be so stiff.” Her needy whisper spills into your ear like molten syrup. With a wet, sticky ‘haaamph~’ Fae parts those pert lips of hers and closes them about your ear, nomming on them while her tongue slips out to slide around the ridges and inner curves of the sensitive organ, leaving a tingling trail in her wake like lit tinder.
It sends shivers up and down your spine and you all but melt into the seat, heedless of the envious glares as tension begins to grow below. There’s no doubt about it. For such a seasoned Monster Solver such as yourself, such a lapse in judgement is inexcusable. You ought to have sated the moth long before it had come to this. You’re just glad she’s managed to refrain her hands from wandering too far below – but with the way she’s pressing her body against you, the display is already indecent enough.
“Or, fufu…” There’s a pregnant pause before she come how leans in even closer, her lips right beside your brain now. “Do, then.” Despite not touching the bulge in your trousers just yet, she’s inordinately aware of it, to the point where you can almost feel the heat of her gaze caressing along your length. “Do you want me to take care of it here and now with my mouth?” She whispers alluringly. “I can block them off with a wing, if you’re concerned. It’d be for the better, darling’s darling is ours alone.” She smirks and you suppress a shudder at your minx-moth’s temptation. You’re sure that’s not supposed to be a big fluffy abdomen hanging above her ass, but a sinewy, slithering spade tail.
“Oh, well…” She looks past you, leering at the sleeping, grinning, drooling face of Ana as she slumps up against your other side. “I guess it’s actually just all mine at the moment, isn’t it?” She always gets carried away when Ana isn’t there to temper her.
You groan softly and it’s unknown if it’s in comfort or discomfort as she begins to gently stroke along your inner thigh, fingertips now beginning to brush a little too close to a certain something. Loathe as you are to stop it, this is neither the time nor the place. You finally muster yourself with a tremendous flex of your willpower – as you should have earlier, frankly – and give a wistful sigh, placing your hand on hers and gently pushing it away. “At least wait until we get there.” Your voice is hoarse with barely contained lust.
She loves flirting, she loves pushing your buttons but when push comes to shove, she’s too self conscious to actually do anything in public. No, its your own impulses here that need to be reigned in. Ana isn’t awake to stop you now, either. Funny how at certain times she’s more level headed than the both of you.
At last, she moves back into her seat and off of you.“Hmph. And such a golden opportunity too… I wish I could just make everyone disappear.” A disgruntled Fae mutters under her breath. As a trained Monster Slaye- uh, Monster Solutions Expert, you’re highly skilled at recognising the red flags of problematic monster behaviour and implementing crisis prevention tactics in its formative stages. There are many angles you could approach this one from but old trusty is never far from your arsenal.
With a swift ‘pompf’, it has debilitating effects, quelling the mothgirl in her tracks as she remains fixated on only the warm palm atop her head. A tonic immobility, if you will, though if you stopped there you’d only be an average Monster Solutions Expert, but you are an Advanced Monster Solutions Expert now, thus you spare a finger or two to brush up against the stem of her antennae. She shudders and sighs as she leans against you and purrs. Crisis averted. You puff your chest in a professional’s pride. Thus, due to your expert and timely actions, the passengers on board were all spared a grizzly fate at the hands of one pissed off mothgirl and her goliath greatsword. Or… a jizzly fate?
‘Course, it along with her armour and Ana’s were all heavily robed and concealed as to not draw too much attention. As much as giant pokey bundles of cloth could not draw attention. “There, there. I’ll make it up to you, no jobs this time, just sight seeing. We’ll grab some nice accommodations and plan some dates. Some with the three of us and of course some with just you and I.” You sweeten the deal. By your estimates, you’re not far off your destination and you’d rather not have to alight stiffer than the trundling carriage would warrant.
Her expression softens at that. “Mm, that would be nice. If you treat me well, then… I guess I wouldn’t mind leaving you with Ana for a little while.”
You grin. “Don’t I always?”
Resting her head on your shoulder, the both of them now occupied by resting beauties, she murmurs assent. “So… what’s so great about this place anyway? We had leads in plenty other areas that’d be just as nice. Why’d you drop everything to spend a few weeks here?” She turns to you, big brilliant amber eyes shimmering in curiosity.
You lean back in your seat and tip your head back, basking in serene comfort and the pair cling to you. Their brilliant warmth thaws the chill constantly fighting for purchase in your bones as the carriage rocks through snow-driven lanes. That you have these two beside you now is the driving motive for the hasty return. “I love Althorati this time of year. Plenty other places have similar traditions and similar displays, but something about Althorati is just… magical. I wanted to share that. You’ll see when we get there. I try to come here every solstice. Sometimes I’m too far away to make it. I’m glad we were already in the area for our first solstice together.”
Your earnest sappiness provokes a swift kiss on the cheek. “We don’t really care where we are or what we do, darling.” Blushing, she leans in closer as a wing comes up to block your quiet conversation from the rest of the carriage. “You’re always our light and life. But I do appreciate you wanting to show us something important to you.”
“Mmh,” You feel a stirring from your other shoulder, “Usually when she speaks for the both of us, I’ve some qualm to pick at. In this instance, dear, I agree wholeheartedly.” You look over to see Ana beaming at you and truth be told you can’t help but be a little chuffed, hold these girls to you a little tighter, and grin a little wider.
***
“… This… is it?” Fae murmurs uncertainly while Ana clears her throat, fidgeting with her hands as she runs through her words in her head, nervously trying to find the kindest way to express herself.
“Dear, what’s important to you is also deeply important to us. So… please… forgive me, I just… need a moment to try to truly come to appreciate your tastes. I… couldn’t expect this…”
You scowl at her as she places an airy palm to the side of her head and feigns dizziness. She’s learning bad manners off Fae, so you offer a flick to her beseeching forehead. “This is clearly not what I was expecting either.” You look around, bewildered. The carriage had dropped you and the others sick of your couple’s display off in the centre of town.
Ordinarily bustling, the square is nearly deserted. What business about is conducted furtively, not through some sense of fear or oppression but a sense of dismay. As if to say the year was already over, dusted and disposed of. What days remained were a mere formality, so lets just get on with our lives; do not create a bother so that these hollow few days can pass swiftly and without observation.
This is reflected in the aspect of the town, grey and dreary. It’s as though the hibernal cold had overtaken the town and its people. There is no warmth in the heart or hearth, no magic in the drifting flakes of snow – in other words, it’s nearly the perfect opposite of what brought you to this town in the first place.
Althorati is neither large nor small, a timeless village that occupies something in the middle between the two. It is not large enough to have a fortified wall, but it is not so small that care hasn’t been put into paving roads and erecting elegant boundary fences along roadsides and properties. Temples lay upon the outskirts, providing a buffer between the urban centre and the rural agricultural lands in the near surroundings. The Lord’s keep lay at some distance from the town, not near enough to be a part of it but not far enough to be forgotten, or unable to rush to her aid. Walled and garrisoned, the keep remains a fixture on the town’s horizon, separated only by an afternoon’s amble and an equally lackadaisical stream that meanders between.
Althorati is large enough to have a handful of public institutions, which in other times would have seen the streets bustling with people flocking and thronging to bathhouses, merchant houses, libraries and taverns alike. Now, however, the majority of of the town lay empty and forlorn. The streets are dreary, as befitting a dark winter afternoon. Revelry does not spill from the tavern windows, though spirits likely flow a little heavier in compensation. A dread wind blows through the town, rustling leaves while rusted signposts creak with protest against the heavy pall of depression that weighs down over them. There’s not one decoration in sight.
“What… what is it supposed to look like?” Your girls have evidently sensed the aberrant air. You look around in disbelief as you take it all in.
“Well, a lot warmer and brighter for one. There ought to be more… people around too, preparing for feasts and celebrations.” You shake your head as you frown. Your hands gesticulate busily almost as if to demonstrate how the town ought to be. Perhaps your two darling wives pick up on the deep sense of disappointment you feel, each embracing a side of you.
“Don’t worry, honey.” Ana soothes sweetly, “So long as we’re together, I promise we’ll make it the best solstice you’ve ever had.”
“Yes, leave it to us.” The autumn moth coos confidently, “I don’t know much about bright and decorative, but I promise between hot honeymilk, sweet pies and fluffy winghugs under thick blankets, I’ll make you so cosy you’ll wonder why spring even has to come.”
“Hey!”
You smile wryly. “Okay, That’s enough. Come on, I’ll take you two to meet an old friend of mine. He might have some idea as to what’s going on.”
“Uh-oh…” Ana whines while Fea grumbles.
“W-what?” You balk, looking between them.
“This sounds like work…”
“N-no…” You shake your head with denial. It couldn’t be.
You head towards the familiar location, somewhere off by the side of the main drag. Though the town appears dismal and depressing, there’s still a few citizens going about their lives and the odd fae-blooded here and there add a desperately needed splash of colour and light to the town. Even if the ladies do all stop to stare at your girls, their expressions a nigh-unreadable and complex mix of desire and discomfort. The Fae are probably the closest beings to nature after the very spirits themselves, so it’s only natural your wives and their conflicting essences would attract attention.
You hide a secret grimace. You hadn’t considered that. Combined with this years apparent let down, you can’t help but feel a sense of regret beginning to grow within you. Two warm hands find their way into yours, shaking you out of your reverie. Well, now you can’t help but smile again.
Althorati is a little unique as towns go. Situated near the heart of the Bloodlands, its more or less a free kingdom not tied to any of the Orders, though that isn’t to say it lacks any particular leaning. It would have long been subsumed if that were the case. It’s just, while a clan or Order can arise through the organisation and centralisation of, say, catgirls and cat affiliated girls, no clan so far has successfully formed around the integration of fairy blood. As far as patrons and partners go they’re just too far removed from any sensible understanding of the concepts of time or organisation. Nor can they be readily exploited.
If there is one thing universal about fairies, its that their magic typically defies all logic and reason. Of course, that’s what magic does, but in their case it’s… different. While some Orders arise through natural, mutual shared interests and experiences, others obtain bloodlines by hook or by crook. In the case of fairies, neither method is especially viable.
That said, if you were forced to name a single place where such an Order were to arise, it would be Althorati. You push forth, the oaken door groaning with protest, begging you not to let the cool winter wind in and snuff the meagre warmth from its hearth. The three of you enter.
***
“And, so she’s forbidden the Lord’s men into the woods and none of the sprites have come forth, leaving us all nervous and uncertain. It’s a… damn pity.” His lip curls in distaste and with it comes a ripple through the titanic, all too ridiculously manicured snow white moustache occupying far too great a portion of his face.
It was work.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose before letting your face fall into your hand, elbow propped upon the bar counter. The sounds of the place wash over you. It’s busy despite the town’s appearances. Or perhaps, because of, as you had suspected. Seems a strong drink was the cure to the general malaise and anxiety wringing the town.
It’s mostly labourers in here at this hour, drinking their troubles away but you spy a fair few fae-folk too. Judging by general appearances there are a few of the artistically inclined here tonight, artists and musicians. As the prospective centre where fairydom meets the outside world, Althorati has a strong art tradition and a surprising number of institutions dedicated as such. Of course that attracts a fair few wanderers from out of town. It’s good trade for the inn.
