middaeg | Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn

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Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!

It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a ~~horrible~~ beautiful Faun.

Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.

Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.

Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.

Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.

There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?

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Howl is as incapable of going too far as he is surviving without oxygen. But despite immediately starting to plot something new in his head, he nods slightly in agreement.

"Using the tip of two fingers," he begins, moving his hand to his other thigh to spread it wider as well, "trace the circumference of the base clockwise. That will activate the spell."

Or so he'd been told, at least. Howl watches Iramaat intently, just as eager to see her reaction. His palm pets the inside of her leg encouragingly, gliding across the short fur.

"Interesting..." Iramaat murmurs. She does as instructed and she feels the little toy heat in her hands and begin to hum and vibrate with some sort of internal energy. She laughs, low and amused, and then drags it between her legs, nudging the tip between her legs to tease at her lips. She's not going too far just yet - it's only a tease, the first touch to see how it suits. And to put on a show, of course.

She's watching Howl with lidded eyes and a half-smile, one that fades slightly as she gasps at the sensation, her eyes falling shut as the first tremor of pleasure runs through her.

"Oh, that's interesting..."

The humming noise does not catch Howl off guard - he knows how to turn the toy on, after all - allowing him to focus completely on Iramaat's delectable reaction to its first push beyond her outer lips. She might catch a brief glimpse of the pink flush that spreads across his face as his eyes tear away from her face and dart down her body.

"Lovely. Lush," he murmurs, letting out the deep breath he'd been holding in at the same time. His hand pets farther in, his fingertips resting at the innermost boundary of her thigh, just close enough to spread her pussy open by pulling gently on the skin. "No need to hurry, love..."

There's a surge of appreciation and warm affection at his words. And even more when she catches the way he flushes. Then her eyes flutter half shut, one hand still directing the little toy, the other grasping at Howl's shirt, fingers gripping and tight as she nudges the tip up and over herself, sliding against the hooded nub of her clit and then dragging back down and then again, letting her arousal start to slicken it as it glides over her, Howl's assistance having spread her open.

"Oh, no - n-no hurrying," she replies, "Let's take our time. You're so warm and this gift is - ah - oh, I adore it-" She turns her head to try and bury her face against the crook of his neck as a little noise of pleasure worms its way out of her.

Her affection is met with a swell of sharp, determined lust, Howl having interpreted her answer as permission to enjoy her while she enjoyed herself, to make her his own toy for now. Shifting, he hooks one of his ankles around hers to keep her leg spread wide and pushes himself up, denying her any hiding spot against his neck.

Howl wants to play with her, and he wants to watch while he does it. Breathing excitedly, he trails his hand up her thigh again to the knot of her loincloth, to the single fastened button of her shirt, to her exposed chest, to finally cup a breast adoringly. While rolling his thumb into her nipple, he leans his neck down again to kiss along her collarbone, allowing his desire to flow into her freely.

No hiding? Well, he does like to see her. She can't complain. Her face is flushed and her expression flickers between amusement and a sort of distant, unfocused concentration as she tries to ride out the little jolts of pleasure from the warmth and the vibration and the sense of intense anticipation that bubbles up in her. Then his hand finds her breast and she presses into him, one hand still grasping at at his shirt as she rocks her hips against her own self-pleasure.

"Oh, Howl-hah-"

The tip of the toy drags against her sex again, rubs against the little sensitive nub, and then she carefully begins to work it into herself, spreading herself open bit by bit as his hand toys with her breast. There's a wave of pleasure and joy and lust that comes flowing back to him along their link. It's almost a feedback loop at this point.

Vaguely, like muffled music, Howl can pick up on the pleasure rolling through her. This is undoubtedly one of the most fascinating elements of being bonded, at least in Howl's mind - it's so completely different from the bond he had with Calcifer, raw and unrefined in comparison, but more indulgent than anything Calcifer could ever give him.

"Iramaat," he breathes against her neck, before pressing his lips against her skin again to kiss down her chest, between her breasts, and up to the opposite nipple. While he licks tenderly around her areola, the hand teasing her other breast travels downward, searching for the split between her legs. Without disturbing her own work - or, at least trying not to - his fingertips search for a moment until they find the nub at the top and pull on the delicate hood teasingly.

Howl speaks her name aloud and it makes her shiver - almost as much as the tongue and lips against her breast and the teasing fingers between her legs. Her breath hitches and she makes a low whining noise as she slides the toy deeper and her hips press up as she tries to follow that little touch against the hood of her clit. Her toes curl and the warm burn of pleasure that rises in her doesn't go away; it grows and grows and she gasps his name aloud.

"Howl - right there - just a little more, please-"

Howl obediently follows her commands for a short while longer, his fingertips pulling on the hood while respectfully rubbing the special nub it kept hidden and protected. But, only for a short while. During one pass, he sneaks a finger beneath the skin to push against the nub directly, hoping to draw a reaction from her - both physically and along their magical coupling.

"Must you keep me waiting?" he asks quietly, his lips just above her nipple, before licking her tenderly again. The question might make her want to delay her orgasm further, but really, Howl wins either way, doesn't he?

