I think he understood, but I added: 'You express your love very subtly. I tried to explain that to him, but still he didn't see it, he just wants to be touched. Do you mind?' He looked up, kissed me and said: 'Actually no, I'm starting to get the hang of it. Do you?'
I decided to be honest with him and confessed: 'For a moment, I did, I didn't want to share you. But then I realized I expected you to share me, and I let it go. It is very difficult not to love Lukas.'
He stood up and offered me his hand: 'Shall we do the search first, then see how physical we can get afterwards?' I took his hand and stood up as well, and told him: 'Gladly.' To perform a search we needed to go to his apartment, under the shields. I followed him down the stairs, and down his lovely stairs.
We went into the kitchen, where he showed me how to prepare a scrying bowl. He took an unadorned, highly polished red copper bowl out of a cupboard, filling it with purified water, adding certain herbs and salt, waiting
until the water settled.
Then we washed our hands carefully, and he explained what my role would be: to stay in physical contact with him, as his anchor to our world. 'Please do not let go of my hand, whatever happens. And do not touch the water, that is really dangerous,' he said, 'I do not expect trouble in this search, and there are immense shields on this place, but searching always makes the person doing it vulnerable.'
There were several things I wanted to know: 'Can I watch the water?' and
'What will you be looking for?' He answered shortly, for the water was nearly ready: 'Yes, you can watch, as long as you don't touch the water, and keep in mind, you can see awful things. Don't react, we'll talk about them later, just hold on to me until I'm done.
I'll be looking for the faeries that should be taking care of those trees, they've disappeared and faeries just don't leave their trees unattended. Something must have happened to them, something bad.'
Now the water in the bowl was perfect, so we sat down very close to each other, and he took my hand firmly into his own. Then he spoke a word of command over the bowl, and a scene started to become visible in the water.
I saw the trees, deserted, left to pine away without their caretakers. Then the view changed from the friendly park to a nasty, filthy place, with broken down houses and dead trees. The air was choked with charcoal fumes, a layer of soot covered heaps and heaps of trash, the refuse of a society addicted to modern technology.
The only building in any state of repair in this image was an ugly brick building, covered in soot, with a chimney belching black smoke that didn't even reach the cleaner part of the sky before it dispersed, particles falling out above the desolate place from hell. Studying the image, I saw movement in the heaps of rubble, small movements in a dead landscape.
The image zoomed in, I guess that was Paul's doing. I looked at him, but his face was concentrated and bland, there was no feeling of any kind visible on it.
I felt a bit lonely and held on to his warm hand with all my will, afraid to lose him. Then I turned back to the image, and saw a big heap of trash, buckets and old wheels, cogs and wires and rags, everything thrown out in a big heap, with a cement of mud and, I shuddered, probably horse dung or even human waste.
The movement was clearer now, human shapes, no, children, dressed in rags, filthy and skinny, fishing objects from between the rubble, putting them in cloths slung about their bodies.
Zooming in still further we came into a kind of alley in the rubble, knee deep in waste, a dead end. An old garbage bin was lying on its side, rusty and covered in soot over the rust. Inside the can, objects had been arranged in a pleasing way, as if they were precious ornaments.
But the can was too small for a child to have done this. And that was when I saw the faerie. It was human-like, but much smaller, and it looked just as I imagined a faerie, an elegant face with a tiny nose, big eyes and a pointy chin and ears, an elegant slim body and well-made elegant clothes. But this faerie was incredibly filthy, face covered in soot, hair sticking out from its head, clothes covered in muck and soot.
It didn't have the springiness I'd expect from a faerie either, no liveliness, no singing, no nonsense. This tiny creature had no facial expression at all, and it was hard at work, gathering objects like the children, but stacking them neatly everywhere in its little grubby home. It was heart-rending The image moved to another cannister lying about, and it was also inhabited by a hard-working, joyless faerie. This one was a girl, and the objects were girls' things, but all covered in soot, broken, worthless.