At least some coin is being made from misfortune here, though whether or not it could compare to the windfall of revelry the season would ordinarily bring, you couldn’t say. The value of distraction is at a premium right now. Perhaps that’s why your poor girls have had a few Leanan sidhe buzzing about the past half hour, pestering them a few seats away while you talked ‘work’.
“But… something’s off.” You lift your face from your hands and query Bern, the grizzled old keeper before you, cleaning out mugs with the same questionably clean cloth you’re pretty sure you saw him using the last time you rolled through town. “Why is it you lot don’t seem so… distraught? Upset and depressed, sure, but isn’t their relationship one of the key things tying this place together? Why’s there no tension around that?”
He chuckles sadly and shrugs. “You’re not from ‘round here, so you wouldn’t know. Far be it from me to speak on someone else’s relationships, but the Lady, uh… has a bit of a reputation for being fickle. Time usually sorts them out and then they’re back to being lovey dovey with all kinds of obnoxious public displays. The problem is, with the Lady’s weak grasp on time, that can often take from a few days up to a few weeks. And,” He leans in, the scent of pipe-smoke heavy on his breath as he goes on in hushed tones, “I hear it’s a big one this time. By right we should have begun preparations last week. Yet there’s no telling if this’ll even blow over by the new year… But!”
He straightens up and pours a drink, clearing his throat of the unpleasant topic. “That’s enough about their relationship. Now it’s time to talk about yours.” He leers at you knowingly after glancing across at each girl, Ana locked in animated conversation, Fae already retreating deep into a book and shooting you pleading glances to come rescue her.
“Yes, well… It’s certainly new to me, but… I’m enjoying every moment of it. I always thought it’d be the end of my career, but they have their ways.” Your job had become much easier with the two of them around. Truth be told, you expected a little more emotional support from them in the initial stages. You didn’t expect the two delicate fairie-knights to play the role of bruisers. Brute force was never an option for you before, so you must admit you’d been having fun indulging lately.
Gone are the days of Machiavellian negotiations with ogres and hill trolls. Of course, their beautiful, beautiful violence doesn’t solve everything, so you’re still careful to sniff out the roots of the issue. You’re sure many a man’s thankful to your two girls for making that root significantly gentler than it otherwise would have been, though. A half-subdued ogre’s generally too tired to wreak her usual havoc on the pelvis, see.
“Hehe, ya never were a bloke for half measures, but I expected a catgirl or a succubus or maybe even a ghost. Ya either fucked up royally or everything went just right to plan. Hehe, well? Which was it?”
You blush, recalling how suddenly everything changed for you. “A little from colu-”
“The latter.” The two seats either side of you suddenly become occupied, two heads resting on your shoulders.
Fea looks up at you with a smile, “It was the latter.”
You smirk wryly. “You heard her.”
“Hahahahahah!” Bern takes a long moment to compose himself. “A-aye… Aye,” he takes a deep breath that still leaks a few snickers. “I can see that now, missy. So, showin’ your girls around, then? Betcha didn’t come expecting there to be fuck all to see.”
You shake your head, muttering dryly. “No, this wasn’t the plan.” A long sigh escapes your mouth. “But, I promised them Althorati at solstice, so… Althorati at solstice is what they’re going to get. That means we’ve work to do.” You feel twin tugs on either arm. “Uh… That means we’ve work to do tomorrow. So…” you reach for your pockets for some coin. “A room, Bern. One of the nicer ones.”
“Sure. I’ll even have breakfast brought up to ye. It’s not much, but I’m sorry y’had to see us in this state. Even if it’s turned out this way, it’s still a season of givin’, so let me do this much for you at least. Anyway… welcome back to Althorati.”
***
“D-dear, you’re unsettling people.” Ana looks around furtively and embarrassed.
“That looks gross. Stop it.” Fae regards you with open disgust.
Despite the protests of your wives, you smeerin all the same. What is a smeerin? It’s the expression that naturally comes to your face as you walk about town bundled up in unfathomable and entirely unnatural warmth and comfort in the cloak your wives made for you. It’s a smug look, a cross between a sneer and a grin. “I can’t help it. What other kind of face do you want me to pull at the moment?”
The three of you amble along the snowy streets, each cradling a warm mug in your hands of sweet hot milk mixed with rich chocolate and strong spices. The cloak wasn’t new; you’d tried it on before. But truth be told it was a little too warm to wear until now. A heavier snow had fallen in the night, leaving the day substantially cooler than the last.
That and, at the risk of being crass, morning escapades have left your… desires well and truly drained. That means that swirling about in your core is the essence of your dears, slowly being absorbed and granting you vibrant succour as your own spirit works to break down and combine the opposing forces co-mingling within you. This in and of itself is a warm and comforting feeling, but then there’s the secondary effect of the cloak you wear, which acts as an insulator, trapping the excess energy lost through inefficiencies in the process, suffusing you from without as you are within. Truly, truly, you didn’t know the meaning of comfort until they made this for you. It’s akin to having the seductive pair sticking close to your sides every waking moment, only it’s better, for the real pair can still do so. Thus, it’s less like comfort times two, but more like comfort squared.
The best part is the girls can’t even really say anything. Wish you didn’t enjoy their gift so much? Fae’s still blushing. Wish they’d never made it for you? Ana was so proud. No, for every cause there is an effect. This is the karma they must bear. “Obnoxious…”
“W-well at least he’s having fun.” Gift… that reminds you. You keep an eye peeled.
“Are we going there right away?” With a sigh heralding a rather gruelling shift in topic, Fae turns to ask.
“Yes” You nod. “There’s no time to delay. We’ll have to solve this if we’re to be celebrating the solstice together the way I’d initially hoped to, with all the sights and sounds of the town.” The two girls share a look, then trot along behind you.
The path to the Duke’s keep leads out of town and winds fairly close to the woods, branching off at one point to penetrate into them. The leaves had already fallen, leaving the trees along the path bare and sombre. This path is quite highly travelled, taking traffic not only to and from the keep, but to and from the forest as well. Usually by this time some one with a more delicate sensibility would have seen to adding a little life and decoration to the trees, or along the balustrades of the bridge but no one’s done that.
Even more than that, there’s a vaguely antagonistic aura coming from the woods, which to the people of this town should have come off as more welcoming than anything. Usually the woods go by monikers like ‘The Enchanted Woods’ or ‘The Sacred Glades’… but now it’s almost like the land itself is suffering from the town’s marital discord.
Your girls draw just a little closer to you as you head along the path towards the keep. It doesn’t take too much longer, it is after all, only such a distance from the town that it can still function as a part of it. The large gates are shut at the moment, but a smaller door off to the side is open and spilling warmth from a few sconces upon the stone walls and braziers set about. Despite waiting out their long winter watch with heads bowed, they take notice of your trio soon enough. Your girls, despite being robed as they are, still stand out quite a bit.
Having been noted, there’s no real vigilance until you get close enough for the guards to make out your own outfit. You’re clearly not the ordinary traveller. A more senior looking man steps forth.
“I am Gordon, Captain on duty. State your business.” Though brusque, the man doesn’t come off as unpleasant or rude. More exhausted than anything, though you notice he’s already pinpointed the majority of your blades, satchels and vials.
“Pleasure to meet you, Gordon. I am Rick and these ladies here are my wives. I’ve heard that the good Duke has some issues with his Lady. My expertise typically lay in resolving the incidents that occur between monsters and men at the point before a relationship has begun, but since the town is suffering all the same, I thought there was a chance I’d be able to help.” You look around and lower your voice. “When discord arises, people like me are dispatched. As you can tell by the company I keep, my methods are less extreme than others and geared more towards resolution rather than removal.”
He snorts. “That or you’re just lousy at your job. Blake.” He turns towards one of the other guards. “I’ll go report to the Lord Duke, you keep an eye out until I return.” He turns back to you. “We’ll see if he requires your services.”
A short time passes wherein you all more or less keep to yourselves. Soon, Gordon returns. “The Duke would like to speak with you. I don’t mean to overstep, but the situation has been wearing on him.” You’re ushered in through the doors. “Ah, I would just ask that you leave your weapons with me temporarily. You needn’t worry about their safety, I’ll oversee them personally.” He shoots the giant shield and lance upon Ana’s back, and Fae’s greatsword a worried glance. “Ah, I’ll have you deposit them.” He just doesn’t want to lift them. Made from materials from their cocoons, they’re actually deceptively light for how sturdy they are. After fully lading a table with the bulk of your gear, he leads you through the keep, eventually arriving by the Duke’s chambers.
“Just… remember to be tactful with your words, as I mentioned earlier, the Lord is in quite a distraught state. You wouldn’t believe it at the moment, but his name around here used to be “Stone-heart”. Seems his missus is the only thing that can make him crack a smile. Similarly, when they’re feudin’, he’s in bad shape, so mind yourselves.” With the last mutter, Gordon pushes open the large oaken door to the Lord’s study and ushers you in.
Sitting alone in a high backed chair behind the desk is a man you can only assume to be Otto. Broad of stature and fit, the muscles bulging under his finery only serve to highlight how forlorn his current posture is as he holds a trinket to himself, barely registering your entrance. He fiddles with it’s wings idly, the thing looks like a small dragonfly with… well, a dragon’s head. It’s wrought of silver, and seems to roar silently at his touch. No doubt an elegant and expensive toy. Seems like the kind of gift a fairy would give thoughtlessly.
After a moment, the Duke looks up and stiffens, gaping at Ana for an uncomfortably long while before you clear your throat, making the man come to his senses. He stands and bows in apology. “I’m very sorry about that. I’m currently missing my better half dearly. For a moment, this beautiful lady here reminded me of her. I apologise for my rudeness.”
Ana tilts her head. “Do we look that alike?”
He shakes his head dismissively. “No, maybe some similarity in the wings. It’s more an… aura I sensed.”
“Hmm…” You frown, thinking. Perhaps they’ve already begun to step away from the realms of being mere mundane insect-girls with nifty little quirks. You can’t help but wonder if helping them come to terms, and cum together, has facilitated that. When you think on it, before you’d even met them they were trouble enough to affect vast swathes of land.
“But… why have you come?” The man, for how his emotions are thrown to turmoil, reveals somewhat the bearing of a leader and a bearing befitting his title as he penetrates you with his gaze. The question sounds almost accusatory. Your girls are far more visually stunning than you, but they do have a habit of deferring to you in their body language. For him to instantly recognise you as their leader somewhat, you raise your evaluation of him.
As is your custom, though your sword had been taken, most your other, more innocuous trinkets are still on your person, the tools of a very specific trade dealing in very non-specific beings. “I hope that what I’m about to hear isn’t going to make me displeased… Though the two by your side would somewhat contradict your first impression…”
You chuckle. “You’re only partially mistaken, lord Duke. These are indeed the tools of my trade. But if it were the trade you were thinking of, I certainly wouldn’t be here to mediate a marriage dispute. Though, I have introduced myself as a slayer for conveniences sake in the past. Of course, it’s not personally something I’ve ever gotten into and the title has lost the large majority of its bite considering the company I keep nowadays. I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Monster… solver.”
