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The Forest Queen and the Hunter [Tapiotar/Vesa]
Title: The Forest Queen and the Hunter
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent world + Finnish mythology
Characters/Pairing: Vesa (SSSS OC)/Tapiotar (Finnish mythology)
Rating: 18+; warning is CNTW
Length: 10K
Summary: There are many things Vesa was likely to encounter when he went out that day, but she wasn't something he expected.
Other: *This is from my SSSS OC series, so it broadly uses the world, but not any of the canon characters.
*Tapiotar is similar to the forest god Tapio; he rules over some forests, and Tapiotar rules over others. (She is not an equivalent to Mielikki.) Tapiotar is known to be sexually assertive toward men, and generally doesn't ask for their opinion on her advances.
*Beta read by CumaeanSibyl for FTH 2021 services. Thank you! <3
The Forest Queen and the Hunter
Bright day. Summer. The golden-yellow sun slipped its fingers through the trees, leaving dappled light on the forest floor. Birdsong rang loud, constant, cheery.
Vesa listened.
It was one of the ways you could tell that it was safe. If the birds weren't bothered, then he had little to worry about either, as long as he didn't go looking for trouble.
He breathed in the scent of trees and earth, and stepped deeper into the forest, following the old deer trails. Sometimes, the path disappeared, but that didn't matter; all he had to do was look again, look carefully, and it was easy to find his way.
Clearance had gone through the area years ago, working with small controlled fires to scrape out the deadwood and chase out the monsters. What they left was clean and bright, with plants rushing in to coat the forest floor in green. And as for the dangers that liked to hide in dead undergrowth, well....
There wasn't any barrier between this patch of forest and the areas the clearance teams hadn't even begun to touch. It would be a very long time before anyone would think these woods were empty of threats. Maybe it would never happen. As he made his way through, Vesa knew that there would always be a chance of finding something other than rabbits and birds in his snares.
He understood the risk. That was why, even with the light and the birdsong, he moved as silently as he could. It wouldn't do to make noise and draw attention to himself.
When he caught sight of movement through the trees, Vesa froze.
A troll? No.
There were none of the telltale signs. The voices, the strange shapes flickering at the corners of his eyes, the scent of rot. None.
And the birds kept singing, singing, singing.
Something was there.
Cautiously, Vesa made his way toward where he had seen the movement. What was it? Though he'd only had a glance, he was sure it was much too large to be a rabbit. A deer? He hadn't come into the forest expecting game of that size, but if he could bag a deer, he would be set for a while –
In a place where the trees parted, sunlight plunged down into a small clearing. He saw the soft grass, the wildflowers. He saw her.
The woman sat on a stump in the centre of the clearing, humming as she combed out her long hair.
The woman was not a woman.
The woman was not human.
Vesa barely dared to breathe.
The first thing he thought of was the pond-dwelling girls from his mother's stories, the ones who lured people to water and drowned them. But the woman's wild green hair made him think of moss rather than lake weeds, and the shore was far away.
This was something else. Someone else. Her thin clothes wrapped around her body like a cloak of feathers. Her ears sat high on her head like an owl's pointed tufts. She took up space as if she owned all of it.
Vesa thought quickly. Maybe if he left without drawing her attention, he could go down to his boat on the shore and row away and forget all about this.
He took a step back.
The woman lowered her comb. She turned to look at him, staring with eyes shaped like a hawk's and blue as two lakes.
"Stay there," she said. Her voice was the voice of someone used to being obeyed.
Vesa stopped. Froze. Felt his insides clench and his skin prickle with fear. She'd known all along that he was there.
Suddenly it was clear why the birds were singing so loudly today.
He knew who this was.
The woman set her comb down. She rose from her seat, mossy hair spilling over her shoulders and breast and down her back. Her shawl draped over her arms like wings.
"Come here so I can have a look at you."
With deep breaths and careful strides, he went, fighting down the desire to turn and run. If he ran, if he so much as turned, he was sure he would die.
This one didn't like rejection.
Vesa stepped out from the trees and into the clearing. The woman put up a hand, and he halted, waiting.
She was the one who closed the distance between them.
Strong, quick steps, moving until she stood right in front of him. She was so tall that he had to tilt his head up to look at her.
The forest queen stared down at him with her unreadable eyes. Then she put a hand on his shoulder, and forced him backward until his back touched the trunk of a tree.
One long finger traced the strap on his crossbow, brushing over his chest in a gesture that made him sick with fear. He could hardly hear the command to take it off over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears. Wordlessly, he obeyed, slipping his bow and quiver from his shoulders, resting both on the forest floor. Then he looked to her again, feeling that he should speak, and not knowing what to say. Wondering if he should ask if he should completely disarm himself. Even if he could put it into words, he felt as if his tongue were plastered to the roof of his mouth.
A troll would have been less frightening. Trolls were something he expected to find, even in the parts of the forest that had been cleared. Dealing with trolls was part of his day job. But this...
Gods were another thing entirely.
She lifted a hand to cup his face, tilt his chin up. Her sharp eyes stared down at him, seeming almost to look straight through him. Vesa looked back and tried to push his fear down, wrap it up and put it away.
But he couldn't help being terrified. Not if this was who he thought it was. He had heard stories of men who had encountered the forest queen, and how she did whatever she wanted with them, and how she reacted if her attention was refused.
The woman dipped her head, moving to whisper by his ear in a voice like rain on pine needles.
"I know that you know what is in this forest," she said. "I can tell by the way you move through it."
It didn't seem like a question, so Vesa said nothing, biting at his lower lip to force himself silent.
She was so close. So incredibly, terribly close – and as he thought that, she stepped closer, trapping him between her body and the tree. He could feel the soft curve of her body through her clothing. The proximity sent a heady warmth creeping over his cheeks.
"Do you understand why you can walk through this forest?"
The words were like a splash of cold water. Vesa's eyes snapped over as the fear rushed through him again.
It wouldn't do to give her the wrong answer.
"I..." He wet his lips, and tried again, speaking as carefully as possible, hoping his voice wouldn't shake. "I can get through with the permission of the one who rules over it. With your permission," he added, his voice little more than a breath.
"You understand who you are speaking to? Then you must also understand that your safety lies only with me." Her thumb brushed against his lips, pressing them shut. "No one else can grant you passage through my forest. No one else can shelter you from what would attack you. Your skill alone wouldn't be enough to help you. This place would swallow you if I allowed it."
Vesa thought it sounded as if she would swallow him herself; there were edges in her voice. It had claws. She would rip him apart if he gave her a reason to. As her fingers moved from his lips to instead trail over his throat, Vesa swallowed harshly and tried to reply. "I wouldn't ask anyone but you," he said, speaking as steadily as he could, and stumbling over his words anyway. "You're the only one I'd – I wouldn't ask anyone else for safe passage in your forest, Tapiotar."
She didn't answer. Only drew away a little, saying nothing, staring down at Vesa as if assessing him with those strange, unsettling eyes.
One of her hands slid to the back of his head, untying the cords in his hair, making it fall. For a moment, she slipped her fingers through it, stroking it out until it hung in loose waves down his back.
He didn't dare look away from her. There was something hungry in the way she looked at him, and when he blinked he saw the hawk in her face, saw the owl.
Then he blinked again, and the image was gone, the feeling was gone, and he saw her again as she had appeared to him: a beautiful woman with mossy hair and feathery tufts on top of her head and unnerving eyes.
"Safe passage comes at a price," Tapiotar said, and as she spoke Vesa became more aware than ever of the hand on his face, the press of her body, the soft green scent of her.
She closed the distance between them. Forced him to tilt his head back. Pressed her mouth to his.
The moment he'd realized who she was, he'd expected something like this, but hadn't dared to imagine the way her lips might feel.
Soft as flower petals. Full as ripe berries.
He gasped into the kiss and felt the sweep of her tongue, became aware once again of the soft shape of her body. As she pinned him against the tree, he found himself flushing despite his fear, hands rising with trembling fingers to settle hesitantly at her waist.
Oh, no.
He'd heard the stories about Tapiotar. If this continued the way those did, it wouldn't go well.
She parted from him for a moment, and he tried to speak, his voice a hazy rush.
"Wait – I can't do this – "
Oh no, Vesa thought again, as he saw her eyes flashing, felt her hand slide from his face to his throat. Once again, he had the impression of talons.
"What?" she demanded, her voice sharp. Stone against roots.
"I..." Vesa swallowed harshly, too aware of the strength of her fingers gripping his throat. "I will do everything you tell me to, if I can," he said, speaking as slowly as he could. "But I can't – um – " A deep breath. "I'm not like other men. My body isn't right. If you want more than a kiss, I don't think I'll be able to do everything you want. I'm sorry."
Tapiotar stared at him, her expression unreadable. Vesa closed his eyes, expecting the worst.
She'll kill me, he thought. She'll do it. There's no way I can do what she wants –
He felt her by his ear, hot breath fluttering against it, her soft hair brushing his cheek. "Tell me," she said. "Do you have hands?"
Vesa's eyes popped open. "What?"
"I said, do you have hands? Don't make me repeat myself again."
"I – yes? Yes, I do." In fact, he was all too aware of his hands, which were resting at her waist as if they had a right to be there.
She moved to look at him again. Once again she cupped his face to force his head upward, making him look her in the eye. Her thumb grazed his lower lip and lingered there. "And you have a mouth, I see."
"...Yes."
"It's enough. You'll do."
She dipped her head and pressed her mouth to his again. And as she wound her fingers in his hair, Vesa felt as if he might faint.
He was grateful for the tree at his back. Even as he slid his arms more securely around the forest queen's waist, drawing her closely to him, he felt as if without the support he wouldn't be able to stay upright.
She hadn't let him go, but she hadn't killed him, either.
Not yet, Vesa told himself. She still might. If she changed her mind. In spite of her warmth and the softness of her mouth, he couldn't help but worry about what would come next.
He couldn't. He'd never -
But worrying about it wouldn't get him anywhere.
Think of it as another job, Vesa told himself. Do your job.
Slowly, he drew in a breath. Let it out. Returned her kiss properly, because at the very least, he could manage that. After a moment, he let go of her, just long enough to slip off his gloves.
Then he settled his hands on her again. Drew her close again. Let his hands fall lower, now able to feel the softness of the barely-there fabric she wore, the warmth of her body, the broadness of her hips. He breathed in the scent of fresh greenery.
Thinking came more easily now. It was like no job Vesa had ever had, but it was a job, the kind that needed planning and care. Like tracking a beast for hours before finally taking it down. So....
He gently slid his palms along her hips, careful now, observing her reactions to his touch. Drew in a sharp gasp when she broke the kiss, then returned it full and firm as she kissed him again. Gradually, he came to realize how she stood: pressed against him, but also bending over him, with her feet apart.
It gave him an idea. And as he brushed his tongue over her lips and felt her gasp against his mouth, he decided that while this seemed like an impossible task, at least he could guess at where to start.
Coiling his arms around her, he broke the kiss and drew away enough to stare up into her strange, unnerving eyes. Tapiotar looked back at him, her expression hard to read, until she tilted her head, curious, as if to ask, "Well?"
Vesa gathered his courage, and turned.
She moved with him, letting him guide and move her until she was in his place, pressed against the tree. Unlike him, she seemed to fit comfortably against it, lounging instead of stiffly pinned. And that, he felt, was fitting enough. It was a part of her, after all, in a way.
