Archive of Our Own

He'd heard the warnings, of course. Legends of the spectre that haunted these woods, the fae spirit who would steal the virginity of any poor maiden fool enough to wander here alone without a fitting tribute. But cautionary tales and ghost stories never frightened Akira. And when he needed a place to hide, a fairy wood avoided by all was the perfect choice.

Stealing his way between the trunks, careful feet finding passage between roots and moss-covered rocks, not even sunlight could find him through the dense canopy of leaves. Soft green ambience filtered around him, dark but not unwelcome. Akira marked his path with strategically-broken branches, a sign to help him find his way back out, once he imagined the pressure to find him had dissipated. Until then, he would need to last a few days deep within this place.

It must have been an hour or two of picking his way through tangled undergrowth before he set upon a clearing. Akira might not have been one with an eye for natural beauty like his artist friend Yusuke, but the sight of this place left him breathless. Vibrant roiling flowers blooming bold and wild, with some blossoms as big and wide as his spread hand. Colors so bright and aggressively diverse they made his eyes water. A break in the thick canopy of green let in yellow beams of unfiltered light, a high contrast from the muted greens and browns in the woods. Floral perfume stronger than any of the aromatic waters of the ladies of the high court wrapped around his throat, a heady mix that made him feel both light-headed and giddy.

Here, he decided, was a worthy place to set himself up for a rest and wait out his self-imposed exile. Picking his way through the flowers, trying to find the least blasphemous spot to lie down, he spotted a rose, red and dark as heartsblood, poking its way out between lesser blooms of white and lavender. Akira's hand reached for it before he consciously willed himself to do so, fingers brushing along velvet-soft petals, only to realize this particular flower was actually two roses blooming from a single stem. A rare and beautiful treasure irresistible to one of Akira's ilk.

Thumb and forefinger fitting between protective thorns, Akira freed his prize from the earth, holding it closer for inspection. Perfect as though rendered by god's hand itself. Akira wished he had some way of preserving this flower, perhaps even selling it to a florist or capricious noble.

Akira didn’t startle easily. Akira knew how to navigate a tricky conversation or a potentially deadly situation. But when a voice called sharp and clear across the clearing, a ringing “What are you doing?” Akira jolted, pricking himself on the thorns lying in wait between his fingers.

Standing just inside the circle of light afforded by the clearing, a tall, beautiful man stared at Akira with a mixture of distaste and curiosity. For a wild moment, Akira thought he must be some lord, laying claim to this place as a hunting ground, or perhaps some romantic gift for his lover. He certainly looked the part, with soft brown doeskin trousers and a crisp linen shirt so white he must never have labored a day in his life. But beyond his neat appearance, the man looked somehow unearthly, preternatural. Short brown hair brushed the tops of his shoulders, flowing soft and smooth as water in a creek, the sheen of his eyes red as a polished garnet. A circle of oaken leaves crowning his brow certainly suggested some air of nobility, at least. But not one Akira was likely familiar with, or at all equipped to deal with.

The words, at least, were familiar. Charged with authority. An accusation. A threat.

A challenge.

Akira should have known what to say, how to handle himself. But the stories of the place swirled in his mind as he stared at the figure — the man? The creature? — and he could not compel his lips to speak.

The stranger stepped towards him, liquid grace, wine decanted into the finest crystal. The very flowers underfoot seemed to hide their faces when he walked, turning away to grant him a path straight to Akira.

"I said," repeated the man in the tone of someone not used to repeating himself, "what are you doing?"

Willing his brain to reconcile what he was seeing, but still unable to tear his eyes from the increasingly inhuman face nearing him, Akira tucked the twin blossom in the stranger's hair, folding the dangerous thorny stem behind his ear with careful precision. Better to appeal to his vanity, Akira decided. A good strategy for dealing with any self-obsessed nobility. The man's lips quirked up for just a second.

"A gift for you, my lord," Akira offered demurely.

The amused smirk lingered a moment longer this time. "You offer me my own flowers as a tribute?"

Akira shrugged in a way he hoped sort of resembled a humble bowing of his head. "I did not know they were yours. Aren't flowers free to take?"

This close, Akira still couldn't name any one unnatural feature of this man. Everything about him was technically, plausibly, human. But the perfect symmetry of his features, the way light refracted and scattered across smooth unblemished skin, casting his complexion in glittering highlights in all the right places, how his fingers still tingled where they grazed along his hair — it could only mean the stories were true. But how?

Quick as a bird, the fairy snatched Akira's hand in his own, turning his palm to the sky to expose the still-bleeding prick from the thorn. "Seems like a price has already been paid," he murmured. Even though tempered through soft leather gloves, the touch of his hand electrified Akira.

The fae lifted Akira's hands to his lips and pressed them to the spot of blood on his finger. Warmth both natural and unreal bloomed down the digit to his palm, up his wrist and to his heart. When the man pulled back, lips flushed and Akira's hand still in his, Akira found his wound healed.

"Who are you?" He breathed, just managing to avoid asking the ruder-sounding "what are you?"

"I am the master of this place," he answered simply, still staring into Akira's hand as though it held the key to some great mystery, angling it this way and that as though to examine his handiwork. "King to some, foe to many. I watched you traipse through my domain, breaking my trees and stealing my flowers. Who are you to do such things without asking leave of me?"

There was some power in his words, an itching compulsion at the base of Akira’s skull. A desire to fall to his knees and kiss the gloved hand holding his, and beg for forgiveness. It filled Akira with revulsion. He bowed for no one, human king or fae. Anger and adrenaline flooded his veins. He just managed to snatch his hand back and like a loosened bowstring, the tension snapped and Akira regained enough of his wits to provide a safe answer. “Ren, you can call me Ren.”

The fairy looked mildly surprised. “Ren, as in the lotus? A flower stealing a flower?” He held his chin, pensive. “Interesting. A name for a name, then. You may call me Crow."

Crow? Obviously a fake name, but Akira did the same. And wasn't there something about fae and names he was supposed to remember? Chihaya had once taught him such things but it was so hard to think with the thick cloying perfume of flowers choking out his senses, the stunning beauty of the man, of the fae, the Crow. He was lucky he could think of a pseudonym for himself.

Crow reached out to tuck an errant curl behind Akira's ear, and the soft brush of leather-clad fingertips made him shudder. What was happening to him? Why did his touch mesmerize him so? Some kind of fairy magic? He tried to focus on his anger, at the inequity of their stations, but it was hard to deny he found Crow beautiful, harder still to deny how his body reacted to his touch. "You're surprisingly resilient," Crow murmured, almost to himself. "Do you know what I am? Did you purposefully seek me out, or are you just a simple fool?"

The first seemingly straightforward response Akira felt qualified to answer. "I'm no fool."

That set Crow grinning once more. "Oh? Perhaps not. You were wise to offer a gift, and yet you chose a flower from my own garden. Surely you don't expect me to accept such a paltry tithe."

Akira swallowed. Danger hung in the air, palpable, thick. Yet, with the pleasant yellow sunshine bathing a field of happy vibrant flowers, so close to a beautiful man that made him hot under the collar, it was difficult to take the threat seriously. Staring at the oaken crown adorning Crow's head, gilded thread and perfect leaves wide as his palm, picturesque and lovely as the rest of him, it reminded him so much of why he took refuge in these woods to begin with. How the nobleman Kamoshida had accused Akira of theft, had the guard called on him, turned everyone in the servant's quarters against him except for the few confidants who helped him escape… Akira clenched his fist and it helped bring some clarity back into his head, washing away some of the enchantment.

"I've heard the stories. Sounds like fairy lords are just the same as human ones, demanding loyalty and gifts and tributes, and when you don't get what you want, you take." Akira still remembered what he saw in Kamoshida's room when he turned down his bedding, the journal entries he didn't bother to hide because he didn't think his servants could read… he knew the horrible things that lived in that man's head, the things he did to those he considered beneath him. "Is that what you do? Take from those who have nothing to give? And people call me a thief."

Crow had the gall to look surprised, shocked even, that something so low would speak to him so bold. "Is that what they say about me?" Crow stalked around Akira, looking him up and down, as though finally seeing him for the first time. Akira followed him with his eyes, not wanting to move more than necessary. Every second his head cleared more and more, and his body tensed, ready for a physical altercation. "Perhaps you are a fool. You clearly don't know our ways at all. The folk do not take what is not ours."

