Page 13 of Fairy's Forbidden Touch
As the movie continued, I became increasingly aware of Thalen’s proximity—the cool press of his thigh against mine, the weight of his arm around my shoulders, the subtle scent of winter and night flowers that always surrounded him. By the time we reached the Fire Swamp scene, my focus was less on the film and more on the way his fingers were absently stroking my shoulder.
When Westley and Buttercup kissed, Thalen turned to me with obvious intent. “Is this also part of the movie-watching ritual? Mimicking the actions on screen?”
I laughed. “Not officially, but it can be.”
He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. The movie continued in the background as we explored each other with increasing urgency. Two weeks of “lessons” had made Thalen remarkably adept at physical intimacy, and he now knew exactly how to touch me to get the reactions he wanted.
His cool fingers slipped under my t-shirt, tracing patterns across my stomach that made me shiver. I responded by tangling my hands in his hair, gently tugging at the braid until it came loose, silver strands spilling over my fingers.
“I believe I’m missing the plot developments,” he murmured against my lips.
“We can rewind,” I assured him, pulling him closer.
He shifted until he was practically in my lap, a position we’d discovered he particularly enjoyed. His greater height meant he had to bend down to kiss me this way, his hair creating a silver curtain around our faces.
“May I remove your shirt?” he asked, ever formal with his requests despite our increasing intimacy.
“Only if I can remove yours,” I countered.
He immediately began unfastening the small buttons of his silk shirt, revealing inch by inch of that fascinating opalescent skin. I helped him with the last few buttons, pushing the fabric off his shoulders. No matter how many times I saw him like this, the subtle patterns beneath his skin never ceased to amaze me—shifting and pulsing with his emotions, more pronounced when he was aroused.
Once his shirt was discarded, he tugged at the hem of my t-shirt. I lifted my arms to help him, and he pulled it over my head with more confidence than he’d shown during our first encounter. His hands immediately went to my chest, cool fingers tracing the contours of muscle and the light dusting of hair that seemed to fascinate him.
“You are always so warm,” he marveled, pressing his palm flat against my heart.
I leaned forward to kiss him again, guiding him until we were lying lengthwise on the couch, his longer body covering mine. The weight and coolness of him was becoming deliciously familiar, as was the way the patterns beneath his skin brightened where our bodies pressed together.
On screen, the movie continued, completely forgotten as we lost ourselves in exploration. Thalen’s kisses had grown more confident over our time together, and now he took control, deepening the kiss with obvious intent. His tongue slid against mine as his hands continued their journey across my torso.
When he shifted his hips, I felt his arousal pressing against mine through our pants. The friction drew a low moan from me that he seemed to delight in, deliberately repeating the movement to elicit another response.
“You enjoy that,” he observed, his voice deeper than usual.
“Very observant of you,” I teased, sliding my hands down to cup his ass and pull him more firmly against me.
The subtle patterns beneath his skin flared brighter at the contact, and his pupils dilated until the violet of his eyes was just a thin ring. Over the past weeks, I’d learned to read these signs of his arousal—the brightening patterns, the dilation of his unusual pupils, the slight parting of his lips.
“I wish to try something new,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice despite his obvious desire.
“What did you have in mind?”
Instead of answering, he began to move down my body, pressing cool kisses to my chest, my stomach, following the trail of hair that disappeared into my jeans. When he reached the waistband, he looked up at me with a question in his eyes.
Holy shit, is he offering what I think he’s offering?
“You don’t have to,” I said quickly. “Just because I did it for you doesn’t mean—”
“I want to,” he interrupted. “I have been… thinking about it. Imagining it.”
The idea of Thalen fantasizing about going down on me was almost enough to make me come on the spot. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
With deliberate movements, he unfastened my jeans and began to pull them down along with my boxers. I lifted my hips to help, and soon I was naked on Maya’s couch while a fairy prince knelt between my legs.
If Maya ever finds out about this, she’ll burn the couch.
Thalen studied me with that intense curiosity that never failed to make me feel both exposed and desired. His cool fingers wrapped around my cock, stroking experimentally as he had done before. Then, with determination in his expression, he leaned forward and took me into his mouth.
The sensation was incredible—the coolness of his mouth in contrast to a human’s warmth, the careful way he explored what I liked, the visual of his silver hair falling around his face as he worked. He was inexperienced but enthusiastic, clearly paying attention to my reactions to guide his actions.