“Solver? Ha. Not a euphemism I hope?”
“Not that kind, anyway. Happy endings beget the better payments and in the rare case, repeat customers. Though they’re rarely happy to be dealing with the second generation of problems.”
“Well you won’t need to worry about payment, if you are able to resolve my issues with my wife. So? I trust you’ve heard some of my situation.” He pauses, “What solutions does the monster solver bring?”
You shake your head. “None at the moment. I’d be a poor excuse for a professional if I offered solutions for a situation without hearing anything from the parties involved.”
“Hrmph, that is true.” He grunts, stretching his neck and straightening his back, each movement accompanied at some point by a crunch – a testament as to how the situation’s bearing on him. He rises and gestures you towards the seats before the desk as he heads over to a cabinet, no doubt fetching something to make the story go down easier.
“Ordinarily I’d tell you to fuck off. But I am keenly aware of the state of the town and I feel a grave responsibility for my own personal troubles ruining this wonderful time of year for them. In addition, your lovely wives here would evidently vouch for your… expertise. From the beginning then, I take it?”
You nod. “You’d be surprised just how much that first impression echoes throughout a relationship, if you begin from the start, we’ll have a bigger picture to work with.”
Otto pours out four glasses. He stares absently into the amber liquid, perhaps reminiscing. The gentle crackle of the fireplace works wonders to soothe the tension in the room. Eventually, he serves the glasses out to the three of you before taking his own back to his desk, slumping in his chair.
“As a young noble boy, I was brash and daring in ways that I’m not anymore. We’d all drink and play and gambol, spurring one another to greater acts of adolescent stupidity. This is how many a hunt would begin and we’d goad one another far deeper into the woods our parents had warned us against in chase of game, far deeper than would have been smart or sensible. While the woods were not necessarily perilous, they were not as welcoming as they are now. At the least, not to the extent that you’d be fine losing an heir to the mischief of fairies. It was on one of these fateful trips, around this time of year as I recall, that I was lead further apart and further astray than ever before, soon losing all sense of my whereabouts or the whereabouts of my friends.” He smiles faintly as he retells his story, these memories evidently cherished.
“Alone I searched for a way back through the weather, unsure if I’d been led astray by some force or sheer misfortune and negligence upon my behalf. It didn’t take long for the cold and exhaustion to begin creeping in. As I stumbled along, weakening and beginning to entertain the prospect of dying, frozen and alone in the snow, I stumbled upon a clearing, wherein a large pond lay. Frost hadn’t touched… no, by the verdant green around her banks it daren’t near. Compelled, I took off my glove and reached in. I felt the warmth before my fingertips even touched the water and as I put my whole hand in, a wave of heat and comfort and energy rushed through me. I’d never felt anything like it.”
Lost in his own retelling, the lord subconsciously holds his hand out before him, opening and closing it as if still immersed in that sensation. “Then, I briefly felt a soft hand in mine. Before I realised it, my signet ring was gone but the closer I looked, the more it was clear that there was no one and no thing within the pond which could have absconded with it. I left, rejuvenated and warmed against the cold, thinking to myself that I’d bring men back tomorrow to drain the pond and find the ring.” A wry smile takes his lips for a brief moment.
“A strong wind was blowing later that night, the kind that leaves you invigorated and alert. As I tried to sleep through it, I suddenly heard the keep gates opening and the hounds barking. Then, dozens of little feet pattering through the halls. Then the door to the room adjoining mine opened. Not long after, the most beautiful melodies began to sound. I leapt silently from bed and armed myself with whatever was closest – a small dagger, if I recall. I was the only one who heard them. But when I entered the room beside mine, I was so stunned, I forgot I even held it.” His eyes begin to gleam, as though the merest retelling of these precious moments is bringing some of their life back into his eyes. You can’t help but feel faintly envious, your own first memories with your wives were nothing if not tempestuous.
“There, in the room beside mine were the fairest creatures of all the fairy courts, singing and laughing and dancing as though I were invisible. In the centre of the room was a great majestic tree, adorned in diamond gems and fae-drake scales and mystic jewels and golden thread. The tree itself shone with the brilliance of all nature and it cast a myriad of reflected lights about the room as it swayed. I don’t know how long I stood there, stunned. But soon, the dancers parted and knelt before…” His voice wavers.
“The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She stood tall, taller than the fairies gathered and taller than I, as though her very frame bore with it the weight of majesty. My dear introduced herself to me as Ernestine, Queen of the fairies. She’d come to repay my visit and return to me what I’d lost. Then she handed me my signet ring, only it was far more brilliant and wondrous than before, with new icons and motifs woven about my own.”
He smiles, “I fell to my knees then and there and placed the ring back onto her finger. Then, we danced. Her looks were certainly much, but look aren’t everything. I very soon came to fall in love with her, her temperament, her humour, her gentleness, her everything.”
“I brought her to met my parents, then we were officially wed. I soon took over as lord, we had minor spats every now and then, but all in all, everything was perfect. She was perfect. She just had one condition.” He clenches his fists and grits his teeth. “J-just one and I failed her. I was never to utter the word ‘death’ in her presence. I never questioned it, just engraved it into my heart. Many years it’s been since then and I’d not erred once. Until… last week.”
You shrug. “I mean, it’s a pretty common word, you were bound to eventually. If you’ve been with her this long, I don’t think you really need me to tell you how she actually feels about you.”
He sighs. “Of course, I do not. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. And it’s not just about me, but the people. She and by extension her own people have become an inseparable part of our own cultures and festivals. To an extent they always were, the fae had carved out this notch of the bloodlands for their own a long time ago. But, our union only solidified that. In three generations there won’t be one noble in these lands who isn’t wed or doesn’t have their blood flowing through them. It’s to the point where we’re lost without their co-operation. The timing for this is just…” He lets out a long, weakened sigh.
“It was only some weeks ago I’d breached that taboo. I don’t even remember the argument, if there was any to be perfectly honest with you. It didn’t matter. It was just one slip of the tongue. I wasn’t even referring to her, if I recall, but some delegates of nearby Orders. I’d said their pestering would be the death of me. I want to be mad at her, for troubling our people with such a trifling thing, but… my promise to her was not trifling.”
A silence fills the room as the Duke looses himself in regret and you and your girls ponder on the story. It’s certainly strange, but overall not a big deal. The Fae can be extremely fickle and sticklers about the strangest things. Perhaps it stems from a common fear of abandonment, as without their direct intervention, the lifespans of men seem like fleeting moments. There are many instances of fairies losing the men they’re interested in and then spending the next few generations hunting down his returning spirit. The crackling fire fills the void, with savoured sips of spirits to accompany it. “Tell me more about the tree.”
“The tree?”
“The tree.”
“A-ah… from that first night? I found out later it wasn’t really ‘real’, but a projection of the spirit tree of one of the greater dryads of the woods. For they, who live in harmony, the tree is their representation of prosperity. Tina – er, Ernestine – brought it as a gift, offering it along with herself as the Queen of Fairies. We’ve had other dryads project one into the town this time every year in honour of it; the original is often too preoccupied to attend.”
“Then that’s all we have to do, isn’t it?” Ana chimes in.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s just throwing a tantrum. Bring one of those big trees around, shiny it all up and she’ll have no choice but to notice it. If her heart could remain still even after witnessing that, I’m afraid you’ve got bigger problems.”
He shakes his head. “That’s impossible, she’s locked the forests down with magic, not to mention the pixies are using it as an opportunity to run wild. There’s no way to make it in there to begin with. Even if you did succeed, there’s little we could use to decorate the tree with on such short notice. If the gesture is to mean anything, it would need to go one step beyond our usual fair.”
Your two girls look at each-other and grin. “Surely you can think of something, right? As for the main draw… just leave it to us.”
***
“KYAAA!” You wince as the cheery, sunny Ana slings the three pixies she’d impaled upon her lance into a group of five more, crushing another to pulp with the broad of her shield as it tries to sneak up from behind, wicked implements bared. Fae’s dark armour glimmers as her long cape flutters in the fel wind, darting to finish the unlucky lot off with a duellist’s flurry, her greatsword cleaving through flesh with a wicker of strange energy. As a man who trod the line between the light and dark of this world, you’re no novitiate to the darker, bloodier things in life. You’ve even had cause to perpetrate it yourself every once in a while, of course, you’d never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it.
That makes the current carnage all the harder to bear. Not to mention, this is a trauma only you alone can feel, the girls know nothing of it, only knowing their recent journeys with you and their timeless feuding. The ‘corpses’ will only know agonising orgies and very, excruciatingly long periods of awkwardness as they largely try and avoid discussing what happened to them after the mystically imbued arms rent and tore new erogenous zones into them. But the red magical essence being flung about the glade to nourish the happy plants at the expense of the defeated pixies is… very visceral.
Holding your head in your hands, you simply push forth into the forest, closing your ears and heart to the tragic sounds of a bunch of monstergirls trying to make do without a cock to guide them. “What’s the matter darling? You look like you’re avoiding us~”
You shudder. “N-not at all.” The crimson red splatters mark their armour, an especially glaring smear across Ana’s visor and bosom after she’d held the pixie-skewer aloft and bathed in their vermilion essence. Ordinarily such essence would be absorbed into whatever it so freely splattered over, but the protections of their armour make it so that they’ll be stalking these woods, bathed in ‘blood’ for as long as it takes the essence to naturally disperse. “I, uh… simply am more used to a more stealthy approach. I’d have masked my presence and snuck into these woods alone. Simply, uh… how do I put it… bulldozing, into the problem? It’s a new experience for me, I’m not quite used to it yet.”
“Something about the way you put that doesn’t make me very happy.” Ana queries.
“I think our dear is calling us tactless.” Fae adds as she scoops up some of the essence covering her pauldron and flicks it aside.
“Noooo…” You trail off, waving your hands for emphasis. “The absence, or antithesis would necessarily imply the thesis.” You pause a moment. “I’m saying I question even that.”
“You know I’m not just going to let that slide. You’ll know the true meaning of tactless the moment we’re done with this ‘errand’” Comes Fae’s dry rebuke.
You purse your lips, climbing over a fallen tree and leaping over a small creek. Silence is your best defence here. And speaking of, the woods are eerily so. Asides from the infrequent pixie squad or escaped red-cap, there’s little else in the woods that would be your typical signs of life. Rampaging boars, dancing deer, or even chirping birds. It’s dead quiet. Such is the disquiet, you suppose. Breaking a marital vow is serious business, after all. You’re not entirely surprised at the state of the woods, for not being dryads themselves, you can’t really overstate the extent of a fairy queen’s influence over her sacred groves.
“So…” You break the silence in hopes that her earlier threat is forgotten. “Even if we get this tree, what were you planning on decorating it with? You told the Duke to leave it to us, but you’ve left me in the dark too.”
“Well,” Fae, clearly the thinker behind this operation, tilts her head. “The Duke ought to have the shinies covered. I was actually thinking we could use our own powder, how exactly, I’m not quite sure yet.”
