Hallo'een Trick or Treat?

There's always been something about Hallo'een that's made me anxious, excited.. You could drag out fishnets, wear robes and dresses that flashed skin that had lost its summer tan, and give in to delightful dark impulses. It was decadent. I could dress in the clothes that Damion had loved for me to wear, but I had been too shy to enjoy. But not now. Not tonight. There was something different tonight. The girl that stood in the mirror wasn't me, but some ancient sultry priestess, some enchanting witch. It was once again Halloween, and tommorrow would make a year to the day since I'd lost him.

I did look good. I'd always liked the witchy mystic look, but never really dared. The dress was cut so low, and its flowing layers hid my flaws. My skin was light against the dark pitch black fabric, and even I hadn't known I was capable of showing that much cleavage and liking it. I shifted the corset under my dress, and smiled to think I was going all the way with this. My hair wasn't long enough for long wild curls, but was manageable in lovely flaxen glittering ringlets, pulled back by a crown piece with a blood red stone. One of Damion's trinkets. With a sigh, I fastened his pendant around my neck, where it hadn't been for months. The moonstone glittered. I pulled on the knee high boots and the transformation was complete. My hands glittered, silver nails surpassed only by the glint of the onyx stone of my ring. The pendant nestled just where it should between my breasts. My lips bewitching red, and eyes glittering liquidy brown rimmed in silvery blue. Wicked, I loved it.

I traced a finger over the moonstone pendant. God how I missed darling Pagan Damion. He was as Pagan as they had come, and I had so wished to be like him. I sighed and recalled things I shouldn't have. It had been too long since he had died. Too long since I had wanted anyone else, and tonight of all nights would remind me of him. It was as if I was spellbound by him still. I shifted, and picked up the staff, carved of Rowan wood and topped with the most beautiful ball of quartz crystal, another of his gifts. Rowan wards off bad witches you know, he had laughed. I slipped his sheathed dagger upon my belt for effect., and the velvet pouch followed it, filled with glittering dust. Tonight I was the witch. I was Circe, no I was Medea. I was capable of anything.

The party was at Terrace Farms, an old victorian place in the country, always well done up, and always yielding the best costumes. Stepping through the door, I couldn't find a soul I recognized. That is the terror of a masquerade ball. I stepped into a corner and surveyed the room, praying that, true to form, Shelly had came as Cleopatra. Her I could not find, but there was a simply lovely man that I couldn't take my eyes off. He was tall, broad shouldered, and clad entirely in black, save for the touches of scarlet. He wore polished knee high boots, tight fitting leather pants...not those that you find on bikers or wannabes, but something that looked like it was out of a history book.

Tucked into those divinely snug pants was a black shirt, the type you imagine pirates wearing. A velvet cape, not one of those tacky department store things, but a lush full cape almost brushed the floor, and from his neck was a blood red stone, on a black cord. It glinted against dark skin. And around his waist was a blood red leather belt, which matched the bands that were bound around his wrists, and the glint of red that shined from his ear. He looked good, it was perfection. I looked up at his face and was shocked to see, light, gleaming golden hair, and the greenest of green eyes behind a mardi-gras inspired scarlet mask.

Good god he looked like Damion. The grand pagan priest whom I had adored. I shivered, in fear, in anticipation, I wanted this one. If only for old times sake. Damion had been taken from me, but I could take pleasure in the image that looked like him. He caught me looking at him and I smiled before looking away. With a touch of the moonstone pendant, I prayed to whatever gods, even to Dark Hecate herself to aide me in this. It was All Hallow's Eve after all. Anything was possible. Everything was probable. In a moment, I was startled, someones hand against my wrist.

"Lovely staff, m'lady." He glanced down me in a way that made me want to draw my cloak around me. Instead, I stood taller, and met his gaze.

"Lovely costume m'lord." I eyed him in the same manner, wickedly wondering if it was just me, or if those leather britches had tightened.

