A Midsummer's Fling 6
Purity turns the tables on the Summer King, but who will come out on top?
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“C-child!?” Purity whines, placing her hands upon the Summer King’s shoulders. “Are you crazy? I can’t have a baby!”
“Can’t, or don’t want?” the king says, kissing Purity on the nose. “Aren’t we friends, Libi? Aren’t we close?” He slides a hand over her thigh. Aren’t the two of us beings tied to our libido?”
She gulps, her heart-eyes seeking sincerely into his own calm gaze. “Mel,” she says, her voice a waver. “I have my duties… you have your studies and desires of your own. We can’t raise a child together. You wouldn’t be a father to them most of the year.”
He kisses her chin. “With the consummation of our souls, we shall be ourselves all year long, and our future offspring shall be the greatest of all the fey. You need not worry. Save for the next few months.”
Purity wraps her arms around him, pulling him in close, feeling his chest press to her own, his heartbeat matching with hers. She wraps her legs around him, maneuvering to keep his throbbing manhood from entering her, and she whispers into his ear. “I must protect everyone, even from themselves.”
He growls, pushing against her, wrestling against the magical girl. Purity grapples back, always keeping her body close to his, staining her skin with the grass at her back and the seminal fluid at her tummy.
“I will not be denied my kingdom, my destiny!” he roars, gripping tightly around her chest. His muscles flex, and he exerts himself, pushing, rolling, and tumbling onto his back on his own.
But Purity holds on, pinning him down herself now, letting go and straddling him. She smiles down at him with half-lidded eyes and a sad, weary grin.
“This is something I do every day, Mel,” she says. “A monster comes and tries to exert its will against someone, using the ancient mystical arts of eroticism against someone else. But why can’t we be friends and comfort each other when we feel incomplete?”
The Summer King stares up at her. The calm and caring figure, curvy and filled with the symbols of compassion over her form, practically glows in the heat of the summer sun. The sight gives him pause as he lies underneath her.
All around the fairy court were jeers and hollers, begging in their fairy language and hunching over closer and closer to his king and his disobedient queen.
He holds onto her with a cry of indignant might as the grasses around them grow extra long, vines and branches writhing through the swaying stalks, wrapping around her waist and tugging her away from him. Purity falls back, her hands behind her, her legs bound close to her wrists. She struggles and snaps at him, watching the summer king with burning annoyance.
He stands, dusting off the back of his legs and stretching. In the sun's light, he is a bronzed beauty who rushes her with feelings that conflict with her heroic nature.
“You could have been this confident all the times we were alone together, Mel,” Purity says. “Why didn’t you?”
The Summer King stops mid-pose, steps one foot to the other, and bites his lip. He lowers his hands and approaches her, shoulders hunched, posture poised, footfalls dedicated to his purpose, hands clenched.
He places a hand behind her hair and sneers down at her. “I’m not this person on those days.”
“Yes… you are,” Purity says, gazing up at him, but her look is no longer that of annoyance but of tender understanding. I just didn’t realize all of you. Thank you for wanting to show yourself to me,” she says. But I can’t give you a child.”
“Preposterous!” he says, leaning in, his smile broader and more gleeful in that capricious fairy way. “We’ll just have to be willing to try. Are you not willing?”
She leans in, pressing her lip to the tip of his hardened and exposed cock.
“Gah! L-libi?” He hops back, arms around his side.
“All talk and bluster,” she says, licking her lips, “just as I thought. “You make a pretty good guy, Mel,” she says, “But you’re still you.”
The Summer King winces but catches himself, chuckling and running and running his head through his hair.
“And you do that when you’re nervous,” she says.
He stops mid-stroke, staring at her.
“But if you want to play with me, know you’re playing with a pro. I bet I’ve fucked half of the kinds of creatures that are here in the copse already.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” He says, petting the back of her head, gripping her hair, holding her in place. “But I’m not here for a fuck. I’m here to practice the old, old magic.
She keeps one eye open, letting the pain of her hair being tugged fade away in her confidence. “Oh yeah? Well, you still forget that isn’t going to happen!”
“I’ll have you begging for my cock before the summer is over!” he snarls, pressing the head against her cheek, marking her with the oozing pre that dribbles down from the head.
“And I’m telling you that won't matter!” Libi says, and though she has a bright, magical girl smile, her vast, happy-heart eyes betray a slight tearing up at the corners.
He lets go of her and takes a step back. “L… Libi, did… are you? S… since when?”
Purity lowers her head, her cheeks glistening with tears and cum, and she says, “Part of the risks of being a Magical Girl like me. You fuck so many monsters, and something’s bound to break.”
The forest fey's murmuring grows louder, and a pallor shade casts over the Summer King’s face. “I see… then we might have a problem.”