Mon, February 06 2012
| TITLE: | A Faerie's Tail |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Marielle d'Ablis |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | PWP |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | NC-17, Adult-Het |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | Phileas\OFC |
| DESCRIPTION: | Phileas has a magical encounter. |
| STATUS: | Complete |
Fogg left the ballroom. He could bear the revelry of the masque no longer: the noise, the stuffiness, and the incessant drivel of conversation. How had Rebecca ever managed to convince him to come here?
Actually, Fogg knew precisely how Rebecca had managed it. She had asked and very prettily, too. The simplicity of her request had caught him off his guard. It was only later that she revealed this evening's host: Sir Henri Horville. Rebecca was fond of Horville; Phileas was not.
The man had a poor history with the Foggs, as far as Phileas was concerned, going back to Phileas' school days. Horville had convinced his younger brother, Erasmus, to forgo a scheduled Latin lesson in favor of visiting a young lady of dubious repute. Since then, Fogg had chosen to steer clear of Horville, believing him to be a poor influence, but Rebecca had no such compunction. He sighed.
Still, Phileas had given Rebecca his word and so he was here - in Souillac. The crumbling castle was located in the middle of nowhere. It was romantic, but highly impractical. And yet, the place was filled with people dressed as kings, peasants, or harlequins. All in masque; the nobility at play. Fogg sighed again and quietly slipped away from the dancers, turning instead towards what seemed to be the gardens.
These were not the scrupulously tended gardens of Paris, London or Versailles. This garden was more of a wilderness with a thread of path running through it. The moon was shining brightly and Fogg decided that a stroll was in order.
He had walked for about seven minutes when he heard the sound of feminine laughter tinkling from somewhere off to his right. He turned towards the sound, but saw nothing. He took a few more steps and heard it again, only this time from the left and a bit farther ahead. His brow furrowed as he stepped cautiously forward. He felt no fear, merely curiosity. Once more, the laughter tripped over him; only this time it originated from above his head.
Fogg scanned the treetops, turning in a slow circle. Perhaps, some native…bird?
He heard a rustle emanating from behind nearby bush and caught a glimpse of red fluttering in the cool breeze. Fascinated, he crept forward to investigate but found nothing.
"You have lost something?" a soft feminine voice said from just behind him.
Fogg whirled in surprise. When he turned, he found himself confronted by a beautiful lady dressed in exotic faerie garb.
She wore no masque, but her eyes were ornamented with shimmers and sparkles. A full foot shorter than himself, Fogg looked down into almond-shaped blue-grey eyes that evoked the color of deep, still waters. Her dark brows arched high over her porcelain skin and thick, black hair fell in a long cascade over her back, just brushing the top of her hips. Her delightfully pouty mouth was turned up into a mischievous smile.
After a moment, Fogg recovered from the initial shock of their meeting and replied, "No. I have not lost anything. I was merely…looking."
"Ah. Looking. I see."
Fogg heard in her French the musical lilt of some accent that he did not recognize; he swore that the very air seemed to tingle around them.
"Yes…well. Do you come here often, Miss…?"
"Ghislaine. Only Ghislaine."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ghislaine. I am Phileas…"
She interrupted him as they strolled deeper into the woods. "I know who you are, Monsieur. I have seen you many times."
"Have you? Odd. I do not recall ever meeting you and surely I would remember a faerie as lovely as you, Ghislaine."
"English charm at its best," she giggled. "Come sweet man, a place has been prepared for us."
Phileas puzzled at her words as Ghislaine took his hand, leading him to where the old woods grew thicker and more tangled. Fogg's hand tingled at her touch. It was not an unpleasant sensation, merely strange. He felt the hairs raise on the back of his head, but in anticipation, not fear. He was thoroughly confused, but not concerned as he followed her meekly as a lamb.
The trees gave way to a small glade where the stars winked down from a midnight sky and the moon rose higher, bathing the woods with its unearthly light. Fireflies danced in the darkness as the sounds of the evening took up their own song, serenading the couple. A large velvet cape was spread out on the ground like a carpet, and next to it lay two baskets filled a variety of cheeses, fruit, bread, a ewer of wine and two sterling goblets.
