Claire De Lune Garden

In the garden of the manor, a fairy made of marble reaches for an absent hand. Her white, stone form is poised gracefully in a frozen gesture. Impossible insect wings sprout from her back, seeming like delicate flimsy things. Her details have been carefully etched, some inlaid with silver.

It is minutes after midnight. The sky is lit by a waning gibbous eye. It shines through rolling indigo clouds and gives a glow to the fairy's serene expression. The garden is growing into chaos. White roses wither and collapse at her bare feet, thorns unfurl in the lilies, weeds crawl between the lavender.

Across the avenue, high above, a granite gargoyle crouches on the edge of the church parapet. Old soot marks streak his powerful limbs and his copper eyes are rimmed with green, rusty tears. Behind him the somber iron bell hangs in its shelter. No tolls sound, the dark is filled only with the rasping wind.

Time began for him the day they placed her there. Her elegant figure, though ever still, holds the promise of a sprightly dance. She reaches out silently for a partner. In his mind, she reaches out for him.

In truth, he thinks, she can't possibly want him. With his fearsome scowl, his deadly fangs, he feels he is a nightmare. Flawed and filthy. Coarse and cracked.

Time crumbled for her the day she was left alone. Now her eyes, gazing ever upward, watch the moon phases beyond the steeple. She never guesses at the obscured form looming from the roof. She never guesses she is wanted.

In truth, she thinks, she is not valued. With her fanciful posture, her worn edges, she feels she is a relic. Marred and mossy. Dingy and dull.

Drops fall from the sky. They are not rain, but crystal specks of regret wept by the moon. They flit on the wind, landing on the massive shoulders of the rooftop beast. He blinks his copper gaze as life spreads down his form. Stones grumble against stones as he flexes his clawed hands.

As he stretches up from his crouched pose, his form transmutes. He is no longer granite but a being of flesh. Though still grey and mottled, his once abrasive skin is now firm but smooth. His once bloodless core has a warm heart that beats a thrilled rhythm.

His wings spread wide. With mighty beats he rises above the parapets. Gliding in the night, a silhouette in the sight of the benevolent moon. His new heart pulses joy through his veins. Sweeping down on the edge of wind, he descends to the tangled growth of the fairy's garden.

Before her gentle form at last, he sinks to his knees, a mighty creature in reverence. So close. He reads, for the first time, her melancholy eyes. A specter of pain that strikes the deepest chords within him. He softly takes hold of her icy marble hand.

A sigh falls from her parting lips. Not dismay, but a rising wisp of life freed by his touch. She shifts her silver wings with a motion of her elegant shoulders. A turquoise glow lights her pearly eyes as she smiles down at his form.

As she steps out of her frozen pose, her form transmutes. No longer marble but a being of lithe, luminous flesh. Her heart plays a sweet melody of new emotions. She closes the distance with the kneeling gargoyle, embracing him so that the side of his face presses to her bare chest. In his ear beats the thrilled rhythm of her fresh life.

He rises to his full height, wrapping the fairy in his arms. She tilts her face towards his, looking into his eyes. She reads, for the first time, the fragile hopes of his soul. He leans in half-way, questions drawn in his expression. She smiles for her answer and he closes the space between their lips. The kiss is one of soft, precious contact.

This is why he was lost. This is why she was forgotten. To find this eternal moment in the dome of a crystalline night.

The warmth of this closeness stirs something more within him. He kisses her again, lingering and savoring the experience. She returns his touch with the ardent pressure of her lips, sliding a palm along his chest at the same time.

There is an irrefutable heat seeping its way into his body. He brings his mouth down to her neck, sucking against the skin that curves to her collarbone. She lets out a moan that dissolves into a pleased hum. His hand finds its way across her body, massaging her breast. Another moan escapes her, a drawn out, primal sound.

Her voice intoxicates him. He brings his mouth back to hers, easing his tongue in to caress her own. She rakes her fingertips along his back, arcing her figure to press further against him. He can feel his body being spurred on by every action. He needs her. He wants her in the most intimate way. For them to belong utterly to each other. To be inseparable.

She feels him withdraw from their kiss. She looks into his eyes as he gently brushes against her cheek with his hand.

"Do you..." His voice rumbles from his chest. He hesitates to complete his thought aloud. What if this perfection is only mist? What if his desire scatters this dream to the wind?

"Yes." She bridges the gap of his doubts with one clear utterance. Her smile is impish as her hands trail down his form, ending with the briefest touch to his most tender flesh. He groans from this sweet tease, his flesh growing stiffer and his mind flooding with need.

They sink down together among the weedy lavender. She lies back and he bears down on her carefully, conscious of his bulky form. With a slow pressure he enters, uniting them. Her soft gasps pour fuel on his passion. His patience for this caution nearly slips, but he manages the moment as she adjusts to him.

Wonderful, thrilling heat flushes her nerves as he moves deeper. She reaches out and guides him close enough to kiss again. His hips jut forwards, causing a divine friction inside her. She rocks with his motions, letting out a moan against his lips.

They are finding a rhythm together. He pushes in long strokes as she writhes beneath him. The world has fallen away. No thoughts beyond her. No feelings outside rapture. He moans with his face pressed to her delicate neck. She clutches at his shoulders, hidden from the moon by the shadow of his wing.

Holding her around the waist, he turns to bring her on top. She braces herself on him, rocking her hips and humming a drawn out sound of pleasure. Keeping a steady grip at her waist, he starts to buck beneath her. They move steadily in an ardent pattern, a delicious ache for more rising within both of them.

A frantic energy possesses their bodies. She leans forward, the build of sweet sensations beginning to overwhelm her. He caresses her face, his mind drowning in want. In that moment her body tenses, and she feels a beautiful release that sings in her veins. She trembles atop him and his own heated desperation tumbles into ecstasy.

In serene contentment, she lies in his arms and watches clouds sweep across the stars. They rest in the overgrowth, sharing sated smiles and gentle embraces. Seeping from the horizon... the merest trace of twilight begins to glow. The moon is setting, retreating beyond the church.

They both sense it, the instant it starts. The tingle of magic departing from their bodies. They lock eyes with each other, a mirror of the same thoughts in their minds. Whether this is the end, whether the next night brings them life again, it doesn't change what they have. This night was perfect.

In the garden of the manor, a fairy made of marble lies in the hold of her granite gargoyle. Her silver details glint in the rosy dawn, her expression serene as she looks into his copper eyes. His green, rusty tears do not displace the countenance of joy as he smiles at his fairy.