by Sahara Kelly
Thorne was merciless, driving her as far and farther than he thought possible. He became seized with the need to take her somewhere she’d never been, and following his instincts he gave an extra hard flick to her clit and started her orgasm.
With the first spasms he stopped everything, just froze in position, fingers still, tongue a breath away from her clit.
“Thorne.” The strangled cry surprised him.
He smiled and counted to ten.
Then he started all over again.
After doing that twice, he had a feeling that neither of them would survive this night. She’d die from the orgasm she was heading for, and he would probably die when she killed him out of frustration.
It was time.
His fingers resumed their teasing friction within her liquid cunt, but this time his tongue found a place just beneath her swollen clit.
“Now, Persephone. Hang on, love,” he muttered.
Beyond speech, the woman beneath him grunted.
He thrust his tongue up against her clit from beneath and flickered his fingers inside her. After a moment or two, her entire body stiffened.
“Here we go, babe,” he breathed, stabbing her with his tongue.
Persephone couldn’t even scream, apparently.
Gasping, she let her body go, succumbing to waves of orgasmic pleasure that rolled through her and onto Thorne’s fingers and tongue.
He buried his face in her cunt, and pushed into her, hard. If he could have climbed inside her while she was coming, he would have done so. Instead, he just held her tight to him and let her ride it out, sharing whatever he could.
She trembled and shook from the force of her climax for what seemed like hours. The walls of her cunt grabbed Thorne’s fingers, and when he pulled them out and thrust his tongue inside her they grabbed that as well.
Her body pulled at him, her clit throbbed before his eyes, her juices soaked him, and he felt on top of the world.
As she slowly receded from the ecstatic peak she’d been trembling on, her body relaxed in Thorne’s arms.
“You okay?” He had to ask, even though he held the answer tight against his heart.
“No. This time I’m dead.”
* * * * *
Persephone awoke to the soft sound of birds singing outside her window, and the sweetest smell this side of paradise—fresh coffee.
She sighed in contentment. She was achy, sticky, and sore, and her wings were a bit cramped, but she had been well loved and couldn’t have felt any better.
Well, okay, that was an incorrect assumption. Because at that moment, a blatantly naked Thorne walked in with two mugs of coffee, and she reached paradise. Completely ran over it, actually, and passed on into someplace even better.
Her throat choked on the words that were welling up inside her and she just smiled.
“I love you, too.” His low murmur caught her by surprise.
“How did you know?”
“That you were going to say that? I saw it in your eyes. They told me that you feel wonderful, that you’re happy, and that you love me. And that your left lower wing is cramping a bit.”
Persephone gazed at him, startled. “You can tell all that from my eyes?”
“Well, most of it. Not all of it. The wing cramp is pretty evident, because this little bit here has a dent in it…” He reached over and smoothed her wings.
It felt like a warm kiss and gave her a major glow in her heart and other places.
“My god, Thorne, when you touch my wings—“ She looked at him, shyly.
“That’s it, honey. That’s one of the things that tells us we’re good for each other. Wings are a very sexual part of a fairy’s body, but with a wingmate, well—off the scale.”
“Yeah. I know.” She grinned. “Is one of those for me?” Persephone nodded at the mugs of coffee he’d set down on the bedside table.
“Well, actually, Phuque is coming over for breakfast.”
“What?”
“Kidding.” Thorne snickered. “God, you’re easy.”
“Huh. I haven’t had my coffee. No fair teasing before coffee.” She buried her face in the mug and inhaled the fragrance. Yes, she was definitely a not-before-my-coffee person.
Although, as her eyes swept down the wonderful length of Thorne Leatherfly, who reclined on the bed next to her sipping his coffee, she decided there might be something to be said for ditching the coffee routine and going straight to the sex.
Thorne’s cock was obviously ultra-sensitive to thought vibrations. It swelled before her eyes.
“God, even your cock’s psychic.”
