#fae fluff

The cold had teeth.

You'd known that since your wings had unfurled, weak and pale. Your mother had always warned you to be careful; winter was a fairy's graveyard. But knowing and feeling were different beasts entirely. This winter had buried your kin. Buried your magic. Buried everything except the screaming need to survive.

Your wings hung from your shoulders like dead leaves. Translucent membranes gone gray with frostbite at the edges. You hadn't fed in eleven days. No summer sun to drink, no flowers to draw sweetness from, no lovers' sighs to siphon.

You were starving.

And the man in the cottage at the forest's edge radiated a warmth unlike anything you'd felt.

First night, you told yourself it was desperation; pure desperation that made you sneak inside. The cottage smelled of pine resin, woodsmoke, and a deep musky scent. A male scent.

Said male lay on his back under wool blankets, one arm flung over his head, light brown hair tousled against the pillow. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of deep sleep. No fire in the hearth—he'd banked it for the night, but the space around his body shimmered delightfully.

You shouldn't.

You really shouldn't.

But your numb fingers couldn’t remember the reason anymore as you climbed onto the bed and curled into his side. You were only five feet tall on a good day... and he was huge. At nearly six feet tall, he took up half the bed, his long legs stretching past the mattress while you curled easily beneath his arm.

Just for an hour, you promised yourself. Just until my fingers stop aching.

You pressed your frozen cheek to his chest.

And the warmth flooded into you like honey.

**

Morning came too fast. You fled before his eyelids even fluttered, leaving behind nothing but a scattering of frost-melted flowers from your hair and a dent in his blankets where your body had curled.

Second night, you told yourself it was only because the wind had picked up. Only because your magic had barely recharged enough to keep your heart beating. Only because—

He'd washed the sheets. You noticed it the moment you slipped inside.

Fresh linen. And something else; a cup of warm milk and honey cookies set by the bedside table. An offering? No. Humans didn't know about fae anymore. They'd forgotten centuries ago. But the milk was there. The honey cookies called to you.

You drank. You ate. And then you climbed into his bed again, shame burning your frostbitten cheeks, and curled yourself along his spine this time. His back was broad, muscled and warm. So warm you nearly sobbed into his shirt.

As you walked away, little purple flowers kept falling behind you. Tiny bell-shaped ones tangled in your hair. You tried to pick them all out, but somehow a few always slipped free.

Third night.

You should have known better. Should have realized he wasn't as oblivious as he seemed. Should have noticed the way his breathing changed when you tip-toed his floor, the way his fingers twitched toward the lump in the blankets where you always nestled.

But you were too cold to think. Too frantic.

You climbed the bed. Crawled over his legs. Sank into the familiar hollow of his chest—

And his arm closed around you.

"There you are."

His voice was sleep-rough, vibrating through his ribs and directly into your frozen bones. You gasped. Tried to scramble away. But his hand was already cupping your entire back, palm spanning from your shoulder blades to your waist.

"Let go of me," you hissed.

"Mmm." He didn't sound afraid. He sounded... interested. His thumb stroked down your spine. "You're the one who's been sneaking into my bed. Leaving flowers in my sheets."

"I—that's not—"

"I thought I was dreaming the first time." His other hand came up, fingers gentle as they tilted your chin toward the moonlight leaking through the window. "You're not a dream, are you?"

"I’m a dream," you spat. "Go back to sleep."

He chuckled. "No, you definitely aren’t. You feel way too real in my arms."

His eyes moved over you. Appreciating.

The light caught on your wings; pale lavender membranes, still lacking their usual shine from hunger but very clearly not human. Then your ears, slightly pointed, your large eyes and your shimmering skin.

You stared at him too.

His eyes were beautiful. Deep violet, like the foxglove flowers tangled in your hair.

You greedily sucked up a little more warmth before he screamed. Flailed and kicked you off the bed. You deserved it.

Instead, he said, "You're freezing."

And pulled you tighter against his chest.

The sob that escaped you was ugly. You pressed your face into the hollow of his throat and felt his pulse jump against your lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't have anywhere else—the cold, I can't—fairies need warmth and touch and I haven't fed in days and everyone's dead or gone and I just—"

"Hey. Hey." His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. "Breathe, sweetheart. I'm not throwing you out."

"Y-you should. I'm a parasite. I've been stealing your heat."

"Bullshit." He said it so flatly you almost laughed. "You're beautiful and you left flower petals in my bed. True, you could have let me know but you're definitely not a parasite. You're the best thing that's happened to me."

You blinked up at him. Was he daft?

"Why?" you whispered.

"Because I'm warm," he said, "and I can give it to you. All of it. If you let me."

Your heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I've been alone a long time." His voice dropped lower. His hand slid from your hair down to your waist, fingers spanning your ribs. "And I've done some reading. Old books. Faefolk need more than just lying next to someone, don't they? They need heat. Real heat. The kind that comes from—"

"Don't," you breathed. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"The kind that comes from making love." His palm flattened on your belly. "The kind that comes from coming inside you."

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Your thighs pressed together, wetness flooding between them. He knew. He'd read, actually read, about your kind. About how human seed carried warmth like no other source. About how a fairy could go from starving to thriving on a single, well-aimed orgasm.

"You'd do that? For a stranger?"

"I'd do it," he murmured, shifting you until you felt the thick line of his cock hardening against his thigh, "because I want to. Because you're beautiful. Because I woke up with flowers stuck to my chest and a sweet smell in my nose and I've been hard for three days thinking about you."