Tapiotar draped her arms over his shoulders, looking at him with her hawk's eyes. From here, he could see her properly, take in the sight of her. The thick wave of her dark green hair. The shade of her skin, the colour of fresh shoots. The shape of her beneath her clothing, drapes falling silky and transparent over full, round breasts. Vesa flushed scarlet, and pulled his gaze upward.
He kissed her again. It was all he could think of doing. Pressed his mouth against hers while he pressed her firmly against the tree. As she gripped his hair he slid his tongue against her lips, found her mouth soft and open and waiting, and took the invitation of her open-mouthed kiss to slide inside of her.
He felt her pull him. Became conscious, once again, of the placement of her feet, how she stood with them open on either side of him. For a moment he allowed himself to fantasize about how it might feel to have her thighs wrapped around his waist, as he had her against the tree.
Even if everything else had been ideal, the thought seemed like a bit of a stretch.
But....
Vesa could feel the softness of her mouth against his. The way she was open, welcoming him, letting his tongue seek out all the sensitive parts of her mouth. He grazed delicately against the inside of her lips and felt her moan.
Slowly, Vesa broke the kiss. He could feel his cheeks burning, feel the flush spreading along his ears and throat. He was conscious of her hands in his hair, of the roundness of her breasts, of how she seemed to hardly be wearing anything at all. And he was aware, too, of how his body fit between her thighs, how widely her feet were placed.
Without another thought, he sank to his knees.
The firmness of the forest floor grounded him. And she was above him, ready for him, lifting the hem of her clothes with one hand and lightly touching his head with the other, stroking at his hair with a touch more gentle than he expected.
For a moment, Vesa rested his cheek against her thigh, closing his eyes against the surprising coolness of her skin. Then he felt fingers twining in his hair. Not pulling, not yet, but it was clear she would if he took any longer.
Vesa took a deep breath. Wet his lips.
Then he tilted his head upward, and obeyed.
He had only ever imagined doing something like this. Gently, he braced his hands against the smooth pillars of her thighs, and parted his lips to feel his way with slow sweeps of his tongue. As he slid it over the firm, round rise he'd been looking for, he felt her sigh and shiver.
Vesa smiled in spite of himself.
He could do this.
What had seemed impossible suddenly wasn't. Vesa paid attention to her hands in his hair, the way her grip on him tightened as he stroked at her clit with his mouth. He could feel her thighs shivering under his hands. He listened, taking note of how she sucked in a breath as he sucked at her. How she let out a soft, low sound, which sounded like a coo, but must have been a moan.
He remembered what she said. "You have hands, don't you?"
He did.
He decided to use them.
Trailing fingertips upward, he let them slide over the soft, smooth skin of her thigh. Let them move, let them brush. For only a moment, he paused, ceasing his mouth's caresses to stroke with his fingertips instead.
His two fingers slipped inside of her easily, plunging into slick wet heat, and as he curved them inside of her he ached at the thought of what it could have been. Should have been. But –
The forest queen's hands tightened in his hair, and Vesa held back a groan as he returned his mouth to its work and slid the flat of his tongue over, over, over, sweeping at her clit with broad strokes.
Maybe it was better this way.
She might let him leave in one piece. If he pleased her enough. If he satisfied her enough with his mouth, his hands, since he couldn't do anything more than that and she knew it.
Maybe he had half a chance.
He listened. Paid attention. Followed the sounds of her gasps, her moans, and those soft low noises that he couldn't identify. Noted when she gripped at him, sinking her fingers so tightly into his hair, and kept doing what brought that reaction, even if it made him ache. And he slipped into her the only way he knew how, deep, then shallow, then deep, lingering at the sensitive entrance to her cunt before slowly thrusting his fingers inside her again, making sure she would feel it. And all the while, he swept his tongue over her, mouthed at her to bring her over.
When she came the only notice he had was fingernails digging into his scalp and strong hands pressing his face to her crotch. Then the tight clenching around his fingers, gripping him. Her soft thighs trembling on either side of him. Delicate fabric fell across his shoulders as she dropped the hem of her clothing and pressed her hands against the tree for support.
Vesa licked her. Stroked her through it. Slipped his fingers in and out of her until the throbbing eased and he was sure she was finished.
Then he drew away, sitting back on his heels, carefully lifting the fabric of her dress and letting it fall. He was panting, his cheeks flushed, hair falling in his face. Vesa pushed it back, tucking the long strands behind his ear. Wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.
Then he looked up at her.
The forest queen's eyes were closed, lashes fluttering, lips parted as she drew in a long, slow breath. Then she opened her eyes completely, and stared down at him with that strange, hungry look that he had seen on her before. Like she could tear him apart if she wanted. Like she could devour him if she wanted.
Vesa knew, beyond any doubt, that she could.
He waited, watching for some sign that he could leave, hoping for some command to go. But when she spoke, she said nothing of the sort.
"Go over there," Tapiotar said, her breath-thick voice like wind on flower petals. "Into the sunlight. I want to see you properly."
He didn't understand why, but he knew better than to question it. So Vesa moved from the shade of the tree, feeling flushed and unsure and worried. She hadn't told him to leave. But she hadn't reacted badly, either.
He tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he stepped into the clearing, filled with warmth and wildflowers. Though he was still fully-dressed, he suddenly felt exposed, all too aware of the way his hair fell, how warm his cheeks were, how flustered he still must look. How wrong he looked.
She hadn't told him to leave.
Vesa turned back to where she was. As he watched, Tapiotar emerged from the shade. She looked unreal, the sun falling on her like light on a lake. It caught in her clothing and her soft green hair, making it shine.
She closed the distance between them in a few short strides. Vesa parted his lips to speak, to ask her why – but as she cupped his face, he thought better of it.
Saying nothing, she looked him over, turning his head one way and then the other, as if she really did want to look at him. Then she leaned in close, speaking by his ear. "Get on the ground."
He could do nothing but obey her. So he sank down – and she followed, joining him on the flower-covered grass. The sharp look she gave him killed any word he might have said.
It wouldn't do to ask questions.
So he stayed quiet as she looked him over, as she slid her fingers through his hair, as she took him in with appraising eyes. He let her trail her fingertips over his shoulders, dip them lower to slide along his thighs. Biting his lip to keep silent, he tried to concentrate on the scent of the clearing around them, the warmth of the sun - anything but the bizarre situation he had found himself in.
Despite his uncertainty, he couldn't stop looking at her. The forest queen's bird-eyes were unreadable, but there were other ways to guess what she might be thinking. The way her ear-tufts flicked curiously as she stroked at his face. The way a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, as if she was pleased with what she saw. He took in the way her hair spilled over her shoulders and throat and breasts, cascading softly over the swell of them. And when he realized just where he was staring, he lifted his gaze to her face again, feeling himself blush and hoping it wouldn't be obvious.
She was still staring at him, with that same pleased look on her face as before. And then, she moved.
Before Vesa realized what she was doing, she was over him.
As she straddled his lap, his hands went to her waist, settling lightly - too lightly. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and as she pressed close Vesa found himself blushing again, because it was impossible not to stare now, not with the fullness of her breast at the level of his eyes.
Tapiotar's strong fingers wrapped in his hair. Forced him to tilt his head upward.
He obeyed, and met her mouth, the berryskin-softness of her lips. Listened to her sigh, and felt her mouth open against his. The grip she had on his hair was gentler now, stroking, slipping through the strands as if she loved the way it felt between her fingers.
Vesa let his hands slide. Gave in to the urge to slip them upward. Flat along her back, brushing fingers along her spine. Open-palmed along her side. She was soft and relaxed under his touch, so he dared to trail one hand up over the translucent cobweb-thin clothing, moving until he felt the swell of her breast against his palm.
When her mouth opened against his, he slipped into her, obeying the silent command. He shivered as he felt her sucking at his tongue, the slick dampness of her mouth making him imagine her doing the same elsewhere. And when he stroked her breasts, cupping them in his hands, rolling over nipples with his thumbs, he felt her moan against his mouth. Felt her rock down as if to grind against something that wasn't there.
Right, then.
Vesa broke the kiss and dipped his head, pressing his face against her neck, letting his eyes fall shut. He took in the weight of her on top of him, the way she fit so well over his hips.
It wouldn't do to dwell on any of that.
Better to distract himself. And he did, letting his mouth graze her throat, kissing softly, and listening until he heard her sigh. Dipping down, trailing over the fresh pale pillar of her neck. Brushing along the dip of her collarbone. Then further.
The fabric of her clothing was loose, held in place with only a soft cord. He hesitated, unsure, lingering a hand above where it was tied, unsure what to do.
It was as if she knew what he wanted, as she released her hold on him long enough to loosen that cord, ease the fabric, letting it shift to slip from its place and expose everything to the air, his hands, his mouth. Her lips grazed his temple, then his forehead, and she murmured something that might have been "Go on," but Vesa was already making his way down, dipping his head to brush his lips against the curve of her breast.
It took little work, now, to slip his fingertips past that silky fabric and slide them over what he found there. Cup her with both hands, feel the fullness of her breasts, the hard press of her nipples against his palms. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders he could hear her sighing. She arched against him, straightened in such a way that it was so easy to duck his head, grazing his mouth against the softness of her chest until he could sweep his tongue over her nipples and feel her shiver in his arms.
As he rolled a thumb over that firmness Vesa knew his cheeks were burning. He was sure she could feel that heat. But he couldn't help it, not with the way they were, with her strong thighs on either side of his hips, and his mouth at her soft, round breast, and her fingers in his hair.
He ached for her. With every sound she made, every soft gasp as he caressed her with his hands and mouth, he wanted her more. If only.
He would have to make do with what he had.
Slowly, slowly, he let one hand fall, dipping it low. For a moment he slid it along her thigh, squeezing at the soft flesh before daring to drop his fingers beneath the silky fabric of her clothing.
She was dripping wet. Vesa slid his fingertips along her folds, surprised at how slick she was. He wondered how much of that was from his mouth, and how much of it was her alone.
Drawing a breath, he lifted his head to nose along her neck again and brush soft kisses over her throat, listening carefully to the sounds she made. The quickness of her breathing. Her soft sighs. She had stopped stroking his hair in favour of gripping his shoulders to steady herself as she pressed down against his hand.
Vesa tried to think.
It wasn't easy.
After the work he had done on her only a few moments ago, she was sure to be sensitive. Even with how slick she was, how wet she was, how eager she was, it would be too easy to give her too much.
He took his time, avoiding her clit entirely as he led with gentle sweeps of two fingers. Stroking with care around her hot, wet entrance, he eased inside, pressing the pads of his fingers into her.
To his surprise, she grabbed at his hair, dug her fingers into his shoulders. Dipped her head to bite sharply at his ear, making him gasp.
"Put it in. Now," she growled, her voice flint against roots, the sharpness in her voice gripping him. He didn't want to think about what she'd do if he didn't do as she ordered.
Obediently, he slipped his fingers into her, pressed both of them inside, firm and deep. When she sighed – let out a soft satisfied sound, murmured something he couldn't quite hear – some of the fear ebbed away. And when her hold on him eased, long fingers stroking over his shoulders and slipping through his hair, Vesa found himself relaxing again.
