"Loads of practice," Red said, and Jack's smile inched a bit wider before he descended, hand reaching forward to cup Red's balls. Jack's mouth opened, engulfing him, and Red closed his eyes against the wave of pleasure Jack's tongue created circling the head of his cock. He moaned, long and hard, as Jack took him all the way to the base.
It was both like Big and completely different, and utterly arousing as Jack began to move, his rhythm nowhere near the calm control of Big. Jack was all passion and bravado, taking Red deep with each bob of his head, making Red glad he had come so recently or else he'd be having a very hard time indeed not getting off too soon and ruining the fun.
For all that he enjoyed Jack's mouth on his cock, though, Red wanted more, and could practically feel Big's gaze boring into both of them from across the room. He wanted something to do, and Red knew he could provide. So with some reluctance Red leaned forward and drew Jack's face away from his cock, forward into a new kiss and Red could taste himself on Jack's lips, an experience that was much more erotic than he expected. Pulling Jack further forward, Red drew him to the side and returned him to his back so that Red could return the favor.
Jack was quite ready as Red found his cock and wrapped his hand around it. Jack grunted as Red gave it a rough tug. Without preamble, Red descended, pushing Jack's cock up against his stomach so that he could lick the underside of his shaft and suck his balls, enjoying the salty tang of them as he grabbed Jack's cock again and pumped it.
As he continued his sensual assault, Red could feel Big moving around behind him. He yelped slightly as he felt a coldness on his ass, the telltale slick chill of lube, and he smiled once before taking Jack into his mouth. He bucked as Big pushed a finger inside him, and he moaned around Jack's cock, an action that seemed well appreciated if the bead of precum that leaked from its tip was anything to go by.
Big worked his finger in and out of Red's ass, just as slow and methodical as he had been with Jack, but Red was anything but with Jack's cock, slurping noisily as he fought to control the pleasure roiling in him. It was almost a disappointment when Big pulled his fingers out and pulled Red back. Jack's cock slid out of Red's mouth with a soft pop, and Big flipped Red around so that he was standing on the bed, back toward Jack, cock nearly lined up with Big's mouth. But it wasn't sucking that he had in mind, Red knew. And with a knowing smile Red lowered himself, feet on either side of Jack's legs, then reached his arms back, bracing himself on either side of Jack's shoulders.
Big reached down and took Jack's cock in hand, held it steady as Red lowered his ass to greet it, hissing as the head pressed a moment against his hole and then, mercifully, slide inside. Jack's hands found Red's hips and with only a moment's hesitation Jack began thrusting, cock sending waves of pleasure up Red's spine, his own erection throbbing with need. Above him, about them both, Big towered, kneeling, close enough that his cock, straining forward, nearly fell onto Red's. Which, Red realized between pleasured moans, was exactly what Big had in mind. Moving forward so that he was directly in between Red's legs, Big wrapped a large, lube-slick hand around both their cocks at once, a toothy smile spreading on his face as Red watched.
As Jack thrust up into Red's ass, Big took hold of their cocks and began to stroke in time, pushing forward as Jack pulled down, sliding back as Jack pushed up. Red cried out, felt his arms give out and he collapsed back onto Jack's chest, unable to stop any of it, not wanting to stop any it, the three of them a triangle of pleasure, of lust, of want and need. They moved without the restraint of their first time, even Big giving over to the need, to the thrust and pull, the moan and cry.
And then there was nothing left to do but come, and they did, hard and loud, Red feeling Jack's cock twitch and release in his ass as his own orgasm struck, followed only a moment later by Big's howl, his hand still stroking both of them, their semen mixing and further slicking their cocks and Red's chest all the way up to his neck. An errant shot landed on his lips and he licked it lazily, body surrendering to the pleasure, to the release and the warmth that followed. This time they all collapsed on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs and cocks. And Red, exhausted, let himself go to the darkness encroaching upon his vision.
*~*~*
"Well I have to say, for a bunch of thieves, you are certainly athletic," a voice came, jarring Red from sleep, and it took him a moment to realize that he recognized it, and that he was in grave danger.