Akira barked out a laugh. "But I bet you conveniently lay claim to anything you perceive as being in your domain, don't you?"

Crow raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. Sometimes. But there are rules, laws we follow."

Akira rolled his eyes. "You sound just like any other pissant noble, thinking he owns the very dirt beneath his feet because some ancestor stole it from the people with his sword and hired thugs. 'Law of the land' is just the whim of those in charge, nothing more."

"A curious attitude," Crow mused. "You dare speak to your betters this way?"

"I have no betters," Akira spat.

Crow plucked the twin blossoms from his hair and surreptitiously tucked them in the lapel of Akira's coat. "That you do not." He said in a low whisper, almost intimate. Akira made the mistake of looking into his eyes, twin glittering rubies flecked with drops of gold, fine black lashes framing each like coquettish fans, and oh fuck he was close enough to kiss, Akira could reach out, pull him close, and…

And what was he thinking?

Before Akira could physically pull himself away, refocus on his anger, Crow suddenly said, "Stay with me."

That, more than anything, jolted Akira awake. Not enough to put any distance between them, but enough that he could sever eye contact and dutifully resume staring at his forehead. "What?"

Crow's fingers returned to his lapel, sliding against the hem, not quite touching Akira, not really, but the movement and pressure of his hand sunk deep into his chest, like Crow cradled his very heart. "Stay with me," he repeated. "Here, in this glade. I can make your life comfortable for the rest of your days."

Akira slapped his hand away, and he might as well have struck himself on the cheek for all it hurt him to do so. "I don't know what kind of game you creatures play, but I'll have no part in it. Did you think that would win me over?"

If Crow was insulted by Akira's rebuff, he didn't look it. In fact, he looked... ravenous. Incensed. Heated in a way that curled warm and low in his guts. And there again, he felt it. A nebulous challenge. A hidden threat. An arrow in the dark pointed at his heart. It made Akira giddy with excitement. Even more tempting than his beauty was the knowledge he was dealing with a dangerous creature, and it made Akira want, in the basest of ways.

"I had hoped you would not be so easy."

Akira swallowed dry around a hard lump in his throat. Fae only ever played their own game, that at least, Akira knew. They should not be toyed with, nor underestimated. But Akira could never leave well enough alone, even Lady Ann told him so. The same reason he could not ignore what he saw in Kamoshida's journal, he could not ignore the invitation — no, the dare — in the fairy's burning eyes.

"Of course not, my lord." Akira used the title sarcastically just to feel the heat and pressure from his gaze intensify, burning Akira down to a rough-edged diamond. "I would not feign to disappoint you. I'm afraid I'm a rather difficult person, indeed."

"That much is obvious." The low words, roughness of his voice, planted themselves at the base of his spine, taking root and wrapping Akira's nerves. "Entering my domain without permission, injuring my plantlife, refusing my generous offers — how will you answer these crimes, Ren?"

Akira should be furious. That even here, hiding from a crime he did not commit, he faced accusations of baseless rule-breaking. But something in the tilt of Crow's mouth, the almost eager lean of his shoulders, told him something else. That Crow said one thing and meant another. That the mysterious game they played promised not punishment, but torturous pleasure. The burning, desperate hunger in those twinkling gemstone eyes, reminding Akira that fae do not take what is not theirs.

Akira turned his empty palms skyward. "I have no tribute for you. No coin or valuables to my name. What could I possibly offer as a fitting tribute?" Crow said nothing, only tried to capture Akira's eyes with his own, pull him into the font of ethereal energy pervading his aura, his very being, but Akira avoided his gaze, if not for self-preservation then as part of their unspoken game. Then Crow's eyes flicked to Akira's mouth and Akira thought — oh.

Akira leaned in and captured Crow's lips as easy as breathing, and the fae smirked against him, relief and surety of having his prey right within his grasp. But Akira couldn't bear to care now, whatever game this so-called king was playing, schemes he must be falling into, he couldn't feel victimized when Crow tasted sweet as nectar, light and warm as the spring air. Crow kissed back, just as enthusiastic, matching Akira beat for beat.

He was just so perfect, plush and soft like linens dried under the sun, and Akira wanted to pull him in closer, but he found his hands hovering, unwilling or unable to cross this invisible boundary even as he dragged his teeth across Crow's bottom lip. Some lingering awareness that touching Crow mesmerized him, stole his mind, though even as their kiss deepened, Akira had never felt more sure of what he wanted.

Crow had no such quandary, hands pulling Akira's hips in tight, fingers pressing deep and hard enough to bruise. Their tongues slid together and Akira shivered and moaned; how could he taste so sweet? How was the inside of his mouth so overwhelming with its soft velvet heat? It must be more magic, more illusion, some kind of trick, but Akira enjoyed it nonetheless, leaning in hard to taste the bottomless well of pleasure between Crow's lips. Teeth like sharpened little stones pressed back into Akira's every desperate breathy kiss.

When they pulled apart, Akira stared deep into the glittering cut of Crow's eyes, and he felt nothing but the familiar heat of his own desire. He couldn't keep the sly grin off his face. "Perhaps I'm easy, after all."

Crow's smile was brilliant, overwhelming, beautiful, and when he threaded his fingers into Akira's hair he could fall to his knees. He heard a faint buzzing by his ear, like an insistent little gnat, the call of Crow's magic, but easy enough to swat aside. "Then stay with me," Crow offered again. "Anything you want, I can make yours. Preserve your youth and handsome features for eternity."

Akira tilted his head into Crow's hand. It felt just as hypnotic as before, compelling him to agree, just agree, collapse into Crow and do whatever he wanted until Akira's body could give no more. Somehow, though, Crow's words, his voice, instead of commanding obedience, only reminded Akira of who he was and all the things he did not want. "Who's to say I won't get prettier as I age? I'll pass."

It was like he passed the test. Crow yanked his head back and kissed down the column of Akira's throat, sucking and nipping little bruises along his skin. They were so close now, the line of Crow's body hot and rigid against his. Akira still hadn't touched him with his hands, arms hanging limp at his sides as Crow pulled him deeper and deeper in his embrace.

At Akira's collar, Crow paused. Hot breaths condensed to sweat at his nape, but Crow went no further. Some other part of the game that Akira didn't understand? Surely a man who kissed like that was no prude… and Akira surprised himself to realize how much more he wanted. Crow's fingers passed along the lapel of Akira's coat, up and down, over and over, curling into fabric but halting at some invisible barrier. "Ren," he said, and it took Akira a moment to remember that was the name he gave Crow. "If you will it, ask me for more."

Akira blinked, staring down at Crow still mouthing at his neck. He was all but shaking with need, yet frozen in place, stilled by whatever force that held him back. He needed Akira's permission? For one who talked so haughtily of how powerful and fearful he was, at the moment he seemed vulnerable and frail. Akira placed one hand on his back and Crow tensed under his touch, fists clenching his clothes. “What is it that you want?” Akira found himself asking.

Crow’s head jolted up in surprise before his expression softened back into something cool and neutral. “Curious,” he murmured. “Even after all my years under the hill, someone can still confound me.”

Crow stepped away from Akira, just a breath between them, but it felt like a yawning chasm. Gloved fingers rolled through the air, and Akira felt something moving beneath his feet. The flowers swaying gently in the breeze against his ankles grew upwards at a rapid pace, twining their way up and around Akira’s calves. Not tight, not confining, but a loving embrace, like a cat weaving between his legs. More blossoms erupted from the stems as they crawled past his knees and worked between his thighs. He cut his eyes back to Crow, who watched the flowers’ progression with hungry eyes.

"I want someone who asks nothing of me that I cannot give," he said. "Unselfish, self-possessed. As quick and clever as a magpie, as willing to risk it all for shiny bits of treasure. I want a challenge I’m not sure I can win." The encroaching petals tickled under Akira’s clothes, edging up under his shirt and jacket. He couldn’t look away from Crow. "I ask a third time, as is our custom. Will you stay with me, Ren? For imps and pixies and redcaps at your call, for all the treasures on and below the earth? For all the fruits of vine and stem to grow sweet and full at your command?”