He could do this. He could manage this. And if he did it right, she would let him go.
Vesa pressed his mouth to her throat. Trailed soft kisses there, nuzzling there, appreciating the softness of her skin against his mouth. The way her arms coiled around him. The way her mossy hair felt against his cheek. The fresh green smell of her. How it felt to have her over him, the warmth of her against him, the smoothness of her thighs, the shape of her under his fingertips as he dipped his free hand to let it trail along her hip, her thigh, taking in the soft curve of her.
She was rolling her hips, rocking down onto his fingers as he thrust them up into her. He could hear the slick wet sounds as she moved, and it made him feel that ache again. Vesa pressed his face into the forest queen's shoulder and let out a soft huff of frustration as he imagined what it would be like to have her ride him. To grip her hips with both hands and thrust into her, to feel that slick heat with more than just his fingers –
Stop, he told himself, biting down onto his lower lip. Don't think about it. Concentrate on what you need to do.
She was sighing. Quick breaths. Soft. But it wasn't like he had heard before, not when he had her against the tree. She wasn't close, not close enough.
What else? Vesa cast around desperately for an idea, nuzzling along her throat as he went. Experimentally, he curved his fingers inside her, and felt her fingers press against him, digging into the sore spots left from where she had threatened him. When she had ordered him to put himself inside of her.
Vesa's eyes fluttered open. Maybe – she was so relaxed and wet, maybe if he gave her more –
His hand shook as he slid his fingers out of her. He listened, heard the frustrated groan that slipped from Tapiotar's mouth as he stroked over her clit. Then he slipped into her again, easing three fingers inside that slick, eager heat.
He heard her gasp, then felt her gripping his hair, grabbing him, pulling him – jerking his head back as she ducked her head to meet his mouth, kissing him full and firm and open.
Oh –
He felt her moan against him. Gasped as she sucked at his lower lip, and found himself groaning, though whether it was from her kiss or from his own frustrating, throbbing ache he couldn't be sure. Giving in to her, he let her have his mouth, let her suck at his tongue, took in how she shuddered and groaned as she fucked herself against his hand.
It didn't take long after that. Vesa endured it, kissing her through it as her fingers twisted in his hair and her hips rolled against him. He thrust his fingers into her again and again until finally he felt her clench around them, until she clung to him and moaned so incredibly loud.
Eventually, the forest queen eased her hold on him. As Tapiotar nuzzled kisses to his cheek, Vesa realized her face was warm, blushing as deeply as his own. She breathed deep and long and slow as she came down from her orgasm.
Gently, Vesa slid his fingers from her, trailing slick fingertips along her bare thigh, lifting his hands to rest them lightly at her waist while he waited, wondering what would happen next.
He didn't dare ask.
If she was satisfied with that – if she was going to let him go – then he knew that she would say it herself.
A gentle touch along his jaw bade him tilt his head up to look at her. Tapiotar's inhuman eyes were half-open, lazy, contented. There was a softness in her round face. As Vesa looked at her, she tilted her head to the side, as if considering something. Then she dipped her head and pressed her mouth to his.
It was a soft kiss, but there was still something commanding in it. Vesa returned it just as softly, yielding to her in silent hope that when she broke it to speak, she would finally tell him to go.
Not that he disliked it. If it had been anyone else, any other woman –
But if it were any other woman, he wouldn't be doing this out in the forest, with all its dangers. He would take her home, and he would have her in his bed. And if she stayed the night, he would make her breakfast in the morning. Or at least, that was how he imagined it would go.
But this was no ordinary woman.
This was not a human.
And suddenly, he was painfully aware of the sunlight, and the grassy clearing around him, and the sound of birdsong. He remembered how exposed he was, and just who exactly was straddling his lap.
As terror rose up inside of him, Vesa desperately tried to shove it down again. He slid his arms around the forest queen's waist, holding her more firmly. Kissed her, open-mouthed, offering.
She hadn't let him go yet.
What more could she possibly want?
If she knew what he was thinking, she gave no sign of it. She just kissed him, her cheeks still surprisingly warm. Then, finally, she drew away, looking down at him with her hungry hawk's eyes. As she stroked his face, Vesa waited, tilting his head to kiss at her palm, trying to quell his panic.
Finally, she moved. Wordlessly, her hands went to his shoulders, and to his surprise, she pushed him back. Following her lead, he fell back onto the grass and wildflowers, and as he stared up at her he knew she wasn't done with him.
The forest queen bent to kiss him again, her hair falling like a curtain around his face. Vesa sighed against her mouth, letting her do as she liked. She was still soft against him, her movements slow and languid, her mouth pliant.
Tapiotar broke the kiss eventually. Lingered by his mouth, dipping her head to nose at him. Vesa's breath caught as he waited for her to speak.
He felt like a mouse trapped in an owl's claws.
"Keep your mouth open," she said near his ear.
Confused, Vesa parted his lips for her. He waited as she drew away from him, and he let his hands fall to her hips.
He didn't understand what she had in mind for him.
He didn't have to wait for long.
Palms on the grass on either side of his head. A long, deep breath. Then she edged forward, moving from where she had straddled his hips, until her thighs were on either side of his head.
Vesa's eyes widened.
It was suddenly very obvious why she had told him to keep his mouth open.
As she lowered herself onto him, his hands moved to brace her, holding her by the thighs, hips, ass. He closed his eyes and tasted her, swept his tongue over her. Above him, she sighed, shifting to make herself more comfortable over him. Vesa felt her fingers coil in his hair, felt the smoothness of her thigh against his cheek.
Vesa knew he had a problem.
Tapiotar had him trapped, helpless between her legs. It was hard to breathe, pinned as he was, and he wondered if this was how she meant to kill him.
What a way to go.
But he remembered some of the looks she had given him. Those sharp, hungry looks. As he stroked her with his tongue, Vesa decided that if she'd wanted to kill him, it wouldn't be like this. Smothering him to death didn't seem like her style.
His mouth was tired from earlier. When he'd sunk to his knees in front of her, thinking he would only have to service her once, he'd given it his all. But there wasn't any way to get around it, so he would do his best.
All right, then.
He let his tongue sweep over her. Stroking warm, slick, circling her clit. He pressed it inside of her and heard her gasp, felt her shiver under his hands as he fucked her with it. She murmured something, breathed some word of approval that he couldn't quite hear. Then she covered his hands with her own, and moved them.
She guided his hands along her thighs, her hips. Drew them up to her breasts. For a moment he felt softness against them – kisses against his knuckles. Then she pressed them to her breasts again, arched against his palms.
It became easier, after a while, to breathe under her. She rolled her hips in time with his stroking; arched and rocked down onto his mouth. It was easy, after he realized this, to grasp at her, to stroke her with his hands while he stroked at her with his tongue. Lick her and make her shiver. Suck at her clit and roll her nipples against his thumbs. Above him he could hear her gasping, could hear that soft, low, cooing sound from before. She sounded pleased, she sounded – delighted –
She wasn't going to kill him. Not yet.
When he realized this, Vesa relaxed under her. Sighed against her cunt. Pressed his tongue into her again, tasting her, listening again as she gasped.
If he'd had his way – if he'd been capable of it – he'd have had her with more than his hands, more than his mouth. He'd have had her against the tree, or in his lap, gripping her by the hips as she rocked down onto him, her legs wrapped around him. And if he'd had that, he would be tasting more than just her –
Vesa's cheeks flushed scarlet and he held back a groan. It wouldn't do to think of it, it didn't matter, but – he couldn't shake the thought of licking himself out of her.
His hands shook as he let them slide down to her hips. Down from her breasts, down over the silky softness of her barely-there clothing, down to the broadness of her hips where he gripped her, held her steady. He licked her and listened to her moaning and thought once again of tasting himself inside of her.
Dazed by the thought, he devoured her.
He was aware of little aside from the soft sounds she made, the hot wetness against his mouth, the sensation of her gripping his hair. He could feel pressure as she rolled down against his mouth, and then it was hard to breathe, and he gasped against her until she lifted again. His tongue ached, but still he stroked at her, as if he could lick every trace of himself from her, every drop of imagined come from inside of her.
Digging his fingers into her hips, he held her there so she couldn't move away. And as he pursed his lips and sucked at her clit slowly, deeply, her gasps turned sharp and high, and her thighs trembled, and she pressed down so hard against his mouth that he saw stars.
When she finally pulled away from him, it took Vesa a moment to register what was happening. Strong fingers pulled his hands from her hips and let them fall. The weight was off him as she lifted herself from his face. He felt the edge of her garment brush his cheek as she moved away.
Then there was warmth by his side, a softness pressing against him. Gentle fingers wiping a bit of moisture from his mouth.
Vesa opened his eyes.
"Enough," Tapiotar whispered. "That's enough."
Her voice was shaking. Vesa decided not to comment on it. He sighed as she brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and when she curled up beside him, he didn't move, and didn't say anything.
After all that, his tongue ached, and he half-wondered if it might fall off.
Warmth brushed his neck as the forest queen nuzzled against him. There was something slow about her now, something content. Vesa wondered if he should dare to hope that she had meant it when she said 'that's enough'.
Dazed, all he could do now was stare upward at the blue shell of the sky. Her nose was pressed against his throat, one long arm draped over his waist. He lifted a hand to touch her hair, and as she sighed, tilting her head against him, he began to stroke it. It was soft under his touch. She was soft against him, loose and warm.
And still, Tapiotar hadn't given him leave to go.
That, Vesa thought, was a problem. As he breathed in the fresh scent of the clearing, bright and green, he wondered if he should say something about it. If he even dared to open the question.
...No. He didn't. Not in the least. The forest queen would let him leave when it suited her. There was only one way he would be able to get home safely, and that would be if she granted him permission to go.
There was no other way.
Vesa stroked at her hair and tried not to think about it. By her content sighs, he could guess – could hope, at least – that eventually....
After a while, Tapiotar shifted beside him, lifting her head to nuzzle at his cheek. Brushed a kiss to his cheek, then his mouth. It was soft, little more than a touch, and as Vesa kissed back he felt her slip a hand beneath his head, cushioning his skull against the ground.
What more could she want? His insides turned. If she wanted his mouth again, he didn't know if he could –
But she didn't press him. She didn't deepen the kiss, either. After a moment, she nosed along his throat, pausing at the edge of the collar of his clothing.
Vesa closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and did his best not to sigh from relief.
If she was going to let it be, then he didn't mind that, though the worry still lingered in the back of his mind. But she would let him go. She would. Sooner or later.
Might as well relax and wait, then, he thought.
It wasn't hard to appreciate the softness of her hair under his fingertips, nor how she cradled the back of his head with her palm. The warm air at his throat was... pleasant. Her mouth at his jaw, the slightest graze of kiss-softened lips.
There was something calming about her warm body, her soft presence.
When she kissed him again, he kissed back, pliant against her. The fear, while not gone, was tucked away. It seemed like the queen had her fill, and now that she wasn't pushing him, all of it was easier. To a point.
Slowly, Vesa twined his fingers in her hair. Slipped them through it, stroking at the soft strands. When her tongue brushed his lips, he hesitated – then opened for her. Still she was soft, slow, gentle, and the slight tension and wariness he had felt ebbed away. So he took in the warmth of her mouth, the way her breasts pressed against him as she shifted to hold him more firmly.
