A Test


"Have you heard the latest royal gossip?" Butch glanced toward the door and continued weighing gemstones to dole out to his department as their seasonal bonus. "Apparently Prince Brick really does have a bride! She's taken ill in his castle, that's why she hasn't been seen around the capital."

"I thought Pixies were supposed to be pretty resilient."

"The change in climate affected her," the first Demon said matter-of-factly. "Prince Boomer saw her while visiting his brother the other day. Apparently, our warm weather is making poor Princess Blossom suffer dry, flakey skin." Butch perked up at that.

"How unfortunate for her," the female Demon lamented. "I almost want to send her a moisturizer, but would it even work for her? I don't know anything about Pixie dermatology…"

Flaking skin, huh? Butch happened to know the real cause of such a symptom. He glanced at the clock. It was almost time for the laundry shed to open its doors after heating water all day. Royal familiars got initial access which meant Brick's kobolds would be there to wash Blossom's clothes. He couldn't think of a better opportunity to snag her lamina.

He all but threw his workers' coin purses at them on his way out of the palace, briskly striding to the market district. Butch grinned when he saw a cluster of kobolds with several laundry bags over their shoulders, along with Boomer's goblins and his own trows. "Hey, you." All the familiars faced him. "Not you, you." He pointed at the kobolds. "How many of Blossom's clothes are in there?"

"Umm…" They conferred among themselves. "These four bags are full of her attire."

"Okay. Do me a favor and put them in the tumblers first." They blinked their pale eyes in confusion. Butch sighed and dug out an opal cabochon from his satchel. "If you do that for me, you can have this. Deal?"

"Yes, yes! Deal!" They didn't understand why the prince wanted them to put dry clothes in the tumblers, but who were they to deny a bribe?

Butch waited around until the timers rang out. The kobolds transferred Blossom's clothes into large barrels of warm water, but it wasn't the chemises and skirts he really cared about. Inspecting the lint traps made him cackle as he dislodged some sparkly powder into his palm. "What does Master find funny?" a nearby trow inquired.

"Oh, nothing…" He looked around for some parchment, folding it into a makeshift envelope that he carefully scraped the lamina into. There was more than he thought there'd be, enough to fill his whole hand. But would that amount go a long way? He needed to test its potency as an aphrodisiac. Thankfully, he had a manservant to experiment on.

Once home, Butch discovered that both Buttercup and Vassago were out. That was fine; it gave him time to refine the stuff. He dumped the lamina onto his lapidary desk and examined it through his highest-powered magnifying lens. It didn't take much effort to remove the bits of fuzz and hair with tweezers. He scooped it into a real envelope, then sat back to have a think. Maybe, since he was supposed to distribute the lamina to Hael and Fairweather, he should see if it affected Elves in case Reid was a lying little shit. He couldn't just dose his wife with narcotics, though, since he had morals.

Butch puttered around the villa until Vassago returned. "Hey, Vass." The Demon raised an eyebrow at his lord while storing vegetables in the cold urns. "I need you to try this."

"What is it, Master?" He held out a hand for Butch to dispense a tiny amount of powder.

"I'm not sure. Someone left it on my desk at the office. Could be poison."

Vassago took a deep breath. "Allow me." As part of the application to serve a member of the royal family, all Heads of House had to ingest various poisons and so developed immunity to natural substances used for assassination. Magical toxins such as spirit darts and caustic arrows could still be fatal, however. After a few silent moments, Vassago exhibited no effects. "I believe it is harmless."

"Good," Butch said, masking his disappointment. If lamina didn't even work on Demons, what was the point? He had almost tossed the envelope in the trash when Vassago cleared his throat and tugged at the high collar of his shirt. "You okay, Vass?"

"I-I… hmm…" Butch was taken aback. His manservant did not stammer. "M-Master, I think it could be p-poison, after all." Vassago reached out to steady himself on the table, breathing heavily. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, resounding in his ears, and his skin grew hot and prickly. He had to get out of his clothes. "Excuse me…" He rushed off to his room while Butch withheld a smug smile.

