Tirnan'Oge

by Amanda McIntyre

  “Bloody hell, Billy! Where’d you find this one?” Roan pushed up from the blanket. Both women stared at him in shock as William just shook his head and looked away.

  Roan stared at Willim in disbelief. Ceratinly, time hadn’t matured him any. He was proficient in charming his way into the beds of a variety of women. Without conscience, it seemed, his friend played this game of seduction, not taking accountability for his actions. Roan couldn’t understand the current blasé attitude of either gender.

  “I’m going for a walk,” Roan grumbled as he stomped away from the trio.

  “I’ll come too!” Clarissa tried to scramble up, but the heels of her shoes tangled in the blankets and caused her to fall backwards, crashing atop the other two. The three collapsed into inebriated laughter.

  “Best leave the hobbit alone, girls,” William laughed as he helped the girl off his lap. “He’s in a foul mood, because he still hasn’t found his damn watch.”

  Their laughter snaked up Roan’s spine. If he didn’t know that William was the type that needed his ego stroked, he’d have tossed him into the pond, but Roan knew it would do no good. William would never change.

  “Besides, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around.” Another round of female squeals followed.

  Roan glanced back at the three. Likely, they’d get along fine without him. As he drew near to the spot where he’d met the faery, he thought less of William and company and their unbelief. Roan believed “something” happened to him that day that had changed the course of his life.

  Purposely creating distance between him and the tittering group, he followed the edge of the bank around to the far curve of the pond. The warmth of the summer sun reminded him of how easy life used to be, up at dawn to help with chores, Gran’s incredible pies and watching the sunset from the branch of a tree outside his bedroom window. At the age of twelve, what worries have you got?

  He spotted the old oak standing in the alcove of the rocky shore. The grass had grown long and shaggy, obscuring the steep drop-off. For a moment he stood there, staring at the high bank above. He could see nothing remarkable about the spot, no magical aura, no strange markings, yet for some odd reason that he couldn’t explain, this area filled him with an enormous sense of peace.

  He took a deep, cleansing breath and faced the water. The pond and the surrounding acreage, was yet unspoiled by the urban crawl of city life. No burgeoning new businesses had claimed its beauty; no cracker box housing spoiled its natural vista.

  Roan had an insatiable urge to be a part of its immortality, to immerse himself in its eternal beauty. It called to him, beckoning him to be a part of its serenity. He shirked off his t-shirt, jeans, and shoes and stood in his boxers, just as he had many a time in his youth absorbing the freedom it gave.

  He dipped his toes into the pond, smiling as water licked the top of his foot. Even the temperature hadn’t changed over time. Careful of his footing, he sloshed cautiously into the dark, inviting coolness, his years washing away as the water caressed his body, magically removing his cares of the day. Roan pressed on until he was sure it was deep enough and with a deep breath, he dove into the deep green silence.

  Blessed relief—he was alone.

  He pushed his face through the water’s surface taking in a giant gulp of clean air, so crisp that it burned his nostrils. Treading water, he squinted through the droplets in his eyes to see the blazing sun above his head. The stark change of temperature made no sense. He searched the bank and saw no one. It was as though he’d come out of the water into a different world. He couldn’t even hear the laughter of his friends from around the bend.

  He chalked it up to nerves. Too much studying, perhaps, and not enough of a balance of down time in his life. That’s of course, what William would say was the problem. “You don’t take enough time to have fun, Roan. It’d do you a world of good now and again.” This from a guy prone to taking risks, even to the point of defying death itself. It was a big part of who William was, and for a time, Roan figured, that was why they were such good friends, their differences created the balance. But lately, those differences had widened between them and Roan, if not William, could see their lives were clearly on different roads.

  He brushed off his unease, and pushed toward shore. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of silver glinting off the bank above. Curious, he scanned the grassy knoll as he emerged from the water. A warm breeze buffeted his body, swirling around him in an invisible shroud of sensual pleasure.

