The Virgin and the Fae

A/N: Hi guys! I know it's been a while, but I really do want to finish this story. I am still a little unsure of where I plan to take this, but the further I go, the more ideas I get. I'd love to hear from you if you have any ideas or questions or directions you'd like this to take. And as always, please review!


“How can you let her treat him like that?” Charlotte asked, rounding on Garrick. “You saw those cuts on him. She is probably going to pick up where she left off!”

“Charlotte, you do not understand our ways. But I assure you, that—second only to you—Hugh is the best treated human in my kingdom.”

“Best treated? She is off cutting him up again with a knife!”

“Whip.”

“What?”

“Those wounds are not from a knife. Kaelyn enjoys whipping Hugh.”

Charlotte was silent.

“They share an unorthodox relationship, but it is a relationship nonetheless. Kaelyn treats Hugh well and he loves her in return.”

Charlotte scoffed. “He loves the woman who beats him regularly. Right.”

“I don’t appreciate sarcasm, Charlotte. And yes, Hugh does love her. He is submissive by nature and nothing that occurs between them is without his consent. She whips him because she enjoys it and so does he. There are humans in your world that are no different.”

There was something fundamentally different about the power dynamics involved in the two situations, but Charlotte did not want a conversation about sadomasochism, or rape, with Garrick, but she couldn’t help asking.

“Are you like that?”

“Like what?” Damn him, she thought. He knew exactly what she meant. He just wanted to make her say it. Fine, if that was how he wanted to play…

“Do you get off on pain?” she asked through gritted teeth, purposely more vulgar than usual to distance herself from the question.

“Not with you I won’t.” He looked oddly determined.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, vaguely affronted.

“It means that when I have those urges there will be other women—Fae women—that I will turn to.” He spoke as if explaining something very simple to a child.

“Does that mean you don’t want me?” Charlotte asked softly, confused. Did that mean that when he had sexual urges he would go to Fae women instead? If that was the case, then why in the hell was she even here? And why did that thought cause a weird dropping sensation in her stomach?

Garrick knelt down next to her.

“No, not at all,” he whispered soothingly.

Why was it soothing to hear that he wanted her?

A strange fogginess was descending over her mind, blurring and dimming her thoughts and objections. A tiny voice warned of magics, but was soon drowned out by the sound of her ever-quickening heartbeat.

“But when I wish to…inflict pain, there will be others I will go to. I told you when you first came here that I did not wish to hurt you. I don’t. You are too fragile to risk being forceful with. But Charlotte,” he caught her eyes with his. “I do want you.”

And with that, he kissed her, softly, almost clumsily.

It was sweet, Charlotte thought, a little surprised. Nice and oddly safe to kiss him. There was no finesse, no art to this kiss. Just hesitancy and gentleness. After a few moments, she felt herself beginning to respond to him. Her lips molding themselves against his, equally clumsy and artless. Was this her first kiss ever? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything in that moment.

And then awareness returned, as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head. She was on the ground. And she’d been kissing Garrick. Peripherally, the thought that this had in fact been her first kissed fluttered through her mind.

“Oh my God.” Gone were the beginning tendrils of heats she’d felt curling in her stomach. Gone were her soft feelings of…attraction for Garrick. They had been replaced (and rightly so! She told herself) with a clear head.

What was she doing! What could have possessed her to think it was a good idea to kiss him? She wondered, her thoughts struggling to take form. Possessed her. Possessed…

“You tried to trick me! That was magic, wasn’t it?” She said at last, triumphant to have discovered the cause of her desire.

Garrick smiled indulgently at her. “No, it was—“

“Just the worst display of kissing that I have ever seen.”

Garrick growled low and turned quickly around to see a smiling Locke. Charlotte looked up at the Fae from her vantage point on the floor. He certainly was handsome. But his smug smile and his reclining position against the wall reeked of self-satisfaction.

“What are you doing here?”

“Other than observing what looked to be school boy’s first kiss?”

“Locke,” Garrick breathed menacingly, already displeased to have been interrupted, and now progressively more annoyed with each taunt of Locke’s.