He sank into that, down, down, down, and let her do as she liked.
She broke from him. Eventually. Ended the kiss but stayed close, her breath fluttering over his cheek like a kiss.
Vesa cracked his eyes open.
He stared up into her strange, inhuman eyes, losing himself in the blueness of them. She did nothing, said nothing.
Then she moved, lifting a hand to gently take hold of his.
There was something about the way she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it that made him blush. Something about the softness of her lips against his knuckles, something about the way her eyes fell partway closed. Vesa watched her as she grazed her mouth along the length of his fingers, unable to tear his eyes away from her. And when she kissed at his fingertips, the sight made him suck in a breath.
Tapiotar's gaze darted over to him. For a moment she held him, pinning him under that unwavering look, watching him with her mouth against his fingertips. It wasn't easy to read her expression, but there was a slight upturn to the corners of her lips, a barely-there playfulness on her face.
Vesa's eyes widened. He stared at her, unable to look away as she took two of his fingers into her mouth.
As she dipped her head, they slipped past the plush softness of her lips and into her hot, slick mouth. While he watched, her eyes drifted completely shut, dark lashes dropping low, masking their unnerving colour as she slid her mouth down – to the knuckle, then up to stroke his fingertips, then dipping low, further, further, all the way to the base and back. Then again, again, again, her tongue sliding below, and between, brushing against sensitive skin all the way.
Dazed, Vesa closed his eyes and rested his head back against her hand, concentrating on the sensation of her soft lips wrapped around his fingers. If he let his imagination go, he could picture it – almost feel it – the sensation so much lower, her head between his legs, her strong hand holding him down at the hips as she took his cock deep into her mouth. He could hear her breathing, thick and heavy, and as she dipped her head again, slick mouth sliding lower once more, he had to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning.
If only he could get off from this alone. He felt as if he were halfway there already from nothing more than the sensation of her tongue sliding over the pads of his fingers. If only he could beg her for privacy, just long enough to finish himself off. It would take minutes. And then, once again, he would do whatever she wanted. Bow to her. Get on his knees for her. Lick her until his jaw ached. But his tongue was pinned in his mouth, and he couldn't speak.
Vesa barely noticed when she let go of his wrist. He concentrated only on her mouth, her soft breath against the web of his fingers. He hardly felt her sliding her hand down along his hip.
But he did notice when she went to work at getting his trousers open.
Vesa's eyes snapped open. He stared upward, lips parted, but not a single word slipped out of his mouth. Not wait or but or even stop.
Tapiotar got his clothing open with practiced ease. Then she dipped her hand low. Slipped past fabric and into his trousers and between his legs, and at that, all Vesa could do was shut his eyes tightly and take a deep breath.
He had never allowed anyone to do that. Never. In the few situations where the subject came up, he'd managed to sidestep it with a few words and a shy smile. Saying he only liked to give, and never receive, got him far.
The thought of speaking now made fear flare up in him. No. If he said anything, if he refused her, she could rip him open from crotch to cranium, he was sure of it.
Let her do it, Vesa told himself. Let her do whatever she wants to you.
He breathed long and slow and deep, and let her.
Plush lips over his knuckles, over the pads of his fingers, tongue sweeping and stroking. After a moment, he realized her hand was working in time with her mouth. Touching him in time with the slide of her tongue, her fingertips drifting low – pressing – slipping slickly into him. And when she slid her mouth to suck at him, her own fingertips moved too, sliding upward to stroke him, circle slowly around the hard, sensitive rise, until once again she took him deep.
And again, and again, and again.
Vesa breathed. Relaxed under her and, after a moment, edged his thighs apart to give her better access to him. And when, after a while, he felt her mouth leave his fingers with a final kiss to the tips, he anticipated her lips would find his, and accepted it.
Her mouth was soft and slick against his, but the kiss was gentle, tender, her hand carefully cradling his head against the ground. As her hair fell to brush against his cheek, Vesa moved to push it back, then stroked at her mossy head almost shyly while her hand below stroked and slid, gently working at him. Sliding along him. Dipping into him, her long fingers fitting inside him so easily.
He whimpered against her mouth. Though the sound was muffled by her lips, he knew she could feel it. Maybe her mouth turned up at the corners. There was something about the way she sighed against his lips that sounded so satisfied.
And she kept going. Steady sweeps with the pads of her fingers, in, and then up, and he knew that, though his arousal hadn't been physically obvious, she must have somehow sensed his half-desperate wish to get himself off.
As he let her kiss him, Vesa found he had fewer objections to it all than he'd expected. If this was going to happen, it might as well be like this. He gave himself up to her, the fresh forest scent of her hair, the gentleness of her hand under his head. The way her hair felt under his fingertips, thick waves of dark green. The way her mouth opened against his own, the way it felt to slide his tongue past her kiss-softened lips to let her suck at him.
He found he could let his imagination go – again – and take the sensation of her hand between his legs, and make it into something else, the methodical stroking from the pads of her fingers becoming the roll of her thumb as she teased the head of his cock, slick from wanting her all this time. And she stroked, and he arched, and wanted her, and lifted his hips, pressing into her hand.
When he came he hardly made a sound against her mouth.
She broke the kiss, left him gasping, dazed, still grinding desperately into her. And she didn't stop at first – wouldn't – and for a moment he wondered, half-horrified, if she would force him to come again.
But the pressure eased, and the last of his shudders faded, and he didn't have anything to worry about at all.
She removed her hand from his trousers, re-fastened his clothing for him. Nestled herself against him with her nose pressed lightly to his throat, nuzzling in a way more affectionate than expected.
Vesa stared upward, taking one long, low breath after another, more dazed than he had ever felt in his life. At a loss for what to say, he stroked her hair, and heard her sigh against him.
It was impossible to know what to say. Vesa ran through his options. What did someone say in a situation like this? 'Thank you'? 'Are we finished'? 'Can I leave now'? 'You didn't have to do that last bit, I could have finished myself off'?
Unable to think of anything that wasn't likely to put her in a foul mood, Vesa decided it was best to keep quiet.
Better to rest. To take in the scent of the grass. The blueness of the sky. The sound of birdsong. The warmth of her body next to his, softness curled close to his side, her arm draped lazily over his waist.
Tapiotar was the one to speak, her words soft and slow and content. "Your traps are empty," she said, her lips grazing over his throat.
Vesa blinked, suddenly remembering why he had come into the forest in the first place. This distraction was something he never could have planned for, and from the moment he'd stepped into the forest queen's clearing, his trapline had been the furthest thing from his mind. "...I see," he said, not knowing what else to say.
"You're to go back the way you came."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Tapiotar sat up slowly, yawning. She shook her long green hair, brushed it out of her face. Then she held out a hand, bidding him to take it, and he did, sitting up with her.
She watched him, her gaze appraising, but not hungry in the way it had been before. Vesa met her eyes, let her hold him for a moment. She was the one to look away, sweeping her glance from his face to his hair, then moving to brush away some leaves that had become tangled in it.
Without another word, she dropped a hand and dipped it into Vesa's pocket, fishing out a cord to tie his hair with before he could even ask what she was doing. "Turn around," she said, and he did.
Her long fingers made him shiver as they stroked through his hair, brushing against the back of his neck. Vesa bit his lower lip and decided that he didn't dare to object. Better to let her do as she pleased, better to take her time with letting him go, because if he angered her, then she might change her mind, even after he'd done everything she'd asked of him.
She wound his hair carefully, tied it up tight and secure. Finally her hands dropped, trailing fingertips along his shoulders. She leaned in close, nuzzled by his ear.
"You are to go now," she said, her breath brushing against his ear like wind on leaves.
"...Thank you," Vesa said softly, unsure of what else to say.
The forest queen leaned in closer. Slid her hands down, trailing along his arms, gripping him as her lips brushed his ear. "When you leave," she said, "don't turn around until you reach the lakeshore. Don't look back."
Vesa licked his lower lip. What would he see if he did look back? He didn't dare ask, but his mind supplied some suggestions, all of them horrible.
Maybe he would only see her. He thought of that, and knew that if he did something she had told him not to, then looking back and seeing her would be worse than anything his mind could come up with.
"Understood," he said weakly. "Completely."
She pressed a kiss against his hair.
Then she let go.
He heard her rise. Heard her footsteps, soft on the wildflowers.
Then he heard nothing else but birdsong.
For a moment, Vesa stayed where he was, listening to the birds, straining to hear something else. Wondering if she was still there, watching him. He wasn't going to turn around to check.
But he heard only the birds, and the sound of the leaves rustling above as a breeze stirred them.
Rising, he went to where he had entered the clearing, bending to pick up the things he had dropped there, the weapons he had removed on her orders. He knew that with her watching, no troll would dare attack.
He re-armed himself anyway, taking care that everything was in its place and at the ready, reasoning that while he might be under divine supervision, there was no need to act any differently than normal.
At the mouth of the clearing, he hesitated, stopping a moment to think. What had happened hardly felt real, but the ache in his jaw was impossible to deny, to say nothing of the orgasm-induced headiness he felt, and the unfortunate moist sensation in his trousers. What had happened had... happened.
I'll go home, Vesa thought. And I won't tell anyone about this. Ever.
No one would believe it, anyway.
The forest was as it had been, fresh and green-smelling, sunlight dappling the path in front of him. In a moment, he found his way again, and he began picking through the wood, moving as he always did: quickly and silently.
Just as the forest queen had told him, nothing bothered him as he made his way back to the lakeshore. The traps were empty, and the path was clear, and though he listened for it, he didn't hear the tell-tale whisperings of trolls.
But all the while, he felt eyes on him. One glance up at the trees gave him the answer to that. It was as if every bird in the forest had gathered there, watching him. The canopy was heavy with songbirds, their perches dipping low under the weight of so many small, feathery bodies. From strong branches, hawks and falcons followed his movement, and from deep in their hollows, owls stared at him.
When he finally tore his gaze away and forced himself to look ahead, he felt the brush of a breeze against his cheek; the sensation of fingertips grazing his shoulders. Vesa tensed, reached for his knife, eyes wide –
But there was nothing. The sensation disappeared, the cold hands withdrawing. No sound. No attack, which there would have been if it had been a troll, or a malicious spirit, or something else he needed to worry about.
Vesa closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and counted to ten. Then, he sighed.
"What would you have done if I'd turned around?" he asked, lifting his gaze to the trees, and the hundreds of watchers there.
Wind blew, shaking the treetops. The rustle of the leaves sounded like her laughter.
Vesa shook his head and continued on, glad that she hadn't actually answered. He didn't really want to know.
When he finally stepped through the trees and onto the lakeshore, Vesa felt an immense sense of relief. There was the lake, sparkling in the sunlight. There was his boat, tied up alongside the small docking post. There were the dark shapes of the little islands rising in the water.
There were many times that he had been glad to leave the forest, but none of them were quite like this.
It wasn't until he was on the water that he dared to look at the forest. Oars in hand, Vesa lifted his head, looking toward the shore.
Nothing.
And yet... There was that breeze again, that soft hushed ruffling of the branches. And as he looked, he had the strangest feeling that someone was looking back at him, standing just beyond his sight, watching.
Vesa shivered. Looked away. Rowing from that shore, he couldn't help but be glad that he'd decided to heed her words.