  Laying out his jeans as a pallet, Roan stretched out on the grass, and tucked his hands beneath his head as he gazed through the leaves at the blue above. He closed his eyes and hoped the trio would leave him alone for awhile.

  Languid, his thoughts were lulled by the wine from lunch and the calming effect of his swim. In his dream-like state, he saw the image of a beautiful woman. She was like no human woman he’d ever met. His heart thrummed against his chest as she walked toward him.

  This fantasy woman wore a shimmering, translucent gown of pale blue that floated around her like an apparition, revealing her perfect form beneath. Mesmerized by her beauty, Roan’s body tightened in arousal.

  Her skin shone with radiance unmatched by any moonbeam, as did the gleam in her eyes. From the look in her gaze, she knew her affect on him. Roan found his voice. “It’s you. You look exactly the same as when I was twelve.”

  “The look in your eye is not that of the young boy I met long ago. I cannot change, but you have.” She scanned him from head to toe with an appreciative grin. “And for the better, if you’ll permit me to say.”

  She was exactly as he remembered and she was correct, he was no longer a boy, but a man, looking upon her through a man’s eyes, with a man’s desires, and a man’s wish to finally touch this fantasy that had haunted him his whole life. He’d lived too long on the brink between reality, with its lackluster offerings, and the musings of what he thought he’d seen one summer afternoon long ago.

  “When last we met, I had fear of going mad should you choose to kiss me.” Courage, stupidity, desire—all three urged him on. “Now if you do not, I fear I may go mad anyway. I would much rather go mad in tasting your mouth, than to go mad without the chance.”

  She tipped her head, studying him again as she had that fateful afternoon so long ago, before walking into his embrace. “Your sweet words are like our village storytellers. Their gift for words flow with such ease. Are you also a storyteller?”

  Roan shook his head. He hadn’t thought about it, but perhaps he was. He’d chosen to study ancient history and legends in hope of writing a book one day. For now, it was just a seed, nothing more. “Not yet, but maybe one day I may be.”

  She stepped forward and lay her soft cheek against the flesh where his heart was about to burst with happiness. If he were to die right now, it would all be worth these few moments of pure contentment.

  Until now, he hadn’t known what the void in his life was, or why he couldn’t believe in much of anything.

  “They said you weren’t real. People think you…your village, are just stories made up by humans over the years.” He nestled his face in the scent of her hair, its softness against his skin like dew on a rose. Roan breathed in the familiar honeysuckle fragrance that had made him oblivious to any other scent of a woman.

  “Believed in only by those who have…pea-brains?” She glanced up at him and as she did, her lips swept ever so lightly over his chest.

  A sharp current of ecstasy sped through his veins and he shuddered visibly in its wake. She’d barely touched him with her mouth. What would happen if she did so with concentrated effort? No wonder the legends spoke of a man’s madness.

  “You were listening?” Roan supposed a faery’s magic had few boundaries.

  “Only when it concerns you.”

  Roan closed his eyes to her simple, yet sweet confirmation.

  “‘Tis not wise to tarry long. We’ve not much time.”

  Her vo
ice played like the melody of a song, soothing his world-weary soul.

  Her small delicate hands slid gently over his chest, leaving a path of fire in their wake. She slid her arms around his neck and raising one hand, let her gown slip from her shoulders to the ground. His body immediately reacted to the softness of her curves against him. Perfect in body, her skin shone like that of the moon on the water at midnight.

  “I shan’t touch my lips to yours, but you are able to touch me freely.”

  She cupped his face in her hands, gazing on him with such love that his body ached in yearning. He was humbled by her offering, so pure and unashamed, to him, nothing more than a human.

  “What would happen to you…if we—” The words stuck in his throat for indeed he thought himself going mad.

  “I would no longer be welcome in Tirnan ‘Oge. That is my home. I would become mortal as you are.”

  “Why would you do that for me? I’m only human. What can I give you that you don’t already have?” Roan licked his lips, battling a fierce desire to kiss her senseless.

