Reluctantly Rogue Pt. 01 Ch. 002

(Note: This is a long, ongoing story. It is a story with sex. It's a sexy story. It is in many ways a story about sex. But, it is not strictly a sex story. Many chapters may even be SFW.)

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RELUCTANTLY ROGUE:

The Indecent Adventures of Atyr Bracken

CHAPTER TWO

Consciousness and its Absence

Light forced its way between his fluttering lids. He was staring up at the leaves of the Brookwood, dark against the bright, afternoon sky. His chest burned. His unkempt hair was still dripping with water. His thigh throbbed where he'd cut it. His head felt filled with sloshing, painful waves of something disorienting and unpleasant.

Above all his balls hurt. They hurt like a donkey had kicked him straight between the legs. No wonder. He'd never felt the need to come that fiercely, and judging from his cock, still hard and twitching, straining towards the sky, he hadn't quite managed it during the... experience. His vision was clearing, and as it did, he noticed what was probably the second, no, third weirdest thing of the day so far.

Seated on his leg, just a hands-breadth from his twitching erection, and roughly the same size as it, was a miniature woman. She looked almost translucent, faintly glowing with a fuzzy sort of light. She had wings. And she was grinning at him.

"Hello, you woke up fast! I thought you'd be out for a while. Would you like to be my adventurer?" Hers was the same tiny, ringing voice that had urged him to get out of the pool moments ago. As she spoke, that weird feeling of pure arousal hit him again, but this time it didn't wash across him and disappear. If the previous times he'd felt it had been waves of sensuality, this was a tide. The world went dark again.

***

"Sorry!" came the bell-like voice, pulling him back up through darkness. "I really should have toned it down, with you in your current state."

Atyr drifted back to full consciousness, the weird, erotic feeling still there, but muted now. He lifted his head, staring down at the tiny woman on his thigh. Faerie? Was this a faerie?

"Are you a, um, a faerie?" he asked. This was apparently immensely humorous, and she broke into a burst of tinkling giggles, jumping to her feet and dancing around on his thigh, unperturbed by her proximity to his erection.

"Am I a faerie, am I a faaaaaerie." She spun in a circle and bowed to him. "Yes, of course! But no, because faeries aren't real, you dummy." She paused, looked thoughtfully at the sky, and continued, "But yes after all, because I'm what you probably think a faerie is." She smirked at him, and then repeated, "Dummy."

As his senses trickled back, Atyr was becoming progressively more uncomfortable with the fact that there was a tiny, maybe-faerie dancing around right next to his penis. Which, he noticed with dismay, was leaking a bead of pre-cum. It began to ooze slowly down the shaft. The maybe-faerie followed his mortified gaze, and watched in interest as the sticky liquid dripped messily onto his stomach.

He tried to brush her away, but she danced further down his leg, still laughing at him. He sat up to try again, and the eddy came into view, barely a half stride from his feet. That sight pushed him to full wakefulness, and he skittered backwards across the grass in a sudden panic. The maybe-faerie laughed aloud again and flitted up to his shoulder as he settled a dozen full strides further away.

"Don't worry!" She was laughing in his ear, and the weird feeling trickled over him again. Actually, maybe he wasn't so embarrassed after all -- maybe he even enjoyed the embarrassment...? He shook his head, and the feeling vanished.

"Sorry sorry sorry again!" she said. "I don't mean to, it's just that I like you. Anyway, don't worry, she can't leave the pool. Or, she won't anyway. And she won't bother you anymore unless you go in bleeding again. Dummy." She paused thoughtfully. "Unless you want her to bother you, in which case you could probably just ask." She giggled mischievously and flitted to his other shoulder, whispering in his other ear, "Doooo you want her to bother you again?"

Atyr's cock jumped as he remembered the first part of his brief encounter with the green woman. Another, larger bead of pre-cum forced its way out of his cock, and flowed lazily down to add to the mess.