Ghislaine knelt on the cape, her red dress spreading out around her like poppy petals. She beckoned him to sit beside her. He did as instructed.
Phileas watched her closely as she poured the amber liquid into the silver goblets. Ghislaine's every movement was graceful. He wondered why he failed to notice her at the ball earlier; he could spot a devastating beauty at twenty paces. Surely he would have recalled her, especially in that color. It was not every woman could carry off the look of Faerie as she did. A faerie, indeed. The wings were extraordinary, he thought.
Whoever had designed her costume was a master craftsman, for they appeared to be living appendages - gossamer and ethereal. She smiled at him serenely, revealing deep dimples and ivory teeth.
"It seems as though I was expected," he mentioned casually.
"Are you concerned?" She handed him a goblet and raised her own.
"No, just…surprised."
"Then here is to the surprise of life, sweet man. May we never be so blind as to lose sight of it." Ghislaine offered her toast, which he joined, and both drank.
Fogg, for all his money and travel, had never tasted such a drink. It was cool on the lips, but warm on the tongue and he felt the warmth journey down his throat, coating it to his stomach. It was liquid contentment and Fogg found himself draining the cup deeply.
He might have believed that the wine was drugged, except that instead of dulling the senses, this had the opposite effect. His senses became clearer. He could peer into the woods and make out every detail of a tree a quarter mile away. He could hear the scurry of a mouse in the field beyond and he could smell the air and all its layers: the musk of the moss, the freshness of summer dewdrops, and the perfume of night-blooming jasmine. He felt the breath of the surrounding trees and the groans of the grass as it grew, and he looked at Ghislaine and said, "I don't understand."
"You shall. Drink again, sweet man."
She reached for his offered cup, refilled it and placed it back into his hand. His hands seemed to follow a will of their own as the cup returned to his lips for another draught. He drained it again, feeling the rush of warmth spread outward to even the tips of his limbs. He concentrated on Ghislaine's face, as her eyes seemed to become almost luminous - or was it only a trick of the moonlight?
Fogg set the cup down beside him and leaned over. The closer he came to her, the further he felt from the rest of the world. His voice sounded distant to his own ears as he asked, "What is happening?"
"Kiss me."
He could not resist. With all of this strangeness, he never once felt threatened. There was no danger, but much pleasure. Phileas felt his moodiness dissolve and pain's stranglehold on his heart shatter - replaced by a sense of peace that he could not begin to describe.
He reached for her only to find Ghislaine already in his arms, molding to his body. The wings simply folded in tight, clinging to her back. They were light and airy as if she wore a cape of fine, sheer lace upon her back. He brushed her lips barely tasting them. They were warm and supple and he found himself hungering for more.
The kiss deepened as Fogg felt his senses swirl. He felt dizzy but not disoriented. His body craved more and it was only with the greatest of efforts that he broke from their kiss. He begged, "Who are you?"
Ghislaine retreated an inch and looked at him curiously beneath thick, dark lashes. "I have told you. I am Ghislaine."
She said it with the simplicity of a child, as though the statement were obvious to even the dullest of minds.
"What is your family name, Mademoiselle?" he asked, trying to make some sense of it all. A part of his mind struggled to draw logic from this encounter.
She smiled sweetly at him, "You could not speak it, Monsieur. Trust me. You are well schooled in many things, but not in my native tongue."
"And what have you been schooled in, Ghislaine?"
"Life. A lesson not lost on you, I think. Do you wish to leave, Phileas? You have a free will - even here."
"And where precisely is 'here?'"
Ghislaine answered him matter-of-factly, "Here is 'between.' Does that satisfy you?"
"No, it does not."
"Then what would?" She reached behind her and drew out a scarlet feather. Her smile grew brighter as she leaned towards him, dusting his long elegant nose with it.
Phileas pulled her to him tightly. He kissed her again and heard the same tinkling laugh he had heard on the trail. Only this time, he heard it inside his head. His hands swept down the sides of her body, skimming the thin silk of her dress and he could feel her heat seeping through the fabric. His hands sought to loosen the bodice of her dress. But when he looked down, Phileas realized that they both were already naked. Surely he should remember undressing, but it did not seem to matter. He no longer cared.
