Chosen Mate Ch. 07

--It's hard to wash with your clothes on, my Lord. Sandra began pressing him down to a velvet-like protrusion beside the stone steps and stripping his sweat stained leather t-shirt from his body.

Kneeling before him, she removed boots and socks. She leaned forward and released the single carved bone button securing his pants and commanded,

"Stand." Her breath played across his loins, stirring them, as the pants fell to the ground. Harry reached for her, but she fled across the room, shedding clothes, and squealing in pleasure as the falling water inundated her body.

"Harry, come." Sandra's musical teasing voice called in cheery invitation; the sound echoed about the walls; her smiling face peeked from the flowing sheet of water, as she looked to where he stood, abandoned, with his pants around his ankles. He looked at her playing in the water and thought how good it looked on her.

--My thoughts exactly. Harry replied, with a glance downward at his body, awakened by her warm breath. Delighted laughter and screams of feigned outrage reverberated in the air as Oldman used her hands to do other things than wash.

Harry sat on the velvety surface of the mound of moss and removed his pants; he dropped them and proceeded across the floor to her with no regard to his discarded apparel. Oldman called from Sandra's mind, delighted with Sandra's gift of her body's use and making the best of it; he caused her hands to rove over the screaming nerves of her skin.

--This is great; come on Harry.

--I intend to, he answered, coming up behind them. One hand slipped around her sweetly curving waist, the other beneath her buttocks. Her mind screamed in ecstasy at the touch; an exclamation of sensual acknowledgement escaped from her lips as they joined. Her body held him inside as if a gently grasping hand moved over him. The ache that he experienced as they drew close reminded him of the teasing way she had moved against him as they prepared to leave the river that morning.

He pressed her forward at the waist; she pushed back into him, causing their bodies to move under the cascading avalanche of water and into a misted alcove shielded from the flow. There, her hips worked on him. He was trapped between her and the wall, caught with her in an expanding search for release. Pressing to the torturously sought culmination, the three raised their thoughts, laboring to grasp a grain of sanity as they stared into each other's mind's eye.

Sandra's wings rose like the measuring beat of a stiffening organ coming to full erection; the crackle of its charging sounded in the hidden confines under the falls. Dappled light passing the sheets of water was a suddenly a memory as she brightened.

Oldman wavered unsteadily; their mental connection was flowing between them, creating a woven cloth of energy as they were sent and retrieved, dancing like a glider in a loom. Then, vibrant fabric formed between the bright points of self, tightened and contracted, becoming a ball of red swirled energy that throbbed with Oldman's being. Two hearts beat as one, matching the pulsing throb of Oldman's presence, running like a metronome in perfect synchronization with them.

Harry reached his limit first; his mind fell from the joined connection, trailing a golden thread that brought him back to conscious thought while spending his hard held erection. He struggled to keep his trembling limbs.

Sandra fell, head to the floor. Harry's legs fought for purchase, trying to hold his body erect above her. The movement took her; her wings flashed; a sharp crack of discharged energy leapt from them. She fell away from their shared conscious; her own golden cord depended from the globe of their shared orgasm.

Her release of the held sphere of energy allowed it to spring to Oldman's surviving point of stretched tension, overwhelming it in a tsunami of emotion that flowed outward in a heavy wave of ponderous energy. The three threads of connected Id drew slowly together, like a long tri petal flower, closing at evening, and settled to the floor.

Sandra and Harry lay in twisted embrace; the sound of falling water became audible again over their labored breaths and blasted senses. Harry felt that if he looked the invisible presence of Oldman would be seen sprawled on the floor beside them.

"Up, Up," Sandra said, crawling away from the knot of their limbs. Attempting to drag Harry's depleted body to his feet. "Make him stand, Oldman," she commanded, as Harry leaned heavily on her.

Oldman floated in a sea of roiling emotion filled bliss between Sandra and Harry; he rocked gently in the reflecting waves of release that still passed between them.

--Phibitttt, came Oldman's glow filled uncaring thought.

"Mutiny," Sandra mumbled, and drew Harry under the cold side of the falling water.

Sandra began Harry's shower with him, showing him the plants that grew from the wall that were soapy when they were rubbed over their wet bodies. Oldman raised from his indolent lethargy and observed.