The voice came in his ear again, "That," she pointed at his erection, "won't go away unless you do something about it, you know. That's how she works."

Atyr jerked his ear away, "Do something about it?" His heart was pounding with a lingering fear, a fearsome arousal, and a rapidly returning sense of embarrassment. Then he caught her meaning. "Do something about it??"

A giggle in his ear. "I'll watch."

"You won't!" Atyr stumbled to his feet. "I wont!" He swayed a bit, but managed to remain upright.

She was fluttering an arms-length in front of his face now, bobbing about cheerily in the air. "You won't what?"

Atyr stared at the small woman, equal parts aghast at her forwardness, and surprised at how he was managing to react so relatively normally to this absolutely not normal afternoon. He stalked over to the stump where his clothes lay. Or rather, he intended to stalk. In reality he stumbled, knees wobbling beneath him.

From behind him, a giggle. "I like your butt." A quick shot of that weird, sleepy-horny-hungry feeling caught him.

Anger was mixing with his embarrassment now, as he began pulling on his pants.

"Good luck!" came the little voice, now just above his head. He flinched, ducking involuntarily, and swore again.

"Fates, what is wrong with you? Are all faeries like this?"

"Like me? No. We're all different. And we're all not faeries."

"You're not all faeries?"

"No, dummy, we're all not faeries. I told you faeries aren't real."

Atyr stared angrily up at the not-faerie, painfully trying to stuff himself into his pants.

"Like I said, good luck!" She seemed amused at his awkward attempts.

He managed to fit his still-hard cock into the garment, where it throbbed uncomfortably against the laces.

More titters from above. "Ok, I'm impressed, that's a lot to fit in there. That problem is still not going to fix itself though. Once you start with her, you um... have to finish." Flitting down to hover in front of the pulsing bulge she poked with a tiny finger at the sticky mess already starting to soak through. "See?"

Atyr leapt backward. "What is wrong with you!?" The fierceness with which he had intended to speak was undercut slightly by a squeak in his disloyal voice.

Pressed tightly against the fabric, every twitch of his aching shaft sent a jolt through his body, and caused his balls to tighten eagerly. He could feel the cum getting ready to explode out of him. His breath was beginning to shake, his thin stomach tensing. His hips began to thrust slightly of their own accord, sliding the head of his cock against the slick, pre-cum soaked fabric.

A tiny weight alighted on his shoulder again, and a voice chimed in his ear, "Oh. Um, actually, I think the problem might fix itself after all." And then again, now with the full force of that weird feeling behind them, two words, "I'll watch."

That was all it took, in that moment the bizarre idea of the little faerie watching him was the most erotic thing he could imagine. The orgasm rolled through his slim body. All his muscles tensed as one. He felt his balls draining, his pelvis spasming, a heated river of pleasure coursing through his core, blinding him as his already achingly hard cock swelled somehow larger and began to eject an immense amount of hot, wet cum, gush upon gush, almost without pause; a nearly steady stream as seemingly every drop within him spurted forth.

It was a long moment before he began to register the world around him. He was lying on his back once again, feeling drained in every way he could be. Lifting his head, he noted the front of his pants, drenched with more cum than he would have believed possible. And of course, still there, standing on a dry patch of fabric, and grinning devilishly at him, was the not-faerie.

"You might want to wash these." He felt the world begin to melt away again, but he heard her giggle. "I would recommend someplace other than the pool."

***

When Atyr woke up again he was shivering, it was almost full dark, and he was still half naked on the dewy grass. He felt as exhausted as he ever had. He tried to think about exactly what it was that had happened to him that afternoon, but his mind wouldn't focus. It kept slipping sideways to other topics: topics like food, like warmth, like sleep. Oh, definitely sleep.

"Well, that's a question for the morning." On to practical matters. His pants were, he found, definitely in need of cleaning, and still unpleasantly damp in places. He recalled the whatever-she-was's words about the pool, not that he needed the reminder. He looked around for his tiny visitor but couldn't find her anywhere. That didn't mean much, as small as she was, but he couldn't summon the energy to care right now. Laundry and not-fairies, both morning problems, he decided, stripping out of the pants and dropping them mindlessly on the ground.