Crow offered his hand, open, loose, like a dead branch from a flowering tree. Akira saw the offer lying naked in that brown-gloved palm, the promise of wealth, riches, magic, eternity within, and down to the depths of his heart, he knew that was not what he wanted. He thought of all the stories of this place, all the things they got wrong about the master of these woods, and he understood what they both wanted.

“No,” Akira answered. “Not for all those things, I will not stay with you. Not for all the things you cannot give.” Akira offered his hand — not to Crow, but to the dual rose in his own lapel, which all too happily wrapped green vines around his wrist and hand, soft red petals blossoming in between his fingers. Thoroughly embraced by the clearing, Akira pressed the petals to his lips, a silent prayer he somehow knew Crow would hear.

A wretched noise escaped Crow, like the howl of a wounded animal, who surged forth and tangled his body into Akira’s, with his own amorous affection, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. Akira moaned in pleased delight to feel Crow against him again, and with their silent pact made, Akira allowed his free hand to explore Crow's body, which ignited under the warmth of his bare palm. Though he welcomed the flowers' embrace, he struggled with them now, trying to remove his clothes while caught and trapped in this web. Crow just chuckled and ran his fingers along the fabric until his clothing fell away from his body like autumn leaves. Shoulders, arms, down his chest and over his hips, even where Crow's legs brushed his, tatters of fabric fluttered down and away in the wind until stood before the primly dressed fairy king, naked but for the twin roses around his left hand and vines encircling his legs and hips.

"Quite the trick," Akira gasped. It was still yet spring and the air was pleasant and mild, but cold enough that Akira's nipples perked and hardened at the sudden exposure.

"I have many more I can show you," Crow teased, a charming lilt to his voice that Akira found tremendously appealing. No longer so stiff and formal since Akira had demonstrated his soundness of mind to consent, he now saw the unfurling confidence and gravitas of the oaken king. "Shall I show you?"

Akira tossed his head back, baring his neck. "Show me everything you can and more."

There was an honest growl in Crow's throat as he devoured the gift Akira presented him, returning to lick and suck at the exposed tendons and fluttering pulse of his neck. Thumbs covered in downy soft leather flicked and rolled his nipples, catching Akira's breath in his throat. Akira tugged at the epaulets on Crow's shoulders, desperately clinging as Crow worked down to Akira's collarbone, pleading to remove his clothes as well. And Crow knew, of course he knew, how far and gone Akira was already, chuckling darkly into his skin as he replied to the question Akira did not ask.

"Patience, little flower, I'll set you blooming, yet." Akira curled his spine to arch into Crow's nimble fingers as they pinched and played at his nipples, rubbing them until they were painfully sensitive and every touch prickled in gooseflesh down his arms. Sharp little teeth in his shoulder kept his attention, until he felt something slither high up his bare thighs and between his legs.

A thin flower stem (mercifully free of thorns) wound its way up, a delicate pointed end rolling over his balls and curling gently around the base of his hardening cock. Akira mewled at the strange sensation, chill as morning dew but almost feathery soft as it wound its way around his hardness. "Hush, shh," Crow cajoled, hands running over Akira's ribs to still his hips as they jerked in the flower's grip. "Do you dislike it?"

Quite the opposite in fact, but Akira could only wrap his arms around the back of Crow's neck and shake his head. Crow laughed again, pleased and perhaps even relieved, as the vine began to move, slow and easy, light pressure working his cock up and down until it grew to full size. Akira could feel Crow's grin as their mouths met once again, lips pressing and parting, tongues slow and sensuous against each other. Akira savored the taste of him, sweet honey and clover, and dared thread his fingers into hair smooth as spun silk. He wanted to wrap himself up with Crow, hold their bodies tight, but his legs were still rooted in plantlife, and though the grip was loose, he was sure if he tried to move he'd only stumble.

"Crow." His voice sounded more like begging than he intended. He wasn't even sure what to ask, just rocking mindlessly into the lazy tightness around his cock and pulling him as tight as he could into his arms. "Crow—"

"There you go, my little lotus," Crow cooed, all too pleased. Akira tasted the hard bite of leather as Crow slipped a finger into his mouth. "Open up for me." Akira bucked his hips, jaw falling loose as Crow explored his mouth, running along the sides of his tongue and the hard ridge of teeth. Hands searched fruitlessly for a seam or gap in Crow's clothes, wanting to see the rest of him, if the entirety of his being was as perfect and radiant as his face. But there was nothing; they may as well have grown over him, be part of him. He couldn't even get a hand down the collar of his suit, too tight and unyielding, too closed off.

"I want to feel you, Crow," Akira whined when Crow pulled back on a lazy thrust of his mouth, even as the tendril around his cock did its mighty best to keep him distracted, focused only on soft gentle strokes.

"Can you handle it, I wonder?" He breathed into Akira's ear. He was not sure what Crow was asking or what answer he sought, but Crow answered himself before Akira could speak. "Yes, I think you must, if anyone can… yes." Crow pulled his fingers just far enough from the back of Akira's throat that only the tips curled over the edge of his front teeth. "Bite," he commanded.

Akira obeyed, sinking his jaws into the tender give of leather. Once Akira had a good grip, Crow pulled his hand free, leaving the glove dangling from Akira's lips. Then, like a boon from heaven, Crow touched his bare hand to Akira's cheek. A gasp forced him to drop the glove but he didn’t care, couldn’t care, alight with a preternatural rush of sensation.

Just like every clothed touch before, Akira felt a zing of something along his skin, but now it was magnified, thrice as intense, like a tingling numbness scorching across his nerves. He couldn't help but jolt back with a sharp little ah!

It was somehow so much more than kissing him, the bare hand against his cheek, and Crow snatched it back like it burned. "Apologies," he said in a rush, trying to sound unaffected.

"What… was that?"

Crow hesitated. Akira saw the falsehood simmering behind his irises, the deceptive redirect forming on his tongue, but when he spoke, Akira knew that it was the truth. "An unintentional side effect of glamor. Magic of the folk tends to have an… intoxicating effect." He stared deep into Akira's eyes, searching. Akira began to understand.

“You’re worried I might be swept away.”

Crow made a nasty face. “I do not worry.”

Sure, Akira thought. But Akira returned the gesture, cupping his palm against Crow’s cheek, warm and perfect, like he was made for Akira’s hand. “I still can’t believe you’re real,” Akira murmured, searching his face once again for any mark, any scar, any speck of dirt or drop of sweat upon him, and found nothing. "You don't resemble anything I've ever seen before. You're devastating. But I know I'm still myself when I touch you and feel desire."

Crow's voice cracked on a desperate whine, surging forward to devour Akira's mouth as the flowers wrapped around him tighter, clinging, digging into his flesh like it wouldn’t let him go. Petals threaded between his fingers like a lover’s hand holding his own. Crow ripped off his other glove, leaving both hands bare to run across the length of his nude form. Crow had asked him to stay with him; Akira only just now wondered if the asking was just formality. But as Crow licked deep and hard into Akira's mouth, hands at his ribs and that insistent stroking tendril coiled around his cock picked up speed, the cautious hesitation dissolved into nothingness as Akira's mind filled with pleasure.

Now that he knew what to expect, every graze of Crow's hands along his skin left a sweet tingling sensation, like the pleasant burn of spice along his tongue. Though Crow's hands made him ache, his mouth stayed sweet and soft. Akira loved kissing him, the contrasting sensations of warm slow honey in his mouth and the zinging heat of his hands across his nipples, down his hips, and the ever-present dragging pressure tugging at his cock.

"More," Crow murmured into his mouth. "I want so much more of you."

Akira fisted a hand into Crow's flowing hair. “Show me," he hissed, "Everything you're capable of."

Crow's voice resounded, low and gravely. "And you'll take it all, won't you? My challenge, my flower, my lotus."

Akira wondered if the effect of his magic extended to his words, his voice, because they had a singular effect, leaving him aching and hollow and needy.

The flowers shifted under him, and Akira yelped as his center of gravity moved with them, the world tumbling underfoot as he was lifted with surprising strength and surety. The vines under him tilted his hips up, more tendrils catching him round the waist to support him as he reclined back, knees spread wide and exposing himself to Crow for inspection. Even the red rose around his wrist twisted and tightened, pulling both arms above his head and binding them together. Akira's stomach swooped, toes curled in heated anticipation.