With luck, it would be a long time before he stepped into that part of the forest again.
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent world + Finnish mythology
Characters/Pairing: Vesa (SSSS OC)/Tapiotar (Finnish mythology)
Rating: 18+; warning is CNTW
Length: 10K
Summary: There are many things Vesa was likely to encounter when he went out that day, but she wasn't something he expected.
Other: *This is from my SSSS OC series, so it broadly uses the world, but not any of the canon characters.
*Tapiotar is similar to the forest god Tapio; he rules over some forests, and Tapiotar rules over others. (She is not an equivalent to Mielikki.) Tapiotar is known to be sexually assertive toward men, and generally doesn't ask for their opinion on her advances.
*Beta read by CumaeanSibyl for FTH 2021 services. Thank you! <3
The Forest Queen and the Hunter
Bright day. Summer. The golden-yellow sun slipped its fingers through the trees, leaving dappled light on the forest floor. Birdsong rang loud, constant, cheery.
Vesa listened.
It was one of the ways you could tell that it was safe. If the birds weren't bothered, then he had little to worry about either, as long as he didn't go looking for trouble.
He breathed in the scent of trees and earth, and stepped deeper into the forest, following the old deer trails. Sometimes, the path disappeared, but that didn't matter; all he had to do was look again, look carefully, and it was easy to find his way.
Clearance had gone through the area years ago, working with small controlled fires to scrape out the deadwood and chase out the monsters. What they left was clean and bright, with plants rushing in to coat the forest floor in green. And as for the dangers that liked to hide in dead undergrowth, well....
There wasn't any barrier between this patch of forest and the areas the clearance teams hadn't even begun to touch. It would be a very long time before anyone would think these woods were empty of threats. Maybe it would never happen. As he made his way through, Vesa knew that there would always be a chance of finding something other than rabbits and birds in his snares.
He understood the risk. That was why, even with the light and the birdsong, he moved as silently as he could. It wouldn't do to make noise and draw attention to himself.
When he caught sight of movement through the trees, Vesa froze.
A troll? No.
There were none of the telltale signs. The voices, the strange shapes flickering at the corners of his eyes, the scent of rot. None.
And the birds kept singing, singing, singing.
Something was there.
Cautiously, Vesa made his way toward where he had seen the movement. What was it? Though he'd only had a glance, he was sure it was much too large to be a rabbit. A deer? He hadn't come into the forest expecting game of that size, but if he could bag a deer, he would be set for a while –
In a place where the trees parted, sunlight plunged down into a small clearing. He saw the soft grass, the wildflowers. He saw her.
The woman sat on a stump in the centre of the clearing, humming as she combed out her long hair.
The woman was not a woman.
The woman was not human.
Vesa barely dared to breathe.
The first thing he thought of was the pond-dwelling girls from his mother's stories, the ones who lured people to water and drowned them. But the woman's wild green hair made him think of moss rather than lake weeds, and the shore was far away.
This was something else. Someone else. Her thin clothes wrapped around her body like a cloak of feathers. Her ears sat high on her head like an owl's pointed tufts. She took up space as if she owned all of it.
Vesa thought quickly. Maybe if he left without drawing her attention, he could go down to his boat on the shore and row away and forget all about this.
He took a step back.
The woman lowered her comb. She turned to look at him, staring with eyes shaped like a hawk's and blue as two lakes.
"Stay there," she said. Her voice was the voice of someone used to being obeyed.
Vesa stopped. Froze. Felt his insides clench and his skin prickle with fear. She'd known all along that he was there.
Suddenly it was clear why the birds were singing so loudly today.
He knew who this was.
The woman set her comb down. She rose from her seat, mossy hair spilling over her shoulders and breast and down her back. Her shawl draped over her arms like wings.
"Come here so I can have a look at you."
With deep breaths and careful strides, he went, fighting down the desire to turn and run. If he ran, if he so much as turned, he was sure he would die.
This one didn't like rejection.
Vesa stepped out from the trees and into the clearing. The woman put up a hand, and he halted, waiting.
She was the one who closed the distance between them.
Strong, quick steps, moving until she stood right in front of him. She was so tall that he had to tilt his head up to look at her.
The forest queen stared down at him with her unreadable eyes. Then she put a hand on his shoulder, and forced him backward until his back touched the trunk of a tree.
One long finger traced the strap on his crossbow, brushing over his chest in a gesture that made him sick with fear. He could hardly hear the command to take it off over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears. Wordlessly, he obeyed, slipping his bow and quiver from his shoulders, resting both on the forest floor. Then he looked to her again, feeling that he should speak, and not knowing what to say. Wondering if he should ask if he should completely disarm himself. Even if he could put it into words, he felt as if his tongue were plastered to the roof of his mouth.
A troll would have been less frightening. Trolls were something he expected to find, even in the parts of the forest that had been cleared. Dealing with trolls was part of his day job. But this...
Gods were another thing entirely.
She lifted a hand to cup his face, tilt his chin up. Her sharp eyes stared down at him, seeming almost to look straight through him. Vesa looked back and tried to push his fear down, wrap it up and put it away.
But he couldn't help being terrified. Not if this was who he thought it was. He had heard stories of men who had encountered the forest queen, and how she did whatever she wanted with them, and how she reacted if her attention was refused.
The woman dipped her head, moving to whisper by his ear in a voice like rain on pine needles.
"I know that you know what is in this forest," she said. "I can tell by the way you move through it."
It didn't seem like a question, so Vesa said nothing, biting at his lower lip to force himself silent.
She was so close. So incredibly, terribly close – and as he thought that, she stepped closer, trapping him between her body and the tree. He could feel the soft curve of her body through her clothing. The proximity sent a heady warmth creeping over his cheeks.
"Do you understand why you can walk through this forest?"
The words were like a splash of cold water. Vesa's eyes snapped over as the fear rushed through him again.
It wouldn't do to give her the wrong answer.
"I..." He wet his lips, and tried again, speaking as carefully as possible, hoping his voice wouldn't shake. "I can get through with the permission of the one who rules over it. With your permission," he added, his voice little more than a breath.
"You understand who you are speaking to? Then you must also understand that your safety lies only with me." Her thumb brushed against his lips, pressing them shut. "No one else can grant you passage through my forest. No one else can shelter you from what would attack you. Your skill alone wouldn't be enough to help you. This place would swallow you if I allowed it."
Vesa thought it sounded as if she would swallow him herself; there were edges in her voice. It had claws. She would rip him apart if he gave her a reason to. As her fingers moved from his lips to instead trail over his throat, Vesa swallowed harshly and tried to reply. "I wouldn't ask anyone but you," he said, speaking as steadily as he could, and stumbling over his words anyway. "You're the only one I'd – I wouldn't ask anyone else for safe passage in your forest, Tapiotar."
She didn't answer. Only drew away a little, saying nothing, staring down at Vesa as if assessing him with those strange, unsettling eyes.
One of her hands slid to the back of his head, untying the cords in his hair, making it fall. For a moment, she slipped her fingers through it, stroking it out until it hung in loose waves down his back.
He didn't dare look away from her. There was something hungry in the way she looked at him, and when he blinked he saw the hawk in her face, saw the owl.
Then he blinked again, and the image was gone, the feeling was gone, and he saw her again as she had appeared to him: a beautiful woman with mossy hair and feathery tufts on top of her head and unnerving eyes.
"Safe passage comes at a price," Tapiotar said, and as she spoke Vesa became more aware than ever of the hand on his face, the press of her body, the soft green scent of her.
She closed the distance between them. Forced him to tilt his head back. Pressed her mouth to his.
The moment he'd realized who she was, he'd expected something like this, but hadn't dared to imagine the way her lips might feel.
Soft as flower petals. Full as ripe berries.
He gasped into the kiss and felt the sweep of her tongue, became aware once again of the soft shape of her body. As she pinned him against the tree, he found himself flushing despite his fear, hands rising with trembling fingers to settle hesitantly at her waist.
Oh, no.
He'd heard the stories about Tapiotar. If this continued the way those did, it wouldn't go well.
She parted from him for a moment, and he tried to speak, his voice a hazy rush.
"Wait – I can't do this – "
Oh no, Vesa thought again, as he saw her eyes flashing, felt her hand slide from his face to his throat. Once again, he had the impression of talons.
"What?" she demanded, her voice sharp. Stone against roots.
"I..." Vesa swallowed harshly, too aware of the strength of her fingers gripping his throat. "I will do everything you tell me to, if I can," he said, speaking as slowly as he could. "But I can't – um – " A deep breath. "I'm not like other men. My body isn't right. If you want more than a kiss, I don't think I'll be able to do everything you want. I'm sorry."
Tapiotar stared at him, her expression unreadable. Vesa closed his eyes, expecting the worst.
She'll kill me, he thought. She'll do it. There's no way I can do what she wants –
He felt her by his ear, hot breath fluttering against it, her soft hair brushing his cheek. "Tell me," she said. "Do you have hands?"
Vesa's eyes popped open. "What?"
"I said, do you have hands? Don't make me repeat myself again."
"I – yes? Yes, I do." In fact, he was all too aware of his hands, which were resting at her waist as if they had a right to be there.
She moved to look at him again. Once again she cupped his face to force his head upward, making him look her in the eye. Her thumb grazed his lower lip and lingered there. "And you have a mouth, I see."
"...Yes."
"It's enough. You'll do."
She dipped her head and pressed her mouth to his again. And as she wound her fingers in his hair, Vesa felt as if he might faint.
He was grateful for the tree at his back. Even as he slid his arms more securely around the forest queen's waist, drawing her closely to him, he felt as if without the support he wouldn't be able to stay upright.
She hadn't let him go, but she hadn't killed him, either.
Not yet, Vesa told himself. She still might. If she changed her mind. In spite of her warmth and the softness of her mouth, he couldn't help but worry about what would come next.
He couldn't. He'd never -
But worrying about it wouldn't get him anywhere.
Think of it as another job, Vesa told himself. Do your job.
Slowly, he drew in a breath. Let it out. Returned her kiss properly, because at the very least, he could manage that. After a moment, he let go of her, just long enough to slip off his gloves.
Then he settled his hands on her again. Drew her close again. Let his hands fall lower, now able to feel the softness of the barely-there fabric she wore, the warmth of her body, the broadness of her hips. He breathed in the scent of fresh greenery.
Thinking came more easily now. It was like no job Vesa had ever had, but it was a job, the kind that needed planning and care. Like tracking a beast for hours before finally taking it down. So....
He gently slid his palms along her hips, careful now, observing her reactions to his touch. Drew in a sharp gasp when she broke the kiss, then returned it full and firm as she kissed him again. Gradually, he came to realize how she stood: pressed against him, but also bending over him, with her feet apart.
It gave him an idea. And as he brushed his tongue over her lips and felt her gasp against his mouth, he decided that while this seemed like an impossible task, at least he could guess at where to start.
Coiling his arms around her, he broke the kiss and drew away enough to stare up into her strange, unnerving eyes. Tapiotar looked back at him, her expression hard to read, until she tilted her head, curious, as if to ask, "Well?"
Vesa gathered his courage, and turned.
She moved with him, letting him guide and move her until she was in his place, pressed against the tree. Unlike him, she seemed to fit comfortably against it, lounging instead of stiffly pinned. And that, he felt, was fitting enough. It was a part of her, after all, in a way.
