Flash: Shhh

Rating: Mature

The woman beside him was exquisite. Glendur admired her dirty-blonde hair, the light scattering of acne scars on the face, and the perfect three triangles of white skin setting off the mild sunburn from yesterday’s extended beach excursion. Female beauty without artifice. Non-existent among his people, impossibly rare among humans.

Glen had been grooming her all week as she and her college friends discovered the exotic playground called Miami. The youngest and purest of the group, she simply was a morsel he could not ignore. Her friends sported dyed hair of the goldest blonde and truest reds and wore layers of makeup over perfect skin. This little one was the group’s pet. A single unassuming dandelion among hothouse roses. Where the others spent hours shaving, trimming, plucking, and styling hair, she had been curled up with a textbook, prepping for when the holiday ended. The others debated about every article of miniscule clothing worn, she tossed on whatever clothes were on hand to cover her chubby body. The others had three suitcases each, she had three outfits for Spring Break.

He had bought her the bikini yesterday. The pooch overhang displayed, her perfect “mother’s apron,” enticed him all day to kiss her generous belly. He managed to contain the urge until he brought her back to his hotel; even so, he still spent most of the day stroking that generous expanse of skin.

The naiveté clung to her throughout their lovemaking. A magical time including the gift of her virginity. How she came to her senior year in University without discovering her inner passion, left him speechless at the stupidity of mortal males. He would treasure the gift given freely without enchantment, charm, or even mundane alcohol influence. A complete and fully formed Ewer was now permanently available to him in peace and in battle because of her gift. Should human males be so careless with all their women, Gledur could easily refill his Cellar. The initial rush of the Iron World crushed many Ewers, emptying Racks from everyone’s Cellars, before his people learned how to prevent such calamities. Crafting new ones was all but impossible among Iron’s atmosphere of swinging swords and grinding gears.

He needed a way to return the gift. She did it freely so he had no obligation, but even so he felt some. He had spent over five months restoring a slightly cracked Ewer using energy from the Miami’s club scene’s carnal exuberance. To have one never before his, strong and whole, was a gift beyond measure.

Mayhap he could convince her of her true beauty. How long would it take to change the self-image on one female for the better?

More time than he had. She was leaving in the morning.

His fingers danced along the white triangle edge. The red skin sensitive to touch from the burn, the white flesh sensitive to touch naturally.

Her lips parted in a satisfied sigh. He cupped both breasts and pinched the nipples. Her eyes opened in surprise. Smiling assurance at his newly minted non-virgin, Glen brought one hand down to the other white triangle of skin. This one centered with a blonde thatch lighter and truer in color than the hair on her head. He dug into the curls, a nimble fingers parted two folds of skin seeking her most sensitive nub.

The world blinked as she moaned.

Someone had crossed his threshold without permission.

Few had the power to do so without emptying several Ewers, blatantly extinguishing the protections. A whole Rack would be needed to actually destroy them. Only royalty to whom he owed fealty, and those on duty for royalty, had the power to slip through without him opening a way. A royal assassin could qualify, as would his mother. Glendur did not want to meet either.

The woman was writhing on the bed, staring at his face as his finger unconsciously continued the task he had had appointed to it.

His thoughts were darting through his options when his glamour began to slip. Only royalty could do that. They, the most beautiful of all the Fey, forced all others of their Kin and Kind to appear without illusion. Too many magics had hid weapons and poisons in the Misty Past.

His mother then. Or a sibling.

He managed to restore a modicum of his glamour, but the woman had noticed the difference. Even now his ears were more pointed, his eyes were more slanted, his eyes shifting to green. She was panting, short breaths passing over his lips. Fear of and passion for the unknown.

He barely needed to draw from a Ewer to regain his glamour. A sibling it was. One of the jealous ones. They were all jealous. And dangerous. Only one of the twelve had time for his fascination with mortal flesh.

He brought his finger to his lips, licking the moisture from it before pressing to his lips. Further in his suite, someone deliberately dropped something. Whomever was here did not want to barge in, but did want an audience quickly. The woman nodded her understanding, mimicking his actions by bringing a finger to her lips before Glendur rolled off the bed.

Mouthing “stay here” and again pressing the finger to his lips to indicate silence he left the bedroom suite. Closing the door reluctantly behind him, he fully dropped his glamour. His sibling did not need to know how his powers have grown from his Miami experiments. He or she would find out soon enough when he challenged for the throne.

(words 924 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/12/2013 for the 7/1/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; republished new blog format 11/25/2018)