Lucky Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by L. A. Boruff

  I take a moment to put the pieces together. He has a point. From what I was told about leprechauns, among their own people they're wealthy, well-respected artisans. If that checks out for him too, he has a lot more to lose by putting himself into this kind of spotlight than he has to gain.

  But I've seen more outlandish moves in my time in this job.

  "Who has the most to gain by putting you away?" I ask him. "They had to know they were getting us involved when killing a human."

  He laughs. It's a low rumble that fills the entire cave and warms me to him, our circumstances notwithstanding. "Isn't that your job? Figure out who did it?"

  "I'm not a detective," I tell him. "I'm just here to collect people."

  "Maybe you should be one," he says.

  "So, what, you're just not going to come with me on principle?" I ask him.

  "Of course not. I'm not going to go with you because I need to get that asshole who framed me. Entirely different. But I need my freedom. So here we are."

  I bite my tongue. The bantering is giving me some extra time to think but it's not gonna be long now before he catches on. I stare at him, thinking about what dances on the peripheral edges.

  A door in, passages deeper into the cave.

  A bed, a kitchenette, some chairs.

  The workbench. A fire.

  It clicks.

  I run, not towards him but towards the fire, pulling one sturdy stick from it and moving toward the workbench. It draws an arc of light through the room, and I hear Connor shouting "no!" at me as I move. But it doesn't matter. I have a goal and any sentimentality will get in the way right now. The light comes within feet of the station, the diagrams of shoes and leather obvious now that he's told me what it's for, and I nearly have it aflame when a large hand grabs my wrist. I drop the torch and it falls to the ground, burning brightly for a second before going out. I barely notice it, instead grabbing his wrist back and pulling him towards me. He falls downward, stumbling, and it's only a moment before he regains his footing. But it's enough. I have a cord around his wrists and a firm grip on him, and I've caught him.

  The leprechaun is mine.

  Where the hell is Riley? I wonder, but it doesn't matter. Not really. I'll deal with him in a moment.

  "Tell the truth," I tell Connor. "Did you do it? I notice you didn’t actually say you didn’t."

  "Are you using a wish? There's a whole format for those, you know," he tells me, smirking again.

  I roll my eyes. "You're awfully calm for someone I'm taking into the authorities."

  "I didn't kill anyone," he says plainly, and I have no choice but to believe him. "But it doesn't matter. You caught me, so you still get three wishes."

  "Fine. You can go. I'd like your help figuring out who framed you, though. Something about having someone to take back to my bosses?"

  "Oh, I know exactly who framed me. It's just a matter of catching them. But I want you to use one of your wishes first."

  "You're innocent. I'm not going to make you do my bidding."

  He shakes his head. "I'm no murderer. I've never blackmailed anyone or stolen from anyone. But I'm far from innocent." He pauses, tilting his head downward, and I suspect it's only to give him an excuse to look up at me through his lashes. "Tell me," he says, "have you ever fucked a fae before?"

  There's a beat.

  This isn't the first time a fae has come onto me in my line of work. It's pretty typical for them to try to seduce humans, either as a way of manipulation, play, or feeding, in the case of incubi and succubi. Even working with the agency, bounty hunters don't have any rules against it, per se, at least not in cases where the one attempting to bed us isn't also a criminal at large we're supposed to be apprehending.

  But it's a very, very bad idea. The novelty of fucking a fae is appealing to many up until you hear the horror stories: The creatures that eat the heads of the ones they're mating with. Fairies that take humans to other realms, then keep them there for decades. Illusions dropping halfway through sex to reveal that the beautiful creature they thought they were bedding is actually a monster from the hellish depths of Faerie. On and on and on, as many stories as there are people foolish enough to let a fairy get them naked.

  I inhale deeply, weighing my words, and look back at Connor. He still wears his nearly-a-smirk side smile, and I can't stop thinking about the generous bulge I eyed up earlier. "Of course I haven't," I finally say.

  "What, you think we're all bad?"

  "Clearly not, or I would have apprehended you regardless."