"They have." He winked and took my hand, and I was left wondering had I spoken out loud. He led me through the crowds and up the stairs and into the bedroom which every year bore the sign "The Masters Chamber". With a grin he flipped the tab on the door knob to RIP- Please Do Not Disturb, and pulled me into the room closing the door.

It was pitch black and I almost stumbled against him. I didn't know if it was me, or what, but the candles just seemed to flicker into a flame. I never saw a lighter in his hand. It was like all the times Damion's coven had gathered..things just seemed to happen, and you just seemed to accept them.

"Nice trick Diablo." I curtseyed to him. I had used Damions nickname even. Oh, I was going to ruin this yet! Heart racing for no apparent reason. I took a bit of the glitter from the pouch and rained it down upon us. It fell in glowing arcs in the light. Almost magick. Almost.

"Ah, then someone can guess who I am, but then you are mine, are you not, Medea? I do believe you bear a witches mark." His hands ran over me, tugging at the dress, one hand sliding up the slit and against the back of my thigh. Before I could react his mouth was upon mine. Soft, sweet kisses. Not what I wanted from him. His hands tightened upon my flesh and I knew he was teasing me. I slid my tongue against his lips, and his mouth opened under mine. Kisses to drown in. Lovely, wet kisses with tongues sliding in rythms that made me grind against him. Perfect!

I pulled away and taking his hand, led him to the bed. I was afraid to speak, and afraid that he would. He sat when I pushed him down, and said not a thing, but began untying the already not too helpful bodice of the dress. Good god there was a reason women must like those trashy romance novels. Feeling a dress unlaced like this was divine. He stopped, midway through and pulled me to the bed, kissing me senseless. Moments later, he tugged the dress up, and partially unlaced, it slid off easily. I was before him now, in just the leather boots, witchy fishnet stockings held up by only a lace garter, scandalously sheer panties and the briefest of corsets. "Very very nice", he murmured, his mouth kissing the cleavage the corset had made all too apparent. He was still wearing his cloak, sitting astride me, and I tugged at the strings, it fell away on the bed, and with a smile he tugged his shirt up and off. glitter again fell upon is, the flecks sparkling against his skin. The boots were next to go, and then it was my hand that undid that red leather belt. No sooner than it was off than he was against me, his hands slipping the buttons and ribbons of the corset from their places, and freeing me from it. He still wore the leather pants, and that red stone gleamed against his chest. I looked at him, and touched the scarlet mask that revealed his eyes, but hid the upper half of his face.

He started to remove it, but I stilled his hand. He nodded, and in a moment, had ripped my panties from their proper place. His hands were on me then, and when I moved to touch him, he took my wrists, and raised them above my head, keeping one hand there to still me. Then he kissed me, still holding my hands captive, and in my torment I writhed against him, catching him between my thighs and moving ever so slightly against his leather pants. With a laugh he retrieved the silken cord from my dress from the pile of clothing on the bed, and tied my wrists loosely. When he let go, I laid as he had placed me. I felt drugged, seduced, enchanted.....

"Now my witch, lets give you a real devils mark." His breath blew against my nipples, which were already at attention, and I couldn't help a little sound when he swirled his tongue against one. He tormented both for ever so long, and then bit down gently. More bites followed so softly teasing that I couldn't take it. I bucked against him, he grinned, and his hand slipped between my thighs.

"Skyclad dancing to the drums, something wicked this way comes..." He said as his fingers moved against me. All to quickly he pressed the right buttons and I was lost, coming massively beneath him. Wave after wave came and I was sure everyone at the party could hear me, but I didn't give a damn at that moment. As I calmed he held me against him, kissing me. Something so familiar about those long wet kisses. "Damion." Involuntarily I had sighed the name. He didn't say a word, but undid the cords fastening my wrists, and placed my hands on the buttons of his britches. I undid the buttons as saucily as I could manage and made him stretch out as I pulled the snug pants down his all too firm body and tossed them to the floor.

