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

[faithlikeaseed]

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?

Comments

[wylderrant]

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.

[galdorleod]

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.

[wylderrant]

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."

[galdorleod]

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.

[wylderrant]

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-"

[galdorleod]

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.

[wylderrant]

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.

[galdorleod]

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.

[wylderrant]

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."

[galdorleod]

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.

[wylderrant]

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.

[galdorleod]

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.