ATOM: Luna – III

Lorian’s gaze followed his more and more carefree subjects, warmed up by the wine and influence of the moon. He sipped his wine slowly, his hand only sometimes picking up the goblet. His eyes delved in the depths of the ballroom, his mind catching delicious thoughts, filled with fire, awaiting fulfillment, which their heated bodies and souls craved for.

He felt the moon warm his own body too. Eternal lover for all the fae, which reflected all their needs. All their hidden desires.

He felt as Nymre leaned to him, wine mixed with her feminine magic caused her to be less tensed, less restricted. And darker.

“Lorian…” her fingers landed on his chest and slowly traveled down, on his tight. “I allowed… the wine to work on me. I loosened my guard…” a small, vicious smile wandered on her lips.

Lorian felt her insistent body, as it started to press to him, latching to him like sticky honey. His eyes gleaming with something that would frightened all the others, human or fey. But not Nymre. She wanted it. She desires exactly this.

“I shall use it against you…” he whispered, a sultry caress for her ears. “Use all your weaknesses.”

Her eyes sparkled, her long talons closed over his tight, he felt them burying in the flesh. Such a rapture. Such a tamed, beautiful, tempting pain.

He will give her more of it.

Just as they both wanted.

His finger took a whitish lock of hair that fell on her forehead, brushing it behind her ear. Her eyes were now wild, deep like wells filled with thorns and black roses.

Painted with blue and white.

“But first… I want to spark that fire to unbearable heights” he purred into her exposed ear. “Painfully intense.”

Nymre sighed when he touched her neck. The other fae, who were sitting around him by the feasting table, were only partially aware of what was going on. Some of those who danced, following the atonal sound of the forest music, played by the group of the lower fey, already started to disappear between the low arches, by the ornate doors which led to corridors, even outside, to taste cruel love of the frost and snow.

Lorian felt Nymre’s arousal. Her worries disappeared from her mind, leaving a place only for enjoyment, the moon filled her with another kind of strength. She was unquenchable now, untamed. She was everything he admired in her, ready to destroy whole nations with her magic and allure. Send all lesser beings on their knees. Just as he did in the past. Enjoying the pain of those who opposed them, carving their names on their skin…

“But first, I will give you… blood.”

His gaze landed on a human slave, one of many, who now served Lord Trivan, handing him the goblet of strongest, moon-influenced wine.

Nymre followed his attention, and her smile became falsely concerned, almost frightened, unsure.

A game they loved to play. A game they never were tired of. A hunter and a prey, a hungry wolf and a maiden. Death and life. It worked on his lover better than blood apples.

His power danced around the slave, with dark and deepest shadows. The human felt them quicker than saw, entering under his clothes and pulling him in Lorian’s direction. He moaned into a tentacle of shadows, which pushed around his mouth, entering them and taking his breath away.

“After all, the most intense love is bathed in crimson” he smiled at Nymre, his face lighted up from within, beautiful and pure, like cruel winter itself. Nymre’s hand closed harder over his leg, as she followed the sight of the human, who approached them willingly, looking at Lorian with fear.

His shadows pushed the human under his feet. Fear in the slave’s eyes, a real unadulterated fear. Invigorating one. Beautiful. Lorian could feel it in the air, in his marrow. All fae could feel the human emotions, fear, love, desire, and desperation. Fear, the sweetest of them, was overwhelming for every faery. It fed them with its strength, and Lorian could feel how his body reacted to it. Nymre saw and felt it too… and she loved that.

He smiled at the human, reaching to him with his hand, like he offered his own life to him.

“Come, child” he spoke, his shadows drifting off from his victim, returning to him. “We are enjoying ourselves. So much. We want to enjoy even more.”

He felt frantic thoughts in the human’s mind, a will to escape, strong, desperate and hushed by reality. He had no way to escape. Yet he still would try, if given a chance. He removed the shadows, to allow breathing.

“Do you want to serve your lord?” he mused casually, staying with his hand on the slave’s abdomen. “Give yourself, to bring him enjoyment?”

“N— Ye-s… please…” the human’s fear was intoxicating. Lorian dragged him closer.

He touched his chest, dragging his hand lower, under his simple slave shirt, until it landed on his abdomen.

“Your blood is hot. Allow me to make it even hotter.”

And he pushed.

Human’s eyes opened wider. At first nothing seemed to happen, but soon, the slave’s skin started to tense and spread, his mouth forming a pained groan.

“Bleed for us” purred Lorian and the slave’s body, slowly, mercilessly, bloomed with thorns. Blood poured from the wounds, when they pushed through his veins, making him bend in an unnatural pose and eventually fall on the stone floor. Torn skin opening more, but Lorian didn’t intend to kill him. This was just the beginning.

The fey around them looked with fascination as human’s skin closes tightly over the thorns, and the victim is left panting, his pained moans filling the air. Lord Lon’s fingers also closed over his lover’s arm. Lorian knew what they all needed, a beautiful torment to break all rules that usually were binding them, and set them free, and willing.