Damn was he beautiful, I leaned over him, dragging my nails teasingly down his chest. Tracing circles around his navel, and taking hold of him just to tease. I stroked him gently, then roughened my grip. I heard him growl and then found myself on my back, I opened my thighs and cradled him against me as we kissed. I felt him, so hard against my thigh and shifted to rub against him. Even with my eyes open it was almost like it was Damion. Who it really was didn't matter...

"Come, Diablo, take what's yours." I said it before I thought, so light and teasing, then I saw how wickedly his eyes gleamed. Just the Damions always had. I shivered and in a moment the chill was forgotten as he swiftly entered me. He held himself with one hand braced on the bed, and with the other stilled my hips.

"Now, amicule, now deliciae." The words were whispered, but barely noticed as I tried not to moan and lose control again before we even got started. Then he was moving against me, one hand still touching me as he slid in and out of me, so posessively. His fingers teased me into another orgasm and I bucked against him, riding it out. Then I pulled his head to mine and kissed him, my tongue matching his rhythm. He groaned against my mouth and pulled away, I circled my arms around him and pulled him tighter. "Harder." I whispered. And when he responded, I trembled in pleasure as his body and mine pounded against each other.

He stopped the play of his hand and used both arms to brace himself, and I wrapped my legs around him, grinding harder and tighter against him. I couldn't take it. It was insane how good he felt. So right. He bit my shoulder and I let my nails scratch against his back, his thrusts grew fast and furious and I came against him. I felt him groan and then felt him come within me. With a sigh, he collapsed against me, and dazedly I traced my hands against his back, until I felt a slight scar. With a shock I sat up and looked at his back, and there it was. The lightning boltish scar beneath the Celtic knot tattoo. Oh, dark Hecate, what trick have you played? Or is it all in my head?

"Damion." I drew back in fear, clutching the nearest sheet for dear life.

"Ah, mon ami, just now you are sure? Tsk, tsk, you are rusty."

"This isn't..it can't..you're dead..."

"And a dead man just made you come three times my dear?" That old smile. "This one is sure he could just as easily take you three times more you know." Those green eyes. I couldn't speak.

"A dead man, knows all your favorite things, how you like to bitten just before you come that last time. The way you like to be kissed? I think not, darling. At least not tonight." He moved suddenly pinning me under him. I ought have been afraid but I wasn't, I wanted him again. It was irrational, it was impossible. I didn't care.

"Nay, darling, it is all Hallows Eve, the day when the dead walk with the living. And I would have walked through hell to have you again. You're mine, my witch always, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. Mine to have and to hold."

With trembling hands I pulled off the mask, and it was him. I kissed him, drawing him into me once more, and he rolled me atop him. With his hands on my breasts I rode him once again, in a bucking maddening search for all that had been lost to me. I came again, screaming his name, as the clock struck midnight, and all hallows eve was done. Below the people cheered, and the winds screamed as the clock tolled the time.

When the shaking was over I looked around me, and there I was, naked but for my jewels, on a bed that reeked of sex with only a red mask and that dark blood red pendant to prove that any of it had been real. Wearily I got up and righted my costume,adorning his pendant, and slipping his mask on. What had happened? Some wondrous drug? A dream after mindblowing sex that had clouded my senses, and a lover who had slipped away while I slept? I looked at my shoulder and the bite mark there was so warm. I could almost here the wind whisper, My mark, darling, mine, always and forever..until next time.......

With a shiver of delight, I tossed my hair back, and smiled a wanton smile. Already I could not wait for the next Hallo'een. And that incubus of a lover whose lust even death couldn't tame...it was too divine..too dark....

But, winds and branches pounding to the drums, yes something wicked this way still comes..

Lust and magick and All Hallow's Eve

Even death and time can deceive

Triumph from defeat..

But is it all a trick or a treat?