What was going on here? I think Paul had seen enough, for the image zoomed out slowly until we could see the river nearby, and a distinctive church on the other side of it. He had probably recognized the place, for the image winked out, and I felt the hand in my hand come to life.
A tired voice broke the spell with a word, and as I looked at Paul, I was shocked to see his face. It was grey, and exhausted. His face most certainly had an expression now, and it was one of intense grief.
Again, I managed to stay silent, and I just put an arm around him, trying to offer what little comfort I could give. I stroked his hair, and felt him nearly fall over with weariness. He was not up to speaking yet, so I said: 'Let me help you to the sofa where you can lie down for moment, I'll make you a cup of tea.'
And I helped him up, and supported him towards the sofa, guiding him into it, where he promptly collapsed. Then I speeded to the kitchen, filling the china pot from the boiler, and checking his stock of teas.
One smelled particularly reviving, and I used that, taking the pot and a cup with me to the sofa. Whilst it steeped, I sat next to him, holding him and stroking him. I couldn't say whether it was weariness or grief that had taken so much out of him, or maybe both.
He leaned against me until I deemed the tea ready, and I handed him a cup, unstrained. He smelled it, looked at me in approval, and sipped it hot as it was. This seemed to revive him, for he slowly straightened himself, still leaning on me but no longer with all his weight, and he managed to speak:
'Good choice in tea, how did you know?'
'I didn't, just picked the most vitalising one,' I said. He downed the tea in one big gulp, how he didn't burn himself I'll never know, and I took the empty cup and put it back on the table. Then I held him against me, and ran my hands through his hair very gently.
He was nearly asleep, his face on my breasts, and I must admit I felt more than a little horny to have him this close again. I put my hand under his shirt again, stroking his muscular stomach this time, slowly moving down his pants. He didn't react in shock, so I felt free to continue downwards, stroking his thighs softly.
He was a little ticklish, but not badly so. Still, I moved my hand away from the part he reacted to and stroked towards his crotch, feeling the soft skin of his testicles between my fingers, taking them in my hand really carefully.
This felt so good to me, that I kept on stroking them for quite some time.
Since I had not gotten much of a reaction so far, I started to feel a bit guilty, what if he was too tired to protest? So I whispered in his ear: 'Do you mind?'
A husky voice answered: 'No, please go on.' And I did, now moving my hand towards his penis, soft skinned as well, but hardened by now, of course. First I stroked it, enjoying the feel of the skin, then I handled it, firmly but not roughly.
His body did react now, one of his hands moved towards my bodice, pulling the laces to release them, causing my breasts to fall out into his face. He was in the throes of lust now, sucking one of my lush breasts and fondling the other, moving his hips along with the rhythm of my hand in his pants.
Suddenly he came alive again, and he turned around and kissed me, on fire now and very intense. Then he lifted up my skirts, teased down my undies and buried his face in my pubic hair. Searching with his tongue, he found the place that stimulated me the most, and he made me shudder with pleasure,
more and more, until I came to a high with groan.
Then he jump
ed me with incredible energy, thrusting himself in me with much less control than the first time. He was really letting go of himself, which pleased me. With such abandonment, it wouldn't take long for him to climax, so I helped myself along with a few fingers, and came just ahead of him.
This made his last intense thrusts extra good, and we laid on the sofa together, him out of breath, but less depressed than before. After a few minutes, we looked at each other, smiled, kissed, then rearranged our clothes and shared a cup of stimulating tea, sitting on the couch as one large person with two heads and twice the usual number of arms and legs.
When the tea was finished, he started to speak: 'They moved out, they just left their trees and moved out. I can't understand, why would a dryad want to live in a trash can? With stuff, hoarding stuff. They don't even care about possessions.'
I observed: 'Well, they did seem to care now. About the stuff, I mean, not about anything else.' Paul was clearly puzzled, deep in his thoughts. I asked him: 'Are you tired from the search?' My voice broke his train of thoughts, he looked at me and said: 'Searching is always hard, and faeries are hard to find, especially the ones that live in communion with something. Even when they are totally healthy, which these weren't, but what was ailing them?'