You moaned softly.

"There she is," he said, smiling handsomely. "There's the fairy who's been torturing me."

"I haven't—"

"You have." He rolled all of a sudden, pinning you to the mattress with his larger body, his hips settling between your spread legs. The weight of him pressed you into the featherbed. The heat of him seeped through your dress like sun through glass. "Every night you curled against me. Every time your sweet body shivered into mine. You think I didn't feel you?"

Your dress had ridden up. His cock, thick and hot even through his breeches, nudged against your bare thigh. You could feel the pulse of it. The delightful warmth. You keened.

"Please," you whispered.

He kissed you. His warm mouth crashed into yours, suffusing you with heat. You moaned into his mouth and felt him groan in response, his hips grinding down against yours.

"Tell me what you need," he panted against your lips. "Tell me exactly."

"Your skin." Your hands fumbled at his shirt, pushing the worn linen up his chest. Hair curled there and you scraped your nails through it just to hear him hiss. "I need your skin on mine. Need you inside. Need—ah—"

His mouth found your throat. Sucked. Bit. Left a mark that would bloom purple by morning.

"Neck's sensitive," you gasped.

"Yeah?" He did it again, and your whole body arched into his. "What about these?"

He shoved your dress up, past your breasts and tossed it away. You shivered, your beasts small, nipples tight from more than just cold. He groaned as his mouth closed over one before you could hide shyly, tongue circling the pebbled peak while his fingers worked the other.

"Oh—" Your back bowed. Your wings fluttered against the sheets. "Yes. Yes."

He suckled like he was starving, wet sounds echoing in the quiet cottage. His stubble rasped against the sensitive skin of your breast. His free hand slid down your belly, fingers dipping into your panties, finding the soaked curls between your legs.

"So fucking wet already," he growled against your nipple. "Is that for me, sweetheart? Did my little fairy get herself all ready?"

"I c-can't help it." Your hips rolled into his touch. "You're so warm. I can feel it pulling at me—your heat—I need—"

"You need my fingers first." He lifted his head, eyes dilated. "Gotta make sure you're ready for me. Don't want to hurt you."

Too late for that. Everything hurt; the cold still gnawing at your bones, the desperate ache between your legs, the terrible beautiful fullness in your chest that you couldn't decipher what it meant.

But when his finger pushed inside you, all thoughts vanished.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're tight."

You were. Even one finger stretched you, his hands were broad, calloused, and the knuckle pressing against your entrance made you gasp. But the heat. Gods, the heat. It radiated from his finger into your core, chasing the frost from your blood.

"More," you begged. "Please, more."

Smearing your wetness, he gave you two fingers. Stretched you wider. Curled them. Pumped them slow while kissing you, breathing warm air into your lungs. You rocked against him, gasping when he found a spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Nnngh—there—there—"

"Yeah?" He pumped his fingers, watching your face. "That's the spot, isn't it? That's where my little fairy needs it."

Eyes shutting, you climaxed, your walls contacting around his digits. Your slick coated his palm, his wrist, dripped down onto the sheets. You'd never been this wet in your life. Never felt this needy.

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, more —I need your cock—need it—"

He withdrew his fingers. You whimpered at the loss.

Clothes followed soon after, tossed somewhere on the floor until both of you were bare.

And God.

He was magnificent

Strong shoulders, thick thighs, a body built solid and heavy in all the right ways. Dark hair dusted his lower stomach and trailed downward to a thick and beautiful cock, jutting up from a dark thatch of hair at the base. The head leaked, heavy balls drawn up tight with need.

"Look at you," he said, wrapping his fist around the shaft and stroking once. Twice. "Look what you do to me."

You reached for him. Your fingers barely closed around the girth. The head alone was wider than four of your fingers pressed together.

"You sure?" he asked huskily.

"I'll die if you don't." Not an exaggeration. You could feel the cold creeping back, stealing the warmth his fingers had given you. "Please. I need you. Need you inside."

"Okay, sweetheart. Okay."

He positioned himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging your slick entrance. You reached for him, your legs trying to snaked around his hips, your hands pressed flat against his broad chest.

He could crush you without trying.

Instead, he impaled you tenderly.

Low moans tore from both of you as his crown stretched your opening. You felt every ridge, every vein. Felt the impossible heat of him seeping into your walls.

"So tight—" he gritted out, licking your pointy ear. "Fuck, sweetheart, you're gonna make me come too fast."

"Don't care. Give me more. Please...."

He laughed softly, kissed your lips and worked himself deeper. Half his length was inside you now. Your body trembled around him, clenching and releasing, trying to accommodate his size. The stretch burned but the warmth... the warmth was divine.

"Oh," you moaned. "Oh, yes."

"You feel that?" He pulled back an inch, pushed forward two. "That's my heat going into you, my sweet. Can feel you drinking it."

He was right. Your walls pulsed around him, your pussy hungry and greedy, sucking at his cock like it could draw his warmth straight through his skin. And maybe it could. Fairy biology wasn't exactly normal.

"More," you gasped. "Harder. I need—ah—"

His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt. Your body screamed in pain-bliss. He filled you completely. Stretched you perfectly.

More heat flooded your core. You could feel your starving cells opening up, drinking him in, your frostbitten wings tingling as blood rushed back into the membranes. Your vision cleared. Your heart beat stronger.

"Yes," you mewled. "Yes yes yes—"

"Yeah?" He pulled out then slammed back in. "Yeah?"