  "So, what? You're not telling me you've never considered it."

  Of course I have. But I'm brave, not stupid. "I know better," I say, flatly.

  "So, tell me," he says, moving towards me. I crane my head to look up at him and my lips graze his chest in the process. I lean into him before I think better of what I'm doing. "If it wasn't against your better judgement, and I wanted to take you right now, would you tell me no?"

  "I don't think this is an appropriate conversation if we're intending on trying to cultivate a professional working relationship, do you?" I ask, but only because my answer is a clear no and I'm trying to figure out how to both not lie and also not tell the truth.

  "I wasn't under the impression that normal professional boundaries matter to you," he tells me. He's not wrong.

  "What's in it for you? Are you trying to hurt me? Riley? Trying to fuck with our sense of space and time?"

  He laughs again, and it vibrates through my body. Fuck, I want this man. Fairy, I scold myself. "I don't want to hurt anyone," he says, "I'm a simple man. I make the finest footwear this side of the Atlantic, I build myself everything I could ever need, I drink at the pub every night, and I get rich in the process. That I'm mixed up in whatever this is is terribly annoying. I want you to make it stop so I can get back to living as an honest shoemaker with a love of whiskey, and there's no way I want to compromise that." He takes a drink of alcohol I hadn't noticed off the work area, moving his tied hands together to grab it, and downs it in one go, as if to drive home his point. "What I want right now, though, is to take you on that bed." He gestures to the sturdy oak bed in the corner. "But this isn't a game to me. This isn't about coercion or harm. I do ask that unless you'd like to take me up on my offer and use my bound hands for thematic purposes, you untie me."

  I don't say anything, but move toward him, carefully undoing my knotwork in the process. It takes a moment for me to loosen it, and as I fiddle with the rope I do my best to avoid looking beyond his hands and arms to his chest. It doesn't matter, though - just his smell and the sight of his arms has me nearly turning into a puddle.

  Where is Riley? For real? I don't fool myself into thinking he'd mind if I added another guy to my roster, but I'd really like him to be my better angel and convince me that fucking a fae isn't in my best interests. There's a loophole somewhere and I haven't figured out where. But my resolve isn't strong enough, knowing he won't hurt me and that he can't lie.

  The ropes finally fall from his hands, and there are angry red marks around his wrists. I massage them, two of my delicate hands on each massive forearm at a time, and he lets a contented sigh fall from his lips as I do so.

  "Get going or get on the bed," he says gruffly.

  "What about our professional discussion about who framed you?" I ask. I'm pushing too much at this point, probably. My luck is running out. And I really should reconvene with Riley before trying to gather any new information that might be necessary to apprehend a subject without an explicit contract from our employers to do so.

  He shakes his head and moves away. "I can't be professional quite yet. I'm entirely too worked up. If you recall, you're the one in my home, so if you're not going to actually take me to your headquarters, I have every right to ask you to leave. But I recommend you take the other option." He walks to the bed himself and removes his pants before laying on it. The bed is big enough that he doesn't take up even half of it, and next to the fire it loo
ks inviting for reasons beyond that he's mostly naked.

  "I need to find Riley," I say, but I can't bring myself to leave. When I go to move to the door, my feet are propelling me to the bed instead.

  "Riley's okay," Connor says. "This is what's best for both of you. You'll see."

  I don't trust Connor. I don't trust anyone, including Riley, but I especially don't trust this strange fae who can bend my experience of reality at will. On the other hand, there's something about the danger that propels me forward, separate from his magic or the magic of the land or anything else.

  I don't have a death wish. I do have a reasonably low regard for my own life, though, and when stacked with a desire to experience as many things as possible, it leads me to making some arguably poor decisions.

  Sex with a fae? Yeah, that's up there. Sex with a leprechaun that's built like a fortress with some of the most mesmerizing dimples I've ever seen?

  Yeah, I don't have the resolve to resist.

