She eased up towards him as he spoke, closed her eyes, and kissed him gently on the lips.
He relaxed and after a little while, he kissed her back. She rubbed her thighs against his hips, and he shuddered.
After a few minutes if this, she opened her eyes, drew back a little and smiled up at him, her arms having wound their way around his neck.
"You really won't mind? I know it must feel a little strange to you, knowing that I am not…"
He looked down and gestured to nothing in particular with his shoulders.
"This." – he added.
She looked at him, considered the question for a while, and countered it with one of her own;
"Have you been with other women before? Other trolls?"
He looked at her, such tension in his eyes as he weighed the question.
"Frolicking between ranks were never looked well upon, besides, I couldn't trust the other trolls as far as I could throw them" – she bet he could throw them pretty far though.
"And as for humans? No. I assume you can imagine how hard it'd be to explain why my skin would change colors and horns grow from my scalp the second we'd- "
"But you don't have that problem here mister. I won't mind at all" – she cut him off.
And that's when it clicked for Barbara. She really didn't mind. The horns, the tusks, the wings, the green alluring skin, the collar littered with knifes. She liked Walter Strickler exactly because of how dangerous he was.
He was exciting, he was smart, he was loving towards her and he could absolutely slice her to pieces if he wanted to.
The sound of chop, chop, chop – the sliced tomato – the shimmer of light against a blade in such control, such finesse – he would never hurt her despite how easy he could.
"Would we need, um, protection? I mean, I got checked years ago and haven't been with anyone but James since, and he didn't have anything…" She dragged on, was this too embarrassing to talk about? It was necessary she decided. No matter how much she wanted this, safety came first.
"I can assure you darling, I carry no diseases of that kind, had it confirmed too once. And before you ask - it was engineered into Changeling biology so that we cannot reproduce. I am as sterile as a petri dish." He remarked, and she could feel the humor behind it – he was trying to ease her mind, though she thought she had also caught a glimpse of something sad in his tone.
He could never be a father, even though he was very good with kids, or at least teenagers– no wonder he'd taken up a profession as a teacher then.
Something surged through her heart and mingled with something in her stomach.
She would decide what the first thing was later, but for now the second was definitely lust, so she drew him even closer with her legs, and his erection poked against the inside of her right thigh – she shuddered, but held his gaze, which flickered again – seemingly her answer had registered with him.
He was tentative at first, angling himself right outside of her folds, dragging the tip of him up and down, moisture gathering on the head, and he groaned.
Barbara laid her head back, her arms still around his neck and closed her eyes. It felt so sweet and alluring, and not enough – not enough at all.
She bucked her hips slightly, and the tip of him slid inside – they gasped in unison.
His shoulders tensed, and she felt him slowly pressing himself further in, filling her inch-by-inch, panting all the while as he concentrated, and then he was finally seated within her.
It had been a long time since she had felt to full, so complete and her inner emptiness sung out in happiness, the vast darkness being lit up by his presence, and she moaned his name as she arched her back, welcoming him.
Walter leaned down and kissed her neck, bringing their bodies flush together, and Barbara tightened her grip around his neck to bring him closer. He drew his hips back and pushed back in.
It was a singsong feeling of joy that rushed through her as he set the pace; slow, even and controlled, and she felt proud of him. He was shaking a bit, with effort she thought, but his skin didn't change to green – though his hair seemed to get coarser in texture with each stroke, and she could feel something poking out at the top of his head.
"Oh God – Walt! Don't stop!"
His pace quickened at her words, and she swore she could feel the telltale prick of fangs on her neck. He was biting her, God he was biting her, and there were tusks mixed in with his tongue, and he growled.
She snapped her hips up to meet his and he snarled. She followed his example and shifted her head to bite at his ear, and he awarded her with a fierce groan and a particularly hard twist of his hips that sent her head spinning and her mouth agape.
It had seemed to her like he had no experience from what he'd told her, but this was a man that knew what he wanted – oh he certainly did.
She could feel the pleasure rising within her again, that coil that had sprung earlier was winding up and sitting tight in her stomach – she could hear the panting of her own breath, but it was as though it came through water – ringing and disorientated.
Then she felt him move his right hand behind her right knee, and he shifted their position.
Her knee was bent up and as he pushed it forwards towards her stomach, and she was on the verge of screaming, her throat felt tight and her lungs as if they would explode.