Thorne’s bellow of laughter rattled the rafters. “Honey, that’s not psychic. That’s horny. That’s a guy in bed with his woman. That’s said woman looking at said cock with lust in her eyes.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“I—well, perhaps just a little.”
Thorne grinned. “How about a lot?”
Persephone grinned back. “Can’t help it. You’re yummy.”
“Yummy?”
“Yeah, Mr. Black Leather and Studs. Yummy.”
Thorne leaned near her, bringing the fragrance of coffee and man with him. “And is ‘yummy’ a good thing?”
She closed her eyes and sniffed deeply. “Oh yeah…”
Thorne sighed contentedly. “Cool.”
Persephone opened one eye. Wasn’t this where he was supposed to jump her bones and remind her that caffeine wasn’t the only thing that could curl her hair in the morning?
“Okay. I think you’re ready to hear about the Nuptial Flight, aren’t you?”
Ah, the intrusion of practicality. She sat up and pulled the covers around her chest. Now he was finally going to fill in some of the blanks.
“Yes. Please, Thorne. Tell me all. Spare me none of the lurid details.” Her mouth quirked. “Kidding.”
Thorne rolled his eyes. “Well, basically, it’s a flight that we take together, much like a ceremony in the human world. It’s a declaration of our intent to live together and raise children together as mates.”
“Well, that’s cool. Sort of a fairy wedding?”
“Sort of.”
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Well, yeah.”
Persephone sighed. “Go ahead. Tell me the rest.”
Thorne shifted a little. “Um, we have to have sex during the flight.”
“Hmm. The mile-high club for fairies?”
“Not exactly.” Thorne looked down into his coffee mug. “Sex during this flight is by thrusterbud alone. Something physical happens when a fairy orgasms during the Nuptial Flight. For males, it’s an extra added jolt to the sperm or something—“
Persephone couldn’t believe that Thorne was actually blushing. She spared his embarrassment and kept a straight face.
“—While for the female fairy, her ovaries get a push and she becomes fertile.”
“Ah. So the Nuptial Flight is necessary for conception? It activates the breeding mechanism, so to speak?”
“Exactly.” Thorne looked relieved. “So as long as you can fly real fast, we’ll have no problem.
“Um—Thorne?”
He glanced over at her.
“How do I fly?”
Chapter 11
Persephone fidgeted at the edge of the group standing in the sunshine. This was her second day of accelerated flight training, and she was nervous.
The first day, Thorne had rushed her into the classroom, demanded and insisted that she be part of the class, and threatened the teacher with all manner of bodily disasters if he didn’t get her into the air.
Queen Titania had been pleased to grant approval for their Nuptial Flight, and seeing as Midsummer was three days away, that was decided on as the best possible time. Assuming Persephone could learn to fly before then.
Thorne assured her she could.
Persephone was terrified she couldn’t.
The first day had
been filled with a variety of classroom topics from the basic rules of the air—leave plenty of room around little ones and be polite to other flyers—to wing care. So THAT was what one did with wing wax.
There’d been little hops with the instructor and his aides, and she’d panicked the first time her feet had left the ground. But it gradually became more natural, and with her rapidly expanding wingspan she forgot about her nerves and began to enjoy the feeling.
She’d arrived home, exhausted, aching, weak and bleary-eyed, and Thorne had taken one look at her and shoved her into the tub. Followed by a thorough washing, a none-too-gentle toweling-off, and a rather depressing tucking-in to bed. It seemed that everyone knew just how physically demanding flying lessons were.
Now she was going to take her first solo flight.
“Go ahead, Persephone. You’re next. Just like we practiced, remember?”
She remembered. A twitch, a thought and an indrawn breath and she was aloft.
She, Persephone Jones, was flying. It was astounding.
“Turn to your left, Persephone.” The loud voice of the instructor boomed over the megaphone.
