“I did not expect you would come, Lady Ellora.”
Ellora entered the room, closing the door behind her. The room was well lighted, with lamps burning in all corners, and a scented candle set the mood in the room. Her eyes went to the bed at the back of the room. Lord Fellworth - no, the Demon Fellworth - stood beside it, facing her, hands clasped behind his back. He wore the white cloak that had become his fashion for the past several years, ever since he had started the war on her people. Tonight, perhaps she could bring that war to an end.
“You left me with little choice, Fellworth,” she said. She could at least deny him the dignity of a title. She wore a sheer black dress, as he had requested, ending just below her knees. Frills decorated the hem of the dress, and it fit her well. Rather too well, she knew. It shamed her to dress herself so; but sometimes, that was what a Queen had to do for her people.
There they both stood, him breathing slightly heavily, her more evenly. She could see the hunger in his eyes, and somewhere, deep within her, in a part that the rest of her never acknowledged, she could feel something stirring. He took a deep breath, and slowly walked to her. His eyes drank in the blush on her pale cheeks. They drifted to her red lips, and then slowly went downwards. She felt shame. Shame that she wanted him to look more.
He came to stand before, his eyes locking with hers. He was still handsome, though no longer the boy that she had known long ago. There was a hardness to his face that told her that this man was different from the one that she had known long ago. He looked down on her, his broad chest before her face reminding her of the caresses she had given him once.
“So you agree to the terms of the treaty?” he asked her.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked cooly. “You have ravaged my people’s lands. Your demon magic has brought war upon us. Now you give us this one chance of peace, so I have to accept. I will do whatever I need to do to save my people.”
“Choice,” he scoffed, turning around in a huff, stepping to the side. “You had a choice, a long time ago, to avert this war. Instead, you chose him, not me. That’s why you forced me to do this.” He started walking around her. She stood serene.
“That wasn't my choice to make, and you know it. I had to marry him to secure the lands for our people.”
“And what about us? Did that not matter to you?”
Her eyes hardened. “It mattered. It mattered so much. But sometimes, other things count for a lot more. At that time, the safety of my people mattered more to me. And if your feelings for me were true, you would understand.”
“I understand nothing,” he said flatly, continuing to walk in a circle around her. “I gave up my life amongst the elves because I couldn't live without you, Ellora. I became a demon and took on the burden of this magic just to come back for you. You meant everything to me. Everything.”
“Well, you have me now, Fellworth. I stand before you, your legal captive. You can do with me as you please.”
At those words, he came to a stop, his eyes darting back to look at her, this time with more openness, more shamelessness. More desire. His eyes made her feel naked. On another day, in another place, she might have raised her hands and covered herself. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and tossed her hair, standing proudly, back arched straight, willing him to look more. She realised she was breathing a little heavily. She wished she could have hidden it from him more carefully, but with every moment in his presence she was starting to care less and less about more and more.
He slowly walked towards her. “Legal, is it?” he murmured softly. He raised his hand, and slowly, softly, traced the outline of her lips. He took her chin in his hand, and brought her lips closer to his. She waited, eager, willing for him to kiss, but he refrained. “My captive, are you?” His finger moved to her cheek, softly brushing it, and then traced its way down to the frills that dotted her cleavage. They both looked at his finger together, and then both looked up, together again.
There was a moment of unspoken silence between them. The fire in the grate crackled in the background, reflected in both their eyes. His eyes questioning what she knew he wanted. Her eyes telling his what she was willing to give. The lust grew in him with every passing moment, and she knew it would overcome him soon. She tensed, eager, expectant, waiting.
He walked around her again, standing behind her now. She didn't look behind, but he lowered the strap on her shoulder without asking her. She breathed in as his lips came to rest on the bare skin of her shoulder. Both his hands took either side of her waist for balance, and she breathed in again, cherishing that moment.
After a moment his lips lifted, and they were nuzzling at her ear. She clutched the hem of her dress, controlling the lust slowly building up inside of her.
“I’ve dreamed of this so much,” he breathed. “Every night I’ve dreamt of you, my dear. Every night of the last fifteen years. I’ve dreamt of you without a stitch on that beautiful body of yours. I’ve dreamed of you in my arms, writhing with passion. I’ve dreamt of you in poses that no good lady would take, doing things for me that no good lady would do. I’ve felt so ashamed, Ellora. But I cant help it.”
He paused, unable to continue, and she waited with baited breath for him to speak more. Instead, his right hand went down and lifted the hem of her dress, cupping her buttocks. He pressed in towards her rear with his crotch, and she realised that he was extremely, extremely hard. She gasped.
“You fire me up, Ellora,” he said, and started grinding softly against her rear. “Just the memory of you makes me feel passions I never knew I had. I do not know what it is that you do, but, the truth is, I am your captive, not you mine.” Against her will she moaned softly as his hand cupped her buttock even more tightly, relishing the feel of his palms pressing in upon her cheeks.
And then, suddenly, it stopped. She whipped around, distraught, but he was already walking away.
“What happened?” she asked, not bothering to mask the concern in her voice. He went to the other end of the room, hand against the wall, head hanging, breathing heavily. He spoke after a moment.
“I cannot do it, Ellora. I don't care if it’s legal and allowed. I cannot do it if you don't want it too. Go, just go, just leave me alone.”
“What…what do you mean?” she stammered.
“You are no longer my captive,” he said miserably, turning around and facing her. His eyes still fought to not explore her body, but he restrained himself admirably. “I will leave with the other demons come the morrow, and you shall have your peace. You need not be my legal captive, as you put it. I will do something else to find my peace. Your people have freedom.” He gestured once again for her to leave.
“Do you mean that, Ronan?” she said softly, not daring to hope. It was the first time she had deigned to use his name, but instead of calming him, it seemed to only make him sadder.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes, I mean it. Just go. Please, leave me alone in my own hell.”
She stood for a moment, not believing it. Then she lifted the strap on her shoulder and set it aright.
“Thank you,” she said simply. “I appreciate your generosity, and acknowledge your power, Lord Fellworth.”
He nodded impatiently, waiting for her to leave.
She slowly walked to the door, her hips swaying with her every step. When she reached, she pushed it closed and locked it.
She turned around, and found his eyes disbelieving. She smiled at him, and she could see him harden at that.
“Poses that no good lady would take, is it?” she teased him. She walked over to the bed, and then bent over, pulling up her dress with both hands to reveal her rear. He breathed in sharply and moaned in agony.
She whipped her head around and looked him in the eye, swaying her hips invitingly. “Come on, dear. I’m open territory.”