The sound of his hips slapping against your thighs echoed off the cottage walls. Clap. Clap. Clap. Your slick made everything slippery. His balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, and his mouth peppered kisses anywhere he could reach.

"Gonna fill you up," he groaned, pace increasing. "Gonna pump my come so deep inside you, sweetheart. Gonna warm you from the inside."

Your nails raked down his back. "Please."

"Please what? Use your words."

"Please come inside me. I need it. Need your seed—"

"Mmm, yeah, you do." He shifted angle, drove deeper, and suddenly his cock was hitting a spot that made your vision go white. "There. There it is."

"That's—nngh—that's my—"

"Your what, sweetheart?" He grinned down at you. "Your little fairy womb? You want me to come in there? Fill you up? Make you warm?"

"Yes yes oh fuck yes—"

His rhythm stuttered. His jaw clenched. "I'm close. I'm so fucking close..."

His hand flew between your bodies, bulky but expert fingers finding your clit. He circled it frantically, matching his thrusts.

"Come on," he growled. "Come for me, little fairy. Come on—"

The wave crashed.

You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, pussy clenching down on his cock like a fist. Your body arched off the bed. Your wings blazed, lavender light spilling across the room.

And that was all it took for him.

"Fuck—" His hips slammed forward one final time, buried to the hilt, and his cock jerked inside you. Once. Twice. Then—

Hot.

So hot you came again. And again. And again.

His seed flooded your insides, each spurt of cum dripping with warmth that spread through your belly like honey. You could feel it working, your body absorbing the heat, the life of it. Your wings flickered brighter. Your skin flushed with joy.

He collapsed on top of you, still buried deep, still pulsing occasionally as the last of his release pumped into you. His face pressed into your neck. His breath came in ragged gasps.

"Holy shit," he whispered.

You couldn't speak. Your entire body was singing.

*****************

You stayed.

Not just that night, but the next. And the next. And the next.

Years later the cottage had changed. An extra room for the herbs you dried from the garden. A bigger bed, one that could fit your wings spread wide and your belly which was swollen round with child. His child.

"You're staring," you said, not looking up from the tiny knit socks in your lap.

"Can't help it." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling softly. "You're gorgeous like this, sweetheart."

Your cheeks burned. They always did when he complimented you. "M'not."

"Are so." He crossed the room, dropped to his knees in front of your chair, and kissed the taut curve of your belly. "Both of you. Gorgeous."

The baby kicked. You laughed.

"Baby thinks so too," he murmured against your skin.

Your hand found his light brown hair. Carded through it. Remembered the first night you'd crept into his bed, frozen and dying. Remembered the way he'd held you like you were precious, remembered how he'd taken care of you, loving you, accepting you.

"I love you," you said.

He looked up at you with those violet eyes, still warm after all these years. Still burning with love and desire.

"I know," he said. And then, because he was a bastard, "You kinda need me for survival, remember?"

You hit his shoulder. He caught your hand. Kissed your palm.

"Love you too," he said quietly. "Now come to bed. The fire's low and you're looking a little pale."

You weren't pale. You were flushed, happy and so warm you thought you might burst.

But you let him help you up anyway. Let him guide you to the bed he'd built for your family. Let him wrap himself around you and fill you deep like he had that first night—only now you didn't have to sneak.

Spring had come.

The botanical garden was full of life and colors.

There was something mesmerizing about it: the trill of birdsong, the hum of bees and the scent of freshly awakened flowers.

You picked up your pace, weaving through the garden's paths and heading to the clearing where you were to meet your mate. The place around you was scattered with trees and flowers, leaves and petals swinging gently. It was one of the places Florian, your fae mate was responsible for.

Darn it... You were late. Nearly running, you darted through people, your fingers brushing across the pendant on your chest—a delicate silver leaf with a small bird beside it. It was Florian's present to you, a symbol of his protection, infused with his powers to keep you safe. You grinned, remembering the day he'd clasped it around your neck, saying: As long as you wear this, you will be safe. Always under my care.

Florian, your fae boyfriend waited for you by the north gate, in front of the secret entrance where the lines between the commonplace and magical blurred.

He was tall, towering over you with broad shoulders and a muscular body that made you hot all over. A sun-kissed face with sharp features, prominent cheekbones, a strong jawline, and pointed ears. His eyes were a deep forest green with gold flecks, and when he looked at you, it felt like he could reach right into your heart.

Long brown hair stained with gold and copper strands fell to his shoulders, and somehow, no matter what, tiny flowers and leaves found their way into it. And his wings, oh they were stunning. They were now tucked behind his back, but they were huge and clawed, with translucent membranes that shimmered in green, gold, and silver hues.

His lips softened into a smile when he saw you. He rushed to you, his steps fluid and graceful. Strong hands wrapped around your waist, enclosing you in his embrace. He smelt of musk and flowers, and you still couldn't believe he was yours.

Yes, Florian always made you feel that deep, wonderful flutter in your chest. He was the fae Lord ruling over nature, but he was also completely yours. A fae so strong, yet you were always struck by the contrast between his power and the gentleness of his touch.

"There you are, little wren," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. Soft and wet. "I've been waiting for you."

You smiled against his mouth, loving the way he spoke your nickname. Florian affectionately called you his little Wren. He'd said you reminded him of the small, joyful birds that sing in the forest.

"I'm sorry. The bus arrived later than usual."

"I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost." He exhaled. "I still would have preferred to hold you in my arms and fly you here. It would have been quicker, safer, and I wouldn't have to spend any second apart from you."

