“You’re sure about this plan being safe, Maz?” Rey’s fingers tightened on the two vials in her hand, her mouth dry at what the woman had proposed. Not that she had much of a choice if she wanted something to happen, at this point. If it worked and got her out of Plutt’s hell of a home, where she’d been working without hope of paying off her debt since she could remember, then the risk was worth it.
Her freedom was worth it.
It wasn’t likely to happen within her lifetime if she didn’t look elsewhere, do something . . . out of the ordinary.
Maz’s eyes glinted through the thick lenses of her glasses. “If you do exactly as I told you then yes. There’s something to be said about a full moon this close to the end of a harvest. Your destiny, you’ll find, is riper for picking than you understand.”
Rey certainly hoped so, watching as Maz finished assembling the small bundle of dried herbs and handed it to Rey. “Just keep your wits, and keep your mind open. You’re not easily frightened, are you?”
Rey swallowed thickly, but shook her head. There was no denying the apprehension bubbling in her stomach at the question, but she couldn’t show it. What if Maz told her not to go, or worse, stopped her from doing it if she thought that Rey couldn’t handle it?
The older woman’s smile turned almsot disbelieving. “Good. Then you’ll do just fine, darling.”
There’s a fair chance that she’d be hanged if anyone from her village was to step into the forest that evening, if they followed the scent of rosehips and sage, of the sound of her beating heart or chased the pebbles she’d dropped to find her way back in the full moon’s light. There was a greater chance, Rey thought with a deep sigh as she shimmied from her dress, letting it pool at her feet, that she didn’t really care. The grass tickled her ankles, thick and lush, as though it understood its true purpose in staying healthy for her comfort. In front of her, the stone table basked in the full moon’s light, its surface smooth and polished as glass. She ran her hand over the whirls within the stone, before taking the sage and rose bundle from the small bag she’d packed, alighting the end with the assistance of the flint she’d stolen from Plutt’s hearth. With the smoking end pressed against the hard stone and her eyes watering, she spelled out her intentions on the stone, her desires, the letters faint, but there.
Her lungs filled with the heady smoke as she the smoking bundle on the base of the altar, and turned her attention now to the fastenings of her robe. With sure fingers, she undid the laces, her eyes closing as she shrugged the fabric from her shoulders and felt her bare skin pebble with the chill before the well-worn garment even hit the ground. She was glad for the privacy of the forest altar, for those who had come before and taken care to nurture the thick trees that surrounded either side of it, the break in the trees overhead allowing her light enough to see, and to turn her once golden skin pale and milky. She reached once more into her bag for a pair of small vials, the first she uncorked and swallowed, the second she clutched in her left fist. Her nipples pebbled, and her teeth started to chatter as she took a deep, steadying breath, and hiked herself up and onto the altar, skin pressed flat against the words she’d written on the stone. Her left fingers worked open the vial, coaxing the thick, viscous liquid onto the fingers of her right hand, the oil warming easily between her digits as she re-corked the container and set it to the side. Her left hand now fisted at her side, nails biting into her palm so hard that she was amazed the skin didn’t pop with the pressure.
Her right hand slid down between her legs, not entirely surprised to see that even without the lubricant she was still plenty wet. Two fingers spread her slit wide, coating her skin with the warm slick as her thumb worked slow circles around the little bundle of nerves at the very top. Pleasure licked at the base of her spine as her mouth parted with a soft hum. Rey drank in the sounds of the forest, the chirping of insects, the rustling of squirrels traversing the treetops, the occasional cracking of a twig or branch in the distance, and her own slow, measured breaths as she pressed her forefinger past her lower lips with a muffled whimper. Her hips canted upwards, easing her digit further within herself, chasing that emptiness that she had such a difficult time dispelling. She sighed as she curled the finger upwards, adding a second and quickening the pace of her thumb, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise motions, adding pressure when her toes began to curl and her heels dug into the stone beneath her. As her pace quickened, so did her breathing, filling up her ears as her nerve endings began to sing, pleasure spiking down to the tips of her toes, and filling in the spaces between her ribs.
She was so lost in the sound, the sensation, that she didn’t realize that the forest that had once provided a song of its own to match hers, had now gone silent as the moments before a storm. She didn’t realize that the snapping of twigs and rustling of the undergrowth was coming from a visitor approaching, following the smoke and smell of her sex that filled the air.
Her eyes closed, her head turning to the side as her brow furrowed and her heart began to beat a little harder, fingers undulating as quickly as she could manage, curling and scissoring her open, desperate to find something—anything—that might fill the emptiness within her.
Rey’s free hand slammed against the side of the altar as her back bowed, gooseflesh erupting over every inch of her as she saw spots behind her eyes. Her toes curled, her lips parted in a whine, and she came over her fingers with the softest of moans. The midwife hadn’t been lying when she’d made mention to Rey that taking matters into her own hands, under the light of the full moon at in the presence of gods and beasts alike, would be an . . . experience.
