A Bath


Butch groaned like a necromantic thrall while dragging his feet to his office in the palace. There was almost no reason for him to be there; the twelve employees of the royal accounting department were basically twiddling their thumbs waiting for summer. They had collected spring taxes from every citizen of Hael and allocated funds for the proper expenditure and investment channels. They had filled out so many ledgers that their fingertips were calloused and stained with ink. They had presented the king and queen with an estimate of how much profit Hael could expect in the summer season. The numbers had been checked by multiple bookkeepers. There was literally nothing to do, but they couldn't go home if they wanted to get paid. Every laborer in the kingdom had to remain at their workplace for a minimum of five hours each day in order to receive monetary compensation.

"Gods dammit…" Butch complained aloud, "this blows. I could be at home with my wife, but no, gotta sit around here so Mom and Dad don't take my villa and sell it to someone else." He didn't know what he'd do if they repossessed Isla Sabas. Probably die of embarrassment for having to move back into the palace, to his old room. Buttercup deserved more than that. Butch already worked his ass off to prove to his parents that he was the most responsible of his siblings and would be the best choice to inherit the throne. As soon as he found out that he was getting married to a princess, he vowed to work even harder so she would want for nothing. But then she had to go and be so self-sufficient they could live off her earnings!

Butch's lethargy vanished as soon as he arrived home where a tantalizing scent reached his nose. "Whoa…" He found Vassago supervising some trows while they slathered marinade over a huge cut of meat on the grill. "What is that? Smells fucking fantastic."

"Hippocampus brisket," the Head of House succinctly replied.

"Hippocampus?! Where'd that come from?"

Vassago nearly smirked. "I am sure the mistress would be more than willing to regale you with her exploits of today."

Butch closed his gaping mouth and headed for the bedroom, stopping in the hall when he noticed a dozen trows clustered around the entrance to the hot spring and chittering excitedly. The floor was slick with their saliva and he grimaced upon getting it on his nice leather shoes. "Ugh. Hey, what the fuck are you all drooling over?"

The elder patriarch offered a crocodilian grin. "Mistress requested that we wash her clothes after her bath."

Raising an eyebrow, Butch descended into the cavern and almost stumbled over a pile of blood-soaked attire at the bottom of the steps. That explained the trows' interest; nothing riled them up faster than viscera. A single lit candle bobbed in the spring, barely illuminating Buttercup's brackish body. Butch ignited the remaining candles with hellfire to better see her, his eyes widening. "What happened to you?"

Buttercup was coated in even more gore than when she had slain the deer. She cast him a cursory glance before resuming scrubbing her arms with a loofah. "It was an accident," she said in an atypically demure voice. "I know you said not to bring home any more meat, but it could not be helped."

Butch walked around the narrow stone ledge to sit down at the deep end. "It's okay, I'm not mad. I could never be mad at you."

That earned a faint smile, then she sighed. "Today, I rowed to Wyntir Isle. Vassago said seal pods are found in the channel between there and Southern Hael. I wanted to make some clothing from their pelts, and their blubber is in demand besides." Her husband listened attentively. "I was not alone– an Elven hunter and his family were also attempting to catch seals. Their young son netted one, but then he was pulled beneath the waves. Seals are not strong enough to drown a man." Butch nodded like he already knew that. "A small herd of hippocampi were also hunting the seals, and they dragged the boy to the seafloor. I went after them and was forced to spear an aggressive juvenile."

He mulled her story over. "Sounds like you saved that boy's life."

"Yes, well…" Buttercup sighed again. "The family and I divided the hippocampus. I returned with only one cut and they took the rest." Her gaze fell to his chest. "I am sorry. You said no more—"

"Hey," Butch interjected, "I don't like that tone of voice, milady. You didn't do anything bad, okay? Look at me." She did, guilt-ridden. "I'm not upset with you, I'm impressed. Beyond impressed. The last time I ate hippocampus meat was when Brick demanded it for our tenth birthday. It's rare enough to spot them and rarer still to actually catch one– I'm sure you know how elusive they are." He regarded her with the utmost respect. "But of course you just happen to bring some home without even trying. You make everything seem so effortless." Much to his delight, Buttercup blushed, then Butch gave her a thorough once-over. "Need help getting that gunk off?"

"Yes," she admitted, "for some reason I am having difficulty."

He stood to disrobe before entering the spring with a splash, wading over to the rear of the cavern where myriad bottles sat. "Probably because hot water makes it harder to remove blood stains," he explained.

"I see…" In Fairweather the water was always cold and therefore ideal for cleansing viscera.