He had to wait longer for his Elven subject to return with a new leather broad belt and quiver, both intricately tooled. Butch sat on the bed while she modeled them for him. "Looking good, Princess," he commented. Buttercup was pleased to receive his approval, stowing the goods in her armory that had previously been a closet. Butch wore his best come-hither look and took hold of her hands. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she answered.

He licked his finger, pressed it into the lamina, and held it up. "I'd like you to try this."

She glanced from the powder to his eyes a few times before her lips closed around his fingertip. Butch bit his own lip in anticipation. "It has no flavor," she said. He hummed, waiting, watching, wondering what her reaction would be. It took longer than with Vass, but her heart began beating so hard that she had to breathe through her mouth. Her skin grew flushed and tingly, first in her neck before the rest of her body. The material of her clothes became scratchy and irritating. "What… is this?" Buttercup exhaled. "What did you give me?"

"It's an aphrodisiac, my dear." Butch brushed her arm. "I didn't think it would actually work."

She stared at his thumb stroking her skin. There was no resistance, like she had become liquid. Buttercup abruptly kissed her husband, slipping her tongue past his lips. It felt like… moving through neither water nor air. He was fluid yet ethereal like the wind. She kept trying to establish a solid connection with him, but he glided away no matter how hard she pressed.

Butch's eyes rolled shut as she attempted to shove her tongue down his throat. Buttercup never kissed him so aggressively and it was a major turn-on. He broke away once he grew lightheaded, not even managing three breaths before she grabbed his face and went right back to ravaging his mouth. "Mmph!" Butch held her at arm's length. "Hang on, I can't breathe." Buttercup tilted her head back to regard him narrowly, sizing him up. He got even more aroused by that look. "Sorry, I just need a moment."

"Very well…" she said in a low tone that suggested there would be consequences if he took any longer.

Butch raked a hand through his hair, mentally preparing to be set upon by a horny Elf. "Oka—" Buttercup pounced before the second syllable left his lips, kissing him like he was the air she needed to fill her lungs. Butch made a muffled sound of surprise as she ripped his waistcoat open, scattering buttons across the floor, and she got his shirt off faster than he ever had himself. Her hands splayed across his bare torso while she straddled his lap, then Butch found himself flat on his back. Buttercup broke away to pepper his neck with kisses and nips. "Is there anything I can do for you, my princess?"

"Touch me," she replied, breathless. Butch reached for her long legs first. She buried her face in his pectorals, stifling her moans, but one escaped as he ran his fingertips along her inner thighs. Heat from her core radiated over his hand, setting his own pulse racing. Buttercup actually whimpered when he skirted her underwear entirely and rubbed her back instead, arching beneath his palms. Butch pushed them both upright and pulled her tunic dress over her head, hesitated, then removed her chemise as well. Buttercup relaxed now that there was only one garment between her body and the cool atmosphere of their room.

Butch utilized his hands and lips to lavish as much of her exposed skin as possible. The sensory effects of the lamina must have been enjoyable based on Buttercup's constant sighs of delight. She hadn't stopped caressing him either, and would lift her head every so often to give him a dreamy look before letting it drop back. "Tell me how you feel," Butch murmured against her neck. He was determined to litter her snow-white flesh with pink hickeys.

"It is as if I am adrift at sea, or among the clouds… Everything is so soft."

"Sounds nice." His palm slid down her stomach and over her drenched undergarment, fingers dancing across the fabric. Her breath caught. "And how do you feel down here?"

The mere pressure of his digits at her entrance made her reel. "Tense."

"And hot…" Butch held the gusset aside with his little finger and slipped the next two inside her molten core. "And tight…" Buttercup clutched at his hair, already matching her hips to his rhythm. "And so, so wet."

