Les Delices

Les Delices

Bastien had been wandering the rainy trenches of the Vallée de Chênes for nearly a week, and by the time he stopped to set up his camp not an inch of him was dry and hadn't been for two days. Such a state is likely to make even the most intrepid traveler uncomfortable, but for Bastien this was tantamount to the utmost torture. His life mere weeks ago had been one of pampering and sumptuous luxury in the Court of Light as an ambassador for the Licornes. Not a nation in their own right, his people were far too scattered across the various kingdoms to claim any one piece of land as their own, and many of them not so secretly felt that all belonged to them. Their arrogance was tolerated for several reasons - their knowledge of the lands was a blessing to cartographers and traders, and their free passage made them excellent spies. Their magical abilities too were sought after, and indeed having a young Licorne noble to foster in one's court was considered the height of sophistication.

Bastien had been one such foster, given over to the Court of Light at a young age and raised there by an elven nanny. In point of fact, the ways and manner of the fairy court was all that he knew and understood, and all other ways of being seemed simply barbaric. How could the perfection of lace, satin, marble, wine, and silver ever be bested? It simply could not, in his opinion. Sadly for him, an upset in the line of succession due to a mishap during a boar hunt had changed everything. He'd been sent packing immediately, the mood of the court suddenly growing insular and xenophobic in the extreme. Despite his pointed ears and fair looks, the snowy whiteness of his long and silken hair, the ice-blue diamond on his brow, and his golden irises made him stand out as a different creature altogether.

"What a most disagreeable day" the young man grumbled as he collected soggy sticks and twigs to a clear spot beneath an oak tree. He'd been taught some basic survival skills by his nanny, but not having even thought about them in fifteen years, well, this wandering exile had been an exercise in discomfort and annoyance. With the wood propped up in the way he thought he remembered it should be, he stood ready and waved his slender hand towards the waiting, wet fuel. Nothing happened at the first pass, nor the second, and he frowned and stepped closer, glaring at the wood as he gestured to it. He could feel the spell slither along his skin and leap out towards the wood, but it just wasn't catching.

He grit his teeth and balled up his fists, tugging his pack from his back and dropping it onto the ground. Unburdened, he cast the spell again and again, eventually standing directly over the wood. Finally, in a fit of great displeasure, he roughly shoved both hands at once towards the wood, and only then did the fire come to light. The burst of light and heat nearly between his legs caught him off guard so viciously that he cried out and startled backwards, eventually falling hard on his ass and elbows. "Fuck..." he groaned, but the sight of the crackling fire did offer some small comfort to his ego.

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Perhaps an hour later, Bastien was lounging by the fire beneath the shelter of the oak tree. Rain still poured down from the heavens, but in his small sheltered area of firelight he was almost comfortable. His shirts and trousers were strung up on a line to dry, and he kept himself warm with a blanket, reading a book. A small pouch with dried fruits and nuts rested within easy reach, and every so often he'd reach inside it to pluck out an almond or a dried currant.

Suddenly a gust of wind blasted into the shelter beneath the tree, ripping the drying clothing from its line. Sparks and burning bits of wood flew past him as he hid beneath his blanket, fizzling out on the bare dirt. Shocked and breathless, Bastien peered out from beneath his woolen shelter to see an agitated Licorne in her natural state canter into his camp site to examine it. Her legs were slender and cervine, down to her cloven hooves, and her tail was leonine, tufted in white cirrus at the end. Her body was whippet thin and arched, always ready to spring into movement, and her slender neck led to an elegant head with slitted nostrils, copper eyes, and delicately pointed ears. A spiraled, slender ivory horn stood out from her brow proudly like a stiletto dagger blade, both beautiful and menacing all at once.

Without warning she turned towards his blanket and stamped her foot, snorting once. "Come out from there!" she demanded, her mouth just as able to speak as any elf at court.

Bastien swallowed. "You've scattered my clothing. I'd be naked!"

The licorne sniffed, flicking an ear. "And?"

"And it's crass to be unclo..."