It wasn’t until then, as she came back down, that she felt someone else’s eyes on her, watching as her skin grew rosy and her eyes opened once again.
Slowly, she sat up on her elbows, right hand slick with her come and the lubricant she’d brought, only to find herself staring into a pair of bright, golden eyes peering out at her from the dark foliage of the forest. The man’s face was only slightly illuminated, and as he stepped closer, ducking down to keep from hitting his head on the low hanging branches, she felt her breath catch in her lungs at the sight of a pair of stag horns curling outwards from the top of his skull.
“Whose court do you belong to, nymph?” he murmured, head tipping to the side, bare chest and torso catching the moonlight, Rey skirting her gaze upwards to keep from staring at what hung between his legs. “Who should I be thanking for sending you here, to me?”
“I’m sorry?” she asked, sitting up and pulling her legs up to her chest, folding in on herself as he moved closer. “I don’t—court? What are you doing here in this—this forest? Without anything on, if I might add.” Not that she had much room to talk, but at least her clothes were at the base of the stone altar, whereas his . . . did they make clothes large enough to fit such a man?
His full lips curled upwards, and she wasn’t quite sure that she liked the glint in his eyes as he stepped up to the very edge of the stone edifice. “This is my forest, nymph. You must know that. Why else would you be out, days from Samhain, pleasuring yourself on my altar if not to ask a favor of me?”
She swallowed thickly, as one of his arms reached for her right ankle, tugging her leg down, and sliding her closer to the edge. To him. She was at the perfect height to fit him between her legs, if she so desired. And oh, she desired. His fingers teased the top of her foot, her eyes focusing on the way that he traced nonsensical patterns against her skin, adjusting his grip upwards to her calf, before he took her left leg and pulled that down as well to rest against the smooth surface beneath her.
When she looked back up it was only to meet his bemused smile, face clearly saying that he was waiting for her response.
“What?” she asked, wondering when it was she’d gotten to sound so breathless.
He pulled her closer, her skin sliding with ease against the smooth surface, until her knees rested on either side of his hips and she barely contained her squeak of surprise.
“Tell me, nymph,” he purred in a voice like rolling thunder. “Will you bleed for me when I press myself into you, filling your sweet body to the very brim? You seemed to know how to take care of yourself well enough that either your lover is a poor excuse of a man, or you’ve known no other save your own fingers. To whom’s court am I paying the price for your maidenhead?”
Her throat tightened, her eyes wide as she stared up and into his eyes, above his head to his antlers, then back to his face. “I don’t—I don’t belong to a court. Who are you?” She wished she sounded more demanding, more in control of herself, when the reality was that she trembled where he touched her. His fingers danced further up between her legs and then away from where her body had started to sing with want for him.
Perhaps she ought to have asked what he was, but somehow she didn’t find that it mattered all that much. She wasn’t entirely sure her brain would be able to wrap around whatever his response may have been. Already Rey could feel where he’d thickened and started to press against her, and she now looked down to see his cock resting against her inner thigh. Her head spun, but before she could formulate thought or words, the man had reached to cup her chin and ease her face upwards to meet his gaze once more.
“I have many names, but you may call me Kylo, little one. I daresay you’ll be moaning it soon enough.”
He shifted, centering himself between her legs, parting her slit with his hand even as she squirmed to allow herself some space. Not that it did her much good; he was far too strong, and she wasn’t trying as hard as she could have, if she thought hard enough about it. The very tip of him pressed against her slit, and her hands found his shoulders, torn between reaching behind him to push him closer and into her, and scrambling away herself.
“Breathe deeply for me,” he urged her, thumb pressing against her clit, eyes boring into hers, holding her entirely captive, unable to look away even if she wanted to.
Slowly, she inhaled, and his hips canted forward, pressing himself past her folds and into her wet heat. Her nails dug into his back when it became too much, her face scrunching up and her eyes screwing shut, all the air she’d just taken in trapped inside of her body. It was too much, too big—she couldn’t—she shouldn’t—.
“Breathe out. Slowly,” he urged in her ear as she felt something slick pool between them, and her eyes opened to watch him coating his length with what remained of the vial of lubricant.
She couldn’t. She could hardly come to grips with the fact that he wasn’t even halfway sheathed inside of her and it felt as though she could feel him underneath her ribs—.
“Breathe out, little nymph, so I can fuck you in earnest.”
Gods above, how could she say no to that?
The air left her lungs in a shaky stream, and just like that he pulled her closer to the edge, her heat enveloping him as he slid her so completely onto his length that it made her head spin. Her hands moved upwards, gripping his hair as Kylo dipped his head to kiss her, his lips softer and more commanding than she ever believed a kiss could be. The occasional dalliance she’d had with the boys in her village, the stolen peck on the cheek here and there, was nothing in comparison to this. They’d inspired the quickest of flashes of warmth within her, but this? This was a funeral pyre, burning through her body, eating at her flesh and resolve so completely that as he pulled out, she couldn’t help but clench around him to try and keep him in place.