  I pull my shirt off at the bed, then my pants, and join him when all I have left is my underwear. He's not too pleased with this, and he moves to unhook my bra, one of his massive hands on the small of my back. He pulls it off with one sweep, then begins to pull at my underwear. He frees me from it, and the silky piece looks dainty in his fingers before he folds it and places it next to the pillow.

  This is a mistake, I think as his hands move up my sides and his mouth brushes my neck. But he's a mistake that feels far too good not to make, and instead of pushing him away I pull him towards me. He crashes against me, his massive body crushing mine, his hands rough as they trail over my skin. His cock is hard under boxers, and from what I feel, he's huge there too.

  He is a hurricane and I'm in his path.

  I move my hands down his back. I can't reach around him, not from this angle, but I can feel the way the muscles in his shoulders flex as he moves over me, and when my hands reach his perfect butt they pry at his underwear. He chuckles, his voice vibrating through him and then through me to shake the bed.

  "I'm taking my time with you," he says, one of his hands taking both of my wrists to pin them above my head. Out of nowhere, my rope appears, and he makes quick work of tying them to the headboard so that I can't rush it.

  My cunt is dripping wet, though, and I arch up on my legs to move against his body. I have no shame and no reluctance, the loophole that's waiting notwithstanding.

  Just curiosity.

  "What's the catch?" I ask him as he presses my thighs back into his mattress, even that small act of defiance more than he wants to allow at the moment.

  "What do you mean 'catch'?" he grumbles. "I already told you I'm not going to hurt you."

  "So what are the... after effects? Can you get me pregnant? Are there STIs? Are you going to leave me in the middle of Antarctica naked?"

  He laughs again, and this time it bellows through the whole room. "None of that, love. The worst you're gonna get from me is a little boost in your luck. It's temporary, though, so don't worry. Might wanna get a lottery ticket or somethin', though."

  "A... boost in my luck?"

  "Good luck," he says, "as if you don't have enough of that already. Now, you wanna keep asking questions?"

  "No," I say, satisfied.

  "Good," he says, and suddenly there's something in my mouth. Like... a gag, I guess, but I can't put my finger on what exactly it is. I also don't remember Connor putting it there, which is its own level of weird, until I remember what I was told about leprechauns being able to spin illusions.

  I watch him remove his underwear, his cock springs free, and everything else that has been happening in my mind comes to a complete halt.

  The thing is huge. One of my hands wouldn't fit around it, I'm absolutely certain. It's long enough I could stack my hands on the shaft and still get a decent amount in my mouth. He's already hard, thank the gods, because if he weren't I wouldn't be convinced he'd actually be able to fit inside of me.

  Even this is likely to be a struggle, but my vagina is nothing but turned on by it. He wastes little time with foreplay, pressing the tip against my opening, but instead of sliding in immediately he draws circles across my folds. I whimper, my torso moving into him almost involuntarily. He responds my grasping my hips and using them to guide himself in, one centimeter at a time, giving my cunt the opportunity to stretch around him as he pushes through to his hilt. It hurts, just a little, and he seems to be aware enough of it to move accordingly, which is far too slow for me. I want to grind against him but his hands are still iron-hard on me and I don't move an inch.

  "I've been alive for hundreds of years," he tells me, sliding all the way in and holding himself there, "and every human I've fucked has had one thing in common. None of you know how to wait." He pulls out, then pushes back in before continuing. "And here's the real catch, the one you didn't think of: fae or not, I'm still a man, prone to all of the same flaws human men are, even if I'm not the kind of fae who would kill someone."

  I try to ask a question, but the gag cuts me off. He seems to understand anyway.

  "I'm terribly selfish in bed," he says, "which is not to say that you won't get off, because you will. But it will be at my pace, not yours. Do I make myself clear?"

  I nod. I want to be more mad about it than I am. He continues his thrusting, but it's slower now, as if he's trying to prove how patient he is compared to me. His hands move from my hips and graze up to my breasts, massaging them and pinching my nipples just hard enough to hurt. I moan, and the noise is mostly covered by whatever's in my mouth. It still seems loud enough for him to hear it because he continues, pinching my nipples and thrusting harder in response.