"COME OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW!" she bellowed, and Bastien scrambled out from his shelter to stand miserably in the dying light of the failing, scattered embers. His body was slender, not quite as filled out as an elven man of his age, but he'd never been passed over by the ladies for frailty. However, he positively wilted beneath the licorne's stern gaze, until at last she said, "Adopt a proper shape."

He blinked. "I, what?"

She snorted, trotting over to him with annoyance. "This body is wrong. Put on a proper shape. You are licorne, are you not?"

Bastien rubbed at his upper arm. "Yes, of course. But..."

The licorne stared at him, flicking an ear. She was only slightly bigger than a deer, and her eyes were just at the right to look directly into his. "But what? Were you not properly taught by..." she leaned forward and sniffed at the blanket, then raised her head to him again, her ears folding back as she narrowed her eyes in displeasure. "Elves. You were fostered by elves. No wonder you're such a fool." Much to his surprise, she turned away and began to walk away from his camp, only calling back over her shoulder, "Put out your fire and get out of my forest before dawn."

Bastien swallowed, his cheeks flushed. He'd never met another creature like himself since he'd been sent to court, and before then he'd been far too young to really remember how beautiful they were. Only remembering his nudity just then, he grit his teeth and winced, then ran off to find his scattered clothing. They were passably dry, and he tugged on a white tunic and black pants and boots, stuffing the rest in his pack. The remaining embers he stamped out or buried, and then he tugged on his pack and ran into the forest the way the licorne had just gone.

Finding her wasn't difficult. He'd always had an interest in hunting and tracking, and he could read the signs of her passage, minimal as they were. In his element and fascinated, he hardly noticed the cold and damp of night. Her path took him up the valley's steep side, and he was surprised to see an abandoned castle. Perhaps a modest getaway from ages past, the outside didn't look too decrepit. Bastien wasn't sure where the licorne had gone, but with his breath now steaming on the cold night air, he decided to take shelter within. Would she be mad? Not if he left before dawn, and he would make sure that he did.

The front door was barred from within, but one of the windows at ground level was broken. He carefully climbed inside, taking a look around at what he could. Moonlight streamed in, sending bars of blue and silver light to illuminate a utilitarian aesthetic. When he gestured at the sconces on the walls, they took light immediately. The interior, chilly without anyone to keep the fires lit, only grudgingly warmed as he explored, eventually settling on a bedroom that was in good condition, dry and clean.

He made a point to secure the bedroom door and the window as well as he could against unwanted visitors before he undressed for bed, and the magic of simply being in a decent shelter for the first time in a week hit him hard. Sleep fell upon him almost as soon as he crawled under the covers.

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When he next opened his eyes, the sun was well up in the sky, the golden light filtering in through the window. Bastien stretched, then gasped and sat bolt upright in bed. She'd told him to be out of her forest by dawn, and he was still in it. What would the licorne do if she caught him? He fretted and chewed on his thumbnail a moment, hugging his knees. What was he to do? He'd been cast out from court, he had no relations to speak of, no destination, and no money. Really, this was the first time he began to worry about it all, and he grimaced as he slipped out of bed and pulled on his clothes.

He kept fretting even as he wandered to the castle's privy and had his morning piss, then kept on fretting as he explored the kitchens and found the larders to be barren. The armory had a beautiful set of archery equipment, and he pulled down a bow, quiver, and a set of arrows for himself, determined to at least find a hare or a pigeon for himself. Armed and prepared, he slipped out a back door and into the woods, keeping as quiet as he could as he listened to the birds in the trees. Very slowly he pulled an arrow from the quiver at his hip and notched it, then narrowed his eyes as he drew the string back and clicked his tongue.

The bird, a fat pigeon, looked at him and froze, its feathers fluffing just a little. It hardly moved even as he let the arrow fly, and the dart hit its mark in the bird's chest. The other birds turned to look, and one by one he locked eyes with them and commanded them to stay still and wait for his arrows. He didn't take too many - only four - and once the last was felled he collected them on a line and draped that over his shoulder. They would make excellent eating when roasted, and that was his plan.

Well, right up until he returned to the castle and saw the licorne standing before the back entrance he'd used. He stiffened, was about to offer some means of explanation, but then pulled the bow from his shoulder and notched an arrow, aiming at the licorne's heart. "Let me by. Please."