"You said you've heard stories about me," he murmured, positioning himself between Akira's knees. "What, pray tell, did they involve? You mentioned my taking of things. What am I accused of stealing?"

Now he thought to ask, as Akira writhed and grinded into the tragically looser grip around his cock? Panting, Akira tried to answer. "They say… you demand tribute to pass through here… that you'll even take a woman's maidenhood…" Those garnet eyes flashed with anger, more delectable than the depths of Crow's mouth or the tingling shocks of his body on Akira's. Rage, pure indignant rage.

"Baseless charges. Humans have thrown themselves at my feet and begged me to lay with them, and I ensorcelled them outside this domain." Crow ran his hands up Akira's bare, spread thighs, and the contact made him cant his hips up into the air, desperately seeking more friction. The clinging vine did not agree. "None of them have been worthy of my touch, not like you, little lotus. No one else has proven as interesting, as tempting, as exciting." Crow's lip graced the side of his knee, kissing up Akira's leg, and he was shaking in anticipation, whining and twisting in the solid floral restraints. But he stopped before he reached the places Akira ached the most, instead using his hands to cup the roundness of his ass, pushing him apart and exposing him. "What about you, my flower?" He murmured, hovering close, and Akira thrashed in his bonds, needing more, more, something more. "Are you still a maiden?"

Akira grit his teeth, working up the fire to glare down his own body to Crow, even as that perfect mouth hovered close to his groin. "I'm no innocent flower, Fairy King."

Crow grinned sharp and wicked. "Then I will not treat you like one." Crow gestured again, and a flower grew up beside him, green stem with wide white petals that Ren had never seen before. A long pink pistil curled up and down, ducking into Crow's open waiting palm. A clear wet nectar dribbled from it into his hand, and Crow coated his fingers with it. Akira's heart rate climbed higher and higher in anticipation. Then, with no further ado, Crow slipped one finger inside him.

If his touch along his skin was electrifying, then having it inside was sheer ecstasy. A single finger was not much, but it alighted a deep, burning ache in his loins, a cry tearing from his throat and tears pricking his eyes. Crow paused for a moment, glancing toward his face, but Akira found his voice fast. "Please, don't stop, Crow. It feels… so good, you feel so good…"

Crow chuckled at that. "Still have your wits, I see. Very well." When he resumed his shallow, easy thrusts, a smooth glide in and out aided by the slick nectar, Akira moaned and flexed in his bonds, already shamelessly undone, hard cock twitching uselessly in the air.

"You're not giving in already, are you?" Crow teased, and the vine that had been such sweet temptuous torture now wrapped painfully tight and still around the base of his cock, cutting off the pleasure and leaving delicious agony.

"Crow—! Please, ah—" But the cruel fae just laughed, sliding in another finger to join the first, and it's burning heat and sharp prickles all the way inside him. It was intense, overwhelming, intoxicating and bewitching, and Akira knew now why Crow was so fixated on his ability to refuse him, to resist the compulsion of his magic. If he asked anything of Akira at that moment, anything at all, Akira would give it to him.

Crow continued to slowly work him open, sensuous and careful, reaching deep in places that left Akira shuddering and moaning. What crimes he would commit for this, what immoral acts would he perform if it pleased Crow, how he'd beg to take just his fingers, to fall to his knees and worship at his feet, kiss the head of his cock and open his mouth to let him use as he pleased, to collapse into this dreamy bliss and floral perfume and never, ever wake up…

Crow's free hand dug sharp nails into the curve of Akira's hip, and the pain woke him up a little. "Focus on me," Crow hissed, demanded, commanded. "Don't you dare lose sight now, Ren, Ren."

Akira should tell him that wasn’t his name, wanted to hear Crow crying out for him for real, but when he opened his mouth Crow flew forward and jammed his tongue down his throat, and Akira sucked it down with a groan. His cock absolutely throbbed, angry red and pulsing with his heart, but he felt like any touch now would send him over the edge. Strong fingers stretched him out wide and aching, and Akira rolled into his hand as much as he could, suspended midair by vines.

When he felt close to losing it, falling back into that hazy empty space, Crow raked his nails down his ribs, or nipped his thigh, or had the vines prod him with burrs. Suspended on the edge of oblivion, a vice around his cock containing his orgasm, gentle pains grounding him back to reality, he’d gone half mad by the time Crow pulled his fingers free.

"Crow, please… please…" Akira couldn't even articulate his wants anymore, burned away to nothing but the pursuit of pleasure, the desire to be filled, to be shattered upon the banks of desire.

"Hush, precious, I'll plant my seed in you yet." Crow gathered more of that nectar in his palm and loosened his trousers with the other hand, exposing himself just enough to reveal his leaking, stunningly hard cock, as perfect as a sculpture. He slicked himself perfunctorily, but as he lined himself up, he ran a finger down the underside of Akira's reddened shaft, sending spasms down his spine.

"You poor thing, so deprived. Let me take care of you." Another wave of his hand, and the vine gripping him at the root receded, to Akira's sobbing relief as blood flow was properly restored. But in its place, another plant bloomed, this one flowering a deep purple and elongated, pitcher-shaped. Akira's mouth formed around either a why or a what before it engulfed his cock, encasing him in tight moist heat and pulsing with a life of its own.

Akira cried, fully cried, screaming with tears cascading down his face while bucking his hips into the sucking plant, mouth hanging open, body coiled and tight on the very brink, and that's when Crow fully entered him.

Akira tried to reach for Crow but the flowers held him fast, twining tight and loving around his wrists and elbows, and he only grasped air, fingers flexing useless as he rocked with the force of Crow's thrusts, his blooms cradling and lavishing him. The red twin rose, a traitor now, tightened around him while those soft, soft petals stroked along the inside of his wrist and elbow, tickly and maddening. The pitcher plant laved at his cock with damp stamens, multitudinous filaments stroking as the petals tugged with surprising force, wet and hot as a mouth but alien. Crow's cock sunk in deep and perfect, smooth and enchanting as his fingers but more, so much more, the sparking magic of his glamor finally fully blowing out Akira's thoughts, his mind, his will. He felt his throat working, mouth speaking something, but he didn't comprehend his own words anymore. Everything was swirling green and white and Crow's ruby faceted eyes burning down, down to his core.

Hands gripped his hips and pulled him in even tighter, bouncing Akira into Crow's thrusts, further electrifying and overloading Akira's senses. Crow spoke words that filtered into Akira's consciousness, the meaning branding itself into his soul though he couldn't comprehend the language itself. This alone I take myself, freely given and beyond Her reach. A bonded pair of lovers, rights bequeathed equally under the summer sun. I lay my claim, mine, all mine, and mine alone, two parts of a whole like twin blossoms on the stem.

Akira could hardly even see, might have closed his eyes but he couldn't be sure, everything was still bright and shining as Crow rocked into him with unerring precision and inhuman fortitude. He may have been begging, pleading through tears, babbling as he spilled into the flower ravishing his cock, but it didn't cease, and neither did Crow, working harder, bruise gripping, every contact of flesh on flesh aligning him to the divine. It's so much, so much, Crow, Crow, never stop, give it to me, give me your all, keep me forever, make me yours, anything anything you want—

But he slowed, arduously, painfully slow, sliding almost fully out of Akira's ravaged body, and Akira's senses dimly detected the way Crow's bare hands shivered on his hip. "Ren," he called, voice cracked with something like devotion. "Ren, Ren, Ren…" Over and over, tolling like a bell. Akira wanted to tell him that wasn’t his name, wanted Crow to have it, have his name, his life, body, soul…

No, no that was not what Crow wanted, was it? He was pulling further away, plants receding, and though the air was thick with roses Akira blinked wet eyes up and saw, again, saw Crow's soft curtain of hair framing a face lined with concern. Crow's whole body shook, knees and hands and shoulders, barely the head of his cock hooked past the rim of Akira's hole, not touching anywhere else.

"I'm alright," Akira slurred, the wooziness in his head resembling a bad night of drinking. "But gods, don't stop… touch me more, fuck me more, Crow, I want it."

Teeth flashed in a snarl, and Akira's stomach flipped as he felt himself falling for a split second before a soft nest of moss and petals caught him. Freed from the vines and back in the domain of gravity, Akira barely had time to remember he had arms and legs before Crow was on him again, literally climbing on top of him. Akira could only wrap himself around Crow's still somehow-clothed body and pull him in tighter as he sunk deep into Akira once again.