“Your powder?” You frown in confusion.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ve noticed our strong and strange relationship with spirits and nature, all the fairies in this town in particular seem to be drawn to us.”
You lift an eyebrow. “Not always in a good way.”
Fae blushes, “I’ve yet to figure that one out. But, if we can make it work, the-”
You stiffen suddenly, feeling some great and overwhelming presence suddenly awaken and more horrifyingly yet, turn its gaze to you. The quiet of the woods swiftly grows oppressive and choking. There’s no malevolence there, though you get the distinct feeling you’re not supposed to be here. At least there’s some recognition that you wouldn’t be transgressing without proper reason. A large part of that understanding is probably due to your two valkyrflies, or one valkyrfly and one mothkyr. Had you ventured into these woods alone …
You shake your head of these aimless thoughts. And just when you’d been boasting of how you’d go about it stealthily. “It would appear that we’re getting close now.” You turn back and look at your two wives. Graceful and elegant though they are, striding through undergrowth and fluttering where flight’s easier, the innate mix of their natures so close is like a catastrophe carving through the woods, especially with their spirits already stirred through the fight, foliage withering where they pass. You feel a large part of the attention is just the forest earnestly yearning you take these two troublemakers far away. As far as opposite sides of the earth, if possible, that the flow of seasons may be rightened. What exactly does that make you? Their shepherd, you wonder.
Before long you come to a clearing, one largely reminiscent of the one you first met your two wives in, a gentle brook congregating like a moat about a tall, towering tree, its boughs scraping the clouds. You know, you always wondered what kind of sorcery hid these goliath things from being visible from outside the forest.
“Fuh. That’s nostalgic.”
“Hey, I wonder if there’s any fruit for us to share.”
Lifting her visor, the mothgirl turns to the papillon with a dry kind of disbelief. She parts her lips.
“Ah. So it was you two who prevented my sister from being born.”
The three of you dart your heads towards the towering tree in the centre, hard enough to make you wince at a sudden crick. A woman descends from the boughs, angelic and divine, her pale green skin mottled with patterns of bark in what could be considered an elegant kind of natural calligraphy. Power seems to emanate from her and the forest bows before her whim. You get the strong and distinct feeling that this being is the presence you felt suffocating you earlier and it would seem you’ve already gotten off to the wrong foot.
You swallow nervously, preparing your defences and justifications, stepping forwards as if to guard your wives. “Ah, I’m not mad. Such things are up to fate. Sometimes that destined fruit falls o’er the brow of a fated hero. Sometimes, no matter how desperately it tries to bud, it’s devoured, time and time again by a pair of glutenous worms.”
Your wives fidget somewhat, beneath the castigating gaze of this arboreal goddess. You open your mouth again, prepared to argue in their defence when she lifts a palm to you. “Again, fate. Now you’ve taken the troublesome pair from those woods, a new fruit’s been birthed and for suffering their havoc, it’s all the sweeter. There’s fortune after a storm. I would owe you a favour. You’re here for a tree, I gather.” She looks your wives over again, noting the fight you’ve had to get here. “I’m afraid the tree alone will not cut it, she’s in quite a way and her mood is affecting the forests. You’d need a little more than one of my trees. If you had something else in mind, then it would be…”
The tree woman finally trails off as she looks at your wives and you clear your throat, glad to be finally breaking this deeply unsettling one-sided conversation of hers. “Powder. Yes, that’s not a bad idea, though I’m sure you’re already aware of the issues.” You sigh as she carries it on. “Take this to the weavess in the northeast of Althorati,” she extends a branch and a bough of holly drops down before your feet, “She will help. I wish you luck and… a merry solstice. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.” With that, with none of you saying a word, she retreats back into her tree.
The three of you look down at the branch of holly. “Well that was different.”
“D-did…” Ana tilts her head, “Did she mention how we were supposed to get the tree?”
You grimace, unwilling to entertain the thought of having to meet the woman again. “I’m sure she’s already got it figured out. Who knows, by the time we’re done with this ‘seamstress’ it might already be there.”
“Darling, do you know where to begin?”
You nod. “Though I’ve never met her, I’ve heard about her before. She’s been in the town for a good long while now, though no one knows where she came from or why she’s here. I saw her once or twice in the past years celebrations. It’s curious. Her strongest feature seems to be the fact that she’s an Arachne, pretty far from their usual homes. No one really talks about her craftwork, or speaks of her as some kind of master. Not to the extent she’d have the recognition of an Elder Dryad, anyhow.”
Fae shrugs. “We’ll not know until we go there and find out.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
***
“W-what?…”
“Hmph.” Ana sticks herself closer to you, squishing her breasts up against your arm. She has the limb more than securely wrapped up in her own and your hand twitches, already tingling from a lack of circulation. Your shoulder, however, is quite happy to be wedged between her cleavage.
You sigh and roll your eyes. “H-honey, you’re a bit close. I wasn’t…” Staring at the sad spider’s enormous tits smooshed up against her counter. Holy shit she can’t even properly rest her head on the thing with them in the way. And yet the fine silk brocade doesn’t falter in its mission of retaining those goliath jugs. No wonder the Elder Dryad sent you to her, she’s clearly a master artis- “Gak!” You expel involuntarily, an elbow now occupying the space in your lungs where air should be.
“Hmph.” You get deja vu as you look at your miffed moth, now crossing her arms and looking away in pique… but not without propping up her own chest for perusal. Your lips twitch, as you return to studying the spider. Silk black hair lays splayed over the countertop like so many webs, her huge, glossy arachnid thorax perched listlessly behind the counter. The way her arms drape over the edge of it is a little reminiscent of a cat. Oh, she’s staring at you now. Belatedly, you jolt as you realise she must have said something. “Oh, ah, sorry to disturb you.”
“No…. Hmmm, this might be good…too.” She begins to mutter as she picks herself up and yoinks a book off the shelf with a strand of web, beginning to scribble in it lazily as she glances between the three of you. “Mmmm… Hmmmm…” The eight legs begin to move in unerring harmony as she effortlessly mounts the counter and begins to stalk around the thee of you.
“Um, excuse me?” You cringe as thick strands of web begin to loop around your shoulders, all the while she continues scribbling in her book.
“Eh? Oh? Ah, yes?”
“We were told you could help with some thing, but ah… before that… what are you doing?” Ana flutters, agitated as web rests over her wings. Fae has already reached for her sword, so you’re the only one left to keep the situation from escalating.
“Oh! Sorry.” She jolts back and the web surrounding you falls away, fading into nothing as though it were never there. “I’ve just been so starved for inspiration you see, that when I saw the three of you, it all kind of just… overcame me.” She nods to herself. “Yes. It was a fine jealousy. I don’t get that from this town so much and although I used to think it was a bit gauche and tiresome, it felt unexpectedly nostalgic.”
“Starved for inspiration?” You ask, as she rambles to herself.
“Of course. Look around you.” She spreads her arms out, two frontmost legs rising in union. You’re not sure you wanted to see a spider gesticulate with their legs. “Where is the spirit, where is the cheer? I love Althorati this time of year, it’s the sole reason I moved here and yet what do we have this year? Nothing but bleak, dreary winter. No festive warmth to keep anything alive. I’ve woven to less, but…” The spider collapses over her counter again, moping and whining. “Now you’ve reminded me, I’m feeling like I’ve lost that spark of inspiration again.”
“Well… we may be able to change that.”
“Hm?” She perks up, “How so?”
You reveal the branch of faintly glowing holly. “We’ve got a plan to reconcile the Duke and the Lady and restore the tree. We were told you could help.”
“Me? W-what can I do?” Ah, this is refreshing, this is how exposition should go.
You tip your head to Fae, it was her plan to begin with. She nods appreciatively. “Our powder, it seems to have an alluring effect on nature and the fairies, but it is… seemingly irreconcilable. The lady of the woods seemed to think you’d be able to help.”
“Hmmm?” She rises from her slouch, brushing the shoulder of each wife with a finger before licking it clean. “Hmm~! Mint and… cinnamon. Spring and Autumn. Then… the centrepiece should be… time. No, rotation.” She pauses to study the branch intently. “Yes… yes! This’ll be quite exotic to that bunch. I can work with this, yes, I’ve got some ideas, I think.” She turns to the three of you. “In the meantime, I’m going to need you to produce a lot more of that powder. A lot more.” The three of you share a look and she smirks. “I’ll prepare a room for you and mix up some tonics so you’re extra ~ energetic.”
You take a quick glance through her storefront. “I thought you were a seamstress?”
“I am, but at my level the differences between the crafts begin to blur. Dyeing and alchemy in particular. Any way, come along now.” She turns to smirk at the three of you. “You’ve got a busy dozen hours or so ahead.” She leads you back through her workshop and down into a cellar where you come to a small, bare and empty room of blackish grey stone and little else.
You look around. Sure, you don’t need anything other than your wives to get you going, but the thought of doing it in such a barren, empty place… as if sensing your thoughts the spider turns to grin at you. “Don’t worry, I count interior decorator among the long list of my talents. Now… where were they…”
Stepping out of the room she rummages around some crates in her workshop, tossing out a pile of miscellaneous items. Only a moderate mound has formed by the time she fishes out some globes, glowing with a flickering fire of a dark rosy red. “These are special, expensive and rare, so don’t go getting too rowdy. I had to commission a succubus for the fire and it was a massive pain in the ass finding the right glass that would emit some of its properties without leaving a residue all over my webs. Can’t go cross-contaminating the materials now.”
In mere moments what was a barren room turns sultry and luxurious. The web platform is a little unorthodox, but the arching, draping curtains of freshly spun silk bordering it now glow a muted red from the lust-fire mounted to the walls and ceiling. They cast light and shadow in equal measure about the room, lending it a subtle, seductive atmosphere. She claps her hands together. “Well, get to it. The more you make, the more I’m able to prepare.” She walks out of the room with a parting wave and an audible smirk. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
With that, you hear distant ruckus as she busies herself in the workshop, no doubt preparing whichever method it is she has to process the powder. The door to the room closes behind her, it too covered in a webbed veil and without the outside ambient light, all you’re left with is just barely enough wicked luminescence to make out the buxom figures of your wives.
For a moment all that’s heard is the scuffling of clothes and the dull thud of pieces of your armour falling to the floor. They don’t disrobe themselves quite yet, but then their armour is still quite serviceable for this kind of thing. One might even go as far as to say you had a preference for it.
Then, taking your two lovebugs in hand to the tune of a thundering heart, the three of you climb into the web. The threads of silk are pleasant to the touch and not sticky in the slightest. It’s also nearly impossible to get tangled in, the threads taught with little room to twist and slip. It’s a strange sensation, but there are handholds aplenty and you’ve already a few lewd ideas running through your head.
You’re not the only one. The webs begin to thrum with movement as you first turn to Ana, pulling the blonde butterfly into your arms for a long kiss. Her soft lips part as you press forth, her tongue slipping out to greet you. She quivers in your embrace, taking in a long stilted breath as she sighs longingly into the kiss. Her hands run up and down your body and you take more than your own fair share in groping her overly nubile curves, feeling her moan and groan as you squeeze and caress her.