"It's okay," you said softly. "Spring is here, and as Lord of nature, you have so much to do. Besides, flying is not so convenient if people see us."

"Alright then. Next time, I'll walk with you. I do not like leaving you alone."

You laughed and kissed him fondly. "Florian, it is the middle of the day, and I am wearing your protecting pendant. I am safe. Always."

He hummed, his thumb delicately stroking the delicate jewelry. "I know. But you are my little wren, and I would rather keep you close, where I can see you and protect you myself."

"How sweet and protective," you said as his hands stroked your spine. "But I am not made of glass. I can take care of myself."

Florian frowned. "That doesn't mean I'm not worried. It's in my nature to protect my mate."

"I know that," you grinned, cupping his face. "I'm so happy you're mine."

He smiled—a genuine, brilliant smile. "You always know what to say to ease my mind." He patted your ass playfully. "Come, let's walk. The garden is in full bloom and I want to show you something."

He grabbed your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, as you followed him through the magic gate and deeper into the paths of the garden, away from prying eyes. At your feet, flowers sprang to life, their petals unfurling in a riot of color while the trees swung gently, their leaves whispering things only Florian could understand.

It seemed as if the earth itself was worshiping him and also accepting you, honoring your bond. It made you feel so happy and blessed.

As you walked, Florian unleashed his magic, tiny flecks of stardust floating through the air. The earth responded to his call. The flowers bloomed in sparkling blues, bright reds, and deep purples that appeared to glow from inside. They smelt delightfully sweet. Butterflies with wings like stained-glass flew about you while birds tittered from the treetops.

"Wow... Florian," you marveled, "it's so beautiful."

He grinned. "This is nothing yet. Look at that." Next, he took you along a meandering route dotted with cherry blossoms, their pink petals drifting lazily to the ground. With a flick of his wrist, his magic danced again, and the petals whirled around you, swirling in the air before settling on your head like a crown. You laughed, wiping one off your nose, while Florian gazed at you, his eyes glowing with tenderness.

"Are you happy, little wren?"

"Of course, I'm happy. So so happy! You're pretty amazing, you know that?" you said, your face beaming.

He cupped your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "You're so beautiful. Your eyes, your smile... so much more beautiful than the first bloom of spring."

You flushed because surely he was teasing you. "Flatterer."

"I speak the truth. How can you be so perfect?"

You chuckled. "I'm far from perfect, but if you think so, I won't argue. Thank you. For sharing this with me. For taking me as your mate even if I'm only human —" "No," he cut you off. "Thank you for being mine. For accepting me, not just the fae, but… me." You smiled, your fingers framing his cheek. "How could I ever resist you, Florian?" He did not answer with words. Instead, he kissed you, his lips claiming yours, tenderly, possessively. It began softly, as it always did, but it quickly deepened, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you closer. You melted into him, your fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, opening your mouth to him.

Growling, his tongue delved inside, mating with yours and you whimpered softly, the sound drowned out by his kiss. You tasted the slight sweetness of honey and wild berries, a flavor that was entirely Florian. One of his hands moved up your back, leaving a trail of heat, and the other cradled the back of your neck, his fingers cupping your nape.

When he finally drew back, you were both out of breath, your fingers buried in his silky hair. Every line of his body was hard against yours, his eyes half-lidded. You could feel the fire in him, the way his heart pounded in tandem with yours.

"Do you see now?" he muttered, his voice gruff and low. "How impossibly in love I am with you?"

"Florian…"

He silenced you with another kiss, this time deeper and more demanding. His hands moved across your body, tracing your waist, the dip of your spine and your smooth hips. When his lips left yours to trail down your jaw, you groaned, dropping your head to offer him full access. He went low, pausing just above your rapid heartbeat.

"Tell me you believe me," he said, his palm resting against your breast. "Accept how much you mean to me."

"I believe you," you muttered, trembling with emotion. "I believe you."

"Good," he replied, his voice a low growl. "Never doubt it. You are my everything. My little wren, my heart and soul. Without you, I would be lost. Lonely. Sad."

"You'll never be lonely," you said, tears gathering in your eyes. "Not as long as I'm here."

You didn't cry. Rather, you clasped his face in your hands and kissed him again, slowly and lovingly.

"And you're mine," you breathed against his lips. "My fae, my mate, my love and very breath."

Florian mumbled a husky 'I love you' as he nibbled your lip and poured all of his love and devotion into another kiss. It was a kiss unlike any other, tender and all-consuming, warming you from your head to your toes. Pulling back, he held you against him because you were still dizzy from the kiss and your mutual confession.

A swift peck on the tip of your nose and he raised a hand, his palm lighting up to reveal a gorgeous flower, its petals shifting from pink to gold as his magic touched it. He tucked it behind your ear, his fingertips brushing against your skin, lingering longer than usual. "There," he rasped, tilting his head to admire his work. "Perfect." "What kind of flower is it?" you asked, carefully touching the petals. "It's called everbloom. It is only open at sunrise and closed at sundown. But it will remain open for you. Forever." "Oh, you're spoiling me."

He grinned and whispered, "You deserve it. You deserve forever." As you paced the botanical garden, Florian took you to a secluded grove where a crystal-clear brook bubbled over smooth stones. He took you to a grassy area beneath a willow tree and kissed you again and again. Everything around you got covered by a surreal mist as he made love to you. He was wild and untamed, yet tender and steadfast, his love like a natural force. And as you clung to him, your bodies and souls merged as one, you marveled at how deep your love was.