  “What is mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. Do you remember the words?” She smiled.

  Roan returned her smile. “Of course. But, we were talking about a watch then.”

  She pulled from the air his Da’s old watch and held it up. The time had stopped exactly as it was that fateful afternoon of their first meeting. “Are you sure ‘tis all we were saying, and was that only a sunrise ago?”

  “Many sunrises, I’m afraid.” He smiled wearily, a touch of sadness in his voice.

  She drew near, tempting him with her delicious body. Roan wished for nothing more than to lay her on the grass and make passionate, sweet love to her.

  “‘Tis true, I wish for the same.” She snuggled close, her breasts like twin moons pressed unashamed to his chest.

  Of course, she could sense his thoughts. “Am I dreaming?” Roan held her at arms length, unsure of his sanity. Unsure of how fragile she might be, this fantastic apparition. Roan cupped her face, mesmerized as he threaded his fingers through her hair and lifted it from her shoulders, allowing it to cascade through his hands.

  Sparkles of illuminecesnt light fluttered through the air in the wake of his minstrations, affirming she was pure magic, body and soul.

  She closed her eyes, her pleasure evident on her face. “If indeed ye are dreaming, then I pray ye shall not awaken.”

  “If I make love to you, you will die.” Roan watched the smile dissolve from her face. Her eyes popped open blazing with determination.

  “‘Tis my choice, human. Mine to make.” She held her shoulders straight, her chin thrust upward, not unlike a stubborn human woman.

  Roan swallowed. “But for me to give you that fate would be the death of me. Who you are is the very reason I can stand to live in this world. I know you’re real and that I—” He stopped aware that he was about to declare to this magical apparition something he’d never felt, never said to another being his entire life.

  “I love you…somewhere inside me, I always have. First in stories, then when you saved me.” He frowned at the expression on her face. “Why did you save me?”

  “Because you have second sight.”

  “It wasn’t just for my watch, then?” He tried to make light of the fact that inasmuch as he wanted her and she him, in all probability they could never be joined together.

  She took his chin in her hand, gazing directly into his eyes. “I have watched ye grow from a wee child into the fine man ye have become. ‘Tis my heart that you snared long ago, Roan McNamara.”

  Her heart? This startling revelation did little to aid his ability to reason away the desire simmering inside of him.

  “I can see by the look in yer eye that you find that hard to imagine.” She turned away from him and crossed her arms indignantly. Puzzled, he found that a human-like attribute as well.

  Roan waited a moment longer, noting in an abstract way that she had no fluttery white wings, and no pert tail—indeed she was as well formed from the back as she was from the front. That did not make things any easier either.

  “How do I know that this is real?” Roan glanced down and discovered somewhere he’d misplaced his boxer briefs. He frowned trying to remember taking them off.

  She pointed to a low branch over her shoulder. There were his boxers as well as his shirt and pants dangling from the trees leafy hand. “Take a look, human. You folks forever need to prove things to yourselves and one another.” She shook her head.

  Roan peered around her shoulder, mystified that he hadn’t even noticed when—much less, how she’d managed to remove his clothes.

  “There ought to be some perks to having magic.” She smiled.

  “Then I’m not dreaming? You are real?”

  She took his face in her hands. A fiery warmth, liquid and soothing, seeped lazily thorough his veins. “Think, human, of what might be.”

  Languid already from whatever magical spell she’d placed on him, Roan fought hard to think past the pure pleasure radiating from his body.

  “You mean, we can touch, but not—”

  “Yes. Can you not feel the sensations? Our hearts yearn to be as one. Can you deny the truth of what you feel?”

  “I-I cannot deny that more than anything I desire you, but my guilt would be too great for me to live with.” Roan fought against the heat rising in his blood, making his reason hazy. Would he be able to stop her? Would he be able to stop himself?

  “It is my magic that will make it pleasurable. What you sense, what I sense, will be very real, and yet our physical state shall not be altered. The only requirement is that we hold each other. And do not be afraid.”

