Hi, readers! My friend QueenEthelred (@EthelredArt on Twitter) commissioned me to write this erotica of her OCs, Ethelred (who, to paraphrase her own explanation, is not a self-insert per se, but is absolutely wish-fulfillment) and Chervil. There’s really nothing else to say, so here it is. I hope you enjoy!~
Simple Pleasures
Trails of glowing spores spiraled along the forest path. An honor-guard of light-sprites to welcome their queen home… well, it was indulgent to think so. The summer night rested quiet and warm, with choruses of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl to stop the silence from growing deeper than simple calm.
Ethelred was, quite simply, happy to be home. A week with her family… it’d been a happy week. Well-spent, exciting, maybe one or two irresponsible decisions involving a human restaurant, a few too many drinks, a splash of fae magic. But, a fun fast pace was still a fast pace. After all that, and a brief ride in a raincloud to speed the trip home, it just felt nice to be back in her own stomping grounds.
To make her homecoming complete, she only needed to locate a certain special someone. If she knew Chervil–and, oh, she definitely did–he’d either be asleep in their cottage or tending to some of his favorite flora. The idea of a certain glade popped into her head. Oh, right! He did say he wanted to try coaxing more wildflowers from the rich old soil, there.
A bit of mischief lightened her steps–a trickster with hair and eyes of dark aqua blue, an antlered silhouette bounding beneath the shadowy trees. She thought of shapeshifting, and the notion tempted her, but turning into a squirrel was a bit too much work for a quick sneak. With that in mind, she reached the glade’s outer edge and peered around a tree’s trunk. A big, antlered form leaned over a patch of red blossoms, deer-tail flicking now and again in concentration while he worked to extract a particularly stubborn weed. The ends of an emerald sash swayed in time to his shifts.
Simplicity was a virtue–or something–so Ethelred stepped close enough to see the moonlight gleaming in Chervil’s deep green eyes, leaned over, and whispered, “Hi.”
Chervil did not disappoint. He sprang backwards, yelped, whooped, and cycled from shock to consideration to recognition in about three blinks.
“Darling!” he exclaimed, scrambling up and losing any trace of annoyance at the joy of seeing her, “you’re home!” He rushed to hug her and she melted into his warmth, enfolded by his scent, almost like rosemary, and the scents of turned earth and forest growth. “You smell like rain,” he murmured, nuzzling into her hair. “And, um… you.”
She giggled. “Like me, huh? And what do me smell like?” Her eyes twinkled, daring him to mention her grammar. Her hands, squeezing gently, slid up his soft belly and onto either side of his chest. His breath hitched. His heartbeat, a gentle distant rumble against her palms, quickened.
He cleared his throat. “Er… well… l-like sage, maybe, or thyme, and something floral, and something… just a hint of something sharp and heady. I’m really not sure how to name it…”
Ethelred could think of one or two possibilities. They brought the first excited red tints to her cheeks, and got her own
“Hmmm… honey,” she murmured. Her tail twitched, a quivering one-two side-to-side. A particular signal for a very particular desire. “I really have missed you, you know.”
“I missed you too,” Chervil said. Here was where the fun started: watching him try so very hard to hide it, as though he could stop the quiver in his lovely soft ears or hide the blush spreading over his cheeks.
“Really missed you,” Ethelred insisted, leaning against him.
The first time she tried to hint to Chervil that she wanted to get a little closer than just friends, he was oblivious. Too awed of her to read the insistent focus in her eyes, to feel the need behind her words. Those days had been fun. Now, of course, he knew very well
“Oh, well, darling, I-I don’t want to impose,” Chervil said, reddening further. His throat worked, a delightful nervous gulp. “I m-mean, you did just get home from a long trip, and I would c-c-completely understand if you’re tired–“
“I’m not that tired,” Ethelred interrupted, grinning. She stepped closer. Slid her arms over his shoulders. “You can impose a little.”