Nude, he stumbled over to his makeshift hide shelter and grabbed his cloak, wrapping it around himself. He scrounged some dry tinder and kindling and started a small fire from the afternoon's embers. Just enough to warm him, and to see by. No matter what the not-faerie had said, he didn't trust that pool at all. Cold, and naked aside from his cloak, alone in the dark, he had never felt quite as vulnerable and exposed as he did in that moment.

He collected his small knife, and braved the shadows near the eddy to retrieve his chipped hatchet. He leaned his short hunting bow on the half log where he sat by the fire, unstrung but easy to hand. Glancing over at the darkness where he knew water lay, hearing the soft, sinister lapping at the bank, he no longer had any desire for food. He settled down with his makeshift arsenal, rough weave of the cloak against his bare skin, fire at his back, and turned his watchful gaze to the night. However much he wanted sleep, it could wait until the sun returned. He would not be closing his eyes this night.

***

When he opened them again, he was stretched out long on the log bench, noon sun warming his bare skin, axe, knife, and bow on the ground around him, and a painful hunger in his stomach. The sun was a pleasant feeling, until he remembered how exactly it had come about that he was sleeping naked in the open. A spasm of panic launched him to his feet, which landed on the bow, which rolled, sending his feet back out from under him, and planting his bare ass firmly back down on the log. The absence of giggles confirmed the absence of his... rescuer? Luck in unlucky times, he supposed. He couldn't deal with more fae mockery at the moment.

The clear, eddying pool looked as lazy and innocent as it ever had in the hot sun, and the gentle ripples once again lapped playfully at the bank. As he looked around, it was hard to take the previous day seriously.

Atyr got up and thought about breakfast. However much confidence he had regained, he didn't quite feel up to fishing in the pool just yet. Food was low. He looked at the hatchet. It would need a smith. He sighed. To town then?

"To town," he confirmed aloud. He scrounged some blackthorn berries, and the dregs of what food stores he had, snacking as he filled his pack. There wasn't much to scrounge. Then, supplies in order, it was time to confront the inevitable. He was desperately thirsty, and the pants were disgusting. Between the grime from his labors with the cabin, the blood from his wound, and now all his... well the most recent mess he'd made, they were not exactly something he felt comfortable wearing on the Road. Or in town, for that matter! He stared at his only source of water. The eddying pool. Where did the green woman live? The water was clear and shallow; he couldn't imagine she was hiding in there. Yet... once she had seduced him, the the pool had seemed immensely deep, extending in all directions...

Feeling once a coward, and more than twice a fool, he cut a forked branch and tied the legs of his pants around the crotch. He walked to the bank of the lazy eddy and stared at it. Knife in one hand, he threw in an acorn. It splashed, and then bobbed lazily on the surface, carried away and around by the gentle current. The ripples faded. He threw another. Nothing unexpected. Extending the pants on the branch, he tapped the surface and drew back, knife at the ready. Nothing. Ok. Time to go for it. He dipped the pants under, jiggled them slightly in the water. He tensed. Still nothing.

It was hard work, trying to to control the soggy weight at the end of a long stick with only one hand. He managed some awkward side-to-side swirls in the slow flowing water, before giving up and dragging the pants back towards him, predictably bumping them into the bank, and smearing mud across the drenched mess. Trying again, he put the knife in his teeth and both hands on the branch, swishing the pants back and forth to rinse them as much as he could, and then carefully lifting them back out, swinging and dripping.

That weird feeling flowed softly over him again, and he flinched, grabbing the knife from his mouth, and dropping the pants off the edge of the bank into the water. The eddy was still slowly spinning, placid and nonthreatening. Right. That feeling meant his other new acquaintance was around. He looked about swiftly, but saw her nowhere. As his pulse slowed and the moment of panic passed, he became aware of how he must appear. Crouched, armed with a belt knife, fist hauling a pair of sopping pants on the end of a stick, then spinning in circles, staring wildly around. Still completely naked. His pants drifting away around the eddy.

