Lord of the Forest

by Lord of The Forest (lit)

  Her climax gripped him suddenly, triggering another groan. He felt her release, felt her potent pleasure in it. The scent of her musky-sweet essence rushed up his nostrils. He inhaled her, filling his lungs with her honeyed fragrance, a soft moan escaping as he found her lips and tasted her deeply. He couldn’t drink his fill, and when their lips finally parted, his came away from hers reluctantly, thirsting for more.

  Slowly, the madness in him was yielding to his rational side. The Midsummer fever raging in his blood would not be slaked, for the passion beat in him like the throb of a pulse—his own and that of the land. He could feel it in the forest floor beneath his feet as he swung them to the ground—a restless thrumming through the Ancient Ones’ roots. It was highly charged with pure sexual energy, just as it always was during the Midsummer revels, but this time there was something more.

  Something that reeked of death.

  The Otherworld would not be denied.

  “No more,” he said, rising. He reached for her hand, pulling her up alongside him. “We need to make an appearance.” What he really meant was that he needed to see if Ravelle would make an appearance. There was no need to alarm her, but his instincts were screaming now, silent but too clear to be ignored. “A brief stroll among the revelers, and then perhaps a refreshing bath,” he went on. “The hidden pool where we first met is not far. The mineral springs that feed it possess many powers besides the obvious. I go to it often.”

  “Like a babe to its mother’s breast?”

  “Yes. You could say that.”

  His reply was tame but his thoughts were not. The centaur was lurking just beneath the surface then. What Marius wanted was one more time in her before the appearance of the beast robbed him of pleasures he might never know again. Cloaked and guarded by trees older than time, whose powers not even he had ever tapped, the hidden pool was the perfect place for such a tryst.

  Linnea waved her arm and a garment appeared, a gossamer robe spun of spider silk spangled with the morning dew. She swirled it around her, and Marius wondered why. It hid nothing. It was as transparent as the air, the dewdrops like a million prisms giving birth to rainbows as the sunlight filtered down through the uppermost branches. It sparkled even more brilliantly once they’d left the sanctuary of the trees, catching the eyes of the revelers lazing about and taking advantage of the delectable fare in the colorful striped tents at the edge of the wood. A strolling circus had joined them, half-clad performers singing bawdy songs as they set up for their entertainments.

  The music of dulcimer, lyre, and flute surrounded them, though no musicians showed themselves. Marius had forgotten how hypnotic the ethereal Midsummer music could be. It resonated through his body, erotic and evocative. He couldn’t remember it having such an effect upon him before. Sounds, smells, images, like the dazzling gossamer wrap Linnea flaunted in the sunlight had increased in intensity a hundredfold. Yes, the centaur was near. There was no time to lose if he was to have her one more time before the beast within—the beast he abhorred—took possession of him once again.

  Linnea began to sway to the music, her long hair whipping the air, spreading her scent as she danced wildly, her tiny feet scarcely disturbing the sweet grass carpeting the forest floor in that sector. Mesmerized, Marius could do naught but stand and stare, his member swelling at the mere sight of her. She was feral then, his enigmatic antelope goddess, whose other self—like his centaur—lurked just beneath her golden skin. It was almost as if she were drawing his centaur out, challenging it—at the very least flirting with it. Did she not know what fire she played with? Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her undulating movements. She was pure sex, a shimmering vision of seduction. All eyes were upon her as she whirled and spun and seduced the sun streaming through the clearing. It made love to her in turn.

  Reaching out, she beckoned him to join the dance. A gasp rumbled through the spectators that had gathered. It took a moment before Marius realized his naked arousal had caused it. Lords of the green had no modesty. Naked or clothed, their sexuality was not a private matter. Fertility was their purpose, and nudity was as natural to them as breathing. He gave their awestruck appreciation only passing notice, for he had eyes only for Linnea. Her shapely figure beneath the sheer robe had his full and fierce attention. She was exquisite, and she was his for the taking, at least until the Solstice revels ended.

  “Come,” he said, taking her hand. “Our bath awaits, my lady.”

  Linnea’s eyes held a playful glint filled with mystery and promise. Marius was thrilled by it but she avoided his hand and darted past him, her laughter like silver bells pealing.

  “I will race you there, my lord!” she cried out, streaking past him. “Catch me if you can!”

  Her words were like a caress riding the breeze as Marius raced after her. He dared not let her out of his sight, not with the threat he feared still looming. But he’d forgotten how swiftly an antelope could move. His own strong legs were carrying him at a good pace through a mist that had suddenly risen. He could no longer see her ahead, though he could hear her laughter. His heart began to pound, not from the exertion of the race but rather from a shadow of fear he could taste as her laughter grew more distant and finally was no more.

  4

  Linnea heard Marius following her but at some distance, calling her name as he thrashed through the undergrowth. Dear Goddess, neither man nor centaur could move with her subtlety. She laughed inside at the frustration in his voice, letting her slender feet carry her ahead with scarcely a sound, feeling wonderfully giddy. May wine was deceptive. Still, she’d not had so much that she stumbled as she ran. No doe could go more lightly.