Tapiotar draped her arms over his shoulders, looking at him with her hawk's eyes. From here, he could see her properly, take in the sight of her. The thick wave of her dark green hair. The shade of her skin, the colour of fresh shoots. The shape of her beneath her clothing, drapes falling silky and transparent over full, round breasts. Vesa flushed scarlet, and pulled his gaze upward.
He kissed her again. It was all he could think of doing. Pressed his mouth against hers while he pressed her firmly against the tree. As she gripped his hair he slid his tongue against her lips, found her mouth soft and open and waiting, and took the invitation of her open-mouthed kiss to slide inside of her.
He felt her pull him. Became conscious, once again, of the placement of her feet, how she stood with them open on either side of him. For a moment he allowed himself to fantasize about how it might feel to have her thighs wrapped around his waist, as he had her against the tree.
Even if everything else had been ideal, the thought seemed like a bit of a stretch.
But....
Vesa could feel the softness of her mouth against his. The way she was open, welcoming him, letting his tongue seek out all the sensitive parts of her mouth. He grazed delicately against the inside of her lips and felt her moan.
Slowly, Vesa broke the kiss. He could feel his cheeks burning, feel the flush spreading along his ears and throat. He was conscious of her hands in his hair, of the roundness of her breasts, of how she seemed to hardly be wearing anything at all. And he was aware, too, of how his body fit between her thighs, how widely her feet were placed.
Without another thought, he sank to his knees.
The firmness of the forest floor grounded him. And she was above him, ready for him, lifting the hem of her clothes with one hand and lightly touching his head with the other, stroking at his hair with a touch more gentle than he expected.
For a moment, Vesa rested his cheek against her thigh, closing his eyes against the surprising coolness of her skin. Then he felt fingers twining in his hair. Not pulling, not yet, but it was clear she would if he took any longer.
Vesa took a deep breath. Wet his lips.
Then he tilted his head upward, and obeyed.
He had only ever imagined doing something like this. Gently, he braced his hands against the smooth pillars of her thighs, and parted his lips to feel his way with slow sweeps of his tongue. As he slid it over the firm, round rise he'd been looking for, he felt her sigh and shiver.
Vesa smiled in spite of himself.
He could do this.
What had seemed impossible suddenly wasn't. Vesa paid attention to her hands in his hair, the way her grip on him tightened as he stroked at her clit with his mouth. He could feel her thighs shivering under his hands. He listened, taking note of how she sucked in a breath as he sucked at her. How she let out a soft, low sound, which sounded like a coo, but must have been a moan.
He remembered what she said. "You have hands, don't you?"
He did.
He decided to use them.
Trailing fingertips upward, he let them slide over the soft, smooth skin of her thigh. Let them move, let them brush. For only a moment, he paused, ceasing his mouth's caresses to stroke with his fingertips instead.
His two fingers slipped inside of her easily, plunging into slick wet heat, and as he curved them inside of her he ached at the thought of what it could have been. Should have been. But –
The forest queen's hands tightened in his hair, and Vesa held back a groan as he returned his mouth to its work and slid the flat of his tongue over, over, over, sweeping at her clit with broad strokes.
Maybe it was better this way.
She might let him leave in one piece. If he pleased her enough. If he satisfied her enough with his mouth, his hands, since he couldn't do anything more than that and she knew it.
Maybe he had half a chance.
He listened. Paid attention. Followed the sounds of her gasps, her moans, and those soft low noises that he couldn't identify. Noted when she gripped at him, sinking her fingers so tightly into his hair, and kept doing what brought that reaction, even if it made him ache. And he slipped into her the only way he knew how, deep, then shallow, then deep, lingering at the sensitive entrance to her cunt before slowly thrusting his fingers inside her again, making sure she would feel it. And all the while, he swept his tongue over her, mouthed at her to bring her over.
When she came the only notice he had was fingernails digging into his scalp and strong hands pressing his face to her crotch. Then the tight clenching around his fingers, gripping him. Her soft thighs trembling on either side of him. Delicate fabric fell across his shoulders as she dropped the hem of her clothing and pressed her hands against the tree for support.
Vesa licked her. Stroked her through it. Slipped his fingers in and out of her until the throbbing eased and he was sure she was finished.
Then he drew away, sitting back on his heels, carefully lifting the fabric of her dress and letting it fall. He was panting, his cheeks flushed, hair falling in his face. Vesa pushed it back, tucking the long strands behind his ear. Wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.
Then he looked up at her.
The forest queen's eyes were closed, lashes fluttering, lips parted as she drew in a long, slow breath. Then she opened her eyes completely, and stared down at him with that strange, hungry look that he had seen on her before. Like she could tear him apart if she wanted. Like she could devour him if she wanted.
Vesa knew, beyond any doubt, that she could.
He waited, watching for some sign that he could leave, hoping for some command to go. But when she spoke, she said nothing of the sort.
"Go over there," Tapiotar said, her breath-thick voice like wind on flower petals. "Into the sunlight. I want to see you properly."
He didn't understand why, but he knew better than to question it. So Vesa moved from the shade of the tree, feeling flushed and unsure and worried. She hadn't told him to leave. But she hadn't reacted badly, either.
He tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he stepped into the clearing, filled with warmth and wildflowers. Though he was still fully-dressed, he suddenly felt exposed, all too aware of the way his hair fell, how warm his cheeks were, how flustered he still must look. How wrong he looked.
She hadn't told him to leave.
Vesa turned back to where she was. As he watched, Tapiotar emerged from the shade. She looked unreal, the sun falling on her like light on a lake. It caught in her clothing and her soft green hair, making it shine.
She closed the distance between them in a few short strides. Vesa parted his lips to speak, to ask her why – but as she cupped his face, he thought better of it.
Saying nothing, she looked him over, turning his head one way and then the other, as if she really did want to look at him. Then she leaned in close, speaking by his ear. "Get on the ground."
He could do nothing but obey her. So he sank down – and she followed, joining him on the flower-covered grass. The sharp look she gave him killed any word he might have said.
It wouldn't do to ask questions.
So he stayed quiet as she looked him over, as she slid her fingers through his hair, as she took him in with appraising eyes. He let her trail her fingertips over his shoulders, dip them lower to slide along his thighs. Biting his lip to keep silent, he tried to concentrate on the scent of the clearing around them, the warmth of the sun - anything but the bizarre situation he had found himself in.
Despite his uncertainty, he couldn't stop looking at her. The forest queen's bird-eyes were unreadable, but there were other ways to guess what she might be thinking. The way her ear-tufts flicked curiously as she stroked at his face. The way a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, as if she was pleased with what she saw. He took in the way her hair spilled over her shoulders and throat and breasts, cascading softly over the swell of them. And when he realized just where he was staring, he lifted his gaze to her face again, feeling himself blush and hoping it wouldn't be obvious.
She was still staring at him, with that same pleased look on her face as before. And then, she moved.
Before Vesa realized what she was doing, she was over him.
As she straddled his lap, his hands went to her waist, settling lightly - too lightly. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and as she pressed close Vesa found himself blushing again, because it was impossible not to stare now, not with the fullness of her breast at the level of his eyes.
Tapiotar's strong fingers wrapped in his hair. Forced him to tilt his head upward.
He obeyed, and met her mouth, the berryskin-softness of her lips. Listened to her sigh, and felt her mouth open against his. The grip she had on his hair was gentler now, stroking, slipping through the strands as if she loved the way it felt between her fingers.
Vesa let his hands slide. Gave in to the urge to slip them upward. Flat along her back, brushing fingers along her spine. Open-palmed along her side. She was soft and relaxed under his touch, so he dared to trail one hand up over the translucent cobweb-thin clothing, moving until he felt the swell of her breast against his palm.
When her mouth opened against his, he slipped into her, obeying the silent command. He shivered as he felt her sucking at his tongue, the slick dampness of her mouth making him imagine her doing the same elsewhere. And when he stroked her breasts, cupping them in his hands, rolling over nipples with his thumbs, he felt her moan against his mouth. Felt her rock down as if to grind against something that wasn't there.
Right, then.
Vesa broke the kiss and dipped his head, pressing his face against her neck, letting his eyes fall shut. He took in the weight of her on top of him, the way she fit so well over his hips.
It wouldn't do to dwell on any of that.
Better to distract himself. And he did, letting his mouth graze her throat, kissing softly, and listening until he heard her sigh. Dipping down, trailing over the fresh pale pillar of her neck. Brushing along the dip of her collarbone. Then further.
The fabric of her clothing was loose, held in place with only a soft cord. He hesitated, unsure, lingering a hand above where it was tied, unsure what to do.
It was as if she knew what he wanted, as she released her hold on him long enough to loosen that cord, ease the fabric, letting it shift to slip from its place and expose everything to the air, his hands, his mouth. Her lips grazed his temple, then his forehead, and she murmured something that might have been "Go on," but Vesa was already making his way down, dipping his head to brush his lips against the curve of her breast.
It took little work, now, to slip his fingertips past that silky fabric and slide them over what he found there. Cup her with both hands, feel the fullness of her breasts, the hard press of her nipples against his palms. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders he could hear her sighing. She arched against him, straightened in such a way that it was so easy to duck his head, grazing his mouth against the softness of her chest until he could sweep his tongue over her nipples and feel her shiver in his arms.
As he rolled a thumb over that firmness Vesa knew his cheeks were burning. He was sure she could feel that heat. But he couldn't help it, not with the way they were, with her strong thighs on either side of his hips, and his mouth at her soft, round breast, and her fingers in his hair.
He ached for her. With every sound she made, every soft gasp as he caressed her with his hands and mouth, he wanted her more. If only.
He would have to make do with what he had.
Slowly, slowly, he let one hand fall, dipping it low. For a moment he slid it along her thigh, squeezing at the soft flesh before daring to drop his fingers beneath the silky fabric of her clothing.
She was dripping wet. Vesa slid his fingertips along her folds, surprised at how slick she was. He wondered how much of that was from his mouth, and how much of it was her alone.
Drawing a breath, he lifted his head to nose along her neck again and brush soft kisses over her throat, listening carefully to the sounds she made. The quickness of her breathing. Her soft sighs. She had stopped stroking his hair in favour of gripping his shoulders to steady herself as she pressed down against his hand.
Vesa tried to think.
It wasn't easy.
After the work he had done on her only a few moments ago, she was sure to be sensitive. Even with how slick she was, how wet she was, how eager she was, it would be too easy to give her too much.
He took his time, avoiding her clit entirely as he led with gentle sweeps of two fingers. Stroking with care around her hot, wet entrance, he eased inside, pressing the pads of his fingers into her.
To his surprise, she grabbed at his hair, dug her fingers into his shoulders. Dipped her head to bite sharply at his ear, making him gasp.
"Put it in. Now," she growled, her voice flint against roots, the sharpness in her voice gripping him. He didn't want to think about what she'd do if he didn't do as she ordered.
Obediently, he slipped his fingers into her, pressed both of them inside, firm and deep. When she sighed – let out a soft satisfied sound, murmured something he couldn't quite hear – some of the fear ebbed away. And when her hold on him eased, long fingers stroking over his shoulders and slipping through his hair, Vesa found himself relaxing again.
He could do this. He could manage this. And if he did it right, she would let him go.