--Procter and Gamble, eat your heart out. The fresh herbal scent of the plants, the loofa like consistency of the cleansing fiber, soothed body and mind. There was a small raised sink like pool containing a light green liquid, that refreshed the mouth, and left the teeth smooth and clean when used as a mouthwash.

--Now we soak! Sandra cried with gleeful thought, running to the big pool and diving in. Harry followed after, easing down the carved steps that descended into the depths of the pool. He was surprised to find it quite warm and settled comfortably on a wide step, shallow enough to afford him breath, yet deep enough for maximum immersion.

His mind drifted near dreams, enjoying the feel of the heated water and the scent of the fragrant air. Sandra glided up quietly, sliding on the step with Harry, and lay head to head with him. Pleasurable silence descended around them; even Oldman seemed to doze.

--Busy things tonight, she began, with a languid thought.

"Mmnnn," Harry answered.

--We will spend a short time at Donna's and Gerry's bower before supper to prepare. Fortify yourself with food and drink but do so sparingly. Donna and Gerry will give you a gift of apparel that you must don at once. We will leave for supper then. My Lord, are you listening?

--Mnn? Harry thought quietly.

--Never mind, come to bed before you fall asleep here. She rose from the water, walking away to the bedroom. Harry followed the rolling sheen of her wet buttocks closely.

She laid him down on the surface of the bed, tenderly drawing the awareness from him, then arranging it around him comfortably; she called to the lesser Fay attendants, glowing like night lights on the walls, for measurements of his sleeping body to be made. Crawling next to him, she closed her eyes. Oldman watched the fairy lights playing around Sandra and Harry as they slept.

Hours later, they walked out of the bower and down the corridor. Harry wore a soft padded garment that was waiting in their room when he awoke. It was a light grey and fit as if it were a second skin; it cupped his genitals as comfortably as his own hand would. Sandra wore nothing.

Sandra tugged Harry along as he gaped about the verdant, arching passage, open to the star strewn sky above. Oldman saw that the night sky above was only an illusion, but said nothing.

Glowing lights lined the walls, as they stood before the entrance to Donna's bower. A staff leaned against the wall. Sandra released Harry's hand and took up the staff, striking it three times on the stone floor. Chark, chark, chark. The reverberating sound of the wood echoed.

"Come in Sandra." Donna said sweeping the hanging foliage back from the entrance. She was dressed as Sandra was, nude, wings down in filmy gown like covering that hid nothing, and seemed to pass for formal wear here. The sisters repaired to a couch like protrusion along the wall of twining growth and bent close in conversation.

Gerry reclined in a bumpy chair, tossing something that looked like big kernels of popped corn in his mouth and munching. He was dressed much the same as Harry was, although the color was deep blue.

--Welcome to the family, Harry. Gerry raised his cup, inclining his head slightly. ...I greet you; he thought warmly.

"Thanks. It's good to be ...here. I've got questions Gerry." Harry replied looking around. Gerry laughed.

"I'm sure you do but there's not a lot of time before dinner. What do you want to know?" Harry struggled to find the first question. "Cup of wine while you decide what to ask?" He answered in the same manner as Harry, choosing to speak.

"Sure," Harry answered, busy turning as he inspected the dwelling. He began prowling as Gerry left the room, inspecting the strange furniture. The bumpy chair seemed to grow from the floor of mossy carpet in a rind like protrusion that gave when you pushed it. He sat in it gingerly, and discovered that it was quite comfortable.

--Damn, that feels cozy. Oldman thought, as Harry settled in with a wiggle, silently agreeing while feeling its texture carefully. A hand descended on his shoulder; a cup of wine was placed handily on the table.

--You are free with that hand aren't you? Oldman thought grumpily. The hand squeezed.

"Hey! I'm in here too." Harry said with surprise.

"Stolen my chair have you?" Gerry asked. Harry started to get up.

"No my guest, stay." Gerry shook his head in negation. Putting his earthen cup near Harry's, Gerry placed his hand on the carpet and raised a flat topped bump from the floor near the first, pressing and kneading it till it was a close duplicate of the original. He retrieved the bowl of big popcorn on the 'table' between them, watching with an amused gaze as Harry tried to embrace the knowledge.

