Of Death and Fire

temptetions


CHAPTER 9: The Temptations of St. Morgaine
 
Author's notes and warning: The following chapter contains several sexual references, such as incest, self suffocation, masturbation, as well as a mixed pairing sexual encounter (SS/LM/OFC). If any of this offends you, DON'T READ IT. In other case, enjoy!
 
 
Back in her room, Morgaine was trying to put her mind at ease, but the much-desired sleep escaped her grasp. A fire burned in her head, all the images of the men she had loved parading before her eyes.
First of all, her twin brother Alexander. They had shared the same womb, but he came in the world in Light, while she came in Darkness. The bond between them was one that no words could begin to describe. Deeper than the foundations of the earth, it had defined her life as a child. She loved him deeply, desperately, and knew he shared her feelings. With the purifying power of the Sun in his blood, Alexander acknowledged her darkside and the subtle erotic aspect of their relationship, although he would never indulge in it. And she loved him more for this.
Then, there was a cousin of hers, an elf of the Silver Wood. But the moment she crossed the Basalt Gates, the relationship came to an end. All that remained was the echo of a life long lost.
And then, it was her mentor, Aurion Whitebone. She had loved him dearly, as she knew he had in return. She recalled his features, pale, eerie, handsome in a strange way, with his demon eyes always watching her every move. Yet he had never touched her as a lover; he had evaded her approaches gracefully, for reasons only known to him.
Several other faces passed behind her burning eyelids, faces of aspiring lovers during her Guild days. And every one of them had to go through a subconscious comparison with the forth man that had defined her life: Severus Snape.
She understood that now. But much to her surprise, in each comparison he had ended at the bottom level. Every man that had ever caught her eye had been kinder, gentler, and more human than he had ever been. And much more boring, unfortunately. Her dark core was undoubtedly attracted to him, and it seemed there was no way out of it. The result of her haunting had been an unexpected one: at the age of 27, Morgaine was still a virgin.
~*~
She found herself standing on the edge of a cliff, the dark forests of the Twilight Provinces at her feet. She realized she was dreaming, but, even so, the adrenaline rush was incredible. She felt the scented wind caress her naked body, as she opened her arms and leaned forward, falling off the edge into the darkness of the night.
The warm breeze carried her in its wings for a while, until she saw the Enchanted Lake beneath her. She slipped away from the wind's embrace and let herself in a breathtaking free fall. She saw the dark waters welcoming, and she fell in them with complete surrender.
The contact with the cold water sent a shock in every fiber of her being. Submerged in the blackness of the deep, she felt the water embrace her. Like lover's hands, it moved on her body, teasing her erect nipples, demanding, penetrating every opening of her flesh. The lack of oxygen made her arousal climb higher, to heights she had never experienced before. With a swift thrust of her thighs, she ejected herself above the lake surface in a moment of perfect ecstasy.
Exhausted but content, she slowly swam to the shore. She lied down on the warm ground, enjoying the silence, letting the starlight illuminate her nakedness. She still felt aroused; but she savored the moment, allowing the heat of her loins to warm her heart. And then she knew she was not alone.
She dared not open her eyes, holding her breath in anticipation of the touch. She felt a mouth covering her own; demanding lips pressing hers, forcing them to open in acceptance. She knew him from his familiar scent. He smelled of herbs and spices, of warm sweat and strange brews. As his mouth carved a burning trail from her lips to her neck, she raised her hands to his head, diving her hands in black, oily hair.
Her body was a dying star, ready to explode in a nova. She arched her back, raising her hands above her head in a gesture of complete surrender. His hands were claiming every inch of her body, in a silent conquest. Silence had veiled the shore, broken only by their heavy breathing. As his lips closed around her nipple, she bit her lips to hold back a scream. He raised his head and looked at her, and for a moment she was lost in his obsidian eyes. And then he bent over for a kiss, with one hand fondling her breasts and the other holding her arms above her head. Lost in the kiss, she felt one more hand caressing her thighs.
Unable to break from the kiss, she could not see the other man. But her eyes caught a flash of golden hair, revealing his identity. It was the man she had seen earlier that evening, the one so clearttrattracted to her. Whose fantasy is this? she thought. His or mine?
And this was the last thought she had. Her mind went blank, lost to the sensations flooding her. She no longer was a woman but a harp, playing in the tune of the their fingers. She knew not whose hands explored her inner body, whose lips teased her breasts. She cared not. The fire in her blood burned higher, all of her being focused in the needing flesh between her legs. She felt their breathing getting heavier, and their bodies closed on hers, demanding satisfaction.
A heartbeat before her unconditional surrender, she was ripped away from their grasp.
She woke up screaming, both in ecstasy and in anger, deprived of fulfillment.
~*~
Shaking, she sat up. She held her head in her arms, trying to calm her galloping heart. Her body was covered in sweat; her loins were moist and throbbing. She looked around, trying to accept the reality of her room, as her dream dissolved in the night breeze. What had caused her brutal awaking was a mystery; all seemed calm. Stumbling, she made her way to the bathroom.
Not daring to face herself in the mirror, she stepped under the cold water, hoping it would soothe her burning flesh. As it washed away her dream, her mind became focused and questioned her experience. It could have been an enchantment, but it was highly unlikely. Her protective tattoos could block more complicated attacks than this. Nor could she have been under the influence of a potion, for the same reason. The next possible scenario was what she feared most: Her dream was just an expression of her own dark desires.
With a sigh, she turned the water off, dried herself, and returned to bed. She hoped she could forget her dream by sunlight. But her sheets still smelled of passion, of a longing she could not deny.
To her relief, that night she dreamt no more.
 
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Author's notes: As I can see of my enhanced statistics, several people check out my story every day. What about a review, then? As another FFnet author, Nyx, has said: To read is human; to review is divine.