She’d been inordinately surprised to find that her instructor was actually a hummingbird, but when she thought about it she couldn’t think of anyone better qualified to teach flight dynamics to fairies. The aviator sunglasses perched on his beak threw her a little though.
She made the prescribed left turn, and resisted the urge to yell “Wheeeeee” at the top of her voice.
“Very good. Now ascend please. Try for five wingspans.”
She complied with his instructions, remembering his description of the distance over the horizon being measured roughly in the width of one’s lower wing taken relative to the observer. Or something.
She simply pointed her nose up and fluttered.
Unfortunately, not much happened.
She went up some, fluttered, and went up a bit more. But there seemed to be a barrier she couldn’t break.
Sweating, she dropped back to the ground and executed a neat two-point landing on both feet, immediately tucking her wings safely behind her as she’d been taught.
“Very nice indeed, Persephone.” The hummingbird nodded at her.
“Yeah, but I didn’t get too high.”
“Well, dear, that’s to be expected. It’s those.” He angled his beak in the direction of her breasts. “Not as aerodynamically impossible as the bumble bee, I’ll admit. But they’ll keep your altitude and velocity down, that’s for sure. No reason why you can’t fly though. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“But…but I have a Nuptial Flight day after tomorrow.”
The bird was silent. “Oh dear. Oh my. That could be a problem. My goodness.”
“What can I do?”
“Well, I don’t exactly know, Persephone. This isn’t a common problem here in Fairyland. Look, maybe the Queen will have an idea, or your mate—“ The hummingbird paled as he realized who he was speaking about.
One part of Persephone’s mind was fascinated with the fact that a hummingbird could pale. The other was shivering at the thought of not being able to mate with Thorne.
“Oh lord.” She bit her lip. “ I’ll deal with it. But you say I am quite capable of flying normally, right?”
“Certainly. You have a nice smooth style, your wings are balanced and adjusted, and you handle them well. I’ll get you a diploma, because all you need now is practice. Just make sure you fly during the day, and have a buddy nearby until you get some mileage on those wings.”
Persephone nodded her thanks and waved to the rest of the class who muttered to each other and cast sympathetic glances her way.
She wanted to scream at them all that she’d find a way to mate with Thorne somehow, but right now, all she wanted was to be held. Close. Preferably to a really nice chest that smelled of Thorne Leatherfly.
And the best way to do that was to find the chest that was attached to Thorne Leatherfly.
She knew he’d be at the office, so she headed that way. They’d managed to spend some time there the day before, with Thorne filling her in on the website they maintained, the mailings they took care of, the ads and contests they ran and the newsletter they published before rushing her off to flight school.
She was astounded to realize that www.fairyland.web was actually a major enterprise. She also looked forward to managing the office into far better and more efficient shape than it was in at the moment.
There was also the matter of the rather nice couch in Thorne’s office that they’d used after Thorne had told Norman to hold his calls for half an hour. He’d also locked the door.
None of these things were in her mind at the moment, however, when she let herself in.
“Hey, Persephone, how’s the flying coming?” Norman Elderbranch grinned at her through his beard.
“Not too good, Norman. Is Thorne in?”
“Yep. What’s up, sweetheart? Anything I can do?”
“I don’t know…” Her voice caught on a sob, and before she could say any more Thorne Leatherfly hurtled through his office door and pulled her into his arms.
“Wassamatta? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
Norman leaned against his desk and folded his arms, watching as his boss made a blithering idiot of himself.
“Uh, boss?”
“Shut up, Norman. Can’t you see there’s something wrong with her?”
“Yeah, she can’t breathe. Give her some room, why don’t you?”
Blushing, Thorne backed off. A little.
Persephone sniffed. “Sorry, Thorne. I didn’t mean to scare you, but we have a problem, and I don’t know how to solve it.”
“Tell me, babe. We can solve anything together.”
“Oh god.” More tears fell and she sobbed on his chest.