“I, er…” Chervil began to sweat, quivering at her closeness. Ethelred felt she’d spoken more than enough. And besides, she didn’t need to talk to tell him what she wanted. “Well, y-you know… gardening gloves, dirt and… things… um…”
Ethelred clasped his right wrist with both hands, never breaking eye contact, feeling the long soft hairs of his forearms under her fingers. She plucked one glove away, then the other, and then deliberately, letting her tongue ease out of her slowly-opening lips and trail up the base along each knuckle, she pulled one of his middle fingers into her mouth. It pulsed against her lips. Trembled with the rest of him as he stared at her in rapture.
“I’m out of ways to dodge, aren’t I?” he asked.
“Mhm,” Ethel answered.
She let go of his arm, making sure to smack her lips with a loud, luscious pop when his finger eased free, and wrapped her fingers around the ends of his sash to tug him closer. Their lips met, locked, and molded against each other to the tune of two delighted sighs. Chervil’s passion quickly overcame his bashfulness, as it had every time since the very first. One strong hand drifted to the small of Ethelred’s back. His gentle grip supported her. Warmed her skin with his touch. The other hand slid up beneath one plush thigh and lifted her weight off that hoof. He leaned her backward, still lavishing her with kisses, until the soft bed of the lush glade received her.
“Good so far, darling?” he asked. She groaned in appreciation.
“Ears,” she added insistently.
“I know, I planned to! I’ve only got so many hands,” Chervil said, grinning sheepishly. He cupped her head, teasing her sensitive tufted ears with steady, careful pulls. Years of practice, of tending to her every shift in mood and movement, had made him irresistibly good at it. Each tender tug sent waves of pleasure rebounding through every corner of her head. “You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmured between pecks of his lips. “Every moment I’m with you, I… I just can’t believe how lucky I am.”
A giddy thrill ran through her at his words. Her own answer came out simpler, primal, but easy to understand: her first full-throated and lustful moan of the night. Chervil sent her pitch soaring with a well-timed shift of his kisses from her lips and cheeks–already wonderful–to the supple skin of her neck. Ethelred became aware of need, wetness, instinct calling out for something between her legs. She rocked against the grasses beneath her, panting, trusting her lover to read her mood.
“Of course!” he answered. His voice grew breathy. The urgency, the love in it, left it quaky. “Just a second, darling. I love all your little sounds so, so much, have I ever told you that?”
He told her that every time. And every time, hearing it was sweeter than the last.
He kept her eager with more kisses on her neck, swifter now, and unbuttoned her pants. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I’m so glad you’re home. All the flowers of all the fae realms are nothing but visual noise without you. It’s not color until I see you again.”
He pulled the troublesome clothes loose a leg at a time and at last tossed them aside, leaving her shirt for now. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck and shoulder. His every breath broke upon her in a tingling, ticklish, arousing wave, and the star-fields shining from the midnight blue fur covering her legs from hips to hooves anointed his broad, adoring face and sturdy chest with a sea of light. His fingers brushed along, slow enough to set off the nerves around every silky bristle, until they finally reached the bud of her clit.
A week away, with all its excitements and stresses and the simple fuel of pining, and all the skillful foreplay, meant her lust was already enough to convulse with. It might not be that long before–before–then Chervil’s fingers slipped in and truly set to work. Measured plunges first to help her relax. Firm presses along her inner walls. He knew just where her sweet-spot was, and how to change his pressure and angle to brush along it just right.
“That’s it, darling,” Chervil murmured. “It’s so good to feel you again. Is it good for you?”
“It’s good, baby,” Ethelred gasped. “It’s so good…” Any other words melted right out her head as ecstasy over took her and she moaned again. More urgently, and her legs reflexively lifted together to close around his arm. She clutched to his shoulders. Rolled her head back back to gaze at the sky of the summer night, eyes wide for a moment to all the shining stars before Chervil picked up the pace. She cried out, clasping tighter, beginning to sway with the rhythmic back-and-forth of his hand.
Her heart’s beating grew swifter still. Her breath came hot, fast, and urgent while the currents of growing desire pulsed in her belly, in her breast, in her mind where the only notions left were how much she loved him, needed him, how happy she was to be home and here and making love–
“That’s it, darling!” Ethelred cried out. She went taut and slack again, feeling as though she was caught midair. “I–I–” Each push and press strengthened the shuddering in her legs, the quivering in her pussy. Each time she was sure this would be the one, that she couldn’t contain any more arousal than this. Her climax poured out in a wave of heat and delicious aching and the ecstatic arch of her back. Chervil’s fingers kept up their caresses even then, drawing out her orgasm longer, longer, longer…
When she finally subsided, heaving for breath, it was all she could do to move her arms enough that Chervil could help her out of her shirt. He ran his hands over her belly, up along her sides, tracing around her nipples just for the joy of touching her.