The first thing Ellyvive felt was the heat.

Not the usual warmth of the sun creeping through the curtains, but the blast furnace rolling off the demon tucked against her spine. Melaiel's arm locked around her waist, his chest flush to her back. His breath feathered against her hair in slow, even pulls.

They'd barely slept.

The night and early hours blurred into fucking, then slow love, then fucking again—rinse and repeat. Exhaustion finally dragged them under, limbs knotted together. She'd woken because he'd stayed buried inside her pussy while he slept, his cock iron-hard even in unconsciousness, that thick shaft stretching her full, keeping her warm and buzzing.

"You're crushing me," she whispered to the quiet room.

No answer. Just the warm exhale of his breath and the occasional twitch of his fingers on her stomach.

She tried to shift.

His arm tightened.

"For real." She wiggled her shoulder. "I need these ribs to breathe."

A low rumble vibrated against her back, his cock pulsing within her. "Five more."

She whined. "You've been saying that for an hour."

Silly demon, she thought with a groan. Keeping her like this while he enjoyed his post-fuck nap.

She twisted her head enough to catch his face. Eyes still shut, dark lashes fanned against skin too pale for someone who radiated so much heat. His mouth held that relaxed curve it only got when he was genuinely under, not the tight line he wore through most waking hours. Those magnificent horns curving back from his temples caught the light; they ran warm even in sleep.

She lay there, feeling the weight of his arm, the heat of his body inside her, and thought about how different this was from her life before.

In the fae court, everything ran cold, measured, calculated. Affection got traded like currency for political gain. But here, with Melaiel, it was raw. Pure. He held her because he wanted to, fucked her because he craved her, because her presence gave him peace. Because he trusted her, because he needed to be near her.

"Melaiel." She poked his arm. "Wake up. You're suffocating me."

His eyes cracked open—just slits of molten gold peeking through. "You're fine. Smothering unsuccessful."

That was bullshit. Melaiel was aware of her before he opened his eyes. He was always aware of her, even more so when he was buried deep in her perfect cunt. But it wasn't just that. Ellyvive lived in his heart, in his fucked-up soul. The way she fit against him was like a missing piece clicking home. He tightened his arm instinctively, thrust just a little inside to feel her muscles clench, wanting to keep her there forever.

In his dreams, she was always leaving, always getting pulled away by duty or family. But in reality, she was here, warm and his, and he'd do anything to keep it that way.

"You're disrupting my beauty sleep, princess."

"You don't need beauty sleep. You're already disgustingly attractive."

"Maintenance sleep, then. Gotta keep the standards up."

"You're awake." She bit back a groan because his shaft was twitching eagerly, so deep it stole her breath. "Your cock certainly is."

"Different head," he mumbled. "Literally. Can't help it if my cock's an early riser. Very working-class demon, always eager for the day shift."

Ellyvive smiled when he finally opened his eyes; that molten gold that always made her stomach flip. His hair was a mess of black silk on the pillow, and his mouth, that wicked mouth, was curved in a grin that promised trouble.

"There you are," he murmured, his hand sliding up her chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns around a puckered nipple.

She bit back a moan. "Where else would I be?"

"Dunno. Dreamland. I was having a very good dream." His eyes dropped to her mouth, then into her green eyes. "You were in it."

"Was I doing something interesting?"

"You were sitting on my face, actually."

She grinned. "You're incorrigible."

"I'm honest..." He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Also, you started it. You're the one who asked. You were very smug in my dream. Very noble-lady-with-her-peasant-demon energy. It was hot."

She sighed. "My family would disown me if they could see us now."

"Hey." His eyes flashed. "They're not here. It's just us. Just this."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. The mention of her family always brought a sting, a reminder of the world she'd left behind and the cruel words of her kin. But here, with him, it faded faster each time. He kept holding her hand, pressing wet kisses to her palm.

"What do they know, anyway? Bunch of stuffy fae with sticks up their—"

"Mel!" she finally smiled, he always managed to do that.

He tugged her closer, their bodies flushed together, connected as close as possible in every way. "Sorry ... what I meant is... They don't get to have opinions about you. Not anymore. You're mine."

"That's a very possessive thing to say."

"I'm a very possessive demon. They lost the right to have thoughts about you when they made you feel like you weren't enough."

Melaiel hated her family. Hated how they'd hurt her, making her feel unworthy. But in moments like these, his hate didn't matter. Only she did. So he always turned soft, when in truth he never was, never before her.

"You're doing the sweet thing again," she muttered.

"I know. I'm embarrassed. Please don't tell anyone." He kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her shoulder. "Forget all about them, princess. They don't matter, nothing matters when we are together. I won't let anyone or anything sadden you."

"I'm fine. I'm great. I'm lying in bed with a gorgeous demon who's currently trying to lick my pulse point and it's..." She trailed as his tongue traced exactly that spot, "...distracting."

"That's the goal." He nuzzled against her neck, pressing his nose into her blonde hair. "Also, I'm changing the subject because you get that look when we talk about your family, and I don't like that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're somewhere else. Somewhere colder. I like you here. With me. In our warm bed, warming up my cock, where nobody expects you to be anything except exactly what you are."

Her throat tightened. "Somehow you managed to be even sweeter, Mel."

"I know." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Again, don't tell anyone. I have a reputation."

"What reputation? The one where you're a barely-employed fallen angel who complains about rent?"

"The very same. It's a carefully crafted image."

"You literally live in a penthouse."