Touching Crow's body was just as nauseatingly surreal as ever, but somehow lying on his back, feeling the ground under him, having flesh he could sink nails and teeth into, centered him, snared his last thread of sanity even as he whimpered under Crow's relentless pounding. "Stay with me," Crow repeated, ducking his head into the crook of Akira's shoulder. Somehow, he knew this request was different, not to stay in this wood but to remain present, awake, himself, as they reached their end. "Stay with me, Ren, Ren, touch me and feel me, stay clever and witty and here, with me, Ren…"

Touching Crow was transcendent. Touching Crow was torture. Touching Crow was too much and never enough, addictive and so lovely as to be repulsive, and Akira pulled him down, down, further into him, hands sinking between his shoulder blades, over shoulders, running through his hair and over his chest and even once daring to grab his ass, his legs wrapping around his hips, and canting into his desperate thrusts, keening when Crow gripped his cock and that bare hand on his sensitive overstimulated skin sent him plummeting to a second orgasm.

"Crow, Crow, I feel you," Akira cried out, wrung dry and on the verge of collapse. "I feel you, I want more, come on, Crow, I'm here, I'm here, show me what you have!"

And Crow sung the loveliest note, unpolished and imperfect, low and cracked, and Akira felt him twitch and empty into his hole, filling him with his desire.

Part of Akira wanted to curl into Crow, live in that buzzing aura of his power until it worked him up again, but every nerve burned, he was newly aware of how much his ass ached and how much more it would ache when the high of his climax faded, so he rolled over in the bed of flowers onto his belly, burying his face in soft loam.

They remained like that for a time, still and calm, almost eerily silent, and Akira more than once cracked an eye to make sure Crow hadn't spirited away. But he remained, looking as polished and unruffled as before their lovemaking, cock tucked away back into his trousers, polite as could be.

The first thing Akira could say was “Can you bring my clothes back?"

He couldn't see any sign of them scattered around, and he wondered if they just dissolved into nothingness or blew away like dead leaves in the wind. Crow ran his fingers down Akira's spine, tingling and sharp, and he felt gossamer thread snake down from his fingers to coil around him, forming a silky dressing gown of sorts. Not his own clothes, but it was something, at least. Akira curled tight into the new fabric and turned to face Crow, who had been lying on his side and staring at him, expression unreadable.

"I meant what I said. Before.'' He began, haltingly. Crow was still, like a very realistic statue lying in bed next to him. A tad unnerving. "Not for all your gifts would I stay with you. But…" He coughed a little, turning away. "I do need to stay here, for a while. For my own reasons. But when the time comes, I'll need to leave." Crow's expression, when Akira checked, remained unchanged. But when Akira reached for his hand, newly re-gloved, and twined their fingers together, he didn't resist, and Akira took it as a good sign.

Even now, touching him through the fabric of his gloves felt exciting, though less pronounced as his bare skin. But he still remembered how it felt, could still feel some of the remnants inside him, and also remembered, hazily, feelings and sensations half-imagined in their coupling. It felt like Crow could vanish any second, gone with the next breeze, and he squeezed his hand tighter. There was a mystery to be solved here, and Akira never could leave well enough alone.

"You don't really want me to stay here, do you?" He asked quietly. Crow's fingers twitched. "And yet, I think you want me. I mean, clearly, after what we just did." He tried to smile, but Crow looked away. He never imagined someone could be this stone-faced after such an intense coupling. Fine, then. Akira surged forth to ask the tough question.

"Are you worried someone might try to steal me otherwise?" Crow's eyes shot back to Akira's, narrowing in suspicion. There's the mark. "You did something earlier, didn't you?"

"I did a great number of things," Crow snapped back irritably. Getting closer.

"I thought you said you don't take what isn't yours. You laid some kind of chain on me." That part was mostly guesswork, but the possessive curl of Crow's fingers encircling his wrist all but confirmed it.

"Are you not mine?" Crow purred in response, trying to be distracting. And it was working. "You agreed to be anything for me, everything I wanted and more. Why wouldn't I take that offer?"

"Because that's not what you want," Akira countered, trying to be gentle even as Crow insisted on being infuriating. "If you wanted an easy target, you could have had anyone. You went so far with me because I wasn't easy, you said so yourself. I don't care what you did, I care about why." He shocked himself to discover he spoke true. Whatever Crow might have done, Akira still felt himself, still felt confident he had his own will. But he sensed Crow did what he did with a goal, a purpose, and he'd rather know that before he passed judgment.

Crow lifted their joined hands, watching the splay and flirtatious tangle of their fingers. "There's a long story to that."

Akira shrugged. "I told you, I don't plan to leave for a while."

Crow rolled onto his back, letting their hands rest light and limp on his chest, just over his heart. "To start at the beginning, I am not truly one of the folk. I was born mortal." Akira curled closer to Crow, already intrigued. "My father was a cruel man whom I detested. One day, he took me hunting, which I did not want to do. I was a poor rider, and fell from my horse into the arms of the Fairy Queen." Just the whisper of title stilled the very air in the clearing, halted the buzzing of insects and chirping of birds. Crow paused, waiting for her shadow to pass, before continuing. "She gave me the same offer I gave to you."

"To stay with her?" He tried to imagine Crow, young and human and imperfect, seduced and bribed into this world of beauty and trickery.

He nodded. "It appealed far greater to me than returning with my father. I accepted. But of course there was a catch. There is always a catch." He heaved a great sigh and tightened his grip on Akira's hand. "The fairy courts offer a sacrifice each year, a tithe to the land to make it bountiful and keep their magic strong. But the folk do not like offering one of their own, preferring to place mortal-born on the sacrificial altar instead. If I wanted to spare myself of this fate, I needed to find a mortal willing to walk under the hill and never return."

The implication hung grim before them. Crow, luring humans to their deaths. Crow, forced by the Fairy Queen to kill to spare himself. "Forced to hunt all over again."

He grimaced. "You've seen the heart of it. The stories said I took tributes from those who saw me? Fiction formed by the ones who could refuse me, from those I could turn away. They offered all those things to me and more, but if I accepted their gifts, I'd own their soul. It would mark their death. So in the end, they twisted the truth to assuage their own shame at having been taken in by my magic. But there are no legends from those who could not resist me."

"I don't blame you for doing what you had to do for survival."

"I do not seek nor desire absolution," Crow returned, sharper than Akira expected. "I only made you the offer because I was so sure you could refuse. Not only once but three times. You could resist, to a degree, the natural ensorcelence of the glamor. You were… different. That appealed to me. But I worried our connection would be exploited. That you would be targeted.

"But the folk do not take what is not theirs. And the surest way to let them know what isn't theirs is if someone else claims it first."

Akira couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. "So, you… what? Cast some sort of spell to let fairykind know I belong to you?"

He said it in jest, expecting Crow to brush it off or minimize what he did. He did not expect Crow's arms around him, rolling Akira on top of him until they lay chest to chest, face to face. "That's exactly what I did."

His sincerity and candor made Akira blush. He was half tempted to lean in and kiss Crow, but one thing still bothered him.

"Why not just leave? Simply run away and leave here, never return under the hill?"

But Crow was already shaking his head. "You don't understand. She has claimed me just as I claimed you. I'm not my own anymore, my choice to leave is not mine. To leave would be akin to stealing myself away, and the folk do not take what is not ours." Crow pressed his forehead to Akira's. "At least I know you will be safe from her."

Akira closed his eyes, leaning into Crow, mind racing with possibilities. Until an idea struck him, bold and brilliant as lightning. He sat up, yanking Crow up with him, and grinning wildly, proclaimed, "Folk may not steal, but humans take what's not ours all the time."

Understanding dawned across Crow’s face. "You… would risk angering Her. The claim I staked would not protect you from such a crime."

Akira cupped Crow's face and kissed him, emboldened by the electrifying rush of contact. "Just tell me what I need to do."

Crow had thought a long time about what escape would require. It was only the accomplice he lacked. When he spelled out the detailed plan, Akira's heart raced in excitement. Despite Lord Kamoshida's accusations, he truly was not a thief, but all he needed to save Crow was to be quick, confident, and quiet, skills he had in abundance.