Vesa pressed his mouth to her throat. Trailed soft kisses there, nuzzling there, appreciating the softness of her skin against his mouth. The way her arms coiled around him. The way her mossy hair felt against his cheek. The fresh green smell of her. How it felt to have her over him, the warmth of her against him, the smoothness of her thighs, the shape of her under his fingertips as he dipped his free hand to let it trail along her hip, her thigh, taking in the soft curve of her.
She was rolling her hips, rocking down onto his fingers as he thrust them up into her. He could hear the slick wet sounds as she moved, and it made him feel that ache again. Vesa pressed his face into the forest queen's shoulder and let out a soft huff of frustration as he imagined what it would be like to have her ride him. To grip her hips with both hands and thrust into her, to feel that slick heat with more than just his fingers –
Stop, he told himself, biting down onto his lower lip. Don't think about it. Concentrate on what you need to do.
She was sighing. Quick breaths. Soft. But it wasn't like he had heard before, not when he had her against the tree. She wasn't close, not close enough.
What else? Vesa cast around desperately for an idea, nuzzling along her throat as he went. Experimentally, he curved his fingers inside her, and felt her fingers press against him, digging into the sore spots left from where she had threatened him. When she had ordered him to put himself inside of her.
Vesa's eyes fluttered open. Maybe – she was so relaxed and wet, maybe if he gave her more –
His hand shook as he slid his fingers out of her. He listened, heard the frustrated groan that slipped from Tapiotar's mouth as he stroked over her clit. Then he slipped into her again, easing three fingers inside that slick, eager heat.
He heard her gasp, then felt her gripping his hair, grabbing him, pulling him – jerking his head back as she ducked her head to meet his mouth, kissing him full and firm and open.
Oh –
He felt her moan against him. Gasped as she sucked at his lower lip, and found himself groaning, though whether it was from her kiss or from his own frustrating, throbbing ache he couldn't be sure. Giving in to her, he let her have his mouth, let her suck at his tongue, took in how she shuddered and groaned as she fucked herself against his hand.
It didn't take long after that. Vesa endured it, kissing her through it as her fingers twisted in his hair and her hips rolled against him. He thrust his fingers into her again and again until finally he felt her clench around them, until she clung to him and moaned so incredibly loud.
Eventually, the forest queen eased her hold on him. As Tapiotar nuzzled kisses to his cheek, Vesa realized her face was warm, blushing as deeply as his own. She breathed deep and long and slow as she came down from her orgasm.
Gently, Vesa slid his fingers from her, trailing slick fingertips along her bare thigh, lifting his hands to rest them lightly at her waist while he waited, wondering what would happen next.
He didn't dare ask.
If she was satisfied with that – if she was going to let him go – then he knew that she would say it herself.
A gentle touch along his jaw bade him tilt his head up to look at her. Tapiotar's inhuman eyes were half-open, lazy, contented. There was a softness in her round face. As Vesa looked at her, she tilted her head to the side, as if considering something. Then she dipped her head and pressed her mouth to his.
It was a soft kiss, but there was still something commanding in it. Vesa returned it just as softly, yielding to her in silent hope that when she broke it to speak, she would finally tell him to go.
Not that he disliked it. If it had been anyone else, any other woman –
But if it were any other woman, he wouldn't be doing this out in the forest, with all its dangers. He would take her home, and he would have her in his bed. And if she stayed the night, he would make her breakfast in the morning. Or at least, that was how he imagined it would go.
But this was no ordinary woman.
This was not a human.
And suddenly, he was painfully aware of the sunlight, and the grassy clearing around him, and the sound of birdsong. He remembered how exposed he was, and just who exactly was straddling his lap.
As terror rose up inside of him, Vesa desperately tried to shove it down again. He slid his arms around the forest queen's waist, holding her more firmly. Kissed her, open-mouthed, offering.
She hadn't let him go yet.
What more could she possibly want?
If she knew what he was thinking, she gave no sign of it. She just kissed him, her cheeks still surprisingly warm. Then, finally, she drew away, looking down at him with her hungry hawk's eyes. As she stroked his face, Vesa waited, tilting his head to kiss at her palm, trying to quell his panic.
Finally, she moved. Wordlessly, her hands went to his shoulders, and to his surprise, she pushed him back. Following her lead, he fell back onto the grass and wildflowers, and as he stared up at her he knew she wasn't done with him.
The forest queen bent to kiss him again, her hair falling like a curtain around his face. Vesa sighed against her mouth, letting her do as she liked. She was still soft against him, her movements slow and languid, her mouth pliant.
Tapiotar broke the kiss eventually. Lingered by his mouth, dipping her head to nose at him. Vesa's breath caught as he waited for her to speak.
He felt like a mouse trapped in an owl's claws.
"Keep your mouth open," she said near his ear.
Confused, Vesa parted his lips for her. He waited as she drew away from him, and he let his hands fall to her hips.
He didn't understand what she had in mind for him.
He didn't have to wait for long.
Palms on the grass on either side of his head. A long, deep breath. Then she edged forward, moving from where she had straddled his hips, until her thighs were on either side of his head.
Vesa's eyes widened.
It was suddenly very obvious why she had told him to keep his mouth open.
As she lowered herself onto him, his hands moved to brace her, holding her by the thighs, hips, ass. He closed his eyes and tasted her, swept his tongue over her. Above him, she sighed, shifting to make herself more comfortable over him. Vesa felt her fingers coil in his hair, felt the smoothness of her thigh against his cheek.
Vesa knew he had a problem.
Tapiotar had him trapped, helpless between her legs. It was hard to breathe, pinned as he was, and he wondered if this was how she meant to kill him.
What a way to go.
But he remembered some of the looks she had given him. Those sharp, hungry looks. As he stroked her with his tongue, Vesa decided that if she'd wanted to kill him, it wouldn't be like this. Smothering him to death didn't seem like her style.
His mouth was tired from earlier. When he'd sunk to his knees in front of her, thinking he would only have to service her once, he'd given it his all. But there wasn't any way to get around it, so he would do his best.
All right, then.
He let his tongue sweep over her. Stroking warm, slick, circling her clit. He pressed it inside of her and heard her gasp, felt her shiver under his hands as he fucked her with it. She murmured something, breathed some word of approval that he couldn't quite hear. Then she covered his hands with her own, and moved them.
She guided his hands along her thighs, her hips. Drew them up to her breasts. For a moment he felt softness against them – kisses against his knuckles. Then she pressed them to her breasts again, arched against his palms.
It became easier, after a while, to breathe under her. She rolled her hips in time with his stroking; arched and rocked down onto his mouth. It was easy, after he realized this, to grasp at her, to stroke her with his hands while he stroked at her with his tongue. Lick her and make her shiver. Suck at her clit and roll her nipples against his thumbs. Above him he could hear her gasping, could hear that soft, low, cooing sound from before. She sounded pleased, she sounded – delighted –
She wasn't going to kill him. Not yet.
When he realized this, Vesa relaxed under her. Sighed against her cunt. Pressed his tongue into her again, tasting her, listening again as she gasped.
If he'd had his way – if he'd been capable of it – he'd have had her with more than his hands, more than his mouth. He'd have had her against the tree, or in his lap, gripping her by the hips as she rocked down onto him, her legs wrapped around him. And if he'd had that, he would be tasting more than just her –
Vesa's cheeks flushed scarlet and he held back a groan. It wouldn't do to think of it, it didn't matter, but – he couldn't shake the thought of licking himself out of her.
His hands shook as he let them slide down to her hips. Down from her breasts, down over the silky softness of her barely-there clothing, down to the broadness of her hips where he gripped her, held her steady. He licked her and listened to her moaning and thought once again of tasting himself inside of her.
Dazed by the thought, he devoured her.
He was aware of little aside from the soft sounds she made, the hot wetness against his mouth, the sensation of her gripping his hair. He could feel pressure as she rolled down against his mouth, and then it was hard to breathe, and he gasped against her until she lifted again. His tongue ached, but still he stroked at her, as if he could lick every trace of himself from her, every drop of imagined come from inside of her.
Digging his fingers into her hips, he held her there so she couldn't move away. And as he pursed his lips and sucked at her clit slowly, deeply, her gasps turned sharp and high, and her thighs trembled, and she pressed down so hard against his mouth that he saw stars.
When she finally pulled away from him, it took Vesa a moment to register what was happening. Strong fingers pulled his hands from her hips and let them fall. The weight was off him as she lifted herself from his face. He felt the edge of her garment brush his cheek as she moved away.
Then there was warmth by his side, a softness pressing against him. Gentle fingers wiping a bit of moisture from his mouth.
Vesa opened his eyes.
"Enough," Tapiotar whispered. "That's enough."
Her voice was shaking. Vesa decided not to comment on it. He sighed as she brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and when she curled up beside him, he didn't move, and didn't say anything.
After all that, his tongue ached, and he half-wondered if it might fall off.
Warmth brushed his neck as the forest queen nuzzled against him. There was something slow about her now, something content. Vesa wondered if he should dare to hope that she had meant it when she said 'that's enough'.
Dazed, all he could do now was stare upward at the blue shell of the sky. Her nose was pressed against his throat, one long arm draped over his waist. He lifted a hand to touch her hair, and as she sighed, tilting her head against him, he began to stroke it. It was soft under his touch. She was soft against him, loose and warm.
And still, Tapiotar hadn't given him leave to go.
That, Vesa thought, was a problem. As he breathed in the fresh scent of the clearing, bright and green, he wondered if he should say something about it. If he even dared to open the question.
...No. He didn't. Not in the least. The forest queen would let him leave when it suited her. There was only one way he would be able to get home safely, and that would be if she granted him permission to go.
There was no other way.
Vesa stroked at her hair and tried not to think about it. By her content sighs, he could guess – could hope, at least – that eventually....
After a while, Tapiotar shifted beside him, lifting her head to nuzzle at his cheek. Brushed a kiss to his cheek, then his mouth. It was soft, little more than a touch, and as Vesa kissed back he felt her slip a hand beneath his head, cushioning his skull against the ground.
What more could she want? His insides turned. If she wanted his mouth again, he didn't know if he could –
But she didn't press him. She didn't deepen the kiss, either. After a moment, she nosed along his throat, pausing at the edge of the collar of his clothing.
Vesa closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and did his best not to sigh from relief.
If she was going to let it be, then he didn't mind that, though the worry still lingered in the back of his mind. But she would let him go. She would. Sooner or later.
Might as well relax and wait, then, he thought.
It wasn't hard to appreciate the softness of her hair under his fingertips, nor how she cradled the back of his head with her palm. The warm air at his throat was... pleasant. Her mouth at his jaw, the slightest graze of kiss-softened lips.
There was something calming about her warm body, her soft presence.
When she kissed him again, he kissed back, pliant against her. The fear, while not gone, was tucked away. It seemed like the queen had her fill, and now that she wasn't pushing him, all of it was easier. To a point.
Slowly, Vesa twined his fingers in her hair. Slipped them through it, stroking at the soft strands. When her tongue brushed his lips, he hesitated – then opened for her. Still she was soft, slow, gentle, and the slight tension and wariness he had felt ebbed away. So he took in the warmth of her mouth, the way her breasts pressed against him as she shifted to hold him more firmly.
He sank into that, down, down, down, and let her do as she liked.