"Though I think the sheets are a complete loss, to be honest, even with magic on my side."
Red's eyes shot open and he felt Jack and Big tense where they lay against him. They sat up as one to see the woman in the doorway—Esmeralda, in all her glory, with an amused look on her face.
"Oh, don't worry," she said, holding up her hands as if in surrender. "I'm not here for a fight." She strode forward, eyes passing over them appraising. She smiled.
"Then what are you here for?" Red asked, speaking as the most clothed of the three of them, though his dress was a bit askew and did nothing to conceal his lower body.
"To hire you," she said, and all three of them stared.
"What?" Red asked. Esmeralda laughed.
"Hire you," she said again, walking to the edge of the bed and producing from her pocket a pouch that sounded heavy with coin. Red blinked, peered forward. Was there something a little... off about her head? Aside from the fact that it was attached to her neck at all? There, a seam, ragged and raw, like she had actually found the head Big had spit out and reattached it.
"How are you not dead?" Red asked, not because he thought she would answer, but because most things couldn't survive getting their heads bitten off. Esmeralda just winked.
"It's hard to kill a witch, deary," she said. "And besides, a good thing for you I'm not dead, or else Prince Charming over there would have swindled you two out of your share of the loot with that drugged wine there." She pointed to the bottle Jack had brought over prior to their fun.
Red and Big both turned to Jack, who had the decency to blush at least, but still merely shrugged.
"What, all's fair I thought," he said, then paused and snorted. "And that was before I found out just how much fun it could be for all of us to get a third."
Red rolled his eyes and Big gave a growl that was half groan.
"As I was saying, I want to hire you," Esmeralda went on. "As... marketing agents."
"Marketing for what?" Red asked. Esmeralda sighed and looked wistfully toward the window.
"Oh, it's just been so slow around here lately," she said. "Time was I would get three to four people trying to steal my money a month. Now? You three have been my only nibbles in ages."
Red shook his head, unsure of what this had to do with anything. "And you want us to...?" he asked.
"Find me some fresh meat," she said, and huffed as they all glared in her direction. "Hey, I'm not asking for virgin puppies here. But I have to eat. Normally, I feed on people who would want to steal from little old ladies who live alone in the woods." She returned their glare with added interest. "You know, real scum. I just need you to go out and plant the seed in the right places. Tell a wicked stepfather that there's a magic belt that cures impotence or the oafish prince that there's a ring that will grow his willy three sizes. I don't care how you get them here, but make sure they're evil and succulent."
Red paused a moment. It didn't exactly sound on the level, working for a witch, but then, she had a point about robbing little old ladies. And it's not like they couldn't profit as well. Evil princes had money. Money they wouldn't need if they were lunch for a witch.
"What's the catch?" Red asked, wondering why Esmeralda would have had such a change of heart after having been ready to kill them all before.
She smiled, flushing a bit at her cheeks, and she let her eyes drift over them again.
"Let's just say that I see everything that goes on in my house," she said. "And I want to make sure you have a convenient place to crash in case you want to... celebrate some more." Her smile was
downright carnivorous, but somehow it didn't really bother Red. He was, for once, not at all surprised.
Red turned and looked at Big, who was shaking his head, but grinning despite it. Jack burst out laughing.
"So you want us around so that you can peep on us?" Jack asked between guffaws. Esmeralda shrugged. "You kinky old witch."
"It's not like you all seem to mind having an audience," she said. "And besides, you sort of owe me for all the damage to my house and my Woodsmen. It'll be weeks before I get those fixed and operational again."
"As they were trying to kill me at the time, I can't say I'm sorry," Big said. But even he seemed to have relaxed some at hearing the plan. Red could see him considering their options. Having an employer would mean maybe finally not having to worry about where to sleep, what to eat. And if it meant seeing where things went with Jack, too, well...
"We will need adequate funds for food and lodgings for our travels," Red said before Big could open his mouth to object. "Plus bonuses. Plus magical protection if you can manage it. Plus new clothes." He looked down at what was left of his own outfit. He could feel the stuffing half-spilled from the bra he was wearing and everything seemed vaguely damp. Definitely, they'd need some new clothes, and this time, he'd get to pick out what he'd be wearing.
