The Love Potion

The Love Potion

The small, musty room appeared vacant. A shadow, noticeable only by the dim glow of the dying fire, seemed to coalesce out of the darkness. A scrawny hand moved, tossing a small flaxseed stem toward the cinders. She had heard of the King's waning prowess. She knew of an answer, although she was no more than a mimic, having no real idea of where the powers she summoned came from or what the source of the magic was. Ignorant of the universal law of cause and affect, she began.

The darkness fled as the straw burst into flame and sent dancing embers swarming into the room. They seemed to float, alighting like bright hued Phoenix butterflies to impart their warmth on several candles in the one-room cottage. They paused for a moment, their glory reflected in an argent orb that sat on a well-worn table, then moved on, coalescing into a single bright flame and returning to the hearth from which it sprang.

Elgar pulled his covering up over his head only to leave his feet bare. "This isn't fair," he muttered to himself. He had been dreaming of Delfina – she of the smooth skin that gleamed like silver in the moonlight.

He sighed, pushed the covers back down over his feet only to finally notice what had disturbed his sleep. "Is it day already?" he said to the empty hollow as he squinted against the light. With a yawn, he rolled off the soft bed of pine needles.

With an accuracy borne of long practice, the gnarled hands allowed a few drops of blood-red wine to fall into the dark cruet. "Wine to soothe the spirit," the parchment voice intoned. "Red to evoke the passions of the blood!"

The light seemed to soften and Elgar felt a warm, relaxing glow as he wandered out of his burrow. He gazed up into the branches of the gnarled oak that was his home. A slight movement caught his eye and, as he watched, a light breeze sprang up, rustling the leaves and making shadows dance. A small sterling flash called for his attention. Delfina! She stood, stretching cat-like, her breasts tight against the thin fabric of her smock, pronounced and mesmerizing.

"Such sweet torture," he murmured. It was a moment before he became aware that she was staring at him, a playful smile flirting with her lips. With a blush, Elgar turned away – partly from shyness, partly because he was aroused and was afraid she'd notice.

Tiny red and green herbs - cardamom for lust and savory for love - well ground, drifted down, sparkling in the flickering light. Carefully, runes were made over the worn tureen, the movements leaving a trail of faint silvery mist in the air.

"Elgar!"

The elf turned – not at his name, but at the sound of Delfina's voice.

"Elgar, I need to go into the glade, by the willow, to collect some essences for the healer. Would you go with me? I would feel safer if you were there. We have nothing better to do."

As he smiled his assent, she put her arm through his and began to lead him toward the path that passed out of the copse. The thicker forest with its towering growth gave way to a meadow with a single willow tree in the center.

She reached and took his hand, leading him onward. Reaching the willow, they were soon hidden from view under its drooping limbs.

Delfina stopped suddenly and turned. Elgar, caught by surprise, found himself pressed up against her. "Did you know they call this the 'lover's tree'?" she murmured.

There was a stirring, not quite a wind, more akin to a parting in the ether, and a small silver stream seemed to appear out of the air. "A tea of columbine for courage and ginseng for stamina." The words seemed to appear as magically as the fluid had.

Elgar found that the embers of feelings he had, rapidly began to flame. Without thinking, he pressed his lips against hers. He felt her arms go around his neck and she returned the kiss hungrily.

"Come with me," she said. "Let's go to the north side of the tree. The moss grows thickest there." Within moments, they were laying on the soft lichen.

Elgar pulled her near and their kisses began to intensify ... lips seeking lips ... tongues finding pleasure in the touch of the other ... and hands began to stroke in absent mindedness that quickly evolved to seeking the centers of pleasure.

With a teasing smile, Delfina pushed him back, her breath coming rapidly. She stared into his eyes for a moment as if reading his soul, and then removed her tunic. Her firm breasts seemed to glow in the shadow of the tree. Elgar could not – would not – contain himself any longer.

With a gentleness, his lips began to descend down her neck, through the valley of her breasts, and then sought out one dark nipple and began to suck, teasing with his tongue, as he took more of the supple flesh into the warmth of his mouth. Finally, slowly, he let the gathered breast slide back out ... only to repeat the action on the other breast.

Encouraged by her soft moans, Elgar slid his hand down the back of her breeches and began to massage her warm bottom - squeezing and pulling - letting his fingers trace the indent where hers cheeks met. Following the trace of her cheeks, he felt the warmth and wetness of her and, withdrawing, he slid her pants off as his hand moved over her stomach and through the soft down, seeking the warmth of her and finding her pleasure by feel and by her reaction.

He felt her hands reach and release the tie around his waist. Sliding his own pants off, he marveled at the soft feel of hand as she explored him. His own sounds cried out his need to be touched and she reacted by increasing the movement of her hand on his erection ... the slow, deliberate sliding motion increasing in rhythm.

Elgar began teasing the small bud of her pleasure and was rewarded with the first release of bliss as she liquidly responded. She reached down and wet her hand taking her passion and lubricating his now throbbing penis until, with a roll of hips, she rose above him and guided his hardness into the heat and aching need of her innermost pleasure ... sliding downward – little by little – and taking all of him within the shelter of her warmth.

Delfina began to move – a slight rise and fall - feeling the pressure of his manhood inside. Finding the tension again building, she leaned forward, breasts pressed into his chest and mouths meeting hungrily.

Elgar could feel the heat of his climax building, moving as a physical force up his shaft and he strained to hold back, waiting until he could feel her climax. With the sound of her pleasure, he felt his own orgasm, throbbing with the virgin release of his ecstasy.

The old crone produced a single strand of unicorn hair. With the greatest care, she gathered a single golden drop that had appeared – the essence of ecstasy – and carefully guided it into the flask. The small bottle seemed to shimmer and glow in the dimness of the room.

Picking it up, she felt the throbbing heat that emanated from it. "The King will pay handsomely for this," she muttered to herself as she tucked it into her robes and moved toward the door.

Deep in a forest, in a small sunlit glade, two lovers lay spent. They held each other as the embers of their passion were banked, unaware of the world outside.


Notes
An entry in December, Round 1, of "Sensual Moments, Vol. 9"  [18+]
Prompt: I want the contestants to write a vignette that goes outside their comfort zone...Thus I have chosen an elf girl, which deals with fantasy and for many that alone will qualify. However, if this isn't challenging enough they should consider going beyond the comfort zone of their orientation.
Word Limit: 1,000 minimum, 3,000 maximum
Word Count: 1,280

Thank you for taking time to read my words. I would appreciate it if you took a moment and left a comment. Your reaction, impressions, criticisms, - yes, even encouragement or praise - are all equally welcome.

Ken