  Of a sudden she saw one.

  The animal looked out wonderingly from the thicket that concealed her, straight at Linnea but only for a second. Did the creature have a fawn nearby? Linnea paused, looking into the doe’s eyes. The soft-eyed doe simply stared back at her and then…she was joined by not one but two fawns, spotted and spindly-legged. She looked to each of her children as if admonishing them for coming forward, until Linnea reached out to stroke her slender neck.

  The doe seemed fragile, Linnea knew. But she was capable of rearing and lashing out with her split hooves to protect her young. Both fawns nestled close to their mother, trembling ever so slightly. It would not do to have Marius, foolish with lust, burst through the branches that concealed them all and frighten the little group.

  “Well met,” she whispered to the beautiful animal, “but you must dash away. The forest is full of men.” She gave the creature a final caress and stepped away.

  Then the doe trembled too of a sudden, her brown eyes sparking with fear as she looked over Linnea’s shoulder. Filled with instant apprehension, Linnea whirled around to see what stood behind her.

  A man—Marius? So it seemed, but…A prickling uneasiness took hold of her. He stood in the shadows, his outline familiar, not saying a word. Linnea chided herself for her skittishness and tried to catch his elusive gaze. No mask—his head was bare—but then Marius had not worn the antlered headdress a moment longer than he had to. Why did he not speak? She peered through the rustling leaves that partly hid him, trying to see more. The male figure took a step back.

  Something in the sensual movement of his body almost convinced her that it was indeed her solstice-spelled lover. But not quite.

  She would scare the doe and fawns half to death if she spoke, so Linnea held her tongue, willing him to step forth and come to her.

  Did he understand? She was not at all sure if she had reached him.

  Half in light, half in darkness, he stood looking at her, his gaze impenetrable. She must have made him angry by running away. Bah. He had no right to control her—during Midsummer, she was his equal.

  Ah. Her thoughts had gotten through to him. Her lips parted a little as she observed an aura begin to emanate from his body. Soon enough it reached her, enfolding her in a curious warmth that addled her mind a bit. She felt the doe
move closer and nuzzle the shimmering gossamer of her gown. Linnea raised her arm as if to let the animal under but all the doe did was nip at her gown and tear off a piece.

  “Oh!” Linnea cried. “Why?”

  The doe’s ears twitched, then lay back against its slender neck. She looked questioningly at the woman and then at the man, as if she was unable to understand the ways of humans. She shook her head, the scrap of gossamer still held in her teeth.

  “Do not be afraid, little sister,” Linnea said, looking at the doe and fawns as they turned as one, ready to bound away. “He is not unlike you and me. Scarcely more than human, after all.”

  The doe shuddered and looked one last time at Marius, who had withdrawn back into the woods. Then she vanished with her fawns. The leaves closed behind them as if they had never been there at all.

  But Marius was very much there. His enfolding aura said what he would not—he wanted her—but was he sulking? His eyes gleamed at Linnea and she felt more drawn to him than before. The seductive power of his masterful embrace had pleased her greatly—and his readiness to give her even more pleasure was something she was willing to exploit.

  “Come to me,” she said softly.

  Without saying a word, Marius moved closer. The aura around him changed and the strange magnetic power of it intensified. She heard a faint hum…then it grew louder. His lips moved as if he was speaking but she could hear nothing. A darkness surrounded him now, moving with him, falling upon the leaves his body brushed through, turning them from green to an unearthly, iridescent black.

  But inside the dark aura he was still Marius, wasn’t he? Warmly alive, radiant and sexual. Oh, how she wanted him—her ability to reason was beginning to desert her entirely.

  As he pushed away the branches, a few of the blackened leaves turned to ash, the pattern of their skeletons threaded with the red of burning incense. Traces of smoke rose in curlicues from them and wafted to her through the air.

  Linnea could not help but breathe it. Sweet but heavy, it clouded her mind. Fantasies as potent as the fragrance permeated her mind.

  Sexual fantasies. Of a sweet submission to his will. He had satisfied her every desire, true, but the incense that rose from the leaves he burned made her crave more. He did not touch her or speak. Willingly, wonderingly, she dropped to her knees as he came closer and closer still.

  Marius reached out and closed her eyes with a brushing touch of her fingers. Acquiescent, enthralled by some unknown art of his, she parted her lips when he touched his fingertips to them.

  Ahhh.

  Was the low moan that echoed through the forest from her throat or his? Linnea had no way of knowing. Her tongue licked his finger as his hand stroked her cheek.

  “Suck, my sweet one,” he said. There was something different about his voice, but precisely what the difference was, she could not say. Linnea had no desire whatsoever to talk—her only wish at this second was to bow to him, and humbly offer herself as his sexual slave. Had her wrists been enchained, she could not have been more bound to him. The sudden and silent reversal of their solstice play was deeply exciting. Eyes closed, she felt his hugely stiff cock brush against her cheek. The touch sent a thrill through her, and her nether lips grew plump with desire.