She snorted. "I told you to leave. I commanded you to leave, but you refused. This is my forest and I will not condone fires or poaching."

He braced his feet, holding his breath and aiming, preparing to loose his shot. And then, slowly, his arms moved, tilting the bow until the arrow's point was pressed to the soft flesh beneath his jaw. Bastien whimpered, feeling his hands and arms gripping and straining as she controlled them with her magic, and he swallowed. "I'm sorry! I... I have nowhere to go. Please have mercy on me."

The licorne narrowed her eyes, and Bastien closed his, shivering. All at once his arms released their hold, and the arrow whined up past his head, just brushing past his cheek. He dropped the bow and fell to his knees, sliding his hands up into his hair as he panted with fear. He'd nearly died! What had possessed him to point a weapon at her?! How stupid!

"Did your elves cast you out?" she asked dismissively, then paused as he nodded miserably, hugging his arms around his chest. "I'm sorry," she said softly, her ears folding back. "You have no family to go back to?" He shook his head, and she dipped her own, grimacing at her own boorish demands from last night. The dirt beneath her hooves shifted and grit softly as she turned away from him to regard the castle. "You may stay here, if you like. I won't chase you off." She felt so terribly awkward that she walked away without a word, leaving the young man kneeling and shaking.

"What's your name, Miss?" he asked when she was at the forest's edge, looking up at her with his golden eyes.

"Lily," she offered, pausing only for a moment before disappearing into the fair, green undergrowth.

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And so Bastien came to live in Lily's forest, taking only what he needed in the greatest moderation. Weeks passed and the weather turned fair, and flowers bloomed on the vines clutching at the castle stones. This simpler life was so different from his time at court, but even so, the peace and quiet was new and wonderful. No one required anything of him. He risked no social faux pas. Indeed, there were no elves to upset for miles around, and his only companion was a licorne just like himself.

Or, rather, not quite like himself.

Lily visited him on occasion, talking to him and taking walks with him through the woods. He learned the best places to collect ingredients and medicines, and what areas to avoid. Bastien noticed, too, that every once in awhile a small gift would be left at his door - flowers, chestnuts for roasting, herbs for cooking, or even beautiful feathers to be fletched for arrows. Whenever he asked her about it she would deny her involvement, but she couldn't hide the cloven hoof prints left behind in the dirt by the gifts she left.

His gifts weren't material things. At night, when the weather was pleasant, he would sit outside and sing as he worked, weeding the small garden he'd started or repairing some piece of furniture. Lily wouldn't always be visible, but he knew she was there, watching him with great interest in the shelter of the woods. Sometimes he left her a small pile of clover to nibble on while she watched, and without fail it would be gone when the morning came, again surrounded by hoof prints.

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One night, just as Bastien was settling into bed, he heard an odd sound within the castle. Surely there wouldn't be an intruder. Lily was always so good at keeping strangers away that he never locked the doors anymore. But as he listened, he heard the sound of a chair tipping over and a hushed voice. He pulled on his pants and lit a candle with a snap of a finger before setting it in a holder and slipping out into the hallway.

The noises came from the back entrance by the kitchen, and when he pushed open the door he blinked. A young woman with white hair was holding onto the work table for dear life as she got her feet back under her. Her naked body was half dusted with flour, and just as she got to her feet, she nearly fell over again, saved only by her grip on the table. Bastien frowned and hurried over, setting the candle down and rounding the table to wrap an arm around the woman, who he could now see was as fine-boned and slender as he was.

When she looked up at him, her copper eyes seemed guilty, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her pointed ear. The lilac diamond on her forehead was visible behind a lock of hair, and she cleared her throat. "This is very embarrassing, and we will pretend that when I walked into your castle for the first time it was with grace and confidence. Agreed?"

Bastien smiled brightly, laughing as he gently guided her to sit in a chair. "Oh absolutely. You were nothing but poetry in motion - that's what they'll all say."

Lily sat with a wince, rubbing at her elbow and watching him fetch a rag and a bowl of water. "How ever did you learn to walk like this? It's so precarious. And you have so many toes! How am I supposed to know what to do with them? And these!" She held up her hands as he set the bowl down on the table and soaked the rag in it. "Fingers. It's like... like having little worms growing from my wrists. No loving god would have made these."