Butch took up some lemon oil in one hand, a jar of blue salt crystals in the other, and looped the loofah around his wrist. "Do you have any open wounds?" She did not. "Good, close your eyes." He dumped the oil and salt over her head, running his hands through her sticky hair. After a bit of combing it loosened. "You seem accustomed to being drenched in the blood of your enemies."

"I suppose I am." Buttercup grimaced. "Is it sanitary to leave all this gore in the water?"

"Yeah, it's fine." He gently scrubbed at her face with the loofah, going from her hairline down. "Hot springs contain microorganisms that eat bad bacteria and stuff. I learned that when my parents had the water quality checked before I moved in here. They wanted to make sure I had everything I needed."

"And do you? Do you have everything you need even though you are isolated from the rest of your kingdom?"

He smiled. "Since you're here with me, I now have everything I could need or want."

Her stomach fluttered. Elven couples didn't wash each other because they valued privacy, but it felt nice. Nice to be doted upon by her husband. Nice to be admired and adored by him. Nice to know that in his eyes, she could do no wrong. "Do you mean that?" Buttercup asked, quiet. "Am I the only woman you will ever want?"

Butch let the loofah drift away, cupping her face in his hands. Her skin was pale and pristine as new-fallen snow once again. "Of course. I won't lie and say I wasn't a bit of a whore before we got married. I like sex and I've had a fair number of partners…" Her brow furrowed. "But when I try to recall any of their faces, yours appears and outshines them all. You're just so amazing, you don't even know…" He breathed deeply. "You don't know how you affect me."

She searched his visage and all she found was sincerity. "Tell me. No… show me." Butch waited a moment before taking one of her hands and pressing it to his chest. His heart was racing. He then slid her palm along his abdomen, over his navel, and down to his pelvis where Buttercup's breath hitched. Her entire body flushed as he curled her fingers around his throbbing cock.

"It hurts. I want to make love to you so badly that it pains me."

"Then what is stopping you?" she wondered.

"I'm… scared. I'm afraid of hurting you with this, and I couldn't live with myself if I harmed you in any way." Butch released her hand. "I'm not shaming you, but you've only been with one man. He wasn't a Demon, wasn't as endowed as me. I'm willing to bet he didn't love you as much as me, either."

"He did not love me at all," Buttercup muttered, "and I did not feel anything as profound as love for him. We were just… lonely. It just happened." And she hadn't really enjoyed it, hadn't even climaxed. Reminiscing on her first and only sexual encounter made her irritated with her own inexperience. She grabbed his erection again, startling him. "Teach me what to do with this! I want to learn what you like and how to please you. It is my duty as your wife!"

Butch shook his head and returned her arm to her side. "It isn't your duty to make sure I'm sexually satisfied. I never want you to feel obligated to answer the whims of my dick. Half the time it doesn't even know what it wants."

Buttercup held herself. "Yet the other half of the time, it desires me." Her husband nodded. "Then take me. Here I am, fully exposed before you! I yearn for you to do more than kiss me like… like I will wilt in the heat of your ardor! I may be naïve to the methods of making love, but I am not fragile and I am not afraid of your… impressively large rod." Her ears burned as Butch smirked a little.

He closed the distance between them to embrace her. "I know you're not some delicate flower who can't handle my cock, but I'm so terrified of hurting you with it that I have nightmares."

She squeezed her eyes shut to withhold frustrated tears. "What must we do, then, to satisfy our mutual desires?"

Butch silently pondered their situation for several moments. He wanted her. She wanted him. She told him to simply take her but he couldn't do that when he knew it would hurt. He'd never heard of a woman who'd only had one cock in her life being able to accept a Demon without feeling a pinch or too much pressure. There was only one real logical solution. "We have to work up to it," he said. "We can… prepare you for taking me in."

"Very well." Buttercup pulled back, expectant. "When shall we begin?"

He swallowed. "Right now, if you're willing."

"I am willing."

The next instant, Butch kissed the lips that spoke those words, softly and with restraint. Then their mouths grew desperate and needy, and the hands that were always so gentle on one another's skin roved and groped with abandon. Now knowing how the other felt, it was as if a barrier had lowered and they were finally able to express their passions as husband and wife. Who else in the history of Erd had been so fortunate to enter an arranged marriage where love and respect existed at first sight? No one came to mind, but even if there were, Buttercup was far too overwhelmed to recall their names.