"It's a very affordable penthouse. I negotiated. The landlord felt sorry for me."

"No one feels sorry for you. You're intimidating."

"I'm adorable and you know it." His hand cupped her slender neck and brought her mouth up for a kiss. "Also, you're the one who moved in. If I'm so intimidating, why are you here?"

She considered the question. Considered the warmth of him within her, the steady thump of his heart against her back, his arms around her. The merest touch made her bones feel like they were melting.

"Your bed is comfortable," she teased and felt his inward growl. A very sexy growl.

"Ah. My bed. Notme. Got it."

She grinned. "Your pillows are good too."

He grunted, pinched her nipple making her wince and flutter around his girth. "The pillows. Hmm... Taking notes."

"And! And... you make a decent cup of tea!"

"A decent cup." He rolled the other nipple. "I'm sensing a theme."

"The theme is that you ask too many questions before I've had my cup of tea."

"Right." He shifted, his cock sliding out. Both of them groaned. "This demon needs to serve his princess then. A decent cup of tea coming right up. "

She didn't reply. She still needed a breather after that huge cock slid out. The cum trapped inside her trickled out. She honestly felt a little empty now... He grinned because he could scent her arousal and probably read her expression and knew she was missing him inside her. He tapped her ass playfully.

"What about breakfast, babygirl? I'll order your favorite quesadillas, and prepare that yogurt thing with the berries and the granola and lots of almonds that you love?"

"You noticed?"

"I notice everything about you. It's my hobby. Very time-consuming. You're complicated."

She pouted. "I'm not complicated."

"You're the most complicated person I've ever met, and I've met actual demons from All Hallows Eve." He tapped her nose. "You have layers, Lady Ellyvive. Like an onion."

"Onions make people cry."

"Exactly. You don't. See? Better than onions."

She laughed and pushed up on her elbow to look at him. "That's the worst compliment I've ever received."

"I aim to impress." He stretched next to her, a full-body movement that made his muscles shift and his hard cock to tent the sheets "So. Tea. Breakfast. I need to provide for my noble lady."

"Your noble lady appreciates your efforts. You're very good to me."

"I'm adequately good to you. I'm aiming for exceptionally good. Gotta earn my keep."

"You don't have to earn anything."

He caught her gaze, his expression serious. "Yeah, I do. You chose me, princess. That means something." He cupped her breast, right over her heart, caressing the spot. "You could have anyone. Fae princes, elf lords, whoever. But you picked the fallen angel with the rent problems and the questionable employment history."

"I did." She placed her finger over his on her chest. "I love you so much."

"I love you more." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Now. Breakfast. You stay here and do nothing. I'll handle sustenance."

He rolled out of bed, and she watched him cross the room—tall and well-muscled, all horned beauty and confident grace, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness. He grabbed a silk robe from the floor, because he was extra like that, tugged it on, then paused.

"Wait. One more thing."

"What?"

He kissed her, thorough and warm, and when he pulled back, his eyes were sparkling. "That's for being you."

He headed for the kitchen, naked and hard as steel under the robe, feeling her gaze on his back. He knew she was watching—she always watched, and he always preened a little under the attention. His sweet fae, making him soft. And hard... in the only place that mattered.

Ellyvive stretched, delightfully sore from the ways he'd made love to her during the night and the way she'd cockwarmed him the rest of the time. They were inseparable and she couldn't have been happier.

This. This was what she'd never known she needed. The easy warmth, the casual affection, the way he made her feel like being exactly who she was wasn't just acceptable, but wonderful. Her family had spent centuries teaching her to be small, to be measured, to be proper.

Melaiel had spent months undoing all of it, kiss by kiss, laugh by laugh.

Safe. That was the word. She felt safe.

Smiling to herself, she stood up, took care of business in the en suite bathroom, put on one of Melaiel's shirts, then padded toward the kitchen. He was at the counter, making an order on the phone, water boiling while he arranged almonds on top of yogurt.

He turned when she walked in, and his face did that thing—the slow smile that started in his eyes and spread to his mouth. "There she is. The lady of the house. Quesadillas are on the way."

Half an hour later, they were eating. He drank his coffee and she her tea. She'd already finished her yogurt and they were working on the quesadillas, side by side at the island. He touched her occasionally, he always did. He always needed contact.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hit me, babygirl."

"Why me?"

He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." She shrugged. "You could have anyone. Why the complicated fae with the family baggage?"

His brow lifted. “Princess.... I'm pretty sure I asked you something similar earlier.”

"And I unswered. Not it's your turn."

He set his fork down. "You want the real answer?"

"I want whatever answer you've got."

He was quiet for a moment, looking at her with that intensity he usually reserved for important things. "Because you're real. Everything about you is real. Your laugh, your temper, the way you scrunch your nose when you're thinking. You don't pretend with me. You never have. And because you looked at me—the first time we met—like I was worth looking at. Not because of what I represented. Just me."

She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. "Thank you for saying that."

He smiled "Anytime, babygirl. Now, finish your breakfast. You're very doubtful today and I need to remedy that. After this, I'm taking you back to bed, and I'm going to eat you out until you forget your own name. Then I'm going to fuck you senseless."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Good." He picked up his fork and continued eating, as if he hadn't just made her pussy flood with need.

He was such a sexy demon living up to his nature.

They'd barely finished breakfast when he knelt before her and made good on his promise to eat her out. Just like his dream, he guided her pussy to his face, his tongue pushing inside, his fingers teasing, making her shake and moan and forget all her inhibitions.