Norman sighed and reached for one of Cobweb’s little handkerchiefs. He passed it over to Thorne, who nodded his thanks.
Thorne wiped Persephone’s eyes. She took the handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. Norman winced.
“Okay. I’m all right now.” She took a deep breath and looked at Thorne. “It’s my boobs.”
Silence fell in the room while the fairy and the gnome considered her words.
The gnome recovered first. “And very nice they are too, Persephone. Is there something wrong with them?”
Norman’s calm question restored some balance to her world and Persephone looked gratefully at him. “No, not really. It’s just that they’re too big. I’m not aerodynamic, you see. I can fly, but not very high and not very fast. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make the Nuptial Flight with you, Thorne…”
Thorne held her close.
“I see the problem.” Norman stroked his beard and ignored a glare from Thorne that should have shriveled his cap to ashes. “Lemme think.”
“Honey, we’ll do something. We’ll go to the Queen; we’ll talk to Oberon. There must be people around who know about this sort of stuff. I’m sure we can find a way around it. Nothing is impossible.”
Persephone sighed and hugged him. “God, I love you, Thorne Leatherfly. And it’ll kill me if I can’t make the flight with you. But you know I’ll always love you regardless, don’t you?”
There was absolute silence in the room for a heartbeat.
“Persephone…” Thorne buried his face in her hair.
“Oh no. What?” she breathed.
“Persephone,” said Norman quietly. “If you can’t consummate the Nuptial Flight, you must return to your own world, and Thorne’s DNA will be altered to become compatible with someone else. Neither of you would be able to stand the pain of knowing you’re wingmates yet cannot mate.”
Persephone’s flesh turned to ice as she recalled Sugar saying much the same thing at Orientation. “I’m doomed.”
* * * * *
“Well, screw that.” The words were out of Thorne’s mouth before he realized it. Then he knew it was
the truth. “She’s mine. She’s destined for me and I won’t leave her or forget her.” He glared at Norman. “And we’ll find a way to beat this.”
“Got any good plastic surgeons in Fairyland that give drive-thru breast reductions?” Persephone tried to lighten the moment.
“Don’t even consider the possibility,” growled Thorne. His fingers twitched and he knew if they’d been alone, he’d have his hands full of those wonderful breasts of hers right this minute. They were his, dammit.
“There may be a way.”
Norman’s quiet murmur wrenched Thorne’s attention away from Persephone’s assets.
“Norman, if you think, even for a second, that you know a way to handle this—“ Thorne’s heart was in his throat as he stared at the little gnome.
Persephone gripped his hand hard.
“Gnomes are pretty amazing beings, Persephone.” Thorne leaned toward her reassuringly. “Much of the lore of Fairyland has been saved by gnomes. They’re a vital part of this society, because I honestly don’t think fairies would have survived without the practical down-to-earth abilities and knowledge of the gnomes. If Norman says there might be a way, then you can bet your boots there might be a way.” He glanced over at the gnome. “Right, Norman?”
Norman stared blankly at the pair of them, stroking his beard. His eyes were unfocused, and Thorne could almost see the circuits accessing databanks within that extraordinary mind that lurked beneath his red pointy hat.
Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “Got it.”
“Got what?” Thorne and Persephone echoed each other with the question.
“Calamus.”
Thorne looked at Norman and then at Persephone who raised her shoulders in query. “Okay. I’ll bite. What’s calamus?”
Norman drew in a deep breath. “If I remember correctly, calamus is a stimulant. We haven’t used it for years, but a couple of generations ago it was real popular, especially with some of the woodland witches who swore it made them fly faster and further.”
“Is this some kind of drug?” Persephone sounded a bit doubtful.
“Not at all.” Norman frowned at her. “Nobody does drugs here in Fairyland. Why bother? There are spells for most everything one could want. But not—“ he added quickly “—for something as important as mating. That’s got to be a natural, magic-free rite. However, there’s nothing in the rules about an herb or two.”