She broke from him. Eventually. Ended the kiss but stayed close, her breath fluttering over his cheek like a kiss.
Vesa cracked his eyes open.
He stared up into her strange, inhuman eyes, losing himself in the blueness of them. She did nothing, said nothing.
Then she moved, lifting a hand to gently take hold of his.
There was something about the way she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it that made him blush. Something about the softness of her lips against his knuckles, something about the way her eyes fell partway closed. Vesa watched her as she grazed her mouth along the length of his fingers, unable to tear his eyes away from her. And when she kissed at his fingertips, the sight made him suck in a breath.
Tapiotar's gaze darted over to him. For a moment she held him, pinning him under that unwavering look, watching him with her mouth against his fingertips. It wasn't easy to read her expression, but there was a slight upturn to the corners of her lips, a barely-there playfulness on her face.
Vesa's eyes widened. He stared at her, unable to look away as she took two of his fingers into her mouth.
As she dipped her head, they slipped past the plush softness of her lips and into her hot, slick mouth. While he watched, her eyes drifted completely shut, dark lashes dropping low, masking their unnerving colour as she slid her mouth down – to the knuckle, then up to stroke his fingertips, then dipping low, further, further, all the way to the base and back. Then again, again, again, her tongue sliding below, and between, brushing against sensitive skin all the way.
Dazed, Vesa closed his eyes and rested his head back against her hand, concentrating on the sensation of her soft lips wrapped around his fingers. If he let his imagination go, he could picture it – almost feel it – the sensation so much lower, her head between his legs, her strong hand holding him down at the hips as she took his cock deep into her mouth. He could hear her breathing, thick and heavy, and as she dipped her head again, slick mouth sliding lower once more, he had to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning.
If only he could get off from this alone. He felt as if he were halfway there already from nothing more than the sensation of her tongue sliding over the pads of his fingers. If only he could beg her for privacy, just long enough to finish himself off. It would take minutes. And then, once again, he would do whatever she wanted. Bow to her. Get on his knees for her. Lick her until his jaw ached. But his tongue was pinned in his mouth, and he couldn't speak.
Vesa barely noticed when she let go of his wrist. He concentrated only on her mouth, her soft breath against the web of his fingers. He hardly felt her sliding her hand down along his hip.
But he did notice when she went to work at getting his trousers open.
Vesa's eyes snapped open. He stared upward, lips parted, but not a single word slipped out of his mouth. Not wait or but or even stop.
Tapiotar got his clothing open with practiced ease. Then she dipped her hand low. Slipped past fabric and into his trousers and between his legs, and at that, all Vesa could do was shut his eyes tightly and take a deep breath.
He had never allowed anyone to do that. Never. In the few situations where the subject came up, he'd managed to sidestep it with a few words and a shy smile. Saying he only liked to give, and never receive, got him far.
The thought of speaking now made fear flare up in him. No. If he said anything, if he refused her, she could rip him open from crotch to cranium, he was sure of it.
Let her do it, Vesa told himself. Let her do whatever she wants to you.
He breathed long and slow and deep, and let her.
Plush lips over his knuckles, over the pads of his fingers, tongue sweeping and stroking. After a moment, he realized her hand was working in time with her mouth. Touching him in time with the slide of her tongue, her fingertips drifting low – pressing – slipping slickly into him. And when she slid her mouth to suck at him, her own fingertips moved too, sliding upward to stroke him, circle slowly around the hard, sensitive rise, until once again she took him deep.
And again, and again, and again.
Vesa breathed. Relaxed under her and, after a moment, edged his thighs apart to give her better access to him. And when, after a while, he felt her mouth leave his fingers with a final kiss to the tips, he anticipated her lips would find his, and accepted it.
Her mouth was soft and slick against his, but the kiss was gentle, tender, her hand carefully cradling his head against the ground. As her hair fell to brush against his cheek, Vesa moved to push it back, then stroked at her mossy head almost shyly while her hand below stroked and slid, gently working at him. Sliding along him. Dipping into him, her long fingers fitting inside him so easily.
He whimpered against her mouth. Though the sound was muffled by her lips, he knew she could feel it. Maybe her mouth turned up at the corners. There was something about the way she sighed against his lips that sounded so satisfied.
And she kept going. Steady sweeps with the pads of her fingers, in, and then up, and he knew that, though his arousal hadn't been physically obvious, she must have somehow sensed his half-desperate wish to get himself off.
As he let her kiss him, Vesa found he had fewer objections to it all than he'd expected. If this was going to happen, it might as well be like this. He gave himself up to her, the fresh forest scent of her hair, the gentleness of her hand under his head. The way her hair felt under his fingertips, thick waves of dark green. The way her mouth opened against his own, the way it felt to slide his tongue past her kiss-softened lips to let her suck at him.
He found he could let his imagination go – again – and take the sensation of her hand between his legs, and make it into something else, the methodical stroking from the pads of her fingers becoming the roll of her thumb as she teased the head of his cock, slick from wanting her all this time. And she stroked, and he arched, and wanted her, and lifted his hips, pressing into her hand.
When he came he hardly made a sound against her mouth.
She broke the kiss, left him gasping, dazed, still grinding desperately into her. And she didn't stop at first – wouldn't – and for a moment he wondered, half-horrified, if she would force him to come again.
But the pressure eased, and the last of his shudders faded, and he didn't have anything to worry about at all.
She removed her hand from his trousers, re-fastened his clothing for him. Nestled herself against him with her nose pressed lightly to his throat, nuzzling in a way more affectionate than expected.
Vesa stared upward, taking one long, low breath after another, more dazed than he had ever felt in his life. At a loss for what to say, he stroked her hair, and heard her sigh against him.
It was impossible to know what to say. Vesa ran through his options. What did someone say in a situation like this? 'Thank you'? 'Are we finished'? 'Can I leave now'? 'You didn't have to do that last bit, I could have finished myself off'?
Unable to think of anything that wasn't likely to put her in a foul mood, Vesa decided it was best to keep quiet.
Better to rest. To take in the scent of the grass. The blueness of the sky. The sound of birdsong. The warmth of her body next to his, softness curled close to his side, her arm draped lazily over his waist.
Tapiotar was the one to speak, her words soft and slow and content. "Your traps are empty," she said, her lips grazing over his throat.
Vesa blinked, suddenly remembering why he had come into the forest in the first place. This distraction was something he never could have planned for, and from the moment he'd stepped into the forest queen's clearing, his trapline had been the furthest thing from his mind. "...I see," he said, not knowing what else to say.
"You're to go back the way you came."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Tapiotar sat up slowly, yawning. She shook her long green hair, brushed it out of her face. Then she held out a hand, bidding him to take it, and he did, sitting up with her.
She watched him, her gaze appraising, but not hungry in the way it had been before. Vesa met her eyes, let her hold him for a moment. She was the one to look away, sweeping her glance from his face to his hair, then moving to brush away some leaves that had become tangled in it.
Without another word, she dropped a hand and dipped it into Vesa's pocket, fishing out a cord to tie his hair with before he could even ask what she was doing. "Turn around," she said, and he did.
Her long fingers made him shiver as they stroked through his hair, brushing against the back of his neck. Vesa bit his lower lip and decided that he didn't dare to object. Better to let her do as she pleased, better to take her time with letting him go, because if he angered her, then she might change her mind, even after he'd done everything she'd asked of him.
She wound his hair carefully, tied it up tight and secure. Finally her hands dropped, trailing fingertips along his shoulders. She leaned in close, nuzzled by his ear.
"You are to go now," she said, her breath brushing against his ear like wind on leaves.
"...Thank you," Vesa said softly, unsure of what else to say.
The forest queen leaned in closer. Slid her hands down, trailing along his arms, gripping him as her lips brushed his ear. "When you leave," she said, "don't turn around until you reach the lakeshore. Don't look back."
Vesa licked his lower lip. What would he see if he did look back? He didn't dare ask, but his mind supplied some suggestions, all of them horrible.
Maybe he would only see her. He thought of that, and knew that if he did something she had told him not to, then looking back and seeing her would be worse than anything his mind could come up with.
"Understood," he said weakly. "Completely."
She pressed a kiss against his hair.
Then she let go.
He heard her rise. Heard her footsteps, soft on the wildflowers.
Then he heard nothing else but birdsong.
For a moment, Vesa stayed where he was, listening to the birds, straining to hear something else. Wondering if she was still there, watching him. He wasn't going to turn around to check.
But he heard only the birds, and the sound of the leaves rustling above as a breeze stirred them.
Rising, he went to where he had entered the clearing, bending to pick up the things he had dropped there, the weapons he had removed on her orders. He knew that with her watching, no troll would dare attack.
He re-armed himself anyway, taking care that everything was in its place and at the ready, reasoning that while he might be under divine supervision, there was no need to act any differently than normal.
At the mouth of the clearing, he hesitated, stopping a moment to think. What had happened hardly felt real, but the ache in his jaw was impossible to deny, to say nothing of the orgasm-induced headiness he felt, and the unfortunate moist sensation in his trousers. What had happened had... happened.
I'll go home, Vesa thought. And I won't tell anyone about this. Ever.
No one would believe it, anyway.
The forest was as it had been, fresh and green-smelling, sunlight dappling the path in front of him. In a moment, he found his way again, and he began picking through the wood, moving as he always did: quickly and silently.
Just as the forest queen had told him, nothing bothered him as he made his way back to the lakeshore. The traps were empty, and the path was clear, and though he listened for it, he didn't hear the tell-tale whisperings of trolls.
But all the while, he felt eyes on him. One glance up at the trees gave him the answer to that. It was as if every bird in the forest had gathered there, watching him. The canopy was heavy with songbirds, their perches dipping low under the weight of so many small, feathery bodies. From strong branches, hawks and falcons followed his movement, and from deep in their hollows, owls stared at him.
When he finally tore his gaze away and forced himself to look ahead, he felt the brush of a breeze against his cheek; the sensation of fingertips grazing his shoulders. Vesa tensed, reached for his knife, eyes wide –
But there was nothing. The sensation disappeared, the cold hands withdrawing. No sound. No attack, which there would have been if it had been a troll, or a malicious spirit, or something else he needed to worry about.
Vesa closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and counted to ten. Then, he sighed.
"What would you have done if I'd turned around?" he asked, lifting his gaze to the trees, and the hundreds of watchers there.
Wind blew, shaking the treetops. The rustle of the leaves sounded like her laughter.
Vesa shook his head and continued on, glad that she hadn't actually answered. He didn't really want to know.
When he finally stepped through the trees and onto the lakeshore, Vesa felt an immense sense of relief. There was the lake, sparkling in the sunlight. There was his boat, tied up alongside the small docking post. There were the dark shapes of the little islands rising in the water.
There were many times that he had been glad to leave the forest, but none of them were quite like this.
It wasn't until he was on the water that he dared to look at the forest. Oars in hand, Vesa lifted his head, looking toward the shore.
Nothing.
And yet... There was that breeze again, that soft hushed ruffling of the branches. And as he looked, he had the strangest feeling that someone was looking back at him, standing just beyond his sight, watching.
Vesa shivered. Looked away. Rowing from that shore, he couldn't help but be glad that he'd decided to heed her words.
With luck, it would be a long time before he stepped into that part of the forest again.