But eventually you part, despite her great reluctance and turn to Fae. Yet she’d circled around behind you coyly, spinning you further about, pulling you into her kiss and disorienting you. Ana, meanwhile, takes Fae’s place in circling you, hunting for her moment. After another time yet, Fea breaks the kiss and together the pair plant their hands into your chest and send you reeling backwards until you fall, suspended in the web, looking up as your autumn and spring wives loom alluringly over you.
It’s a strange sensation, just giving enough that you can half sit into the wall of web. The pair begin to disrobe, the lust-light of the flames flickering off their skin alluringly. Freed of cloth and steel, they stretch their wings with a flutter, antennae twitching cutely as heavy abdomens sway. “Ahh, sometimes it get a little too stifling.” They stretch, showing off their tight, toned athletic bodies and the ridiculously feminine curves those frames behold. To have thighs that thick, hips that wide and waists that slim with a gap that inviting… it’s downright sinful.
You laugh, “And whose fault is it that you’re both just so damn beautiful?”
“Ohh, flirt.” Fae stands back, crossing her arms, back straight and chin up with pride. She’s no Winter queen, but even the Winter queen would think twice before trying to come before her. Ana, ever the opportunist, dispenses with all that unnecessary posturing, dropping to her knees before you, mouth already open and reaching for your cock. You grimace a little as the object of her desire twitches in response to the sight. You’re no base beast to be tugged along on the whiles of your wives, where’s your dignity and control? Ah, you’re getting hard even from just her hot breath so tantalisingly close. How shameful. “But sweet words will get you nowhere until you repent for your transgressions.”
“Transgressions?” How did she know it was you this time that ate the last of the honey buttermilk biscuits?
No sooner does Ana lay her tongue upon your leaking, twitching tip than does Fae lift a foot and plant the sole against the back of Ana’s head. The butterfly’s eyes go wide before she thrusts the poor girl forwards into your crotch, forcing your hardening cock down the papillon’s throat, making her gag and splutter with the sudden intrusion. She holds Ana there, the stunned butterfly’s wings fluttering wildly and scattering her powder about as she holds onto you and her throat spasms, trying desperately to adapt to the sudden girth lodged in what was a windpipe mere moments ago, forcibly retrofitted into a cocksleeve.
You gasp and stiffen, in both senses of the word as her throat stimulates your length. You glare up at Fae. “Then why does it seem like you’re taking it out on Ana?” She simply glares back, icy cold. You shake your head. “Look, you can be as rough with me as you want, just go a little easier on h-”
“Hmmphmph~” Ana’s moan cuts your words off. She fights against Fae’s grip, struggling to free herself, but the moment she wins an inch she gives it up again, her breasts begin to bounce as she works up a rhythm deepthroating you, one of her hands upon your thighs darting down to between hers, while the other goes from trying to gain purchase to bracing herself.
Fae beams at you smugly as Ana completely disregards this little play in favour of sucking cock. “Never mind.”
“Oh? What’s that my dear? Did you think Ana would ever protest being shoved full of our darling husband’s cock? Did you think I acted without also taking her desires into account? Did you think~” You shudder as the air around her grows cooler, but the pleasurable sensations you’re weathering due to Ana worshipping her tongue along the base of your length are that much stronger. “I~ was~ tactless?”
Ah.
“Look here, you didn’t have to be the one to take their mischievous pranks and elevate it to a bloodbath – er – girlcumbath.”
“No one messes with my darling.”
Faelia dear, you’re messing with your darling right now. You sigh. “So? How is this punishment, exactly?”
Fae smirks and steps forth, the foot keeping the Papillon pinned about the base of your cock revealing just how superfluous it was as she remains there obstinately, throat working to milk your length. Stepping up close behind Ana, close enough to press her pelvis to the back of her head, she wraps her arms around your shoulders, leaning forwards to just barely graze your lips with her own. You almost swoon at her closeness and the unique, confounding and yet exhilarating scent of your wives combined lust. Fae doesn’t answer immediately, just grinding forwards with her hips slightly, while staring into your eyes. Ana, stuck between a cock and a wet place, is forced to adapt to this new pace as the mothgirl essentially fucks her head into your lap.
You groan, shuddering again but this time in pure bliss as Ana’s mouth brings you close to your first orgasm. She’s always had a way with it, but between the oppressively horny atmosphere of the room and Fae’s intensity, you weren’t going to last long anyway. “Simple.” She leans back, unwrapping her arms from about your shoulders and instead reaching down to pull Ana off your cock, gripping your length hard by the base and pulling it the rest of the way out the butterfly’s throat, where it lands on her face with a swollen, throbbing smack. “You don’t get to cum, until you admit you were wrong.”
“Vile vixen, you’ll never break me!” You shake the webs with your fists for effect.
“Hmph! Insolent mortal.” Ana heeds none of this, her tongue already licking lavishly about your length, her head straining to push back enough to fit you back in. With a deft angling and a thrust of her hips, Fae facilitates this for another round. She leans in with a glower and catches your lip between hers, giving it a light bite. “I’ll have you begging before me.”
The second round ends much as the first. “Now say it!” She hisses.
“You’ll never find my buried fortune!” You glare hatefully at her as your lips waver. Her nose twitches while her feathery antennae cross and quiver. Quiver in fury and rage, as the very angry moth so asserts with her glare. Neither of you break.
She manages a long breath. “Nice try.”
“W-wai-Gaah~!” Your cries for mercy are cut off as her pretty accomplice is made to throat your cock again, her face and chin a sloppy mess now from the repeated interludes. Her tight throat is relentless though and she attacks you with renewed fervour, her body seemingly incensed at being denied the cum it’s been working for the past while. Just as the promised hot, thick load seems forthcumming, your cock’s snatched from the jaws of desire once again.
“Say it.” Her voice is sweeter this time around and you relent with a sigh and a wry smile.
“I was wrong, you’re not tactless.”
“Say it.” She leans forwards and places a light peck on your lips. “Properly.”
You groan. “I was wrong. You’re not tactless, my dear sweet pumpkin Faefae.” Ana gags. You look down at the cock resting on her face and very notably not forming an obstruction in her throat.
The mothgirl beams, her wings fluttering a downfall of powder as her whole face goes red. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. Thank you, darling.” She steps away, clearing her throat to regain her composure. “You’ve both earned it.”
With those words, it’s like a floodgate opens, a floodgate which was all that held back the tide of Ana’s insatiable hunger. She descends upon your cock with renewed rapaciousness, hand still slick from dallying in her delta now caresses your balls, kneading and coaxing them to new heights. She stops bobbing her head entirely, lips wrapped tight about the base of your cock and her cute button nose smooshed up against your belly. In rippling waves her throat contracts, as if trying to swallow around your girth, the stroking confines of her walls milking your length for their long deserved due.
A low groan escapes you as you reach down to tenderly pat her head, your fingers naturally and ritually rubbing at the base of her antennae as she milks you. She rubs and kneads at your sack in return, cooing delightedly as she feels them twitch with the first of the loads she’s owed. Ana gulps greedily, swallowing in tandem with your cock’s distending throbs. Rope after rope of thick, backed up seed pulses down her throat and she eagerly takes it all, sucking and milking your length to the last drop.
By the time she parts her lips from your tip with a wet pop and a lewd sigh, there’s no telling just how much she swallowed. Enough to be momentarily satisfied, anyway as she lets Fae nudge her aside. Leering, the smug looking mothgirl turns around and lifts her abdomen, planting her ass in your lap so hard it’s almost enough to wind you. Naturally, her aim is true, her sodden pussy enveloping your cock down to the base in a single fel swoop. Fae lets out a low ecstatic moan, shuddering as if your cock suddenly splitting her pussy wide and ramming up into her womb was the final piece to make her whole. What you hadn’t anticipated was for her to already be so worked up that penetration alone would set her off.
“Mmmmm!” What begins as a moan turns to a sort of squeal, muffled behind clenched jaw as she doubtlessly fights desperately against the pleasure, wars with every fiber of her being to not show the orgasmic bliss tearing through her; to clenched fists and the wrenchingly tight grip of her wet moth pussy as her core strains. You’ve discovered this of the girl, she’s often her own undoing. It’s not that she lacks Ana’s endurance, just that she gets so wrapped up by the preamble that by the time you actually lay dick into her, her womanhood’s like soft butter, melting for you at the slightest touch. Of course, the buzzing of her abdomen and the flutter of her wings causing a gale of powder to blow about and richly coat the webs surrounding would only further belie her efforts. The room, lit by scarlet lights, begins to sheen in the rich afternoon of deep autumn, oranges, yellows and reds staining the webs.
Placing hands on her tight, slender hips, you thrust forwards and relish in the mad writhing of her bliss-taken walls. You’re only able to propel her up a little ways and with a wet squelch you sink back into the base as you come down, her ass squishing up against your abdomen, her own vibrating against your chest. You take in a deep breath, feeling the powder in the air tickle at the back of your throat and let it out again as a contented sigh. The tingle arcs to life in the wake of the breath, her powder and essence flooding your system. A small, dopey smile comes to your face as you feel your rationality – awareness of the circumstances – fade away. She herself gives in to lust, slumping forwards and only just barely able to catch herself before she face plants into the web.
Grabbing her hips, no – planting your hands on her hips and resting all your weight on her you pull out. Only her powerful warrioress physique has her core remain steadfast and unbuckled. Rather as you plunge through the constricting walls of her soaking pussy still twitching in the aftermath, it’s you who buckles. She lets out a low, deeply contented moan as she feels just how hard you grow inside her, feels the weight of you collapsing over her and thrusts her ass up to meet you just that little bit more.
Already recovered from her climax and more than eager for a second round, she already has the sense and coordination to reach up as you fall, fluttering her wings out and grasping fistfuls of web up above her. You feel Fae’s powerful back muscles shifting and moving with the motion as she supports your weight. She throws her head back in rapture, long white hair tipped in auburn falling about you like early snowdrifts taking with it the last of the late leaves. Her natural perfume is somehow more intoxicating than her powder, and buried in her scent like this your hips begin moving of their own.
Each wet, sticky plap is accompanied by your autumn valkyrie’s siren cries. You don’t even recall when you filled your hands with her large, squishy and pert breasts but hugging her oh so desperately; grab a hold you did. Her core tightens, causing her drenched moth pussy to tighten even more, abs glistening with sweat in the dime firelight. White knuckled fists clutching at thick, bunched up strands of web are all that stand between you rutting Fae with her face down and ass up.
The web shakes beneath you, dewy beads of precum and your wives excitement licking along the lengths of woven thread. Her powerful scent suffuses you and though you’d not put it to mind before, the spider was correct. It is very reminiscent of cinnamon, only perhaps baked rather than fresh…
So enraptured in the tight, warm, wet moth pussy are you, that you scarce notice even the incandescently colourful Ana masturbating to the sight off to the side. You just keep thrusting away; long silvery locks tossed to the side in one of her outcries, you find the slender, elegant tracts between neck and shoulder to be too inviting. Almost slavishly you lavish kisses and smooches up and down the length, feeling her wings flutter and her back muscles ripple as she shudders to your touch, growing just that little wetter, sounding just that little sweeter the nipples pressing into your palms just that little stiffer. The dense cloud of powder around the two of you now has you more than intoxicated, thoughts obsessive and jumbled – you wonder if you came inside right now if she wouldn’t rather smell like caramelized cinnamon.