The duality of Butch's being thrilled her. His soft fingers managed to carve furrows into her supple flesh. The blood rushing to his nether regions left his lips cold, but the tongue behind them danced around hers like a flickering flame. He kissed her deeply despite his shallow breathing. There were too many pleasurable sensations for her brain to keep up with, as if her mind was being overwritten with encyclopedic knowledge of what her husband found enjoyable… which seemed to be every action she took as their decorum continued to unravel. He grabbed her ass, she squeezed his in return. He fondled her breasts, she caressed his pectorals. He ran his tongue along the length of her ear and she all but came undone, moaning. "Wasn't sure you'd like that," came his low voice. "Thought they were too delicate."

"They can… withstand… frostbite," Buttercup panted as he nibbled and sucked on her neck. Being in such a vulnerable position with someone she trusted sent shivers down her spine. "He-heated breaths are… of no concern."

"You're pretty heated too, milady." Butch observed the rosy flush spreading upward from her chest. "Let's get out of the water." Buttercup tried moving to the steps but was so lightheaded she swooned, falling into his waiting arms. Butch carried her bridal style out of the hot spring and into the corridor where he'd forgotten the trows were lurking. A few started to follow the couple to their bedroom until he shot them a glare, making them cower. Gods help the lesser Demon that hindered their lord and his mate. Butch lowered Buttercup into the middle of the bed. The change in her tone from level and curt to thin and airy made him want to discover what other sounds she could produce. As he continued dotting her décolletage with kisses and the occasional love bite, he fondled her hip with his free hand. She shied from his touch. "Are you ticklish? I apologize."

"Just… sensitive." But she was sensitive everywhere, especially while engaged in foreplay with her husband. Instinct told her to be wary of the way Butch eyed her like a piece of meat, but she wanted nothing more than for him to have a taste. As if reading her thoughts, he moved down between her thighs, palming her hips and nuzzling the thin strip of wispy, silky hair forming a path to her core. With great effort she opened her eyes to look at him and found him gazing up at her in turn, poised to pleasure her with his mouth. It was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen.

Butch knew his bride was riding a high elicited by the first real intimate acts she had experienced in her life, so he made sure to declare his intent lest she have any objections. "You are absolutely sopping wet, my Princess…" Buttercup's breath caught as he lowered his head. "I'm going to drink every last drop of you."

She was so hot that his tongue felt chilly at her entrance, and she shivered with delight as he exuded a deep, satisfied groan. He sampled her slowly, intending to draw out the process of giving her the best orgasm of her life thus far, but he underestimated how delectable his Elven bride would be. The fluid coating his mouth didn't contain a musky note like every other species; Butch would know since he'd fucked them all. Buttercup tasted clean and pure like snowmelt, and he became convinced that the nectar of a goddess flowed from the tender blossom between her legs. The more he downed, the thirstier he became.

His grip on her thighs tightened as they fell open farther; being poked by his spiral horns put a slight crease on Buttercup's otherwise serene visage. She could not believe she'd lived over two-hundred years without asking a man to suck on her clit. Butch left her beyond dizzy, like she had ascended to another plane of existence too quickly. She unconsciously began moving her hips in time with his tongue strokes, pushing at just the right angle to elicit the surge of pleasure that was all new to her, over and over again. When it diminished slightly, one of her hands shot out to grasp a fistful of his hair and hold his head in place. The bite of her nails on his scalp made him growl, and the vibration in turn made her writhe.

Butch knew he'd almost brought her to climax by the desperate bucking of her hips and the raspy tone of her moans, her throat going dry from breathing so hard. He wanted to watch her come but it was too late; her back arched and she ground her clit against the flat of his tongue, gasping and shuddering. Immense satisfaction, pride, and possessiveness coursed through him; no other man deserved to bask in her radiant afterglow. He planted soft kisses along her thighs, smiling. "Did you enjoy that, milady?"

"Yes…" Buttercup sounded distant to her own ears as she came down from the clouds. "Very much so."

"I'm glad." Butch sat up straight while licking the remnants of her arousal off his lips. "I'll gladly go down on you whenever you want."

That made her blush profusely. She was still processing all the intense sensations he had elicited, and the thought of climbing that peak and being pushed over the edge again set her pulse racing. She wanted to discover what other methods Butch could use to make stars explode behind her eyes. Her gaze swept over him and her flush darkened when it landed on his erection. "Shall I tend to you now, my Prince?"

"No," he answered, surprising her, "I'll take care of it. You just relax and savor your first orgasm as a married woman. I promise that was only one of many." His wink earned a giggle, then he kissed her and left the bedroom. Buttercup further sank into the comforter with a happy sigh. Before she realized it, she had fallen asleep.