Here, I got a thought: 'You say they live in communion?' 'Yes, dryads are very close to their trees, they are supposed not to be able to live without them, yet those were living in a lifeless trash can,' Paul replied, 'and totally alone, but they did not seem to be suffering from active loneliness, they seemed more without feelings at all.'
I completed my thought: 'Maybe they used the stuff to fill up the hole inside them. Where the tree should be. That is what human hoarders are supposed to do, filling up an emptiness inside them with stuff.'
Still looking very weary, Paul snuggled up to me and laid his head on my lap.
I couldn't resist his curly hair, it had to be touched. He enjoyed the attention, closing his eyes, nearly falling asleep, saying: 'Can't think anymore, too tired.
I'll step by Sir Nomes' manor tomorrow, see if his faeries have the same problem.'
And then he dropped off, face relaxing in sleep. I realized I had never seen him asleep before, he looked much younger than usual. But now I
remembered he had told me we were of the same age, so I guess he really was this young, his self-confidence and competence just made him seem older than his years.
I felt a strong surge of love for this serious, rather reserved man, who loved so deeply but found it hard to show that love. Lukas and I were going to have to stimulate him to show it, time and time again, and to give him his fair share in return. He deserved it. I sat with Paul sleeping in my lap for another quarter of an hour, when I heard a key turn in the lock, and Lukas came in.
He came down the stairs and brought a bag of groceries to the kitchen, without noticing me or Paul. He was whistling to himself, clearly in an excellent mood.
When he came out again straight afterwards, he was no longer whistling, but looking for something, rather worriedly.
Spotting us on the sofa, he ran towards us and kneeled before Paul's still form, pleading: 'He's not hurt, is he?' I replied calmly: 'No, just sleeping. He saw some disturbing things, and it took a lot out of him.'
Relieved, Lukas said: 'I saw the scrying bowl on the kitchen table, Paul would never leave a mess if something hadn't happened. You know, searching really is quite dangerous, I suppose he usually does it alone. Very risky.'
He now looked at Paul as I had done a little earlier, observing: 'He looks much younger asleep, don't you think?' I smiled at him, and said: 'I think this is his real age, he mentioned to me once that we were about the same age. He looks much older when he's awake, I think because he always seems to know what to do.'
Lukas now threw a cheeky look at me again and said: 'You mean he's bossy.'
I couldn't help laughing, and said: 'That too.'
Though it was a tight fit, Lukas managed to sit on my other side, and I was snug between two handsome men. 'You told me he loved me, but I didn't see it,' he said. I observed: 'He was very subtle showing it, spending time with you, teaching you, making your favourite dinner, helping you saw off your horns against his better judgement.'
At that last remark, Lukas looked really ashamed, adding: 'Not taking my hide off for nudging him. You know, that is just as unethical where I come from, I really wasn't thinking clearly anymore.' 'And you nearly died for it,' I told him, glad he hadn't.
'You have both been so good to me, and yet it still wasn't enough for me, I had to have his love as well,' Lukas realized. I touched his beloved face, saying: 'You already had his love, you just didn't see it. Will you recognize it now? I'm sure he will try to show you more clearly, but it is hard for him. Did you have a good time outside?'
I changed the subject, I wasn't Lukas' mother and didn't want to moralise. I got an enthusiastic hug in reply, and: 'It was so good, I just walked and ran until I didn't know where I was anymore, then I searched for the boundary and came back.
'The boundary?' I queried. 'Yes, the boundary, where Paul's quarter ends,' said Lukas, 'you should be able to see that too. If you know how to find it, you'll never get lost.' I never tried, so I said: 'I'll try tomorrow, when I go to the building site. Still want to come?' He nodded vigorously.
Now Paul started to stir a little, still sleeping. I stroked his hair again, and his stubbled cheek, and he opened his eyes for a moment, turning his face towards me, then clasped his arms around me firmly, sighed and went back to sleep.