  Fire licked at his calves, spreading warmth over the muscles in his hips, caressing him with the sensuality of a skillful lover. He grew hard, her magic coaxing his rigid length with soft even strokes. Roan gazed in amazed wonder at their hands. It was the only physical connection they had, and yet he knew whose gentle lips covered his sensitive velvet tip, whose gentle fingers wrapped around him.

  “H-how can this be?” Roan turned his face toward the heavens as exquisite heat lapped at his body. A groan escaped from his lips.

  “Do not let go of my grasp, human.”

  “Call me, Roan,” he gritted through his teeth. The sensation of her delicate fingers wafted over his naked torso, fluttering over his taut nipples, sliding with sensuous purpose over his buttocks.

  Fingers interlocked, a swirling pale blue mist surrounded them, the scent of honeysuckle drew heavy in his lungs as sultry and sensual as after a rainstorm. She gazed at him, her blue eyes capturing his, drowning him in pure sensual pleasure.

  “Aye Roan, yer heart is strong; your passion for me is great. I can feel you inside, your desire filling me. You’ve only to think of your desire and let it be fulfilled as you wish.”

  Softly her breath panted with her arousal, blowing a cool breeze across their entwined hands. She drew them to her lips, tightening her grasp as her gaze fought to stay to his. “Stay with me, Roan.”

  He fought to stay in control, but his body was being pushed toward the edge of a black abyss of sensuality the likes of which he’d never experienced before.

  Her eyes were wild as a mare in heat, as gentle as a secret waterfall, full of a love with a magnitude that Roan could barely conceive. But his body was another matter. It was on a journey of its own, summoned by her power, wanting nothing more than to satisfy this euphoric lust between them. And yet, he experienced it all in the depth of her eyes and the warmth of the connection only of her hands.

  “You cannot become mortal?” His teeth ground together as his body grew tight with his impending release.

  “Not until you take me physically, Roan.” Her head lolled back and she gasped, her lips parting with a blissful sigh. Her hands tightened with his.

  Faery orgasms were something new to Roan. Making love through your spirit an even more unusual experience. “What shall I call you, spirit o
f my heart?” Roan’s breathing quickened in conjunction with the urgency coursing like wildfire through his body. He closed his eyes to the spine-tingling pleasure that gripped his very soul.

  “I am Feeorin.”

  Her body jerked once and Roan held tight, afraid to let go, and yet at the same time, afraid to take this wondrous bliss to completion. He pushed his fear aside, remembering her precaution and held her hands firm.

  “What’s mine is yours—” The last word from her lips came on the rush of the wind, cold as ice, and heady with honeysuckle. A soft moan escaped her lips.

  “And what’s yours is mine.” He grabbed her in his embrace, unable to keep himself from the torment of wanting to taste her lips. Roan captured her mouth, fulfilling years of intense longing, of loneliness that until now, he’d not understood. He drank in her sweetness, quenching his parched soul, refilling the hope—tarnished over time—inside of him. And with a mental cry of joy that pierced his mind with a blinding light, he poured the essence of his soul into her, all that he had to offer, his dreams, his love, his belief.

  He slanted his mouth over hers, feasting like a mad man on her lips. She tasted of everything that was good, pure, and right—childhood innocence, honesty, and simplicity—everything that the chaos of his adult world had dried to a prune-like mass in his soul.

  Just as his mind was about to explode, Roan ended the kiss. He could barely breathe, much less utter one word of the many swirling inside his brain. Instead, he held her close for what seemed an eternity but what was, in reality, a moment.

  She stepped away, her gaze averted, and slowly gathered her gown in her arms. “‘Twas not a wise choice ye made in kissing me, Roan McNamara. ‘Tis nothing I can do now in my power to reverse what has been done.”

  Roan clamped his hands on the top of his head and grinned. He felt wonderful! Damn, it was going to feel good to finally prove William, the poor unbelieving bastard, wrong. He hadn’t felt like this in…hell, he’d never felt like this. “That was fantastic.”