He wanted it.

He wanted to tear into this slave’s flesh and cause his agony. Lorian surely would allow him. He felt as the other fae, the whole Winter Court beamed with vicious energy, blooming in them, fast, like night flowers. This was the night when all of them wanted the same thing. Praise the king with sweet pain… and gloat over his power.

Free.

Untamed.

Wild.

Just like nature created them.

Lorian smiled, beautifully, like the sun coming from between the clouds, and pulled the slave; his shadows carrying him straight under his feet and up. He lifted his chin with his fingers; tears already in the human’s eyes, while the fey king’s black gaze delved just into his terrified soul. Lorian’s fingers smeared theem on his face with a tender move and closed his mouth with a hungry kiss. Pushing more shadows inside, a slow and visceral torment. Lorian lost in the taste of fear, dripping off the human’s tongue like nectar for the gods. Better, even, because it was so real. So touchable. So delicious. His eyes closed, when he ate it, all, swallowing it, draining the human from hope.

He broke the kiss, his smile pleased, his expression bright like the brightest star.

And his teeth buried in the skin on human’s neck, fresh blood poured, staining his robes with crimson. Hot, human blood, iron in disguise, the only iron the fae could bear. He growled into his wound, tearing it further, devouring the warmth. His taloned hands caught the slave’s hips and forced him closer to himself, digging in his skin, leaving marks. The blood trickled down the fae king’s lips an chin and landed in thick drops on the table. The human tossed, scream caught in his throat.

Lorian raised from above him, licking his lips. His smile bloodstained and hungry, Nymre so close to him, he felt her blood too, under her skin, in her veins.

“Do you want to please your lords’ hearts? The court loves you. They crave for you. Perhaps I should give them what they want. A sacrifice for the moss and stone.”

And he looked just at Lon. The fey lord could swear it was directed just at him, and his hunger reached its peak. The faery king’s power threw the slave at the floor, hard, leaving bloodied trails.

“I would keep you for myself… but the solstice is a time of sharing. I may allow them to pleasure themselves with you. Allow them to experience my grace.”

The human’s eyes met Lorian’s. And found in them amusement, dark, unforgiving… alluring. And his own fate. No matter what he does, he will suffer. Lorian wanted it, so it will happen.

“I—” his body, still pierced with thorns under his skin, hurt with the pain, but muted, like the faery wanted to leave more place for suffering. He knew that Lorian wouldn’t let him be. What was better? To be killed by him, or the others? His thoughts were buried under a wall of despair. His voice was unable to leave his mouth, the destroyed throat refused him, the blood still pouring from wide wound. He started to helplessly crawl, only far away from Lorian, even if it was futile.

The fae’s eyes on him, digging holes in his already wounded flesh.

“Not beautiful enough” laughed Lorian, his laugh silent but cutting the air like blades. The fae around him slowly moved from their seats. An offering for the moon. Bleeding sacrifice for the forest. Something so rare, but more tempting thanks to that. Their auras glimmering, darkened, when their powers amassed over the human slave.

A gift from their king.

All barriers broken, only pure lust left.

Lorian leaned back in his seat, a smile, cruel, beautiful one, dancing on his bloodstained lips. Nymre was looking at him intensely, his depraved raven, feeding on the emotions of the court. Her fingers, mimicking his own trail over the human’s abdomen, slid down, down, just between his legs.

And pressed. Feeling he is more than ready to own her.

Lorian’s gaze pinned her to her seat, her body aflame.

“I need it, my lord…” she murmured, her eyes wandered off, at the fae and the human, and the blood and pain. The Winter Court celebrated the New Lunar Year, causing the flesh to scream.

He pulled her on his lap, lifting her dress and allowing her to sit astride of him. He was hard already, and he knew that this act would push the court into more intense, sweet abandonment.

Her impatient hands pulled him from his trousers. They both were heated, powerful and free. Her kiss was hot like molten iron, and just as deadly. Her grasp on him, her breast flattening over his chest, her nipples erected, visible through her dress. She descended on him, he reached deep into her, his shadows entering through her skin, and traveling down, even more, to the point of no return. She moaned, her arms around his neck, her legs tightly pressing to him, like she didn’t want to let him slip from her and join the celebration.

“Fuck me” she grunted, such a low voice, enchanting. Like a distant storm. “Make me yours. Make me your moon bride.”

“I will enslave you” he grinned, his black eyes glimmering with danger. “So hard. Mercilessly.”

“Do it, my king… break me.”

He took her, wild and free, to the sound of the screams and under the moonlight, which hung over the castle, bigger than the sky, pulling all the right strings in their nerves. The Winter Fae knew how to celebrate. And they knew how to drown in the purest wine of freedom.

“Bathe me in blood” she purred, biting his ear and drawing a small droplet from it. His shadows coiled around her neck, pressing, hard.

And he laughed.

And he did it.

The court abandoned itself. In pleasure and violence. In pain and lust.

Freedom.

And the light entering the arched windows, eating them alive.