Lukas looked at him tenderly, we both hadn't realized he was still so young, and my mind took me back to the instances where we had left him in control, when maybe we should have taken our own responsibility. That would not happen to me again, nor to Lukas, I could see that. I could see something else in him as well, and I suggested: 'We can make out a little without disturbing him, can't we?'
Which of course was on his mind, and he soon had his hands on my breasts, releasing them from their confinement, licking my nipples. I fondled his curls as he bent over me, they were darker than Paul's, and rougher, keeping their shape though his hair was quite long now. Soon I encountered his horns but I avoided them, knowing that stroking the stumps would turn Lukas on instantly, inevitably disturbing Paul in his sleep.
Looking up from my breasts, he kissed me, and that kiss was charged with all the energy our fondling was generating. He had his hands still on my breasts, and I had mine under his shirt now, his skin incredibly soft and his musky scent as stimulating as ever after his exercise.
This was going all wrong, the two of us were not able to keep it small, our passion was bound to take over sooner or later. When the kiss was done, Lukas asked: 'How long do you think he will need to sleep?
I think I'd better start on our dinner, making out with you is way too exciting.'
I agreed, and he went to the kitchen, looking back once regretfully, as if we weren't going to be sleeping together tonight and a lot of nights to come.
Soon I heard him going about his business in the kitchen, and some lovely odours were coming our way. Paul clearly smelled them in his sleep, for he got restless again, feeling me up with his hands, and encountering my breasts, still free from my bodice. He explored them eagerly, apparently still sleeping, which I found astonishing.
But soon, an eye opened, and another one, and he looked at his hands in surprise, then at me: 'I dreamt I was touching your breasts, but I suppose it wasn't really a dream. Did I do that? Can't remember dreaming that,' this at my corset still loosened up.
I smiled at him fondly and said: 'No, Lukas did that. He came home and we tried to make out without disturbing your sleep, but it didn't work out at all, so he went to the kitchen to make dinner.'
Now he said slightly worried: 'It didn't work out, you didn't quarrel or anything?' Thinking of what we had been doing, this made me laugh: 'No, we got a little too enthusiastic, and you needed your sleep.'
'Well, a
s long as they're there, I might as well enjoy them until dinner is ready,' he said cheekily, and just like that he gave me a push until I lay on the sofa with him, then took hold of my creamy white breasts with both his hands, sucking their nipples one at a time, feeling their soft weight in his hands, licking every inch of both, burying his face in them, indeed until Lukas called that dinner was ready.
Then he helped me to sit up, gently deposited each breast in its right place in the corset, and carefully re-laced it bottom to top. It was done perfectly, not too loose and not too tight, which didn't surprise me one bit. Throughout all this, I was kind of stunned by his forwardness, though I enjoyed it too. And not before he helped me up from the sofa to lead me to the kitchen table, did I notice that he looked his usual age again.
Chapter 16
Lukas had really outdone himself, going all out on the potatoes and the cheese. Of course there were plenty of healthy things in his dinner, but it was mainly very rich. After running most of the day I guess he was hungry. Paul was too, he stuffed himself like he did that day on the flea market, talking very little.
But Lukas hadn't forgotten his promise to look out for ailing trees, and dinner was the perfect moment to report his findings. He told us: 'From here to the north boundary the trees I saw were all fine, and returning along the boundary going west, then back here, there weren't many trees, but what I saw was in good health. The affected trees were south, maybe we should check that side tomorrow.
And your building site, Melissa, please remind me to check the trees on our way there ' Now, Paul showed some interest again, and said: 'I was planning to visit Sir Nomes' manor tomorrow, he has a large landscaped garden and he is an expert on faeries. And now you mention it, he lives to the south.'
Now Lukas took a good, long look at Paul, until he managed to catch his eye.
Still keeping the contact, Lukas said: 'What is your problem, Paul? You've spotted something amiss, we're working on it, what more can you do?'
Mirror Bound Page 12