“Honestly, Garrick, she is a human, not a porcelain doll. She is not going to break if you kiss her properly.” Garrick looked ready to object, but Locke continued swiftly.

“Really, I’m not telling you to beat her or pass her around or anything. All I am saying is you’re going to get a lot closer to bedding her if you actually kiss her as opposed
to just get close and breath hot air on her face.”

Alarm bells were going off in Charlotte’s mind. Something was about to happen; she could feel the tension, the challenge that hung, thick and heavy, in the air. She didn’t know if they were going to attack one another but she knew enough to tell herself to start to back away from the angry Fae.

Using her good arm, Charlotte awkwardly began to scoot backwards. She looked like a kid in gym class failing—miserably—at doing the crab walk. She snorted softly at the absurdity of her movements.

Garrick turned back towards her; his eyes burning.

Oh no.

Oh, oh, oh no.

He must have thought the snort was directed at him. Oh fuck, Charlotte thought as he dove at her.

Suddenly she was being kissed again, though this was entirely different from the last kiss.

This was...bliss. His mouth fit over hers, moving and nibbling, teasing at the seam between her tightly pressed lips with his tongue. Hot and fast and overwhelming in intensity. She couldn’t breathe. It was like drowning. It was dying and living all at once.

And it felt good.

He drew her bottom lip slightly into his mouth, suckling it, laving it with his tongue. Then, without warning, he bit down, hard. Charlotte’s mouth opened in a gasp and that was all Garrick needed.

His tongue slipped inside her mouth, running over the contours of the warm wetness, tasting her, reveling in her.

It was electrifying the moment his tongue touched hers. Playing against it, trying to tease it into movement.

At first, Charlotte was paralyzed, too shocked by the newness of it all to move. But gradually she grew more confident, returning caress for caress. Softly moaning against his mouth.

Charlotte was lost. This was breath-taking. This was heaven. Indeed, it was self-effacing in power. She had forgotten everything, all she knew was that this was the most wonderful sensation and she wanted it to continue.

Garrick groaned against her mouth. He grabbed at her, catching her shoulders in his hands and pulled her roughly closer to him.
Charlotte broke away with a yelp of pain. The pain shooting out from her shoulder to her extremities in hot, white flashes, and for a moment the desire to vomit from the pain returned.

Garrick released her shoulder as if burned. Charlotte’s chest rose and fell raggedly, her breaths shallow and rapid. She had the most attractive flush to her face, Garrick thought, though there were tears in her eyes again.

God, he was handsome. More than handsome even. He had the most stunning face Charlotte had ever seen. Every line, every curve of his face was perfect, sculpted by some master craftsman. It was as if, after looking at Garrick, every other face lacked…finishing.

She heard Locke laugh again.

“Maybe you should stick with just breathing on her afterall.”

“Locke—“ Garrick was on his feet, glowering at the Fae.

Charlotte wondered how it was possible that these two were friends. Locke seemed to challenge and taunt Garrick whenever he could and Garrick simply glowered or growled (or both) whenever Locke was around.

Charlotte had learned her lesson about not moving fast enough and with awkwardly clumsy movements she too was soon on her feet. Standing, propped up, against the wall on the other side of the room.

Garrick heard her scrambling noises and watched her, carefully eyeing her to make sure that she didn’t fall back to the ground.

And Locke watched Garrick watch the human, making equally careful note of his concern over her safety. The human, or rather Garrick’s interest in her, still confused him. She was useless—an already broken porcelain doll.

“So I take it that the visit to the North was not successful?” Locke asked after a beat.

Even as the words bubbled up to her lips, Charlotte knew it was a bad idea. She knew that it was far smarter to hold her cards close to her chest, as they said. And yet, try as she might, the desire to regain control on the situation, to place the Fae at her mercy rather than her at theirs was too much to resist. They needn’t know everything that transpired in that conversation but perhaps that would make it worse for them. Perhaps imagining what could have been discussed would wreak even more havoc than if they knew the truth. Besides, her pride somewhat smarted over how easily a kiss could overcome her. And so, despite her better judgment, Charlotte spoke softly.

“I wouldn’t say that. I found Jove to be refreshingly informative.”