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It’s no secret that fairies are decidedly strong when their wings are out. Our strength centers in them. While some fairies can fly, others have incredible senses and physical strength that seems to be bigger and more powerful when our wings are spread wide.
“Edward...”
“Yes, Rose?”
“Can I?” She licks her lips and searches for the words, and then she asks again. “Can I touch them?”
She looks so hopeful and so nervous and so innocent that I can’t deny her.
Not this.
Not this simple request.
Perhaps I should, but I won’t. Not after everything we’ve been through together.
“Yes,” I whisper. “You may touch my wings.”
She steps forward and reaches out. Her fingers gently graze the edges. She touches me softly, carefully, as though she’s going to break me. She’s scared, I realize, but she’s also being tender. This is one of the weirdest, but most erotic things I’ve ever done. Even Cheryl and I, after years of being mated, never did this. It never seemed necessary.
But now it does.
Not it seems so very important.
I stand perfectly still as she traces the edges of my wings with her fingers. Her hands are soft and gentle. She touches the edges of my wings and then moves around me. She traces the middle and finally, the base of my wings. I’ve never been touched there before. Not with my wings open. Not by anyone. I haven’t even touched myself at this spot, and the sensation is a little unnerving.
“You’re very beautiful,” she whispers.
I chuckle. Not exactly something a king wants to hear when he’s being intimate with someone. I’ve been called many things, but pretty? Not that.
“That’s not an insult,” Rose adds.
“I know it’s not.”
“Can you feel this?” I stand up a little bit straighter as she runs her fingers up and down the base of my wings. She does this on each wing and the sensation is strange, but sort of wonderful, too.
“Yes,” I whisper. My voice sounds strange. Husky. Aroused. I’m hard for her, and when Rose comes back to my front, there’s no way I can hide this from her. Nothing in my life has been quite this intimate or this exciting.
And then she does something I don’t expect.
She kisses me.
She kisses my wings. She runs her fingers up and down my wings and she runs her lips over them. I can’t even move. I don’t want to move. I just close my eyes and hold still, hoping against all hope that this moment will never end. This is the kind of moment you have in your dreams. It’s not something that actually happens to people in real life.
Not to me.
Not to the forgotten Fairy King.
Not to the lonely one.
Not to me.
When she comes back around, Rose is the one who cups my face. She looks at me for a long time, and then she takes a step forward. She presses her body against mine and looks up at me. Her hairs are in my hair and on my face and finally, she settles them on my hips.
“Edward,” she whispers.
That one word holds so many different things.