The date was set for Beltane, May Day. That was when the summer court of which Crow was part would march in a parade to honor the turning of spring to summer and assume the height of their power. A liminal transition state where their plan had a chance of success.

Akira eventually left Crow, learned to deal with the human aftermath he left behind, but he did not forget that date. May 1st. From then on, his life revolved around Crow's plan.

When the day arrived, he donned his outfit, a gray waistcoat and long black trench coat, too hot and dark for the turning season but ideal for hiding in the shadows.

The summer court revel in light and beauty, Crow had said. So you must blend with darkness and shadow to avoid detection. Though, he couldn't help but add a flare of color; specially-ordered red leather gloves, a remembrance of the red red rose that brought them together.

Akira rode back to Crow's haunted wood, three tailcoats whipping in the wind. Once more, he found himself picking past roots and mossy stones, keeping himself tucked under the canopy and away from what little light broke through the branches. It was midday, or nearly there, and though a forest afforded multidinous opportunities to hide, this was the trickiest part. The Queen's procession did not want to be witnessed by mortal eyes, so Akira had to remain unseen while also trying to hunt down exactly where the procession would start, as Crow was unsure.

But as Akira traversed the forest, growing increasingly anxious at the unbroken field of trunks and leaves and no sign of a fairy parade, he realized the birds had stopped singing. He crept deeper still, but no other animals rustled in the underbrush. Insects stopped their incessant buzz. Then, when he slowed down to creep ever closer, cautious and quiet as he could be, the tinkling of delicate little bells filled his ears, a beautiful jangle of discordant ringing ornaments hanging from fairy bridles of fairy horses. His heart leapt into his throat. Did he find the beginning of the procession, or had it passed already, and his chance spent?

He hurried as fast as he dared, chasing the chime of the elfin bells, dodging from shadow to shadow, dark to dark. Clambering up a small berm, he peered through tree roots exposed from over the top of the ridge, and in this narrow field of view, he spied the fall of a black horse’s hoof and the tinkling tolling bells jangling just above. Hugging close to the earth, Akira dared not even breathe. Concealed under the roots, he watched the horses as they passed, poised to strike, relief flooding his veins that he was not too late.

Crow’s words circled in his mind as he waited, letting the procession march just beyond his cover.

"How will I know you?" Akira asked, face pressed to Crow’s shoulder. "I know how you look now, but surrounded by fae and their charms, what if I lose my mind? What if I can’t recognize you?"

Crow carded his fingers through his hair, tingling pleasantly. “Don’t look at the riders,” he warned. “They’ll be dressed to their finery and masked regardless. Watch the horses they ride, instead. Their glamor is minimal. First in the line are the black steeds. Let them pass you by. Next is a procession of brown horses. Finally there will be a white horse. When you see the pale charger-”

Akira watched the contingent of black horses walk by. Just as Crow said, the brown horses followed. When a white foreleg crushed a leaf under its mighty hoof, Akira moved, hauling himself above the roots, tipping himself over the edge of the berm to stare at the rider.

The horse was well-trained and barely balked at Akira’s sudden appearance, but still he froze, transfixed by the tall rider, tunic of blazing whites and reds, golden accents, caught in the glittering summer sun and shining so bright it hurt his eyes. A beaked mask adorned its face, red as a rose, red as the gloves on Akira’s hands. The bells swayed and sung as the mount shook its head and trotted to a stop, confused that its way was impeded. A cry went down the line. Akira was running out of time.

A red hand clasped a white-sleeved arm, and yanked, and the rider of the white horse was pulled from its saddle and into Akira’s waiting arms.

Akira clutched Crow tight to his chest, dizzy with the sickening rush that he almost lost his chance, that he almost failed at the critical moment. There was still more to be done, but the hard part, to him, was over.

“They won’t let me go without a fight,” Crow warned, palming Akira’s cheek, who nuzzled into the touch like a content cat. “Pay attention, Ren.”

“I am,” Akira lied.

“They’ll try to make you reject me,” and here Crow’s voice edged into concern. “They’ll change my shape as you hold me. If you let me go at any point, the gambit is over, and the Queen will have us both. You must trust me.” He pinched Akira’s ear when he didn't answer. “Ren. Do you trust me?”

He stared deep into those ruby-garnet-blood red eyes, imploring and as open as a fae could be. And he meant it when he said, “I trust you.”

The figure in his arms warped, thinned and elongated into a hissing serpent that coiled around him, squeezing tight, but Akira held on. Then it changed again, and his arms circled the neck of a snapping wolf, breath hot against his face, teeth bared and sharp, but still Akira held on. Again it changed, and now Akira grasped something intangible, and feared for a moment he had let Crow go, but in the palm of his hands burned a red and blazing fire, and the sight startled him so bad he nearly shook it away, but it did not burn him, just as Crow said.

“No matter what they turn me into, you must not let me go,” he whispered. “Trust me that no matter how I look, I will not hurt you.”

Akira embraced the fire, flickering and cool and incorporeal, close to his chest, holding to the nothingness as tight as he could. At last, the final form: from the fire emerged a man, as tall as Akira and brown-haired, nude and beautiful. Despite the unseasonable weather, Akira chose his long coat for a reason, for when Crow appeared in his arms, he cast the black fabric about them both, curling tight around Crow, embraced and clothed together.

A resounding clap of thunder cracked through the forest despite the bright and clear afternoon, and a grey horse plodded into view, mightier and taller than all the rest. Akira caught just a glimpse of her honey-golden eyes and ashen long hair before he averted his eyes, clutching tightly to Crow and willing his breath to still.

The Fairy Queen.

“Woe betide the wretch who’s taken the best knight of my company!” Her voice was soft yet boomed throughout the woods, and the very bark and leaves trembled at her wrath. Akira kept himself low and still, just as instructed. “Fie to you, my clever Crow, for robbing my curse of power. Had I but known what defeat I’d see, I’d have et thy heart of flesh, and left you with naught but stone!”

Crow trembled under Akira’s palms. But Akira remained silent. They did everything right, according to Crow. They performed the ritual they needed to steal him away from her.

Though Akira kept his head bowed, body still, he could still hear the soft plod of feet striking the earth. From his periphery, he saw the tall heeled riding boots striding towards him. He barely managed to refrain from flinching away as she approached, and he could sense more than feel when she hovered her hand above his head.

When Crow touched him, he felt a pleasant tingling, the hint of preternatural compulsion. But the Queen radiated with a force wholly more intense; without even placing her hand on him, he felt insects crawl along his scalp; while Crow's magic warmed and aroused, hers burned, like a million fire ants sinking their teeth into him. They did everything right, didn't they…? Crow's spell, she shouldn't be able to harm him, as long as he kept quiet and still…

"My traitorous little bird," she spoke again, so deathly quiet it chilled his blood even as his skin burned. Crow couldn't stop shaking in his arms. "You have thought of everything, haven't you?"

Akira felt the heat of those yellow eyes searing into him, like she could see his very soul. He realized he was panting, heart racing, every muscle fiber in his body screaming to bolt, and the strain of keeping still made him ache all over. She waited, and waited, as though hoping Akira would break, then her vicious, sharp laugh sliced through his ribs, just missing his heart. "And you have trained your pet so well… and so pretty." Akira could feel the hand creep closer, and every instinct begged to move away, because if she touched him, if he looked at her, Akira didn't think he could survive with his mind intact.

But she did not touch him. Crow had already staked his claim. So when she pulled away, the palpable relief that flooded his veins had him choking back a sob.

She remounted her horse with nary a sound but the tinkling of the bridle bells. "Hereafter shall you mind your manners in my woods, blackbird, lest you draw my eye next."

Finally, she spurred her steed to move, and the rest of the fairy procession followed. Akira and Crow stayed still through all of it. Only when the tinkling bells dissolved back into birdsong did Akira finally let out a shuddering, shaking breath.

Looking around, the woods were empty. The fairies left no sign of their passing, not even hoof or boot prints. Only when he knew the cost was clear did Akira peel back the black coat and lay his eyes, for the first time, on his hard-won prize.

