Page 8 of Fairy's Forbidden Touch
Instead of answering, he began unfastening the elaborate closures on his own clothing. Layer by layer, he removed the midnight blue jacket and silver-embroidered vest, then started on the tiny buttons of his silk shirt.
I watched, mesmerized, as he revealed himself. His chest was smooth and hairless, with the same opalescent sheen I’d noticed on his face and hands. Subtle patterns seemed to shift just beneath his skin, like swirls of iridescence in an opal.
“Beautiful,” I breathed without thinking.
He looked startled at the compliment. “It is the wild magic,” he explained. “It manifests physically.”
“Can I touch you?” I asked, suddenly unsure if the permission went both ways.
He nodded, a flash of nervousness crossing his features. “Please.”
I stepped closer, placing my palm flat against the center of his chest. His skin was cool and impossibly smooth, like touching living marble. Beneath my hand, I felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, faster than I would have expected.
“What does it feel like?” he asked quietly.
“You’re cooler than a human would be,” I told him honestly. “And your skin is smoother. But it’s nice. Really nice.”
His own hands came up to mirror my position, pressing against my chest. “You’re so warm,” he marveled. “And I can feel your heartbeat.”
We stood like that for a moment, just feeling each other’s heartbeats. Then, growing bolder, I slid my hand up to his shoulder, then his neck, finally threading my fingers into his silver hair. It was as silky as it looked, the intricate braids creating interesting textures.
“May I undo these?” I asked, touching one of the braids gently.
He hesitated, then nodded. “No one has touched my hair since I was a child. My attendants use tools to avoid contact.”
The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on me as I carefully unraveled the first braid, letting the silver strands slip through my fingers. Thalen’s eyes drifted closed, his breathing becoming deeper as I worked.
“Does that feel good?” I asked, my voice dropping lower.
“Yes,” he whispered. “More than I expected.”
I continued unbraiding his hair, watching as it fell in waves around his shoulders. When I gently scratched my nails against his scalp, he made a soft sound that went straight to my groin.
“Humans enjoy having their hair touched,” I told him, continuing the gentle massage. “Especially here.” I demonstrated by lightly tugging the hair at the nape of his neck.
His lips parted on a silent gasp. “I… see the appeal.”
Emboldened by his response, I leaned in to kiss him again. This time, there was no hesitation on his part. His lips moved against mine with newfound confidence, and when I deepened the kiss, his tongue met mine eagerly.
His hands, which had been relatively static on my chest, began to explore—tracing my collarbones, sliding over my shoulders, mapping the contours of my back. Each touch was deliberate, as if he was memorizing me by feel.
I walked us backward until his legs hit what appeared to be a sofa, then gently pressed him to sit. He looked up at me with wide, curious eyes as I knelt between his legs.
“There are many ways humans touch each other,” I said, resting my hands on his thighs. “I’d like to show you one that feels particularly good. If you want.”
Understanding dawned in his expression. “You wish to… with your mouth?”
I nodded. “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”
His hands clenched against the sofa cushions. “I have… imagined such things. But never thought I would experience them.”
“Is that a yes?” I pressed, needing clear consent.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Please, Jesse.”
It was the first time he’d used my name, and hearing it in his musical voice sent a shiver down my spine.
I reached for the fastenings of his pants, which were more complicated than human clothing—involving small silver hooks rather than buttons or zippers. With careful movements, I undid them, then looked up for permission before drawing the fabric down his hips.