"I want to go home and play with the floor." Harry said in wonder. Gerry waved his cup in a gesture of permission. Oldman laughed as Harry sat on the floor, struggling to make it follow his hands.

--You have to talk to the floor and tell it what you want, Gerry sent. That helped; Harry raised a profusion of shapes as he drank wine and munched away with Gerry, consuming the tasty bowl of food. As he drained the last of the cup of pungent heady wine, he saw the eyes of the three others meet in a shared thought.

Gerry left the room, carrying the empty cups and bowl. Sandra pulled him to his feet as Donna returned the room back to its former state. Harry viewed the removal of his creations with mild regret, and then realized that Sandra was examining him with pale frosty blue eyes. Donna did likewise; rich golden eyes searched from the unreadable mask of her unmasked face.

--It is time, Sandra thought at him. Donna stood beside her as Gerry returned, encumbered by a silvered glassine suit that was so like the Green Man's that Oldman had to cover Harry's recognition of the similarity with a guffawing remark.

--A silver set of long johns Harry; we're going to a Fairy pajama party. The ruse seemed successful as Gerry intoned with great sincerity.

--A mating gift for you Harry. Remember us whenever you wear it. He returned to the inner portion of the abode while Sandra and Donna helped him into the form fitting suit that was as warm as blood and flexible in spite of looking like glass.

--Wear this in service to our Father, Sandra began. ...As it protects you, may you protect him, as he protects our Shining People. They sealed the suit with sliding movements of their hands, closing the joints of breast plate, greaves, and boots; it became a single flexible garment, engraved with scales even to the tips of the gauntleted fingers of his hands. Donna brought forth a long cloak of woven glassine filaments that matched Sandra's wings.

--This is your mating cloak, symbol of your bond to my sister. It will keep you warm and dry in the rain, cool in the sun, and cover you when you are away from her. Welcome brother. She kissed his cheek, as they hung the cloak from his shoulders.

Harry looked up from the inspection of his brightly covered body and into the tear shimmered eyes of his mate gazing back in ardent loving pride. She placed a helmet shaped like the silvered head of a fish in in the crook of his right arm. Placing her hands on his chest, she bent her head down and let the energy from her wings surge into the suit, charging it as one would a capacitor.

Gerry strode back into the room in radiant blue armor; its engravings mimicked that of a turtle's, from the clawed fingers of the gauntlets, to the beaked helmet held in the crook of his arm. A cloak of neon pink depended from his shoulders.

--Let's go, Gerry sent, and bowed in a courtly manner to Harry.

They walked down the corridor. Sandra's mating gift shone at her throat, a silver broach in the shape of a piscine uroborus. A blood red ruby shone from its eye. Her hand rested lightly on the inside of his silvered left arm. Donna followed with Gerry. A shining blue stone rested in the hollow of her throat as they strode along behind.

The walls were lined with the lights of the lesser Fay, who sang together in a light lilting song that imparted a feeling of celebratory happiness that at times, sounded like a chant of blessing. Oldman remained silent, estimating the number of the Fay under Backwater. Sandra instructed Harry on the events that were unfolding and his role in them.

It seemed as if they walked for miles between the joyfully singing voices in the halls. Ahead, Harry could see other bright multi-colored orbs and adult Fay joining the throng that lined the walls waiting for them. They fell in behind the two couples as they passed, following in procession as they sang.

At last they stood in front of a great vine hung arch. A robed Fay was there with a stout staff of oak. They drew near him and stopped. The singing voices behind them diminished to Sotto voce loudness.

The hangings drew back from the arch as the Fay swept the staff across the doorway, revealing a line of white marble set into the floor a short distance away. A vast space of black stone, that was the floor of the Great Hall, stretched before them.

They followed the robed Fay to the line and stopped. The singing multitude entered with them, flowing to left and right. With heightened volume the song continued; rising and falling, sounding like a lyrical chant. Harry turned, trying to encompass the great open space.

Great Oaks walled the flat enclosure of rock that slanted slightly downward; their twisting roots emerged from the gnarled mass of knotted knuckles and knees encircling the base of the ancient, solid, growth of the giants, and embedded themselves in the stone.