That sneaky little touch combined with the warm hum of the toy and the anticipation she's been feeling and she finally begins to fall apart. She might normally have a very smart reply for him, but she's been on edge already. The little rub of his finger makes her jump, her hips hitching, and she tries to say something, but cannot get the words out. Instead there's a muted little gasp and her body seems to tense, hips rising against his hand as she's overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that seems to break over her all at once.

The lips against her breast certainly help.

"N-No-" She manages, head back, eyes half-closed. She's a sight - flushed, legs spread, body slick with sweat and she's still going.

Howl follows her gentle slip over the edge as if watching it with his eyes. He breathes a deep, slow sigh, enjoying the empowering glow that radiates from her mind, subtly pulling the excess magic out of the corners of his own mind. Iramaat's orgasms always seem so intense - so much more intense than any orgasm Howl has ever had, which admittedly causes him a pang of jealousy each time. Is that simply an effect of feeling another's orgasm through their bond together? Is it because she's a faun? Or, are women as a sex blessed with climaxes this incredible?

He doesn't want to interrupt it - for either of them. As the spasm continues, Howl softly pinches and rubs her nub between two fingers, sucking softly on her breast while basking in her wake. When he senses it starting to subside, he picks his head up again, but does not stop his hand.

"What mercy you've shown me," he murmurs as he pushes his hips forward, pinning his erection between the side of her thigh and his stomach. "I need you. Iramaat, your humble wizard begs... put your gift aside..."

It's possible it's Iramaat; she tends to go large with whatever she does. Maybe that includes orgasms? Whatever the reason, she's slowly coming down from the high and gets a hint of that jealousy, but she attributes it to his own needs and wants as he presses against her. She breathes easy and slow, her whole body still feeling flushed and overwarm.

"You can have me," she murmurs in reply as she slides the toy free of herself and sets it aside. She reaches out for him, grabs a handful of his shirt so she can lean over and kiss him with an intense hunger that ripples through their bond. She can feel his want already and it makes her shiver.

"Come here-" She rolls onto her side and slots herself back against his chest, being careful not to let her antlers hit him in the face. There's a hand between them, guiding his cock between the smooth fur of her thighs. She closes around it, engulfs it for a moment as she rocks back against him, letting the length slide back and forth against the wet mess that's been made of her cunt.

"Better...?" She says over her shoulder.

After Iramaat pulls away from the kiss, Howl watches her choose their position with a new, hungry glimmer in his eyes. His gaze travels down her neck, to the elegant curve of her spine, to the soft ginger hair that leads to her delightful white-bottomed bobtail, which he toys with affectionately before lightly gripping her hip.

Some of the fauns he's laid with have had course rough fur, or tangled shaggy fur, but the pelt that encases his cock on two sides is soft and silky. Then there's the soppy wetness above, squeezing from between her swollen lips.

"A step in the right direction," he breathes. Really, rubbing between her thighs like this would be more than enough to bring him to completion, but his indulgence - bordering on gluttony - prevents him from becoming completely impatient. He guides her body as she rocks her hips back and forth, his breathing deep and controlled, allowing her natural slick to coat the top of his cock.

Then, while Iramaat rocks forward, he holds her hip tightly to keep it still and angles his hips back to press the tip against her entrance. It gives way more than it usually would on initial penetration, thanks to her warm-up with the toy, but there's no getting around the natural friction of skin against skin.

Howl sucks in a deep breath and leans forward, planting a kiss on the back of her neck as he slowly, teasingly pushes into her.

Iramaat's breath escapes in a long, slow sigh as he angles himself against her. She's wet and open and already a little languid and relaxed from her warm-up, so he slips in incredibly easily. Her head tilts forward slightly to expose more of her neck to him, a hand back to grasp at his hip and urge him to push home. Her other arm is stretched out under her head, fingers fisted in one of the blankets that make up their little nest. She rocks back against him as he slides into her and she's spread open all over again.

"Oh..." She murmurs, eyes half-closed, "The toy is delightful, but you - you are exquisite..."

There's a slow roll of contentment and pleasure down their bond. Something warm and possessive that settle s over her like a blanket. She's not doing too much of her own moving, though. She's being a little lazy.

"Come on, then," she continues, "I know you want me."

His wanting goes without saying, woven into the cozy warmth passing between their minds. He doesn't mind her possessiveness, not the way he did when they first bonded - by now he's come to think of it as Iramaat offering up herself to in, in a backwards kind of way, and in the moments when he's plunged deep inside her, that's all he needs to find their arrangement agreeable.

"Silky," he murmurs against her neck, returning her compliment. Gripping her hip, he begins to rock her body, gently, allowing himself to slide in and out of her smoothly while rocking his hips in the opposite direction. Exquisite is apt. That's how he likes to do things - sensual, slow, savoring each movement.