  Linnea squirmed a little, then told herself to be calm. She opened her eyes and looked at him with equanimity.

  But she would not obey his terse command. If he wanted to play this odd game for a while, the rules of it would be improvised by both of them. He only shrugged when she shook her head, stroking his cock slowly with one hand while the other played with her silky waterfall of hair.

  Linnea looked both virginal and utterly wanton on her knees in the diaphanous gown. Marius positioned himself so that she could see his splendid shaft, pumped to hardness with pulsing veins, and the heavy balls beneath it.

  She sighed with pleasure, not wanting to see anything else, and made as if to touch the head—there was the evidence of his excitement, two drops, slick and pearly. No doubt he was expecting her to eagerly wrap her soft lips around the head and lick it up. He had not commanded her to do so, but he made no comment on her stillness. She still held a measure of control. He was hotter now—devilishly hot. Her mouth could not cool him.

  Marius sighed, encircling his cock in his big hand, making it rise higher from the springy hair of his groin. She watched closely, aroused by his self-pleasuring but biding her time. Even this close, she caught no trace of her own smell, though they had not bathed in the pond, let alone found it. Both of them were sweating slightly from running to this anonymous place—she wondered for a moment how she’d eluded him.

  Had another woman intercepted him?

  Marius was fair game during the solstice. Nonetheless, not much time had elapsed since her laughing dash away from him. No, he’d not been taken captive a second time—she might as well let herself believe that he wanted only her. And he’d allowed her to get a head start, though he could have taken time to recoup as well. But he was too much man to ever admit it. She’d ridden him so hard, pressing her throbbing flesh down against his strong body, aided by the strong hands that held first her hips and then her waist.

  Again she thought it odd that she smelled nothing feminine on him now. But the change that had come over him, the inner heat that had burned the leaves that touched his body, must have scorched away all traces of her own scent and silky moisture.

  It was as if he was coming to her for the first time, as if their bodies had never entwined in sensual bliss. Ah, to be new to him each time would be the greatest pleasure of all, Linnea thought dreamily.

  Still on her knees, she gripped his strong thighs and made a move to rise. She wanted to kiss his mouth and be held by him. But he made himself clear without saying a word—she gasped faintly when he pushed her back down. “Marius?”

  She caught his gaze and felt a frisson of fear. His eyes had changed too. For a moment, only a moment, he did not look like himself. His natural masterfulness turned fierce. In the depths of his green gaze was a dull red that glowed and his curved mouth was pressed in a hard line.

  He was too aroused, perhaps—Linnea kept her grip on him as his hands fisted in her hair and forced her toward him.

  “Take my balls in your mouth,” he said roughly. He moved one hand to the side of her chin and made her part her lips again.

  “Marius—no—” Her surprise made her breath catch. He made her crouch lower with one firm hand. Linnea obeyed but murmured in protest when he pulled her hair. The sound seemed to please him.

  “Then I will play with myself. I don’t want to punish you.”

  What had he said? Was this the gentle but passionate lover who had treated her body with worshipful regard? The enfolding warmth of his odd aura kept her from thinking and the strange hum filled her ears again, blocking out the sounds of the forest.

  She had indeed been humbled and would be made to watch without being given permission to touch. His large balls tightened as he applied himself to their stimulation, cupping one and then the other, fondling them far more roughly than she ever would have done.

  His vigorous handling was stimulating to observe. She found herself as intoxicated by his male scent as she was by the faint trace of smoke that lingered from the burning leaves.

  He held her head more tightly, fully dominant, watching her watch him.

  Linnea stroked the massive columns of his thighs as she watched—that much he would allow— thinking of the centaur inside.

  His cock was not that long. No, he was a man still, if a changed one.

  A sensual mischievousness made her want to grasp his cock instead, but she didn’t, held back by an instinctive wariness. She wanted her solstice lover to return, the strong fellow who thought of her pleasure before his own. When he grew calmer, she might take his cock into her mouth with voluptuous care.

  He seemed unusually tense, perhaps on the verge of ejaculation—ah, yes. Marius, standing tall above her, gave a low cry
.

  His thighs were iron-hard and he stepped his legs apart, working on his flesh with both hands now, rod jutting out and balls drawn up so tightly she could see just a little of his muscular buttocks. Heat radiated from his genitals in waves, intensifying the aura that still surrounded his naked body. He had not been this scorchingly aroused with her, she thought, feeling slightly piqued.

  Now, he was a man possessed, showing off a sensuality of demonic strength. An answering wildness surged within her, and Linnea’s caressing fingers dug in and held on, forcing him this time to stay close to her. She had never seen a man take himself to this point of arousal alone, had never been told to stay on her knees and watch.

  His groin tightened too, the muscles there tensing to rock hardness. The deep grooves that delineated the lower half of his belly resembled the horns of some mythical beast. Fitting for the solstice.

  Marius gave a growl that made his entire body shudder. He reached out and grabbed her hair so strongly that it made her cry out. She slapped his hand away and scrambled back. A sudden rage sprang into his eyes.