After several orgasms, he made sure she remembered how much he loved her by fucking her right on the kitchen island, her legs wrapped around his waist. He drove into her, his cock hitting deep, her cunt gripping him like a vice. She came screaming his name and he followed right after, spilling inside her with a guttural groan.

But he wasn't done.

He lifted her off the island, still buried in her, and carried her toward the bedroom, each step jostling his dick inside her, making her mewl. He laid her on the bed, pulled out just to flip her onto her stomach, then plunged back in from behind, tking her slow and deep, his hand fisted in her hair, his mouth on her neck. Sucking little marks.

She came again, and again, until she lost count, until the world narrowed to just him, just this, just the two of them tangled in sweat and sheets and the unspoken promise that this was forever.

Hours later —who knew how long, really— they lay in a heap, her head on his chest, his cock still half-hard against her thigh. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, painting weak stripes across the floor.

"I'm starving," she mumbled.

He laughed. "We just ate."

"That was hours ago. And you wore me out."

"My apologies. Allow me to prepare dinner." He tried to move but she tutted.

"Not yet!" She wiggled closer, pressing a kiss to his skin. "Five more minutes."

He grinned. "As you wish, princess."

This was her life now. Chaotic, warm, full of cock and laughter and a demon who looked at her like she was the sun. She wouldn't trade it for anything.

Not for the fae court, not for her family's approval, not for all the gold in the mortal realm.

The jeep’s tires crunched on the gravel, coming to a stop. Erica turned the key and the engine died. The sudden silence was filled with the distant, rhythmic rush of the ocean.

She looked over at the passenger seat. Cara was already watching her. Her pointy ears gave a little twitch. A messy ponytail held up hair the color of dark honey, streaked with gold.

“See?” Cara said, her voice a sing-song. “Told you, boo. No one ever comes out here. It’s ours. All ours.”

“You and your secret spots,” Erica laughed. She pushed her door open.

Morning air hit her. Salty, clean, warm. She grabbed the big canvas bag from the back. It was stuffed with towels, all types of sunscreen, and the sandwiches Cara had made that morning.

Cara slid out of the jeep. She stretched her arms high above her head. The morning sun made her skin look like it was dusted with gold. Unlike her, Erica was freckled and prone to burning. She turned pink even on cloudy days.

That was why she’d already coated herself in sunscreen. And over it all, she wore the lightweight jacket Cara had made for her, woven with fae magic to soften the sun’s rays. Erica never went without it. It was protection, yes—but more than that, it was her girlfriend’s care. “Come on, boo!” Cara called out, already heading toward a narrow path that cut through the dunes.

Erica hurried after her, her sneakers slipping in the sand. They pushed through tall grasses, and then the cove opened up in front of them. A perfect little curve of pale sand, hugged by dark rocks. The water was so clear and calm it looked unreal.

Not a soul in sight.

“Okay,” Erica said, dropping her bag onto the dry sand. “You win. This is stupidly perfect.” Cara just grinned. That grin that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. She grabbed the hem of her thin cotton dress and pulled it off over her head. Underneath was a sexy green bikini. It looked amazing on her. Erica followed, tugging at her striped tankini. Cara watched without shame. Erica blushed under her gaze.

“First things first,” Cara said, snatching Erica’s hand. “Water test.”

They walked to where the damp sand met the foam. The ocean slid over their feet, cold for a second, then refreshing. Cara hooked her pinky with Erica’s. They walked ankle-deep.

“It’s colder than it looks,” Erica muttered, watching the water swirl around her ankles.

“Is it?” Cara grinned and gave a tiny, almost invisible nod toward a wave that was sliding back out.

The next little swell that rolled in didn’t seem so little. It curled deliberately and washed right up over Erica’s calves.

Erica yelped. “Hey!”

“What? It’s just the ocean. It has a mind of its own.” But Cara couldn’t hold back her smile. A guilty, charming smile that gave her away completely.

“You’re a menace… A beautiful, bratty one.”

They walked for a while in comfortable quiet, just gulls and the shush of the sea. Then they waded in deeper. The water was cool and lovely. They floated, they splashed, they hugged in the soft waves. Cara kissed Erica’s shoulder. Erica kissed Cara’s wet cheek.

It was nice. Freeing. Relaxing.

When they turned back toward their stuff, the sun was higher, hotter.

“Alright, sun-worshipper,” Erica said, rummaging in her bag. She pulled out sunscreen. “You might not bake like I do, but I’m not taking chances. Turn around.”

“I don’t burn, you know. I bask. I glow.”

“You’ll glow bright red if I don’t do this. Humor me.” Erica squeezed a big blob of lotion into her palm.

Cara sat close, her skin luminous under the sun. Erica began at her face, careful not to miss her pointed ears, then down her shoulders, working the lotion in slow circles. She felt muscle shift under her hands, the bumps of Cara’s spine. Her thumbs swept along her collarbones, over the tops of her breasts.

Cara hummed. “Okay. I see the appeal of this ritual.”

“Your skin is so soft, hun,” Erica said, taking her time. She massaged the lotion into every inch of Cara’s back, down to the dip where her bikini bottom sat. Her fingers traced lazy patterns. She couldn’t help it. She brushed Cara’s hair over one shoulder. She leaned in and pressed a light kiss there.

When Erica was done (which took a few more touches), Cara spun around. “My turn.”

“Lucky me,” Erica grinned.

“Fair’s fair,” Cara said. Her hands, still cool from the ocean, landed on Erica’s shoulders.