"Ah... Iramaat, you... the most succulent fruit, from the most lush oasis palm..." He breathes a long sigh out of his nose and kisses her neck again, focusing on the sensation flowing into his pelvis. Her body is especially warm and inviting tonight. If he isn't careful, he'll lose control and be finished before he can stop himself.

His pleasure flows into her and back again and she basks in it, especially as he begins to move against and inside of her. She meets him, lazy and slow and sensuous, twined around him, gripping against him as he slides deep on every stroke. Her eyes flutter shut and she focuses on the sensation of him; of the way he fills her, the heat of his body pressed against her back. She has already come once tonight, but she thinks that he'll give her another if he keeps going as he is.

There's something deliciously decadent about the way he moves and the way they press together, wrapped up in each other. There's nothing to think about; no world to worry them. Just their little nest and one another and those delightful words of praise that please her oh-so-much.

"Come on, Howl..." She murmurs softly, "I want more of you. Give yourself to me. J-just for now, just for tonight-"

From there, Howl goes quiet, words being no match for a bond to communicate his thoughts. He doesn't love her, of course - he can't, not without a heart. He can't even truly mourn his lack of loving without a heart. But he still feels affection for her as a friend, a fascinating oddity, a useful conduit for his magic, a trustworthy confidant... and of course, a skilled sexual partner, with a beautiful body, warm speckled skin, velvety fawn-like fur, delightful ginger curls...

Iramaat's tail caresses Howl's stomach as his abdomen tightens with each roll of his hips. He tries to focus on that sensation, along with the task of kissing her neck and shoulder, to resist quickening his pace and to keep his pleasure from building too quickly. They're thinking the same thing: Howl will give her another orgasm tonight, - perhaps even timed with his own, if he can manage it, although it'll be tricky.

She could need some coaxing. Their rhythm is interrupted as Howl slides his hand down her hip, now gripping the flesh of her upper thigh, before he thrusts back into her, forcefully, aiming his head directly at the softest spot just inside her entrance.

Iramaat certainly doesn't mind being coaxed in this case. She angles her hips back to meet his, a little surprised noise tumbling out of her as he interrupts the rhythm they've found and that turns into a high little sound of pleasure as he angles himself against her and thrusts into her hard. Her fingers grip at his hip, urging him to continue. She doesn't have words for it at the moment; just a breathless, urgent need that resonates through the bond, urging to go faster, harder, to give her more.

Dutifully, Howl maintains the same pace, encouraged along by the lust and need recycling back and forth between them. He answers her soft needy noises with his own, breathing heavy against her skin and a defenseless, soft cry escape his lips when the pleasure distracts from his self-control.

It's becoming too much. His limit is approaching, rapidly, exponentially as it gets closer and closer. The realization incites a pang of delighted panic across their bond before he grabs her hip again and yanks her hip downward, pushing her body along with it until she was almost pressed flat on her stomach against the pillows, with Howl behind and only slightly to the side now. As he climaxes, he pounds his cock into her - not much faster, but forcefully, with the weight of his entire body. While he empties his seed into her, he moans blissfully and lets the edges of his mind blur with hers for just a few seconds.

Iramaat feels him start to unravel through their bond and she rolls with him, allowing him to press her into the pillows, her body stretched out beneath him. Her legs part a little and she cants her hips and ass back and up to meet him, accepting him with a lovely sort of eagerness. She arches her back and lets out a long, low groan of delight as he finally empties himself into her and everything seems to slide into a pleasurable sort of haze that drifts between them. After a long heartbeat, she relaxes, letting herself fall flat. A hand reaches up and back to card into his hair, her voice lazy.

"You're delightful."

Howl remains poised over her after final spurts, hunched over, his hair hanging around his face on all sides like golden curtains. That was... excellent. He'd needed it more than he'd known. The mist in his mind is gone now. Maybe it was the weight of excessive magical building up in his body, or maybe it was nothing more than the usual needs of his gender going unmet for too long, or maybe it was a mix of the two, but Howl feels so much better. No - better than better. He feels good.

After a pause, he pulls out and lowers himself beside Iramaat, making sure to keep his head within reaching distance of the hand petting through his hair. Once he's settled, he tugs on her shoulder, coaxing her to roll over onto her back.

"Did I manage a second?" he asks, his voice back to normal aside from gaining a hint of soft, satisfied exhaustion.

Iramaat feels languid; lazy. Sated. There's the hum of pleasure in her veins and the sense of feeling like all is right in the world, at least for the moment. She rolls to meet him, easing on to her back and filtering her fingers through his hair and down his chest in slow easy little strokes. Her eyes are lidded, her expression satisfied. Every part of her screams contentment.

"Mmm, yes. Is that important?"

She's teasing a little.

A sleepy, almost drunken smile has crept onto his face. Having heard her answer, he closes his eyes, allowing himself to indulge completely in the sleepy, cloudy laziness overtaking him.

"Of course," he answers softly. Why wouldn't her pleasure be important to him? Not to mention, his equally important male pride??

Howl goes quiet thereafter, his arm loosely wrapped around Iramaat's body, half-sleeping and half-meditating within the afterglow.

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Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

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