Harry's overloaded senses only received the fantastical scene unfolding before him; they struggled to imprint the view forever. He turned his head behind, looking at Donna and Gerry. Searching Donna's golden eyed expression of happiness for her sister, he saw that she still held the tension of slight worry in the corners of her eyes that women held close to them. Gerry's serene blue eyes met his; simple acknowledgement and acceptance were returned in his mien.

Harry gazed past the massive Oaks behind them; they were the portal to the continuous press of the Shining People as they entered the encircling forest; their moving lights drew over, around, and up the thick boles, and then fanned out to spread across the limbs and branches, twinkling like the starry sky above them. His eyes followed them around the wall until he faced forward once more.

The pressing force of sensation caused him to come near passing into the shining paths in his mind but for Sandra's supporting presence and the tightly held golden cords of connection joining the three. As it was, Harry allowed the pressure of intense emotion take him to the ground.

He knelt, head down, unbound hair falling about his face, covered by the cloak of his Lady's colors that shone over the silvered armor. His hand supported his emotion struck body on the line of white stone.

Oldman gave Harry a gentle nudge to gain the attention of the dripping mental tears that fell from his mind with the real ones, glistening from his cheek and beard.

--Harry, the white stone is a step; beware, lest you stumble. Harry's hands felt the stone, moving over it under the cover of his cloak, discovering the shallow step that was hidden in the smoothly appearing floor.

Silence fell over the singing, jubilant, throng with the first sounding strike of the robed one's staff; a hush stilled. Twice more it sounded, echoing vibrations; the noise reverberated from the enclosing expectant assembly; its physical sound seeming to travel upward to the sky, retransmitted by the myriad conscious thoughts. He felt the hand of Sandra tighten on his silvered arm as she knelt beside him, followed by Donna and Gerry. The herald spoke over their bowed heads in a clear loud voice.

"Princess San dra na brings her mated champion to the service of her Father, Dan na el, Lord of Sand and Protector of the Shining People. She begs the blessing of Mar gay na, Mate of Dan na el, Mother to the surviving Tir na' nOg."

--Ha, Ha-Ha-ha, he. Oldman's amused laughter sounded in the confines of Harry's mind that gave a start of surprised knowledge as the meaning of the words became clear.

--Princess? Harry turned to her; all that happened before, in the mad rush of their courtship, easily accepted, as the next odd occurrence drove the last to fact with the new curiosity; this trumped them all. ... That would make your Father... He was interrupted by Oldman.

--Oh come on Harry, it's a classic story, the princess and the frog. He stood unspeaking, unthinking staring into her calm eyes.

Sandra looked back, sending thoughts that soothed the realization that bubbled within him with a gentle, loving touch of her presence and contented mind.

--Never mind that now, my Lord; my Father awaits.

--And one, two, three, four, Stand. Oldman said in an amused singsong of mental cadence.

The group regained their feet, looking away over the floor to the two figures sitting on a raised dais before a similar portal of matching ancient oaks.

The three wide stone steps were filled by scattered groups of solemn faced Fay with smiling eyes and thought; armor covered them in shining colored light, that also spilled from the fairy lady's figures, gathered about the two that sHarry looked through Sandra's eyes, seeing them in binocular enhancement.

She from across the river was there; no other matched the bright white light of gowned wings that covered her in a shining lace like sheen. A shawl of matching illumination fell lustrously over her long white silken hair. Her golden eyes were the same as Donna's, imparting the linage of their family. He wondered at her age; her flawless pale completion framed beautifully proportioned features that belied the appearance of age.

Beside her sat an imposing figure in a carven chair, hands resting easily on the arms of it. He was dressed in flowing robes of rich red, gold, and purple; a thin circlet of gold, displaying glinting stones around its surface, restrained the falling hair of auburn and golden bronze.

A full beard was a cravat at the opening of his robes, covered in the illuminated matching flowing folds of his aura. Silvered eyes in his benign, lightly lined face, crinkled slightly in affection or amusement; a smile hinted at his lips as he raised a hand and summoned them forward with a gesture.

Following the measured steps of the robed herald, Harry felt the light pressure of Gerry hand as they crossed the hidden step. Relieved to have escaped the hazard, then a moment later, glad of Gerry's steadying touch, he stumbled over a hidden obstacle.