“Will that be enough?” he asked. The good-natured amusement in his voice made it clear he knew that it wouldn’t.
“Nope,” Ethelred affirmed, folding her arms and pouting playfully. “Want more.” Though her hands shook a little from the jelly-like delirium of the first round, she forced herself to focus long enough to grab an end of Chervil’s sash and yank at it. She’d done this before. She was horny and happy enough she had forgotten she’d done this before, and just like all the previous time, the sash did not cleanly untie the way her imagination said it should. She just ended up yanking Chervil forward a bit. He caught himself with a quick flail of his hands, one landing on either side of her head, then exchanged a few silent blinks with her.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” Ethelred muttered, averting her eyes while she tried not to laugh.
“I’ll just get this for you, darling,” Chervil said, working to untie it himself. He didn’t laugh, but he did smile at her in a moonstruck way. That was okay, then.
“I, er, guess it’s rutting time?” he asked, scrubbing the back of his head. “I thought I was going to say something really witty, or at least a deer pun so bad it was good, but it’s hard to think around how gorgeous you are, and how much I love you, and how much I really want to–“
Ethelred rolled her eyes, but she was smiling when she locked her hooves in behind his back and pulled him close. A timely night breeze, still warm yet not quite so warm as the two of them, rustled their hair and reawakened her to the sensations of her body–hair-raising in the best possible way. It stirred her to inhale, draw Chervil’s scent into her, become alert again to his heat at every little place where their skin touched.
When he kicked his own pants off, his dick jumped out and up. Hard, twitching, as ready to be inside her as she was to take it. He grasped it, a playful twinkle in his eyes to see her own eyes tracing the tip’s movements, and he stroked it along her bud until she gave in to an impatient moan. She tensed her legs against him for extra emphasis.
“Alright, darling,” he chuckled, “your wish is my command.” He slid his shaft into her inch by blissful inch. He paused a few times to let her bask in the fullness and the warmth. Further, further, drawing out happy sighs and excited gasps that left her eyes flashing with love and yearning, until he was all the way inside.
Then he bent her legs back further. Folding her up. Bringing her knees back until they were almost even with her shoulders. Ethelred stared up at him, filling her mind with the image of Chervil silhouetted against the sky while she all but vibrated with excitement.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” she answered, nodding eagerly. “Go.”
He moved quicker this time, still controlling his momentum but pausing less between each uptick in tempo. In less than a minute he was pounding feverishly away between her legs. Now he added his own gasps of ecstasy to hers.
“Oh, darling,” he moaned, “darling, darling, darling…”
She matched him sound for sound, straining to kiss and clutch and press against him in every way she could. Her inner walls began to clasp at his length by reflex. She breathed in time to the drilling Chervil gave her. Lust-drunk, in love, every care in the world hammered right out of existence. Even as eager as he was, as much as he needed to control his breathing to hold it in, Chervil kept thrusting until the very moment when Ethelred came again. Her eyes, unfocused, took in the sight of a meteor shower through the clearing above while she hugged him to her in breathless orgasm.
He pressed his lips to her neck and drove his cock in as far as he dared. Steamy spurts of cum, all that pent-up need, filled her with each gasp.
They lay there, breathing heavily and trading lazy kisses, for a long time before he eased himself up. “The hot springs, darling? Clean up before we head to bed?” he asked, collecting their clothes.
“Mhm,” Ethelred agreed, sleepy and very pleased with herself.
Chervil scooped her into his arms and carried her through a half-hidden path between ferns and new-growth trees. On the other side of a huge, fallen trunk long since covered in moss, they arrived at their favorite springs. Chervil helped her into the large center pool, slid in to join her, and returned her sleepy smile with one of his own as he sat down.