The man resembled the Crow from his memories, with similar fair complexion and hair length and color. But his eyes were flat brown, not jewel red. The hair that was once always perfectly coiffed and in place now snarled in the back, ratty and unwashed. Freckles dotted his nose bridge and the apples of his cheeks. A tiny scar bisected his left eyebrow. A dozen little human quirks, mortal witness marks, and Akira drank them all down.

Crow squirmed under his gaze. "Disappointed?"

Akira stroked his hands up Crow's bare arms. He was warm and smooth, no electric zing of fairy glamor, but he did feel a stirring in his palms that had far more to do with his own excitement. "You could never disappoint me, Crow."

He cleared his throat, raw and parched. Akira offered him some water from a canteen he brought—Crow suspected his body might be in poor shape when no longer enriched by fairy influence, and he was right, as usual.

"So… that was the Fairy Queen?"

Crow stilled. "Don't speak of her, especially not here. It draws her attention." He had only the slightest shake left in his hands, but the look on his face remained haunted. Akira wanted to ask so many things about his time with the fairies, what it meant, what had happened… but now was probably not the time.

When he had his fill of water and ate a few bites of stale bread, he looked back to Akira and said, "Goro. That was my name, before she took it and called me Crow."

Goro… Goro… no longer a Crow, not longer a kept bird, but a human with a human name. Akira grinned. "A name for a name. I'm actually Akira."

Goro's eyes widened. "You…" Stunned silence lasted just a moment, then he laughed. Raucous, loud, a bit hoarse. "I wondered as such. For all the times I called you Ren, it never held power over you. I thought it was an especially potent manifestation of your ability, but turns out you were just a lying thief."

Akira's hand slid down to Goro's bare hip. "A lying thief that managed to steal you away."

Goro placed his hand on Akira's. Even through the gloves, he felt so hot. "And… what will you do with me, now that you have successfully stolen me?" Akira opened his mouth to quip, but Goro's human face was much easier to read. He was biting his lip, eyes daring away. His hand still trembled, probably for a much different reason, and Akira locked their fingers together tight.

"I'm going to stay with you," he whispered, pulling the naked Goro in his lap. "If you'll have this lying, flower-stealing, fairy-freeing thief."

Goro cupped his cheeks, then leaned in for a kiss. It was so ordinary, so human. Goro kissed clumsy and awkward without fairy magic to smooth out his rough edges, teeth pressing a little too hard against Akira's lip, tongue insistent and demanding, but Akira opened for it all, letting him inside, as whole and perfectly imperfectly human as he was.

He fell into Goro’s embrace, relearning what it was like to kiss him as he acclimated to a human body once again. Goro's arms remained loosely draped about Akira's shoulders while Akira let his own hands explore, wander, tracing out the familiar but unfamiliar sloping back, narrow waist, dimpled buttocks that seized in surprise when he squeezed a handful.

"Re — Akira!" He chided, and Akira couldn't help but grin and give his ass a little slap for almost forgetting his name. Nothing more than a little flick of his wrist, but Goro unleashed such a sweet little mmm-ah! at the sound that Akira had to do it again, then again, until Goro clung to his shoulders, panting, barely keeping himself upright. He couldn’t believe it, the cool, commanding once-lord now naked and whining in his lap. Goro contained multitudes, and Akira wanted to crack open every single one, memorize his every breath.

"All this, just from a few little touches…" Akira's voice was awash in wonder. "Are you really so sensitive?"

Goro shivered in his arms. "Not… not so much," He answered, speaking in a wanton groan. "Everything was intense before, but now… it's so new, and gentle, it's… it's…" Akira interrupted by lapping at a bare nipple, and Goro shrieked so loud they heard birds startle into flight.

"S-stop that!" He hissed. He attempted to reassert control, firmly straddling Akira to seize his hair in a tight grip, smashing their mouths together in a fierce kiss, but even the tamest pass of his hands along Goro's skin racked him with breathy sobs, skin pebbling with goosebumps. The temptation to continue teasing him loomed large and alluring, but the sounds he made, the way he practically flinched at every erotic stroke of his body…

“Too much?” Akira tried to concede, willing to back off if Goro needed to, but his words had the opposite effect, and the suggestion of weakness instead lit a fire in his eyes.

“No. Never. Keep going, Akira, I want to feel all these things with you. Let me be human with you.”

Akira fit his hands into the taper of Goro’s waist, red gloves standing out so stark against his pale skin, and smirked up at him with heretical pride. “As you wish, my King.”

Goro scowled, but it quickly dissolved as Akira ducked down to lavish attention back on his nipple, rolling his tongue over the pink rosy bud, and he was rewarded with a stuttering moan. The other, too, he toyed with using his fingers, gently pinching and rolling, testing his reaction. But everything he did seemed to overwhelm him, even the lightest press of the edge of his finger or the tip of his tongue meeting pointed breast. Goro’s fingers dug so hard into his shoulders it hurt, the sharp sting of little talons from his broken nails working into his skin. "Tell me what feels good," he murmured, letting his breath ghost over Goro’s wet skin. “Tell me what you want.”

"Everything," Goro whispered. "You. Everything you do, it's…"

Having Goro so open and needy in his lap, cock hardening against his belly, was almost more than he could stand. Akira kissed him, tongue pushing deep and hot into Goro's surprised mouth. More, more, he craved more, wanted to open up Goro and expose him, let the world see of what it had been deprived while he served that devious, terrible queen. Wanted more of Goro’s lovely voice, crowing desperately for his touch. Heedy, Akira wondered if he had ever lain with another as a human, if he would be the first mortal experience he ever had. If he would be the one to take his maidenhead. The thought made him groan with vile craven need, and he grabbed Goro’s cock without bothering to take off the gloves, wringing him tight and fast in the dry leather, much to Goro’s whining delirious delight.

"Yes," he gasped, rocking his hips into Akira's grip. "Tighter, harder, yes Akira. Yes, yes, yes…"

Hearing his name on Goro's lips did it for him more than he anticipated, and almost without thinking started to grind the bulge of his trousers against Goro's naked backside, heat and delicious pressure cresting him in waves. Even more amazing, Goro adjusted the pattern of his own hips, thrusting into his hand then sitting back on his erection, an absolutely maddening cacophony of sensation. Akira had been rendered down like so much meat, melting down and burning, nothing but sizzling flesh and heat, brain stripped of anything but the need to make Goro cry out more and louder. No fairy magic, just primal human lust, turned them to such an absolute mess, this beautifully inhuman human straddling him, riding him, thrusting against him, letting loose the neediest noises while still entirely clothed.

Goro ran his fingers through Akira’s hair, words dissolving into broken noises as the pattern of his thrusts changed, and he bit down on Akira's throat as he came, hard and sudden, into Akira's gloved palm. While Goro panted and slumped against his shoulder, Akira fumbled his grip and reached behind him, running cum-slick fingers between Goro's cheeks and circling his rim, causing him to jolt.

"Wait, wait, give me a moment-" Goro gasped even as he arched against Akira's grip. Even through the hide covering his finger, Akira felt the way his hole fluttered under the barest of touches. "Wait, wait…"

"You've already claimed me once, my King," Akira panted, barely restraining himself, continuing the slow teasing rub of his fingers but desperate to feel inside. "How long must I wait to claim you back?"

Goro sighed, nearly growled, then grabbed Akira by the wrist and jammed his fingers inside, causing them both to gasp. Akira cursed and swore under his breath as Goro worked Akira’s fingers inside himself. Damn him for being so impatient, Akira couldn’t feel much but heat and tightness, desperately wished he had the forethought to remove his gloves, but something about the sensation of leather inside his body seemed to bring Goro immense pleasure, drooling openly as he took Akira deeper and deeper. "How," Goro choked out, already settling his weight to bury Akira further, and Akira couldn't think past the aching hot clutch around his first two fingers so greedily sucked inside, how much he craved to feel Goro’s flesh on his. "How does everything feel so good…"

"Because it's you." Akira kissed the side of his neck, found freckles on his shoulders to kiss, bit along his collarbone as he twisted his fingers up and deeper, rubbing against tight but yielding walls that wrought the most delicious desperate sounds from Goro. "Because it's me. It's us."

Goro's spend kept the passage smooth for Akira's thrusting fingers not as long as he'd hoped, and it only took a few minutes before Goro turned painfully tight, his breaths strained more from pain than pleasure. When Akira pulled out, Goro glared at him with fierce, desperate eyes, about to insist he keep going, but Akira silenced him with a kiss.