A giggle came from directly overhead. "Only have one pair of pants, or what?"

His head snapped up, and she tapped him on the nose with a tiny, translucent foot. He sneezed.

"Oh, sorry. Faerie dust."

Atyr frowned. "I thought you weren't a faerie? And what is wrong with you?" He paused. "And yes, I only have one pair of pants and---" He chewed his lip, embarrassed and unwilling to finish the thought.

"And they're absolutely disgusting and covered in a disturbing amount of dried cum?" Her tinkling voice sounded helpful and earnest, as though she really thought he might want help finishing the sentence.

Slowly, he responded, each word a curse. "I. Was. Trying. To. Clean. Them. May I continue?"

"Of course!"

"... In private."

She preemptively fluttered several feet higher above him before responding in a voice that dripped with delight.

"I think I'll watch." This time her voice carried the weird with it again, and Atyr, mortified, found his cock begin to respond to the horny part of what the feeling was. She flitted down to inspect, then beamed up at him. "Seems like you don't mind?"

He swatted down at her. "Get away from me!"

A giggle.

He frowned and stalked away, but she flitted back around in front.

"I like you."

"I don't."

"You don't like you?" Her little form drooped theatrically. "How tragic!"

"I don't like you."

"I believe you more about the first thing you said."

Atyr paused, jaw tense and jutting forward, slim form shaking with, well, with several confusing things all melted together. "You believe I don't like myself." His voice was flat, a barely restrained shout hidden within it.

"No, the first thing you said."

"What? That is the first-"

"Yesterday."

Atyr didn't find the clarification to be particularly clarifying. He turned again and began to walk around the pool to where his pants had caught up against the bank, still tangled around the branch.

"Yesterday, the first thing you said to me was, 'Are you a, um, a faerie?'" Here she attempted to mimic him, a strange effect with a voice as high as a reed flute

Atyr didn't respond immediately. He crouched on the bank, reaching cautiously down to the water's surface and scooping out the mess of sopping fabric.

Pants in hand, he stood and rolled his eyes at her. "And you told me you were not."

"Exactly!"

He yanked the soggy pants free, snapping the stick in the process. Trying to keep up with her nonsensical speech was frustrating in ways he wasn't prepared for. He glared, garment dangling from his hand. "... So... If you're not a faerie why, what, I mean..." He sighed and growled at the same time. "Then why would what I said be true?"

"It's not."

"You just said it was!"

"I didn't."

"You. Just. Said it."

"I said I believe you more. That's different from its being true."

He breathed in a long, shaky breath. "You believe me that you're a faerie even though you're not a faerie, I--- what are we even talking about?"

"No, I believe you more that you asked me."

"That doesn't even make any sense. As spoken language, those words do not make sense."

"That's because you're not a faerie."

"And neither are you, you just said!"

"No, I've decided now I am."

Atyr stared. He had never before actually found his mouth hanging open in disbelief, but he did now. He decided he was done talking to this not-a-faerie that was now apparently a faerie after all. Realizing he was still holding his pants dumbly at his side, he began, again, to step into them.

"Stop."

He didn't.

"Stop." This time her words were filled with that weird eroticism again, and he shuddered. Maybe he liked the idea of remaining naked.

"I like you," she said, still pouring that weird feeling over him. His cock began swelling again.

"I like you." Her fae words washed through him, and he noticed just how pleasurable the warm sun was on his bare skin. She flitted in close to his face and whispered, ever so softly, "I want you." His eyes fluttered, and he breathed out shakily, moaning softly through parted lips.

Then her voice was normal again. Mundane. "I want you." She winked. "To be my adventurer!"

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***Thanks so much for reading chapter two! Chapter three will be up in a few days.***

---Scry Bells