The gentle lapping of the water, the interplay of starlight and the gentle glows of bioluminescent algae from the surrounding springs and the glittering all the colorful rays raised in the wetness on their skin… it was enough to lull Ethelred’s mind to utter calm. Simple instinct brought her drifting closer against Chervil. She clambered close. Hooked each hoof atop one of his thighs, then sank down until she sat in his lap.
“Even more, darling?” he asked.
“Yep,” she answered, already rubbing her folds along the base of his cock to rouse it. The springs swept away every scent but their own. This time, neither of them felt a need for foreplay. Chervil lifted her up, pulled her down onto his dick, and met her with a desperate kiss while she twisted her hips to make sure she felt him in every little place she wanted.
It felt good, so, so good, but maybe just a little more… a little extra…
“Hand,” she demanded, not even fully sure what she meant.
“Um,” Chervil said, pausing to blow out air in answer to another rush of lust, “Oh! Right! Spectral hand, maybe?”
“Yeah, that,” Ethelred whispered, leaning to kiss the top of his head so quickly he barely had time to shape-shift his antlers to avoid poking her.
He obliged with a glowing hand, its shapes distorted by the waves of the water cast by their sex. She could scarcely see it, but she definitely felt it–rubbing her clit in harmony with thrusts, stimulating her so quickly she lost balance and fell forward against him. She clasped his head to her breast, bucking wildly, and far sooner than she expected she hit her peak for the third time that night. She truly didn’t know whether Chervil came or not.
By the time her senses returned, with a muzzy giggle, he was tucking her into bed in their cottage. She fell asleep scarcely a second after her head settled onto her pillow.
She woke up later in the night to see it was still dark. Chervil was doing as a big spoon did–muttering sleepily, nuzzling her neck, and grinding against her from behind. Ethelred decided that maybe she wouldn’t mind one more round.
So she turned far enough to reach behind her, teasing behind Chervil’s ears with her fingernails, until he woke up with bleary-eyed blinks and a mutter of confusion. Ethelred twisted further. A kiss. A needy whimper. She rose, shaking her haunches.
“One more, darling,” she insisted, “just one more.” She braced her hands on the backboard, trembling with need. “Chervil, please, I-I need it. I missed you too, you know I did, so please don’t make me beg–“
He pressed closer against her, tilting her head up and back with a soft push to kiss her, and with his other hand he seated his dick against her pussy. It slid inward so easily and yet so slowly, each of them burning with more need than ever. Unable to wait. Unwilling to let the moment end a single heartbeat sooner than it had to.
He wrapped his arms around her and railed her for all he was worth. Fast, slow, and fast again–the aching need in them both had grown too strong to worry about clever technique.
“Darling,” he breathed, “darling, I love you, I love you so much…” Ethelred lost track of time, forgot that she was tired, forgot anything except the wonderful swell of him coursing in and out of her hungry depths. Her folds dripped around him. She became the sensory imprints of their lovemaking–the vibrations of Chervil’s thrusts, the squeak of the bed, the echoes of their arousal cutting through the quiet night outside.
Their final climaxes came as one, she pushing back to meet him and he driving forward to meet her, hugging so, so tightly to her while he gave her everything he had left. The moment did not quite last forever. But it lasted long enough. Long enough that even after their breathing steadied and Chervil disentangled himself, Ethelred was still woozy with the sheer pleasure of it.
“Alright,” Chervil gasped. “That was… oh, wow… have I mentioned before that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and I… I can’t help but want to please you…” He settled back on his knees for a moment. Ethelred untangled her arms from the backboard and slid, full of melty warmth and tingling, down onto the mattress and her nice soft pillow.
“Now,” she sighed, smiling, eyes closed, “it’s enough. Feels so good…”
Chervil stepped out to draw a hot bath full of her favorite soaps, lit some candles, and carried her to it. He was so tired by now that he simply slid downward, still holding her, until they were both in the water. He smooched the top of her head. “Welcome home, darling.”
She cuddled up on his chest. Sooner or later the bath would grow cool and they’d have to dry off and return to bed. But for now, there was nothing left to say except–
“Thank you, baby. It’s so good to be back.”
Ashenvein Gate: Stories & Dreams 