He snickered and gently washed the flour from her skin, wringing the rag out back into the bowl until the water had turned milky. "There are uses for them, it just takes practice."

She shivered, her skin drying but clean. "And to have no fur! I'm cold all of a sudden." A moment passed, and she pointed at him. "That's why you wear that ridiculous clothing."

"I'm afraid you've found me out," Bastien admitted, offering her his hand. She glanced at it suspiciously, then accepted it, letting him help her to her feet once more. "Here, let me find some clothing for you. I did find some trunks up in the attic storage. There might be some dresses that fit."

"What are dresses?" she asked, clearly perplexed.

The journey up the stairwell to the main level was slow and arduous, and only after he got her up to the main hallway did he say, "they are the things that women wear."

Tired and uncomfortable, Lily leaned against him, determinedly saying, "Then you are wearing a lovely dress."

"Oh, but this isn't..." he tried to explain, but she would have none of it.

"I want to wear those sorts of clothes you have on, and I am a woman. Therefore they will be the things that women wear." He almost argued with her, but she was giving him that look, an expression that brooked no argument, and he knew better than to say another word.

In all the time he'd been living at the castle, only the rooms he'd needed had been cleaned and repaired. Therefore the only suitable bedroom was his own, so he guided her to it and let her sit on the bed. Seeing her in the candlelight, how her beautiful, young body shivered and remained tense and ready for movement, it made him blush. He'd been with a few women, but things had never gotten farther than wandering hands beneath frocks and party gowns. To actually see a woman completely naked was something else, and he had to immediately find shelter by his wardrobe to hide the growing stiffness in his pants.

He pulled down a few tunics and hose, thinking they'd be small enough for her, and he was about to say something to that effect when he saw her on all fours on the bed with her back to him. Everything was on display - her slender, smooth backside, her slit, her star, everything. Lily sat back on her heels and held up a pillow, studying it as if greatly confused, and she was about to ask Bastien what it was for when she saw him frozen in place. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said in a pinched, high-pitched squeak, and he made his way to the bed and put the clothing down on it. Immediately Lily set the pillow aside in favor of the clothing, which she regarded with fascination. Bastien stood nearby, hugging his arms again and feeling caught between the need to touch her and the desire to remain polite.

Yet without anything to hide his tenting pants, Lily blinked and looked down at it. Her copper eyes glanced back up at his guilty expression, and she grinned, caressing a fingertip along the straining shaft trapped behind the fabric. Bastien groaned as she chuckled. "Fingers might have their uses. Maybe I judged this form too harshly." Her delight in tormenting him only grew as she hooked her fingers into his pants and drew him closer, then closer still. He was so obedient and so nervous.

"Have you ever mated with an elf, Bastien?" she asked curiously. To that he shook his head, blushing. "Have you mated with anyone?" His blush deepened all the way up to his ears, and he whimpered and shook his head. "Ah! Then I shall be your first! How delightful."

"What?!" he spluttered, brows lifting at her audacity.

Lily, meanwhile, looked up at him as if he'd gone mad. "What is this distress for? You're lucky. You've been chosen. That is how the Licorne manage our affairs, didn't you know?"

Bastien narrowed his eyes and peered down at her, suspicious. He'd never heard of such a thing, but then again, he only had the same vague information about his people that the elves did. "What does it mean to be chosen?"

Lily drew him forward further, until he had to climb up on the bed next to her. Upon all fours, the tension in his stomach left a gap between his skin and the front waistband of his trousers, and she slipped her hand inside to feel at the velvety, silky softness of his hot, hard cock. Bastien shivered and bit his lip, shyly looking at her over his shoulder as she boldly touched him and explained, "When a mare claims her own forest and successfully defends it, she may claim as many males into her harem as her forest can support. You will be my first, if you choose to accept my invitation."

Her other hand slid up the back of his thigh towards his covered ass cheek, cupping it and squeezing as if assessing him. It made him feel objectified, though only mildly, and his cock twitched in her hand. "I... had no idea..." he admitted softly.