You can scarce believe how warm and soft she is beneath you – for her frame, her might and her temper. Next time she smugly indicates you’ve little better to do with your time than snuggle up with her under some blankets, you’re inclined to take her up on it. The cup of your hand overflows with her bountiful bosom, you slide your hands to cup around the side and heft but you’re barely able to contain the slightest fraction of them, your fingers reaching with their utmost to span from the side to just barely snatch the stiff buds between index and middle.
That, with your relentless pounding through the sodden folds of her wringing walls, tips her again over the edge she’d not long fallen over. This time you go with her, a final wet plap punctuated by sighs and moans heralding the spreading heat of another orgasm. You’ve no mind to quantity nor quantity. So stirred by her fae mist, you’ve no doubt it’s enough to make a succubus blush. Your balls thrum but not with any dull ache. For the second of the night the ease at which thick virile ropes of seed spurt from your cock to fill her womb tells you you’re nowhere near done yet, even if the pulses wind down to a temporary injunction. What you do know as she reaches a hand up behind to caress your cheek, as the two of you try recuperate through ragged breaths, as you feel yourself growing only stiffer insider her, even as you pull out, her pussy milking last drops of the load as you exit, is that she’s been far more liberal with the dosage than usual and you’ve a long night ahead.
As your cock springs out of her clinging wet pussy with a lewd pop – marveling in no surprise as it doesn’t waste a drop – and you turn around, there is no better testament to the length of the coming night, than your spring butterfly laid up helplessly in the web before you. She puts on a pout of coy distress, her legs spread over the web, abdomen tangled in it and wings splayed out in their full almost kaleidoscopic glory. Her arms reach high over her head, like Fae, clutching fistfuls of the stuff to emulate bondage. She struggles, shakes from side to side with a barely hidden smile as she watches your rapt attention stick to the two huge orbs now also shaking from side to side.
She stops shaking, unable to free herself with a pout and she shoots you a plaintive look. Your cock throbs as she parts her plump lips to plead with you “Darling, please…” Please what? Free her? Fuck her? There’s no point in asking – you know she’s lured you in with this act hook line and sinker because you’re already lifting her thighs over your hips and feeling the thick, powerful things close around you.
She giggles, thrilled in her innocent mischief and thrilled even more with a low throaty moan as she ensures your cock still slick with Faelia’s juices fills her up just the same. The sensation’s not overwhelmingly different, though there is a subtle quality that differentiates the butterfly’s tight pussy from the moth’s. Essence aside and for lack of a better word, there’s a sort of… springiness to it. More youthful is something you’d never deign to say, but can’t help but have it come to mind. You’re pretty sure Ana’s the older one anyway, just her domain is of the birds and the bees, not the languid comfort of an autumn hearth.
Her thighs squish you balls deep ‘till hips creak and the wet squelch of her drenched, puffy pussy smooshing up against your pelvis is near audible. Still addled from moth powder, it takes a moment for your brain to actually register her powerful thighs snuffing your futile thrusts in their immense grip. You look up to her in askance, and she merely smiles, taking your hands – resting pointlessly on her hips now that she’s opted to claim the pace – and threads your fingers through with her own. Nothing else, both your wrists resting lightly on her belly as she relaxes her leg lock long enough for you to pull back, but not long enough for you to thrust back in. She takes control of that.
You shrug and give a lopsided grin, leaning forwards as her smiling lips so clearly want and she meets you in the middle. The web around you begins to glimmer like gilded spring rays, and resumes its shaking but the only shaking you heed truthfully is the heaving of her immeasurable bosom. She fucks harder than Fae. Only her ample padding, the softness over springy muscle sees to it that your bones don’t clash in the force of it. She’s taking you along for a ride even as you’re thrust down from over her and the intent of it speaks volumes through the vibration of the webs.
Her walls clench as her thighs do, each pump an arduous plunge, only the overflowing wetness of her delta seeing the vice-like depths of her wrenching folds bring pleasure rather than pain. You can feel just how solidly her abs are tensing under wrist and though Fae cultivates herself very muchly, you’re made to feel again just what it’s like to fuck a force of nature.
For how raw, powerful and lewd her body is, the kiss is worlds apart. Shy, almost, were you not already balls deep in her pussy, the loud clap of your sack on her ass in steady staccato attesting to it. But, while your rampant body’s being tamed, your heart’s being brought back in time, to first kisses never had. She’s unbearably beautiful and yours alone at that. You want to tell her you love her but her lips are already lightly touching your own, her mouth only just barely parting so you have no choice but to moan it into her kiss. The sudden flush of heat you feel from her cheeks tells you your whirl of emotions isn’t going unnoticed.
The juxtaposition above and below is so unbearably sweet that you’re left helpless, giving in to each and every of her whims, be it the compelling incarceration of her thick amazonian thighs or the tender supplications of her plump plapillon lips. She doesn’t cum as easy as Fae, but her orgasms are stronger for it. Making love to Ana isn’t quite the same wildfire of autumn reds – more pointed, perhaps. With her leading pace, you lose track in the steadiness of it, your own climax closing in on you before you realize it.
But she realizes it. Disentangling her hands from yours, she pulls you in to a tight hug, her legs clenching about you, her arms holding you ever close and her wings cocooning about the two of you. Surrounded and immersed, you’re almost more focused on her tongue finally coiling around yours than you are the pulsing throb in your loins as your balls clench up, dumping another thick load into another one of your wives yearning wombs.
And yet your hardness doesn’t wane, neither does your appetite – especially not seeing Fae crawl over to tackle Ana down, making out with the butterfly while hooking her knees up behind Ana’s and pinning them up by her side, their pussies, both drooling, so tantalizingly close to one another. Fae’s fuzzy abdomen vibrates, shedding yet more powder into the air, the webs long since stained in gold, green and red.
The minx-moth shoots you a look over her shoulder but you need no prompting, sidling up to the pair and placing your hands on Fae’s hips, you prod the tip of your throbbing cock through the swollen, puffy vulvae on display and slide your cock in to the base, letting it rest there, smoldering. You’re so worked up that the whole of your body screams to dispense with the pointless foreplay and breed the two women before you, but the night is long.
They saw to it that it would be.
***
“You sure work quick.” Checking over your shoulder to make sure your two wives were still upstairs, you admire the spider’s handiwork. You’d only mentioned it in passing a short while ago; midway through the session as you’d momentarily left the two girls to scissor themselves silly to bring back some refreshments. Though, your sense of time in that room was a little distorted.
“Hehe, don’t I?”
“Are you sure this is okay? I mean, for such high quality…”
“Of course!” She smirks. “I saw all I needed to. Plus, you three gave given me enough inspiration to last quite~ some~ time~ Not to mention the bulk of the key ingredients came from your wives. What other reagents I used including the silk, I’ll offset from the favor you’re doing us in bringing back a little festivity to this city. Even after this and the braids, I’ve still plenty left over for other projects. Really, if any thing I should be paying you.”
You smile, imagining your wives enjoying their gift. The Arachne, Liandra, is downplaying it, but this couldn’t have been easy to make on short notice. Not to mention the princely sum it would have cost, and the way she was being vague about listing all its features. “Well, thank you regardless. Though, I hadn’t expected to lose an entire day in there, we’d best go deliver this to the Duke otherwise there’ll be no time for the preparations.”
“Of course, oh and please do remember to drink plenty of water, you left enough fluid in my web that I’m not entirely sure how the three of you haven’t shriveled up already.”
She sends you off with a wave as you leave, carrying a large crate out as the spider’s laughter follows you through the door as you meet up with your girls waiting just outside. They both look exhausted. Very exhausted, but also inordinately satisfied. Glowing, even. You’d think the three of you would be limping by now, but it never ceases to amaze just how robust they are, or just how rejuvenating their essence is. Both turn to you with a smile and take a side of the crate each, leaving you with the far smaller parcel. Not that the crate was especially heavy, given it’s only packed to the brim with silken braids.
“Alright, lets go meet the Duke.”
Fae eyes whats in your hands skeptically. “Now what was it my darling needed to speak with her about all on his lonesome?”
You grin at Fae’s question. “You’ll see.”
Leaving her curiosity hanging, the lot of you head off towards the Duke’s keep. He’d sent word to his people that you were working for him, so there isn’t too much hassle letting you pass into his residence holding a giant, suspicious and conspicuous crate. No need to leave your equipment at the door this time either.
The keep is vastly different to your first visit. It may be a bit premature, but the mad rush of business about the place would indicate that he took your success as a given and had preparations for the festival begin at a hurried pace. Either you inspire more faith that you had thought, or he really was just that desperate and hopeful. On the other hand, even if you did fail, surely a little something is better than nothing. It was the uncertainty of the situation that keeps the township paralysed. Had they known for certain that they’d be passing the winter solstice without the presence of the fairy folk, you’d sure that while lesser of an occasion, the town would more or less be better prepared than how you find it now.
The Duke’s door is wide open, retainers coming and going frequently as he conducts his business. One nearly stumbles right into your girls as they ferry the crate through the spacious corridors of the keep. Otto doesn’t register your return immediately, but the large silhouette of the box soon proves unmissable.
He looks in askance as you finally dump the crate before his desk. “And this is?”
“Decorations, lord Duke.” You open the crate to reveal coils upon coils of sparkling, glimmering golden thread. They light up the room, not only with reflections of the soft candlelight, but with some of their own innate iridescence. “We took council from the Lady of the Woods and had this made for the occasion.”
His eyes light up. “You spoke to the lady of the woods? Then..?”
“Yes,” You grin, “You’ll have your tree too.”
Otto claps, “Excellent!” with a sweep of his arm, he directs you to a small mound of items in the corner of the room, both showing you and also perhaps hinting that the giant crate shouldn’t occupy the middle of the room. “For my end, I’ve managed to scrounge together a fair few trinkets and jewels to hang upon the tree, gifts to lay at its foot. But I also managed to get my hands on this.”
He waves his hand over to a small plinth bearing a basin at its top. “A Basin of Remembrance.” He reaches in to pull out what looks like a glass bauble from the waters. Within the bauble is a vivid, even animated scene of the Duke and what can only be his wife cuddling by the fireside. “It’s been a hard year, in many ways, so I figured I’d give the people an opportunity to recall a precious memory from the year, to keep or display.”
You nod, impressed. Magic sure is something. You kind of want one, though if he’s making it open to the public, you might secretly take one at a later time. You’re somewhat worried what the content might be. “That’s a marvelous idea.” With the fruits of your combined efforts arrayed before you, you can’t help but feel a strong sense of confidence and accomplishment. “To be honest, as much as I try to stray away from overconfidence, I can’t help but feel as though this issue is already resolved, lord Duke.”