He explored her body with his mouth and hands and fingers, learning its curves and secrets. Ghislaine defied description in simple English; her perfection was ethereal - beyond the grasp of his senses, which sang at her touch with words he did not understand.
Ghislaine was unhurried. As if understanding the pulse of passion, her tongue lapped languidly at his nipples, sampling the salt on his skin. The intensity of sensation tortured him with delirious pleasure. His shaft raised its head, proud and erect - a king among peasants.
Phileas no longer thought; his mind emptied as his senses consumed his consciousness. He nuzzled at the rose of her breast, suckling the bud like a famished babe. He felt her hands rake through his hair as he abandoned one breast to service the other. She pulled him back and he sought out her lips, crushing them to his own. Their tongues danced and played to ancient drums, setting the first beats of their love.
He stroked between her alabaster thighs, enjoying the soft mound of her womanhood. Suddenly parched, he traveled lower, gorging himself on her juice. The more he consumed her, the more desirous he became.
Ghislaine stopped him, pushing him on his back. She mounted him directly, tightening herself around him as he groaned with pleasure at his sheathing. He reached up to stroke her back as she rode him and barely noted that Ghislaine had not removed the wings of her costume. The vagrant thought flew from his mind as he her heard voice whisper inside his brain:
"Come lover, mine. Mortal so sublime, O'er the web of time, Release your gift divine."
This was like no lovemaking that Phileas had ever known. He was deep within Ghislaine, and yet she was inside of him. He heard her thoughts as plainly as spoken words. But, there were no words. Their mouths were joined in union, even as their bodies were and he lost track of space and time. He had shut his eyes as he concentrated on the sensations that no longer danced upon his skin, but penetrated into his very being.
Phileas heard her moan with pleasure as he began to climax. He pumped deeper and harder, seeking the core of her being until each stroke released his seed deep inside Ghislaine. She milked his every precious drop until he was so exhausted, Phileas could barely open his eyes. When he did, Ghislaine was still sitting astride him, legs straight out to either side - smiling.
Her wings suddenly fanned out like a peacock's tail - proud and beautiful. Her face shone down at him as the giggles tumbled out of her. He found himself laughing with her.
"You did not remove your wings, Ghislaine," Phileas spoke teasingly.
"Indeed I did not, because I cannot."
"What?" He felt her wiggle upon his depleted manhood as she bent over him, her elbows resting upon his chest, her hands cupping her chin. Completely content in her current position, she sighed.
"Surely, you are not surprised, Phileas Fogg? After all that you have witnessed in your travels and the sights that you have seen?"
"I have seen much, yes. But you…"
She studied his face, when a second feather appeared in her hand. She brushed his cheekbone with it, as her dimples reasserted themselves. "I am Ghislaine! And I thank you for the gift of your seed, Monsieur. May it bear beautiful fruit."
"This…this is not possible. You cannot be…"
"The new gods may silence the old, but they do not drive them out, Phileas. We still survive in our own time and place. Even your "science" will not destroy us because science is only magic understood. Now sleep," she reached up and closed his eyelids. "Rest your spirit. I will leave you a gift in return for the one you have placed inside me," she whispered.
She leaned over and kissed him, and Phileas drifted off into a deep dreamless sleep.
A few hours later, he awoke. It was the same glade, but different somehow. Ghislaine had vanished, as had the food and refreshments. Even the cape on which he had reclined had disappeared, replaced by a carpet of soft green moss. He looked down and found himself fully dressed with nary a rumple in his jacket or a scuff on his shoes. He sat up and shook the cobwebs from his head as he released a long sigh.
"I must be losing my mind," Phileas said aloud, "wandering off and passing out like that. Rebecca will be furious with me." An amused smile pulled at his lips as he whispered, "However, the dream was pleasant enough."
Phileas brushed back his hair with his hand; that was when he saw them.
Three poppy-red plumes lay beside him, tied together with a piece of red silk ribbon. Tail feathers?
He examined them, tickled his nose with them, and caught the faint scent of jasmine. Then Phileas threw his head back and let go a deep belly laugh. Tail feathers! Of course!
It had not been a dream at all, but a faerie's tail!
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