The Fayfolk and the Forester

"Not that kind. I felt your soul in me."

He swelled with pride and Maenyr's hips took notice. "Will you go again?"

She nodded, answering, "Gladly."

The fay rolled them over and sat upright, his arousal still seated fully within the crux of her thighs. She put a hand to her chest and steadied her breathing, letting an evening breeze fill her with new energy. Her hips started to roll gently against him.

"This is making love. Before was...something different. Something wild and untamed. I hadn't known that was in me."

"Nor did I."

"You have witnessed me in rare form then, woodcutter. I shine in that light for only you." She backed down on his erection with meaningful force and leaned forward, allowing her petite breasts to dip against his chest. "And you have but yourself to thank for that."

"I have come to know completeness," he said, unhindered by modesty.

"Was life so incomplete without the embrace of my body?" came the knowing reply.

"It was."

She appeared to approve, rolling her hips in a slow rhythm, locking them together with her knees to his hips. Her body arched back and forth as they lay enjoying each other oblivious to the hills, the valley, the moon, the world.

"Have you truly lived this day?" Whether or not she had intended for him to answer seriously, he responded by cupping her face in both hands. She blushed, even in the dim light, and looked away shyly.

"You are the most beautiful woman alive or dead."

Maenyr bit her lip with embarrassment. "You'll make a braggart out of me with that tongue of yours." Her gaze returned to his with shimmering eyes. "And a lover out of me with that stare."

He laughed. "It is not within me to deny the truth."

At that, she ground their sexes together extra hard. Ecstasy tingled behind his eyes, darting around his head with dizzying speed. Her entire body trembled as they kissed again. His hands moved down her lithe form and made themselves comfortable at her waist. They pushed and pulled with every rocking motion of her hips, back and forth in a rhythm as old as time.

"You think you have me wrapped around your little finger, don't you? With all these sweet words from that silver tongue," she managed even as her tongue found activities otherwise.

"It's no finger I have you wrapped around," rose the impish reply. Doran pushed up against her as she came down and she moaned in unexpected pleasure.

"Then perhaps I'll just devour you with my love." She took his hand and pushed two of his fingers into her mouth, sucking on them seductively. Their rhythm quickened immediately from both ends. They matched each other until Maenyr bit down on his fingers and drove herself down in a frenzy.

Doran felt his stomach tighten and knew it was time.

"Maenyr."

"Stay the course," she said, releasing his fingers. Moments later, he let go the cord of tension building from his neck to his navel. His arms crushed Maenyr against his chest, hips jerking erratically as he filled her body with his seed. His eyes crossed as the inside of his head came to life with otherworldly euphoria. The fay put her head to his and let him ride out the most gratifyingly-intense feeling of his life.

When the feeling subsided, he lay in the grass beneath Maenyr, arms falling slack to either side. He was panting with thus unnoticed need for air. The night sky filled his eyes with wonder. On his chest, Maenyr just smiled to herself.

"I have lived enough for two men this night," declared the forester as he brought a hand to the fay's back.

"Sleep now enough for three." Maenyr pulled his hand and kissed it with tender affection, holding it to her cheek to share their warmth again. He listened to her hum a soft, tranquil tune until he drifted away to sleep in the clover.

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Some time later, he opened his eyes to find Maenyr sitting beside him, eyes fixed on his. An entire patch of clover was wrapped around her pale frame like a cloak.

"Just listen," she commanded softly.

He listened in silence to the valley around him. The wind carried the sound of rustling leaves up past them on the hillock. Birds greeted each other in the dimness, raising their voices in little clusters nearby. Beside him, Maenyr's breath was even and calm.

The first light of the new dawn spread across her features, illuminating her in a glow that no epic poem or bard-sung tale could ever truly describe. An amused smile formed on her lips as she glanced down at him.

"And you thought you'd be gone by now."

Still staring at her, he asked, "Am I not?"

"Not yet." She brought his hand up and kissed it affectionately. "Not until I desire. Which is a great many summers away. Perhaps more should you give me an apple tree of my own."

Doran breathed an unexpected sigh of relief and squeezed her hand firmly. He should have known. Jealous thing that she was, she could never let something she wanted slip away with someone else. All in hand or none at all. You told me from the very start, didn't you?

Doran knew when he was beaten. "Am I to fetch it from Francia now or later?"

"When the lord in the valley commands, now that she alone rules it."

"When might that be, Lord in the valley?"

She gave a slight shrug after a moment of contemplation. "When it suits my whims, dear woodcutter, but not now. Not tomorrow...perhaps the day after."

"I'll see to it then, for the greatest beauty 'Neath moon or sun."

Maenyr's face flushed red unexpectedly. "Perhaps just the moon," she amended quietly.

Doran shook his head with a grin. "Not from what I see now. I will settle for no less than the most beautiful woman in any land, from this valley to 'Neath -- to a world beyond the sky. And thus, I have you."

At that, Maenyr's demeanor of superiority returned, emboldened by his words. "If I am so beautiful, then you would take no issue with spending a day in my embrace?"

"None at all."

"A lifetime?" she asked.

"It would be my honor," he replied.

"An eternity?"

Persistent, aren't we? "There is no greater reward for a man."

She bent down and kissed him lovingly. "Consider yourself richly rewarded then, Doran." She moved to lie down on his naked chest and pressed her lips to the dip in his throat. "After my apple tree bears fruit, of course."

"Of course."

"And my oak bears its fruit as well."

He mulled the idea around for a while. "Fair enough."

"And my womb bears our fruit too."

"Nat... what?"

Maenyr giggled.