Erica gasped. “Your fingers are freezing!”

“They’ll warm up... You’ll warm them up,” Cara drawled. She started smoothing the sunscreen over her, massaging in unhurried circles. When her thumbs brushed the sensitive skin right under the edge of her swimsuit top, Erica squirmed and giggled.

“That tickles! And are you really trying to put sunscreen on my tits?”

“I’m being thorough,” Cara grinned. Her eyes were sparkling. She leaned close, lips near her ear. “Can’t have your soft skin getting damaged.”

Her hands, warmed up now, slid to Erica’s stomach next, applying light pressure that made Erica’s breath hitch. Her laughter melted into a shaky sigh.

“You’re the worst,” Erica breathed out, tilting her head back as Cara’s lips found her throat.

“You adore me,” Cara whispered against her skin.

Things escalated.

The sunscreen was forgotten.

More than one kiss happened.

More than one instance of Cara’s hands wandering over Erica’s hips, or Erica tangling her fingers in Cara’s ponytail to pull her closer. Swimsuits were tugged, sharp sensations and breathless orgasms followed.

After, they lay sprawled on their big towel. They were wrapped up in each other, enjoying the quiet buzz under their skin, watching the sky. They were both very glad nobody else was around to see.

Soon, the water called them back. Their toes sank into wet sand, the sun glinted off the waves. Erica scooped up a handful of seawater and flicked it at Cara’s legs.

“Hey!” Cara gasped, then grinned. “Did you just start a war?”

Erica shrugged. “Oops. My hand slipped.”

Cara splashed back. “Stand still, gorgeous, so I can get you back properly.”

“Nope!” Erica laughed. She splashed again. “You snooze, you lose, sunshine.”

Cara vanished. It was just a blur, and then she was standing a few feet away. “You realize I’m fae, right? This is very unfair to you.”

“Oh please,” Erica said, winding up for a bigger splash. “You’re all bark and no bi—”

A wave, out of nowhere, crashed into her from behind. It soaked her from head to toe. She sputtered, saltwater in her mouth, her hair plastered to her face. “CARA.”

The fae had a hand pressed over her mouth, trying not to laugh and failing completely. “Wow. The sea itself is on my side. It’s destiny.”

“You totally did that!”

“Prove it!” Cara backed away, still laughing. “Okay, okay, boo! Maybe I nudged it. A little.”

Erica lunged. They both stumbled deeper in the waters, laughing so hard they could barely stand. Cara caught her, her arms strong around her waist, keeping them both upright. Erica wrapped her legs around Cara’s hips and her arms around her neck.

Then kissed her.

The kiss tasted like salt and a little like the fake cherry scent of their sunscreen. Erica’s hands cradled Cara’s face. Her fingers pushed into her sun-streaked hair. Cara’s lips were cool and soft, a fascinating contrast as their lips merged, the kiss making her feel dizzy.

Good thing Cara was holding her so tight. She smiled right into the kiss. Cara laughed too. Their noses bumped.

“Sand,” Erica mumbled against her mouth. “I think I have sand on my lips.”

“Me too,” Cara giggled. She didn’t pull away. She just brushed her lips back and forth over Erica’s. It made them laugh harder.

Later, after more sunscreen (applied a bit more efficiently this time) they sat on the sand and started building.

They began with a big, packed mound of wet sand. Then they used handfuls of drippy sand to build towers and walls. They carved out windows and doors from the top down. They decorated the walls with little shells and bits of seaweed.

Erica had named it Sun Castle. It reminded her of Cara. The warm, golden color. The way it stood bright against the blue. Building it felt like how Cara’s love felt; bright and alive, like standing in sunlight with your eyes closed.

Cara looked at the finished castle with a toothy smile. Then she looked at Erica. She reached over and brushed a bit of sand from her cheek. Then kissed her. Surprise, surprise... it was a wet, sandy kiss again, because sand had a way of getting everywhere. But she didn’t care.

“The tide’s coming in,” Erica said with a sigh. She nodded toward the water. It was creeping closer. “It’s gonna destroy our Sun Castle...”

“Not yet,” Cara winked. She placed her palm on top of it. A faint, shimmering ripple of gold—her magic—washed over the sandcastle. It spread around it in an invisible circle, a barrier. “There. Defenses fortified.”

Erica leaned in and kissed Cara. Once, twice… three times. “Show-off.”

“Your show-off,” Cara corrected, kissing her back.

As the sun started to go down, painting the sky orange and pink, they sat side-by-side. They watched their castle hold its ground against the sea. They ate the sandwiches. Cara had made them with some weird, sweet fae bread. It was delicious.

After they ate, they got their big blanket and wrapped it around both of them. Erica curled herself around Cara from behind. She draped an arm over Cara’s waist, hooked a leg over hers. She nuzzled her face into her neck and breathed in deep. Cara smelled like salt air, like coconut, like home.

“You’re doing it again,” Cara rasped against Erica’s temple.

“Doing what?”

“Sniffing me. Like I’m a pastry or a flower.”

Erica nuzzled closer. She didn’t feel even a little bit ashamed. “You smell like my favorite place. It’s comforting.”

Cara’s arm tightened around Erica’s where it lay across her stomach. She turned her head. Her lips found Erica’s forehead first. Then the tip of her nose. Finally, her mouth. The kiss was sweet. Tasted like the last bite of their shared sandwich. Tasted like sunset. Tasted like happiness.

When they pulled, Cara's voice was husky. “I love you, boo,” she murmured. “I really, really do.”