  I moan again, a long guttural noise from the bottom of my throat, and feel myself buck against him. My body is a traitor, and I want to become an accomplice. He has other plans, and instead of allowing me freedom of motion he holds my ass, moving it into himself in rhythm with his own thrusts. It hurts, but it hurts in the most excruciatingly beautiful way I can imagine, and I feel an orgasm building. With every thrust I come closer until I'm nearly there, almost at release, and he pulls away.

  "Not yet," he tells me, moving back against my body to roll my nipple in his tongue and taking it between his teeth. It hurts and I whimper, but he's not discouraged. He replaces his mouth with his hand to bite his way back down my body to my thigh.

  I hold my breath, willing his tongue to hit my clit. Just one or two good flicks and I think I'll get my release. But he doesn't so much as graze it before moving to my thigh and biting.

  Hard.

  I'm pretty sure there's blood, but I don't have a chance to look before he's sliding back inside me. It's not slow anymore, it's fast and hard, and I explode against his shaft. His nails are digging into my ass as he uses it for leverage, and right now I'm at his mercy. He got me off, as promised, and now all that matters to him is how good my cunt feels around his cock.

  His motions are hard as he climaxes, and in those moments everything shifts. I’m no longer on a bed in a damp cave. I’m in fields of flowers and sunshine, I’m on a boat during a storm, then I’m high in the clouds watching the sun set over the white peaks. Everything is the beginning, middle, and end, and I am inconsequential in the vast universe, and I am everything that matters.

  He pulls out. The ropes and gags fade without any prompting. I am exhausted in the best of ways, and I am the luckiest girl alive.

  “Molly?” Riley’s voice echoes through the cavern. I glance at him, and he blinks a few times. “What the fuck?”

  I raise my eyebrows and smile. He’s angry, but there’s not much I can do now but grab my clothing from the far side of the bed. Instead of moving over Connor’s still-naked form to get it, I stand and walk around it, but in the end I’m not sure whether that makes it any less awkward.

  “He’s innocent,” I say, by way of explanation. “I got him to tell me outright.”

  Riley nods, anger still etched across his features, but it softens
slightly. He doesn’t say anything. That the fae can’t lie is a well-known fact and we trust it here, but that doesn’t mean I got his approval, either. “Who’s the culprit?” He asks, straight to the point. Of course, we’re not going to delve into the romantic complications of my sexual adventures. Not here.

  Connor looks from one of us to the other as we talk, not having the sense of propriety to put clothing on. I toss his blanket over him and he raises his eyebrows.

  “Wanna join next time?” he asks Riley, no indication that he’s anything but sincere. Riley doesn’t respond; I don’t think he was prepared for the question, though, and something almost like interest flashes across his face before he regains his self control.

  Well, noted. I file that away to ask him about it when we’re safely back at our cabin.

  “Let’s focus for a second. Please, Connor?” I say, and he nods in a go on motion. “Riley, Connor was framed. I’m good telling our superiors that the case was a bust, but I’d rather tell them we’ve apprehended the real culprit. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Do we know who the real culprit is?” he asks me. I shake my head, but Connor speaks up.

  “No,” he says, “but I bet I know who does. I don’t piss many people off.”

  “Who?” Riley and I say, almost together.

  “Saoirse,” he says. “But she goes by Sally.”

  As it turns out, Sally is a beautiful fae who lives deeper in the woods. Where, precisely, Connor isn’t sure, but he usually runs into her drinking at the pub, so we make plans to regroup near his place in a few hours.

  He has to complete orders for shoes, he says. Something about a fairy band that needs to be ready to dance in circles tomorrow night?

  At any rate, Riley and I give him some privacy. There isn’t really enough time for it to be worth it to us to return to the cabin, so instead we walk along the beach, for a moment, just enjoying the view.

  I take my boots off, then my socks, and leave them a safe distance from the shore to let them dry out. Finally, the sand is between my toes, and I walk to the water to let it splash around my ankles. The breeze is cool and it’s pleasant in contrast with the sunshine that caresses my skin as birds fly above me.