Esmeralda cackled again. "Of course, of course," she said. She extended her hand. "We have a deal, then?"
Red shared a look with Big. There was so much to talk about, decide, but all they had was that moment, their gazes locked. Big gave the smallest of nods, and Red smiled and took Esmeralda's hand.
"We have a deal," he said. A job was a job, after all.
"Well, I think we've found our happily ever after," Jack said loudly, and Red looked around for a pillow to hit him with.
The Nixie in the Well
TS Porter
There was once a family who, though they were stepfamily, loved each other dearly. The elder daughter, Ida, was kind and dutiful, with warm, brown eyes, and hands and arms strong from work. The younger daughter, Linza, was a sweet child, happy and beloved by all, with hair like spun gold and cheeks as round and rosy as apples. Their mother Rozlin, who was Ida's stepmother, loved them both equally.
When Ida was grown, she turned away the men who tried to court her and stayed at home to work and help her family. Ida did her best to look after little Linza, and Linza could always make Ida smile. They were never happier than they were walking hand in hand. Though they were not wealthy, they with their parents made a good family.
Now it happened that one morning, Rozlin gave little Linza a new spindle for spinning thread. It was a finer one than she'd ever had before, with little birds carved into the whorl, so they seemed to be flying when she spun it. With it, Linza could learn to spin thread fine enough for lace.
Linza carried it with her everywhere that day, happy to show off her fine new spindle to everyone she met. In the afternoon, Ida and Linza sat themselves beside the well to rest in the shade and spin before they ate their lunches. But when Linza tried to spin with the new spindle, the thread broke or knotted or came out all thick and thin, and soon, she became frustrated.
Ida could not bear to see her little sister so upset and offered to try the spindle to be sure it was weighted right. Linza threw the spindle to Ida, saying "Have the cursed thing and be gone!"
Perhaps some wicked mischief spirit heard her, because the spindle bounced off Ida's hastily-raised hand and into the well. And when Ida reached out desperately to catch the spindle, knowing how Linza loved it and how Rozlin had saved up to buy it, she overbalanced and fell into the well after it.
*~*~*
The water was ice cold.
The shock of it drove all the air out of Ida's lungs. She reached out, trying to find the surface or anything to cling to, and prayed Linza would have the presence of mind to lower the bucket so she could cling to the rope until help came.
Ida bruised her arms, hitting rough stonework, but there was only empty water when she reached back toward it. Her legs were tangled in her soaked skirts, so she could not kick toward the surface. Not that she could tell where the surface was. She hit her cheek against another bit of stone, but again, there was nothing there to cling to.
Ida's lungs burned, but she knew she couldn't breathe the water. She couldn't. She just had to find the surface. There must be surface somewhere. She couldn't see anything at all—the roof over the well would block any sunlight that might have guided her. The same thing that made it such a good place to sit and rest was her undoing.
Ida reached out again, desperately clawing for anything to hold on to. Her fingers closed on something sharp. She gasped her searing lungs full of water when it pierced her finger.
Then there was peaceful nothing.
*~*~*
Ida woke up lying in a quiet, sunlit field. She yawned and blinked the sleep from her eyes, shaking off the terrible dream of drowning. Linza wasn't beside her, and she pushed herself quickly to her feet, heart pounding. She was supposed look after Linza—but Linza was nowhere to be seen, and Ida wasn't anywhere she'd ever been before.
She wasn't anywhere in the natural world. Ida was breathing air, and her clothes were dry, but instead of birds, there were bright-colored fish swimming along through the air and darting through the grasses. The field was bright and warm, but the sun was rippled and far away, as if it was shining through deep water. Ida was holding Linza's new spindle tight in her hand. The sharp little hook on the end was stained red with her own blood, and what little thread Linza had managed to spin on it was soaking wet, as though it really had fallen into the well.
Ida sucked at the still-aching tip of her finger where the spindle had pricked her, and tried not to panic. She had never particularly believed in fairy stories, and she did not want to believe that she had fallen into one.