"Not here, not unless you can still summon that nectar you used before." Goro actually blushed a bit at that, but relented in the end, shaking his head. "But don't worry, my King. I'm not done yet. Here—" and he's fully shrugging off the long coat, tossing it flat on a smooth expanse of dirt, pulling his gloves off for good measure. He won’t be denied Goro any further. "Lie there."

Goro turned up his nose, mumbled something about how low he must have fallen, but he still complied, situating on his hands and knees, turned away from Akira. Akira palmed his ass, pushing him open to see what his handiwork had wrought thus far: a thin smear of Goro's own cum shining from his hole. Akira's mouth watered, and he licked his lips.

"Goro." He tried to keep his voice gentle, even as he leaned closer, breath ghosting over his puckered entrance. "Can I…?"

"Can you what," he squeaked out, burying his head in his arms. Shyness! From Crow! Akira just wanted to devour him, in every sense of the word. If he insisted on feigning the innocent virgin (even if his human body technically was), then Akira would play along, cajoling and gentle.

"Like this," Akira cooed, then ran his tongue from just under his balls up over his hole. Goro made the most delightful croon, high and flustered, and Akira drank it down. He could faintly taste the slick bitter cum he'd fingered into him.

"Akira—! Don't, that's…"

"Delicious," Akira interrupted, licking him again, this time swirling his tongue around the twitching pucker. Goro's voice pitched high and desperate, brightened with the sweet sharpness of shame. Musky and thick, but yet somehow neat, clean, and Akira remembered again that Goro’s body was new, untouched, even by himself, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he wrapped his arms around Goro’s hips, holding him steady, and kissed his hole as fervently and passionately as he did his mouth.

Goro panted, whined, knees, shuffling in Akira’s coat and bunching the fabric as he squirmed, but now he couldn’t get away. Saliva puddled in his mouth as Akira worked him over, slow luxurious circles that quivered and quaked at the attention. So sweet, not unlike how he tasted as a fae, but now Akira could show Goro all these things, bring him such joy and pleasure that he’d never felt as a human. Pamper him and lavish him with praise and adoration, treat him kindly and sweet unlike the cruel dominance of the Queen.

Huh. He didn’t expect himself to be so jealous.

If he’d kept his wits about him, planned a little further ahead, he’d slip his fingers back inside, work him open even more, wring out every delectable noise, tease out the sensitive places inside him until Goro came again from his fingers alone, then slip his cock in and do it over and over again… and the thought tempted him, more so than he expected it to. But given how tight he felt as he experimentally pushed his tongue inside, to much moaning and fanfare from Goro, trembling as he sunk from his arms to surrender his upper body to the earth, he wasn’t sure Goro would be able to take him as he was, without some further lubrication. Still, he could make Goro feel as good as he could with his tongue, nibbling at the swell of his ass in between soft kisses and probing tongue.

Goro’s cock hung heavy and leaking, already hard again. Akira might even be able to make him come from just this, but he also neared the end of his patience. He wanted, wanted to feel Goro against his cock somehow, and given the beautiful musculature of those legs, thickness of his thighs, he concocted a plan to please them both.

Akira sat up, leaving Goro red-faced and panting on the forest floor while he frantically loosened his trousers. Pushing them down to his knees, he freed his cock before shuffling behind Goro. "Put your legs together," he instructed, guiding his thighs to kiss while he slowly worked over his own cock at the beautiful sight of Goro presented to him, ass in the air, shining bright with spit and pink with arousal, a hard-won treat, a rare prize, splayed out all for him.

"What are you planning now?" Goro slurred, but still managed to sound suspicious. Trying to regain some dignity, he pulled himself up somewhat, leaning on his elbows. Despite his reservations, his body obeyed almost instinctively, pressing his knees together while shooting a wary look over his shoulder. Akira just grinned, sly and cocksure.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you." And himself. He was in a sorry state, hard and leaking, aching, desperate to feel Goro against him after his hands had been denied the pleasure.

Holding the base of his cock, he touched the beading wet tip to the back of Goro's thighs, and Akira could see a jolt shake his shoulders. But he didn't flinch, didn't back away, so Akira held his breath and he slipped between the smooth hot flesh of Goro's legs, tight and a little dry but the friction, the cling of his body holding him tight, made him hiss. Akira pushed forward slowly, resting one hand on the back of Goro's sloped back, the other cupped around his hip bone, pulling him close as he pressed their bodies flush together. Akira could just barely feel the soft fuzz of his balls at his tip, and Goro moaned, "Oh, Akira."

That did it. The last shred of his control, unspooling, and Akira pulled back and slammed forward hard, jostling Goro and almost knocking him off his elbows. Again he felt the heavy weight of his sac tickling his glans as punched past the pressing thickness of Goro's thighs, swaying from Akira's fierce thrusts. A shift of his hand and he grabbed for Goro's hardness, his hand clumsy and rough over his cock. Akira's touch rendered him speechless, garbled noises of arousal escaping his red drooling mouth. He kept saying his name, Akira, Akira, like it was the last shred of consciousness left to him, a raft to cling to in a drowning sea of bliss. Akira didn't feel much more coherent, only able to answer back Yes, Goro, feel me, be with me, stay with me, you feel so good, so good.

Akira tried to jerk Goro's cock as he pounded between his legs, but the rhythm was off. Despite the precome helping somewhat, it was still hot and dry and burning as he moved, the heat and friction cascading over Akira's body. He couldn't last long like this; either he'll work himself over sore, or come, or both, but either way he was nearing his peak.

He held on, moving his hand over Goro' hardness as he worked his own between his legs, giving flesh squeezing him tight, Goro rocking into Akira's thrusts to fill the woods around them with the thick slapping cracks of their bodies meeting again again. "Together, together," Akira found himself repeating as Goro cried "Akira, Akira," along with him, fucking together harder and faster and more and more, until finally with a choked gasp, Akira pulled away and painted Goro's thighs and ass white just as Goro came a second time from Akira's hand.

Skin rosy, flushed, pink, smeared with white streaks of cum. Akira had never seen anything more beautiful, not even Crow in all his finery. He told him as much, as Goro groaned, sinking to the ground, barely managing to stay on the rumpled dirty coat.

"You're rather crass when you're in the mood, aren't you."

Akira carefully folded himself over Goro, kissing up his spine to evenly and comfortably distribute his weight atop him. "Same to you. Who bound me in roses and railed me senseless?"

Goro hummed and shifted enough on his back that he could loop his arms wearily around Akira, eyes closed. "It was me then and it will be me again soon enough, once I've had time to rest."

Akira laughed, giddy and excited that he's won such a valuable prize. They laid together for a while, basking in the mess and dirt and the realities of their sore mortal bodies. Eventually, Goro sat up and stretched. "Right. Where are my clothes? You did bring some, didn't you?"

Akira only offered him a sheepish smile. "I did… but they're in my pack. On the back of the horse. Outside of the woods."

Goro's eyes narrowed at every sentence until they're angry little slits, and it delighted Akira to no end. "And why did you not bring them with you?"

He shrugged. "You said I needed to not be seen. I didn't want to carry a heavy pack of clothes that might slow me down or knock against me noisily. Besides," he traces a finger down the sculpted muscled slope of his arm. "I thought I'd want to enjoy the view as long as possible."

Goto slapped his hand away. "Idiot. How am I supposed to walk there, nude and shoeless?"

Hmm. Akira didn't think that far. But he couldn’t let Goro know that, so he just spread open his arms. "I'll just have to carry you."

Goro stared at him dubiously, but eventually relented for lack of a better option, allowing himself to be princess-carried out of the woods, not as easy a task as Akira tried to make it seem, as they were so close in build and size. Plus, he was rather exhausted from all they had done.

When they finally broke into the clear bright sunshine, unobstructed by trees, Goro took to his feet, staring at the land in awe while Akira greeted the tied-down horse with a friendly nose rub and a hello there, Morgana, digging in his saddlebags for Goro's clothes. Akira stood beside him as he dressed, looking at the rolling green fields with him.

"How long has it been since you left this place?" He finally asked, quiet and somber.

"Too long," he replied, sounding empty. Akira threaded their fingers together and smiled.

"Wherever we go now," he promised, "we go together."