She spread her legs to assist him, and he braced himself on his elbow beside her head as he hovered above her, still pushing in and out of her, and she couldn't help herself from moaning and gasping his name wantonly in the end.
This new angle hit all her sweet spots, as he drew deeper inside her.
Harder! Oh Walt! Yes! Faster – AH!
She heard the words and while she recognized them as her own, once again it felt like she was underwater, gasping for breath and screaming into a void. The pleasure was too much, too stimulating, and she wanted it so much.
She felt his lips against hers, his hand on her right thigh squeezing and massaging her, his cock doing wonders to her body, and she kissed him back, clung to him with her hands in his hair and she found – she found his horns.
She opened her eyes – had she closed them? – And stared into yellow surrounding red orbs, perfectly sliced through in the middle by his irises.
His skin was a deeper shade of olive than before, but not entirely green, and he was shaking with effort, his mouth a gaping mess of fangs and those sharp tusks.
Then she reached up and grabbed one of his horns, and pulled.
The sound he made wasn't a snarl or a groan, it was more of a roar as his form flickered and danced between what she knew him to be, and what he seemed to be.
Green to peach and back again, and she felt her orgasm climb; knowing she'd made him lose control.
She leaned up with as much ease as she could, gasping and moaning as she did so and whispered in his ear;
"Walt – ooOh fu- let, let go – honey let go!" - And he did.
The blade spun and it seemed as though it had become one with the hand that held it, so perfectly at ease while being rotated. It made no effort to spring or jump from its captor, because truly; it couldn't bear to part with him.
His form flickered once, twice, and then she was covered in sleek, stone skin. Green as jade, and it felt hard against her skin, but the feeling was maddening.
The transformation happened all over, and Barbara felt the difference inside her, and the texture of him – not quite stone, more like smooth leather – made her climax for the second time that night.
She pulled on his horn and his hair and screamed his name, flexing around him and making him shudder in his pace, hips twitching and she heard him shout, no roar, her name again.
She felt his essence inside her as he came undone by her - her alone had made this happen, and the thought furthered her orgasm a little, making it stretch out a bit longer.
She collapsed back into the now crumbled blanket and robe, her head hitting the pillow and duvet and heaved for breath, the stars behind her eyelids dissipating and she felt herself losing her hearing slowly, the whispering sound of television snow creeping in.
He was holding himself up by the elbows, his right hand having gently guided her leg down in a natural position, and he was breathing heavily too.
"Barbara – " he began, but he couldn't seem to finish as his breath was coming out in uneven little spurts, his back shuddering and instead he simply sunk his head in between the juncture of skin that separated her shoulder from her neck – he smelled amazing she reckoned.
Oh what a night - what a perfect, crazy, defining night this had been.
Barbara found her hand dragging up to lie on Walter's back, just below his shoulder blades and – oh – his wings were out.
"Sorry" – she heard him mumble into her skin.
She dared to open her eyes – did she keep closing them? – And looked at the frazzled up curtains behind the couch, and the knocked over coffee table on the ground.
She hadn't even heard them flap.
She started to giggle - Ohmy she had actually made him lose control of his wings!
She figured he had other forms beside the cape and the wings, but he'd chosen, or well, ended up in his winged one? That was certainly interesting.
"No need to apologize flyboy - though I think your sandwiches are somewhere over by the bookcase." – she added with a snicker.
He lifted his head at the nickname and shot her a distasteful look – oh she was so keeping that nickname.
"Are you okay?" She added to ease his mind, and she was truly being honest. He seemed a bit overwhelmed.
"I – Yes. I am very much okay." His expression gentled and he looked at her with adoration in his eyes.
"And you? I mean did you enjoy that?" - A faint flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
She nuzzled his face with her nose and kissed his cheek – "Very, very much so."
He chuckled, and Barbara decided that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.
She drew languid circles on his back with her fingers, and his wings drew down to cover them both.
They lay there for a short while, simply taking in the silence around them and noticed that the TV had been on – oh right, she'd been meant to pay attention to that at some point right?
Fruitless efforts.
Fruitless indeed, though Barbara concluded that the efforts they had both made tonight were not fruitless at all, and maybe the whole situation called her life was not as bad as it could be.
Shfft! The knife found its place in the holder on the kitchen counter, and she couldn't have been happier.