Though... it was a nicer thing to believe than that she'd drowned in a well. Ida blinked the tears from her eyes, remembering Linza's horrified scream and the awful weightlessness of falling. She'd fallen into a very strange, quiet land, with no wind or birds to make any sound, and she would just have to find her way home somehow.
There was a path at the bottom of the field, and a path had to lead somewhere. Ida put the spindle in her pocket and walked toward it, startling schools of bright silver fish as she went. The path, when she reached it, looked about the same in either direction. It led to more sunny fields dotted with trees both ways.
Ida's hand felt empty without Linza's to hold it, and since she couldn't ask Linza which way they should go, as she normally would, she addressed the path itself. It seemed to be the thing to do in a fairy story.
"Well, path, which way leads to help?" she asked.
The path didn't answer, which was more comforting than it maybe ought to be. There was suddenly a faint current on the air though, carrying a scent like fresh baked bread down the right-hand path. Ida smiled a bit as she turned toward it. That was as good a reason to choose a direction as any, and if there really was bread, there ought to be a baker. If there was a baker, maybe they could help her find a way home.
The path was pleasant enough. Ida walked for what felt like ages. Hunger gnawed at her belly, and her throat was dry, but there was nothing for it. The lunch that Rozlin had packed for her had stayed behind at the side of the well. Ida tried to keep her spirits up. She was apparently alive. She was whole and healthy, despite the scrapes and bruises from her fall into the well. She had a path to follow, and she did occasionally catch whiffs of fresh bread as she walked.
Ida watched the little fishes darting through the grasses and the trees. They nibbled on grass seeds and hunted little beetles. A pretty perch darted just in front of Ida with a cricket in its mouth, but other than that, she didn't see any regular surface bugs. Ida saw the occasional frog, but there were no flies or bees or butterflies. There were just the little schools of fish, and occasionally larger fish, hunting them like hawks.
"Oh, sorrow, sorrow."
>
Ida perked up when she heard a quiet voice ahead of her, and rushed to catch up to it. "Hello?" she called out. "Hello, is someone there?"
"Only me," a dry voice, like rustling leaves, answered. "Only me, and all my apples will fall. Oh, sorrow." The voice was beside Ida, but there was no one there. Just a small apple tree, heavy with pink-blushed yellow apples.
"I can't see you?" Ida walked around the apple tree in case the speaker was behind it. "Where are you?"
"I'm right here." The apple tree shook its leaves peevishly. "My mistress has been too busy to pick all my lovely, sweet apples, and now they'll fall to the ground and rot. Oh, sorrow, sorrow."
"You're... the tree?" Ida asked. She probably shouldn't be surprised, considering the fish and all, but talking trees were another layer of weirdness beyond.
"Of course I'm the tree," the tree huffed. "Really, girl, if you're going to stand there gawping instead of helping, you can just run right along."
"My name's Ida." She was past the age she could be described as a girl, and well before the age it would become flattering. "And I'll help you if I can." She'd never been the kind of person to refuse to help someone who asked—even if she'd never expected a sharp-tempered tree to be the one asking.
"Thank you, Miss Ida!" The tree was all sweetness now. "There's a bucket at my root, for the apples. And you must pick my apples one with the left hand, the next with the right—left, right, and so on." That seemed a strange rule, but Ida had heard enough fairy tales to know not to question it.
"I'll pick what I can," Ida promised as she picked the bucket up, "but this bucket won't hold much."
"Of course it will." The tree was back to its natural snippiness again. "You just say 'little bucket, a little more room' and there will be room for more. Really, what do they teach children these days?"
"I'm not a child," Ida informed the tree as she began picking apples the way she'd been instructed.
"How am I supposed to know that? I haven't got eyes!"
Ida laughed at that, but thankfully the tree did not seem to take offense. The apples came away from the tree with barely a touch, and Ida put them carefully in the bucket so they wouldn't bruise. It wasn't so difficult to pick apples with alternating hands, and thankfully, the tree was small and lowered its taller branches to her once she'd picked the lower ones clean. Ida felt a little silly talking to the bucket, but it really did have more room when she asked for it.
Fairytales Slashed: Volume 8 Page 15