He nipped her bottom lip, and her fingers found the base of his antlers, causing him to moan when she dragged her fingertips over their roots.
Good to know she could affect him just as easily.
“I advise you hold on tightly, little one.” He grinned against her lips. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
He pressed back into her once again, and her fingers gripped him by the antlers all the more tightly, her gasp choked in the back of her throat as he hilted himself within her once more. He took up a pace that felt as though it was unraveling the tether connecting her soul to her body, until the only thing keeping her grounded was the weight and length of him within her, the press of his fingers against her skin, so solid she was sure she would bruise. His right hand spanned her near entire waist, thumb still working her clit in small, slow circles that juxtaposed with the swift, almost punishing, pace with which he fucked her.
Rey felt her head tip backwards, but he captured her chin with his left hand and kissed her hard enough to bruise.
“Tell me,” Kylo hissed as he pulled away, lips brushing against her ear, teeth nipping at the soft skin there. His hands pulled her flush against him, before tugging at her hair to force her to look at him. “What do you wish for, little one? What freedom is it you seek?” She felt her mouth go dry, her eyes watering, as he continued to thrust into her hard enough to force the air from her lungs. “I’m—bound—to a man—.”
Oh, he didn’t like that. She felt his growl pulse through her as surely as if it came from her own chest, felt the way his body vibrated against hers in displeasure.
“I’ve been indebted to him—ah, ah, fuck—I no longer wish to be. I want to—to have a home—oh hell.”
“Shall I bathe in his blood, then?” Kylo asked, teeth dragging along the line of her jaw. “Drain him dry to release you from your bonds? Or disassemble him piece by piece, scatter him to the four corners of the world?”
Rey felt tears bead at the corners of her eyes, filling until they streamed down her face, the pleasure Kylo was inflicting on her body too much to handle all at once. “Do as you p-please. I just want—hell, yes yes yes—I just want to be free.”
He purred at her permission, and redoubled his efforts. Rey’s body burned with the built up tension, her breathing growing erratic as it felt like her heart was ready to come out her chest. Would he devour that, too? Her nails dragged across the base of his antlers, moving to his scalp until his pace began to stutter. At least she was effecting him as much as he was her.
“Please, Kylo,” she gasped, her mouth falling open as she stared up at him, determined not to take her eyes off of the way his face contorted with pleasure. “Please, I’m gonna—I’m so close—. Please.”
He grunted, urging her legs up higher, deepening his thrusts as though he was forcing himself to hold off. “Be mine, nymph. Be all mine, and I promise I’ll give your heart all it could ever desire. I’m not willing to part with your cunt, nor your bravery.”
She whimpered, reaching down to grip his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. “Harder, please.”
He grinned and kissed her throat, her collarbone, his pace slowing down further. “Rey, please be mine.”
She whined, nodding her head as she struggled to form coherent words, as though her lips had decided to stop working correctly. “Yes, yours. Kylo—yours, please. Need—need to—.”
She was sure her shriek would have awoken the whole village, but what did it matter? What could it possibly matter when she felt him fill her to bursting with his spend, when she saw the very fabric of the world laid out for her, ripped at its edges so that she could arrange it as she desired.
He angled his hips just so, and her toes curled, her heels very nearly kicked him as her legs began to tremble, and her left hand reached out to grip the edge of the table, beating against it as the air was felt as if it were dragged from her lungs.
“Your name,” he rasped, his face contorted with pleasure. “Your name—nymph. Please.”
“Rey,” she whimpered. “Rey Niima.”
“Rey,” Kylo whispered, reverent enough to give her a chill, and with a deep growl she felt him spill into her, hotter than the coals that cooked her dinner, as though he meant to purify her from the inside out with his spend.
“Rey, I swear to you that all you desire will be yours as sure as you are now mine.”
She felt a sharp pain just above her right breast, and her world dissolved into darkness.
She didn’t remember getting back to bed, curled up under her threadbare blanket, what hair that hadn’t stuck to her face through the night now snarled at the back of her head. She sat up slowly, running her hands over her face, and winced when she raised her hand too high, looking down to see a bruise just below her collarbone, four small marks near the edges. She touched it with light fingers, brow furrowing. Was it—?
No. She’d likely fallen asleep before she’d even gotten out, too exhausted from the full day of work to have gone out—let alone to have done that. Even if her legs ached and her thighs felt sore, her cunt—.
Well. It’d been a very good dream after all.
Upstairs, on the main floor, chaos reigned. Plutt, as it turned out, had been taken in, and all of his crimes had come into the light, his cohorts and flatterers all having either fled, or been taken away to account for his actions in his absence. Rey was left all that he had, save what was needed to cover his debts, but it was more money than she’d ever known her whole life.
Perhaps . . . maybe, just maybe, there was more to be said about that damn forest than what she’d first thought