He lets out a sigh. “Well, I certainly hope so.”
“At least, our role in this is likely over.” You shoot him a glance. “What remains is up to you now.”
He takes a deep breath. “Of course. I must admit, I am somewhat nervous but I choose to trust in us, Tina and I. For now, I think you three have earned some rest. I’ll have some maids prepare a room for you, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you require.”
You bow. “I am extremely grateful for your grace, Duke Otto. Then, we’ll not impose on you any longer, though we will impose on your staff.”
He smirks. “Be modest. It’s early still, but the kitchens are already at capacity preparing for the festival.”
With a laugh you part ways, your wives dropping the crate beside the other decorations. No sooner had you left his office than were you accosted by a maid who offers to show you to your temporary lodgings. The night that follows is markedly tame. The day must have wrung more out of you than you’d realized. In more ways than one.
***
You spent the next few days sight-seeing in town. You’d hoped to dazzle them with the full splendor of the season when they had first arrived but in a way, it’s almost nicer seeing and helping out as the town ramps up its preparations.
The droll suppression broke away into fervent cheer as the town began to brighten up decoration by decoration. The days flew past in all this flurry and before you knew it, you were snuggling up with your beloved wives under luxuriously warm blankets, watching the fire and nursing hot mugs of spiced wine as the eve approached and then passed, giving way to the dawn of the festival.
***
“Ah…”
“Ah…”
Twin sighs sound as your girls cuddle up to you either side, their eyes sparkling with awe as vindication fills your heart. “See? Not a wasted trip after all.” This. This is what you’d wanted them to see. A little late but better than never. Nary a patch of snow doesn’t reflect brilliant colours or gleaming lanterns, no home stands out that doesn’t bring their own humble festivities to bear. Scarce little work is done that isn’t crucially vital and near every face crowding the streets beams. Althorati is awash with the cheerful din of celebrants, the warmth of the town roundly beating back the chill of the winter dusk.
It hadn’t started out that way, the morn starting with an underlying nervous tension behind the hopefulness. A goliath tree sat in the centre square, decorated from head to toe. Chimneys were already billowing savoury and delectable flavours through the streets like incense as the feast was prepared. The people would enjoy themselves either way this day, but every one felt that the event would ring hollow without a certain partner. For all your efforts to prepare the stage for them, you felt it more than most.
Then, at some point in the morning, a cheerful cry arose. The three of you looked out from your vantage point of a local restaurant’s balcony to see figures begin peeling out from the distant treeline. Some cloaked and hooded, some dressed in garish colours and some dressed not at all. All bearing gifts, they began to bleed through Althorati’s streets, leaving colour and joy in their wake. Everywhere they went, the jubilation rose to a fever pitch, though you could scarcely believe it possible. As if in response to these new guests, another cheer rises as the Duke’s procession, also laden with gifts, winds its way down towards the town centre from the keep.
At this point, asides from poor, unfortunate souls confined to duties of the utmost import, everybody had gathered to the square and your three are no different. Tables have already been set out about the square, warm braziers scattered around, fending off the bite of the depths of winter. Platters of food were just laid about but the fairies still found ample place to set their own dishes for offer. Though tempting and delectable, none had touched them as the town awaits the inauguration of the festivities.
Swept up in the mounting emotions of the place, your wives preen proudly beside you, for their own role in facilitating this. Your work is often rewarding, but rarely is it this rewarding. Duke Otto mounts a humble dais. His stature already lifted him above the crowd but the meagre height of the thing still satisfies the dignity of his status. Standing before his long table, laden with the same foods as the people, he begins his speech, firstly thanking the people for all their hard work throughout the year, listing out his gratitude and asking for reflections on the good and ill of the year past. Many go quiet for a moment, as they remember the year’s passage.
Then, heads rise from their thoughts as his voice suddenly falls silent to an awkward pause in the speech, but Duke Otto’s eyes are fixed on a certain part of the square. Turning to follow his gaze, you see a sole figure moving in the crowd, gracefully slipping between people and parting the throngs. She too, is a hooded figure, though despite her discreetness, it’s hard, no, impossible to mistake her splendour.
Otto begins to smile as he resumes his speech, the people torn between he and this figure heading towards him. His speech turns towards its end, emphasising how thankful he is for the people of his town first and foremost, how it’s they who make the celebration worth having and how it should be a time for all to reflect on the people they love most and be thankful and let them know.
Little else need be said and so the speech winds down to silence, no applause forthcoming just yet. The figure mounts the dais and stands before the Duke. There’s a baited moment, before the two embrace and the hood falls back to reveal the countenance of the beloved Duchess, the Fairy Queen, Ernestine. The raucous round of cheers, whistles and applause heralds in the opening of the celebration and the square ignites with jolly laughs, loud cheers and joyful conversation.
Freshly cooked food is brought out almost quicker than it can be eaten and children dart between feet, playing with toys gifted by the fairies and in many cases, playing with the fairies themselves. Others hold onto their gifts, awaiting a quieter hour to enjoy with their loved ones, or seeking through the throngs for their fated receiver. The celebration rages like a wildfire and while your wives say they’d like to go meet with the Lady of the Woods – currently inhabiting the great tree, its lower boughs now converted to a tree-house for the children to play and climb about – you take the opportunity to catch up with some familiar faces in the crowd. Bern’s none too pleased you’ve spurned his inn, but upon catching him up on the situation, he promises a free room the next time you swing by town as well.
Between chatting, eating and drinking and reuniting with your wives, you have no idea just how much time has passed. It can’t have been too long, the Duke and Duchess are likely the most eager to enjoy their reunion in peace and predictably, not long after you have that thought, they are the first couple to go. Just as the thought crosses your mind too, your hands are entrapped by two other pairs. “Already, are you sure? I don’t mind staying a while longer.”
Ana smiles. “We’ve seen enough. Isn’t the point of it to get you to appreciate your time together?” Her suggestive grin and the way she trails off leaves much to the imagination…
“I think we can spend that time together better alone, darling~” Much that Fae wasn’t willing to leave unsaid.
You laugh. “Alright. Let’s head back then.”
***
Fae lets out a long sight of relief as she sinks into the lounge, another glass of hot mulled wine in her hand. “Well, I’m glad it all worked out.” You chuckle. She says that, but her expression just screams that she’s glad to be done with the troublesome things and she doesn’t want to have to leave the room or see anyone else for at least the rest of the week. You’re not entirely sure what possessed a girl like this to come travelling with you. You’ll have to pick a spot to temporarily settle down for a few months. With luck, the Duke will be feeling generous with his coin in the aftermath of all this. Or maybe you could spend some time in fairyland, give the girls some time to try to reconcile their opposing aspects.
But for now… you’ve some unfinished business. While Fae’s relaxing and Ana’s sitting by the open windowsill moonbathing, you quietly dip out of the room to retrieve the gift you’d set aside. Your wives are very astute and you feared they might ruin the surprise for themselves, if you left it to chance.
Of course, they noticed you leaving and noticed your return. “Where’d you duck off to?” Ana asks from over by the window sill looking out over the still glowing town.
“Oh,” you grin, “Just had to go fetch something.” You approach the pair with your hands behind your back and a clearly suspicious leer. The pair rise from their spots, curious. “Close your eyes.”
They do so, the subtle way in which they lean forwards for you so excruciatingly cute you’re tempted to spoil the surprise here and now. As it is you have to beat back the impure thoughts as you approach your wives, the pair equally dressed down for the night and oh so alluring.
You approach Faelia first, for no other reason than you had to lay the gifts over the back of the lounge and therefor she was closest. Her antennae twitch, the both of theirs do as they track you. How much they can sense through them you’re not quite sure and you’re equally unsure of whether or not the deserve to be scolded for cheating. Nonetheless, you approach Fae, faces mere inches a part, so much so that her feathery antenna is able to dip down to brush your nose, provoking you to blow on it, in turn making the moth shiver and giggle.
Unable to hold yourself back, you lean forwards and kiss her. She jolts a little, unsure of whether or not to embrace you – clearly wanting to – but as you hadn’t done so, keeping still for the moment. She’s an understanding girl.
Understanding enough to not protest when you suddenly reach for her clothes. Her idea of casual is a pair of tight trousers and a loose shirt that shows a little of her midriff. You suspect that to be less intentional and more just a function of her abdomen. You relish in disrobing her. The shirt had an open back – much like the robe Ana wears – with little clasps along the middle of the back to facilitate robing and disrobing. Life with three giant appendages hanging off your back probably isn’t as convenient, but then you also can’t fly, so you suppose there’s that.
She’s supportive with her arms, lifting them up as you lift the shirt off her though she doesn’t miss the opportunity to teasingly shove her breasts in your face as you step closer to lift the top all the way off her. She’s less helpful when it comes to the pants, keeping her legs together so you really have to peel them off her, kneeling down to do so as a necessity, eyes fixed as you reveal inch by precious hidden inch of her lower half. She laughs as she hears you gulp and you hurry it up, not only because you have to do this all over again, but also because Ana’s starting to fidget.
As you crest her elegant ankles, she finally assists, tossing her pants aside with a careless kick as she now stands bared before you. Her posture isn’t just evocative, it’s downright provoking. You have to close your eyes for a moment to regather your will. Then, rising, you take her gift off the edge of the lounge.
With a swish of your arms, you drape a sheet of cloth over her, so light as to barely be there, though you still feel the queer residual coolness and heat on your skin where you held it. She whines at the strange sensation, wondering what you’re doing, but before your eyes – hers are still closed – the faintly translucent golden sheet begins to melt over her skin, parting around her antennae and wings though still draping over her abdomen. Once settled in place, it begins to shift and form again, growing thicker, dying a deep red as fuzz reminiscent of her own lines the hem of what is now a hood. She keeps her eyes closed, but begins to smile, reaching for the hem of the cloak to pull it tighter around her.
A strange substance, it’s both light and heavy. Now thick and dense enough to keep warm, but also light and thin enough to shape to her form perfectly, the prominent pokes of her nipples standing out as her womanhood begins to flow. You bite your lip to keep your own lusts tempered. You don’t think you’re any less turned on seeing her naked than she is being naked before you.
Still, when Liandra said that at her level, the various disciplines began to merge into one, you weren’t aware she meant sorcery too. You turn your attention to Ana, who seems to have some inkling of what’s going on, a light blush already on her cheeks. Similarly, you step up to her and give her a kiss, arms wrapping around to undo the buttons at the back top of her gown this time. Hers is a far more direct and simple affair, though as it slides off her shoulders and catches on the generous crest of her bosom, you’re forced to tug it down off those peaks, the pressure mounting as you pull until the dress finally slips over her bosom and falls down to her hips. Ana gasps as it does, no less aroused than Fae at this point.
The sight of her anxiously biting her lower lips as you lean in and bury your face in her breasts, to reach behind and free the dress from her abdomen, is almost too much to bear. But as you finally free it of her abdomen and it slips down her broad motherly hips, you step back with a soft sound of relief. For her part, she seems to shift in place in an almost imperceptible disquiet. If she had her way you’re sure you’d spend the majority of your life buried in her bosom.