Utter bliss filled her from head to toe. She wanted to kiss him but she needed to breathe, so they compromised by inhaling each other's air. That just made her even dizzier, like her brain had turned to liquid sloshing around in her skull. This was the third or fourth instance his fingers had been inside her, but either the aphrodisiac or their position or both turned it into a new experience. It seemed like an eternity yet no time at all had passed before he brought her to her peak, skillfully drawing it out.

Buttercup clung to his shoulders, shuddering as aftershocks of pleasure rolled through her. Butch shamelessly licked the evidence of her climax off his hand, faltering when her eyes opened to meet his. "Again."

"You want more?" He glanced at the envelope on his nightstand. "Maybe I should try some of that stuff, too."

"Yes, you should," his wife encouraged. "I want you to feel the way I do." Well, she didn't have to twist his arm. Butch took the same amount of lamina he'd given her and was rewarded with a raging erection as well as a sense of euphoria. He stood up for Buttercup to divest him of his trousers, then she met his gaze. "I want all of you."

Butch lifted her by her seat and dumped her in the middle of the bed, falling between her legs. He wished he had more hands so he could touch every part of her at once, but settled for her neck and lower back. Thanks to their slow and steady approach to intimacy, Buttercup didn't tense up at all when she felt his tip at her core, positive she could take him in without any discomfort. Yet her husband remained apprehensive, grinding on her until he'd made them both ache. "Butch…" The way she spoke his name nearly broke him. "I am ready. I need you."

He held the comforter in a death grip. A tilt of his hips and he'd be inside her, but if she cried out in pain rather than pleasure… "Are you sure?"

Buttercup stroked his flushed cheek with her thumb, searching his conflicted countenance. "Yes. I know you will not hurt me." Her lips brushed his ear. "Please…"

Butch considered himself a strong-willed man, but his wife begging for his cock made him go off the fucking rails. Being fueled by a potent aphrodisiac wasn't really conducive to making gentle love, either. He tried not to be forceful, to not ram his dick into her like some mindless beast with the goal of pumping and dumping, but then Buttercup demanded that he love her harder and he had no choice but to obey. Demons had evolved to satisfy their mates before themselves because it made their partners receptive to having more sex, which meant a greater chance to reproduce. And being the first prince to produce an heir would grant Butch the throne by default.

Children were leagues from their minds, though. All they cared about while under the influence of lamina was achieving swift, recurring satisfaction. Buttercup felt certain areas go numb from being over-stimulated, and various muscle groups began to cramp. Butch spent so much seed that his last couple of orgasms were just pure nerves. They were slick from head to toe, their bedding was drenched in sweat and in complete disarray, and the sun had almost set. Butch rested all his weight on his wife as she intermittently quivered beneath him, watching the ceiling shift in strange patterns through glazed-over eyes. He finally wetted his lips to speak, hoarse. "That was… an experience."

"One you would like to repeat?" Buttercup wondered.

"I don't think so. I prefer to have… more control." He propped his chin on her sternum. "But was it good for you?"

She gave a little laugh, blushing. "I never imagined I could be pleasured so many times in succession."

"I stopped keeping track after the fourth time you came."

"It may be nice to feel you utilize a bit more finesse…"

Butch groaned. "Don't say things like that. I can't get hard again."

"I am too sore to continue." Buttercup sighed blissfully. "We should take a bath."

"And change the blankets. It reeks of sex in here." Not that it was an unpleasant scent, but it tickled the lizard parts of his brain and he did need some amount of sleep.

Butch was the little spoon when they returned to a clean bed after raiding the kitchen. Vassago was nowhere to be seen, most likely confined to his room after alleviating his condition. Buttercup exuded another sigh of contentment. "I love you."

"And I love you, more than anything." He kissed the arm draped across his chest. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Always."

Butch fell asleep dreaming of all the jewels he would shower her in after selling off the lamina.