Then, you toss the same golden sheet over her, marvelling at the transformation again. This one turns a pale green, like the fresh buds of spring and remains light and airy, a better attire for the season welcoming in the summer. Ana has much the same reaction, instantly drawn to the cloak.
“You can open your eyes now. I pondered long and hard about what I should give to the two beautiful women who brought love and light into my life and it wasn’t until the other day that I realised what kind of gift would be best.” They open their eyes, making soft coos of amazement as they inspect their new cloaks, Ana giving a slow twirl, the pair of them only half listening to you at this point not that you mind. “It’s thanks to what the two of you said, actually, that made my mind up. I figured the best gift I could give you is… revenge.”
They both turn to look at you after your sudden proclamation and you begin to grin. “I will have you walk around this town and every town here after, with the exact same look on your face as I did. Of comfort, of satisfaction. Of love.” You step up and take their hands in yours. “And I will say you look gross. And you’re unsettling people.”
Fae smirks as she steps closer to you. “I do believe a certain, rigorous activity preceded that gross, unsettling look of yours. If it’s revenge you’re after, I do believe you’re then missing a step in your master plan.” She begins to take off her cloak, but you place a hand over hers.
“It was recommended we leave it on.”
Ana purrs as she places a hand on your chest and begins walking you backwards over to the bed, lightly pushing you down onto it as she reaches for your clothes. “I bet they didn’t say anything about these ones though.”
You don’t even get a chance to answer. Swift as you may, your pants vanish into nothingness and your top follows soon after. You have to stifle a laugh as your wives settle down between your legs, cloaks draped about themselves and little else, not looking suspicious or perverted at all. Fae lifts an eyebrow. “What?”
“Oh, nothing.” You keep mum.
Her eyebrow rises higher. “What?” She repeats in the same tone, not quite threatening, though she does cup your balls in the palm of her hand and start massaging them, while her other hand begins to stroke the base of your cock. Ana focuses on the tip, their combined efforts swiftly summoning your erection back to full mast.
It is probably wiser to confess to the two women handling your erect, throbbing manhood. “It is truly nothing. I’ve just never had two cloaked, suspicious women assault me like this. It seemed for a moment almost as though you were a pair of perverted semen thieves.”
They gasp and look at each-other. “Fae I think he’s finally figured us out.”
“It’s too late now though?” In perfect unison they lean forwards, wrapping an arm about one another and coming in such that they trap your cock perfectly between their breasts. “We already have him where we want him.” Your wives leer at you.
Your next witticism is stifled in a lusty groan as they begin to work their breasts in tandem. The sight of two – four of your most favourite things in the world squished together around your dick is a gift in and of itself. Naturally, with the pair of them being so large, only the very crown of your cock pokes out from between the tight valley of their warm, soft breasts. Though that doesn’t stop them from taking turns dipping their heads down to take that swollen, throbbing tip into their mouths and tonguing the glans before attempting to take as much of it into their mouths as they’ll fit before bouncing back off their breasts.
The sight of the hooded pair working so ravenously, only further solidifies their image as lewd cum-bandits, but pressed as you are between a pair of hot mouths and a two pairs of breasts, it’s no longer a laughing matter. You clutch the sheets tightly as you watch your wives work together in far too great a harmony. As you close your eyes and thrust upwards just to allow more wet mouth to descend down, you honestly cannot tell who is who. Both their breasts rest heavy in your lap, as they kneel between your legs at the edge of the bed, both their mouths work the same spots, as each has a keen understanding of your weak points by now. The saliva swiftly builds up to a pool between their breasts, a warm, wet sticky moat that inevitably leaks down the length of your shaft, making the passage between their mounts slick and hot. Individually you’re confident in telling them apart, but when they work in tandem like this, the pleasure’s so overwhelming you’ve no hope.
Between the soft, rubbing pressure of their breasts along the length of your shaft, your little thrusts as the weight of their chests pins you down and the lavish attention they slather on your sensitive tip, you don’t know what man would withstand it and still consider himself a man. You are a true man, a true man in love with his wives. It’s only natural. Their assault – theft – may have been too efficient.
Catching them unawares with a groan, in between changing over, your balls clench as you shoot a thick rope that arcs up into the air, watch as it falls under its own weight even as your loins clench to pump the rest of it and then marvel as it splats across both their faces evenly. Second, third and fourth follow after, none as perfectly portioned as the first but all slather their antennae, hoods, faces and breasts in hot seed all the same.
They watch the ordeal in rapture, eyes glazing over and breaths baited in their chests. But as the last strand of it weakly dribbles down your tip, they descend on each other, the sight ensuring you’re not about to flag in your excitement any time soon as you watch them eagerly lick each others faces and suck one another’s breasts, to lap up the errant strands of cum amidst almost drunken giggles and moans.
You’d apologise for not giving them forewarning, but to be perfectly honest, they probably prefer this as much as they would taking your load into their mouths anyway. All that they didn’t manage to get was what landed on their clothes, the cum wicking away into nothing nearly instantly, though the cloth seems to only grow more resplendent for it.
It doesn’t take them long at all to finish and the ravenous glint in their eyes as they turn to you lets you know that they aren’t actually finished what so ever at all. Fae opens her mouth with a sardonic expression, but seeing as you’re already sheepish enough, she simply smirks to Ana. “Loathe as I am to admit it, our teamwork seems to be getting better.”
Ana merely smiles as she takes Fae’s hand and helps her climb up onto the bed. “Of course.”
You grit your teeth, narrowly missing biting the tip of your tongue off, but narrowerly missing a worse fate as the two big athletic warrioresses plant their asses into your lap, nearly causing you to let out a noise. You’re definitely weren’t almost winded. But you should add more core to your morning exercises.
They sit sideways on your hips facing one another, kissing as their legs interlace, scissoring their wet pussies against each other, grinding on the throbbing cock wedged between. Them both sitting on your lap is completely and utterly irrelevant to the fact that you can’t move your hips. They are both sitting on your lap and you just also happen to be unable to move your hips. Pinned to the mattress like this, there’s literally nothing else for you to do other than grab a handful each of their asses as they grind their pussies together up and down the length of your cock.
Well, letting them do all the work isn’t so bad once in a while either. You prefer to be more active of a participant, but they’ve clearly left you no choice. Letting out a low groan and laying back, you slide your hands from their ass to rest atop their thighs as the thick, meaty things cross over your chest. Your cock’s already sensitive from the orgasm earlier and as you feel their clits grind against your length, as you hear the lewd wet squelches from the soaked mess that is the point where the three of you meet, you can’t do much to resist the returning tide of pleasure battering at your will power.
About all you can do is keep your eyes closed, but then instead of watching them moan into one another’s mouths, instead of watching their spit-soaked and slippery breasts pressing against each other, instead of marvelling at the ripples of their toned cores as they grind up against one another, you’re left hearing and imagining it all in perfect clarity instead. At least not even your imagination can compare to the true beauty of your wives, making it slightly the lesser of two lewdnesses.
Seeming intent on not suffering a repeat, the cloaked pair of seed-syndics begin to work their hips up higher, causing you to groan as the majority of the pressure of their grinding focuses on your sensitive tip, undermining your fight against the rising of the tide. Then, with a lewd wet clap, Fae pushes the tip of your cock into Ana’s drenched pussy and she comes down hard. Slamming her ass into your hips, you both cry out in ecstasy, the tip of your cock grinding up against the tight ring of her cervix. The pair giggle above you and Ana rises, your cock springing free only to find itself buried in Faelia’s cunt the next moment in a repeat of the last.
Your mind goes white for a short moment in pure bliss as you wrap your head around the sensation. Heedless of your woes, they work up a rhythm, holding hands, breasts pressed together as they start bouncing in you lap and looking at you, Fae’s bad influence writ large on Ana’s face as they both take inordinate pleasure in watching your expression warp in ecstasy. How they manage to accurately impale themselves on your cock each time without erring once is beyond you, but you’re also not going to question it.
In fact, there’s not much you can question at all in this state. Their writhing, wet walls blend into one, as they moan and gasp into one another’s kiss. You’re usually good at telling who is who, but this is the first time they’ve tried something like this. The bed rocks and creaks as the room fills with the sound of wet flesh clapping against flesh. If there’s any consolation it’s that the rooms adjacent are empty at the moment, but doubtless your wives cries filters down through the corridors all the same.
Under their relentless onslaught, your orgasm is whipped from a rising tide to a tidal wave. This time there’s no hiding it, they both feel the raw ecstasy they’ve inflicted on you and it only stirs them to greater heights all the same, sweat dripping off their tightly toned bodies as they bounce, the air once again thick with their powder, though like the assorted fluids, the majority of the powder that comes into contact with the cloth vanishes in turn.
With a mind sundering crack of synaptic lightning your world goes white, head suddenly overtaken by an orgasm the likes of which you haven’t experienced since that manticore got the jump on you and your wives weren’t able to deflect all the spines. Though secretly you suspect Ana let a couple through her guard on purpose.
Your whole body tenses and your bones creak as you thrust hard enough to lift your hips and both wives off the bed momentarily, ramming your cock deep into one of their wombs and painting another coat of white all over the walls of her uterus.
Your strength then fails you right in time for the other wife to slam her pussy down on your cock to receive the next few thick loads of cum, the pair of them crying out as one, reaching their climax together, their thighs shaking too hard as you fill them with cum to continue their rhythm, faltering at the last as they all but collapse over you, held aloft only be their embrace as your throbbing cock spurts between them, smearing cum all over their bellies.
Before the aftershocks of orgasm subside, the cloaks you’d gifted your wives begin to glow and shift, melting once more over their forms, leaving liquid, sticky patterns all over their skin. You’d say it was searching out the hot strands of cum you’d covered them with, but what cum it does consume seems to be coincidental. Instead, the liquid solidifies, forming the shapes of patterns and embroidery across their skin, red over the pale Fae and white over Ana’s bronzed complexion. Sheer and evocative, the sight alone has your libido already returning even as your girls finally slump down beside you, marvelling at the lingerie now covering them.
Fae shoots you a stern look as she gasps between ragged breaths. “We need to talk about this, Darling. Last I checked, the remuneration on our last few contracts couldn’t cover one tenth of this.”
“She… Said…” You pant, “We’re even.”
She smiles as she places a finger on your lips and straddles your hips, lingerie splitting perfectly to frame and accentuate her swollen, dripping lips as she engulfs your cock once more. “I didn’t say we had to talk about it now.”
You open your mouth, but your next words are stolen in Ana’s lips, uncharacteristically bold for her, her tongue darts straight into your mouth as she begins grinding her body needily against yours. You look into her eyes and see them glazed over, lost in passion and love.
Ah yes. So it would be another long night.
Penywise's Reliquary 
Excellent Work as always, once again glad to have you back!
LikeLike
Thank you very much, glad you enjoyed it and I hope you had a Merry Christmas.
LikeLike
Oh my, a New Year’s gift?!?!
We are starting 2024 with a blast!
Great work as always. I wish you Merry Christmas (a bit delayed, I know) and a happy New Year !
LikeLike