Content Warning: Vore, sexual content, gore, dub/noncon
Deftly braiding his long hair with spelled soul gems, Ciarán watched the morning mists creep over the moors right outside their village. Beasts lurked within those mists, and if you weren't careful, you'd be lost to them.
Or so the old crones of the village often said.
Ciarán tucked the last loose strands of his hair behind his long ears before snagging his robe from the back of his door. After shrugging into the thick fabric, he grabbed his staff, slung his leather satchel over his shoulder, and headed out. His sandals sank into moist earth with every step away from his porch. The butt of his staff thudded in time to his steps. The early morning risers greeted him with silently raised hands, nodding as he passed. At the edge of the village, standing watch atop the towering barricade, his father and one of the younger guards called down to him.
"It's too dangerous to go out right now, Ciarán," his father called, "signs of wisps, sahuagins, drowners... no one's going out there."
Frowning, Ciarán climbed up the stairs to the top of the barricade and turned his eyes to the roiling fog. Father wasn't lying, but—
"It's the perfect time to get faerin mushrooms," Ciarán protested, turning towards him. "What if... what if I take two warriors with me? To keep an eye out while I collect the supplies I need?"
"What do you need the mushrooms for?" Father asked, sighing. He rubbed his forehead, his shoulders slumping.
"Alill's boy broke his collarbone yesterday," Ciarán explained, "and I used the last of my store to make him pain and numbing medicine. I need to get more, or I won't have any for the next time someone breaks a bone."
Father cursed, turning his dark brown eyes back out to the moors. "Get volunteers to go with you. Only volunteers. Don't guilt them into going."
"Yes, Father!" Ciarán spun on his heel and hurried back down the stairs. Who could he convince to go with him? The obvious choice—Alill—had his injured son to look after. He rubbed at his chin as Ciarán hurried back through the village, taking the winding paths between homes.
"Ciarán, what's the rush?" The chipper voice of his elder brother, Milo, cut through his thoughts. Smiling, Ciarán turned towards the larger elf.
"Milo! You wouldn't happen to be busy this morning?" Ciarán asked, batting his eyelashes as he leaned towards Milo.
He slid a foot back, narrowing his eyes. "What... do you need?"
"A look out," Ciarán said, flashing him a wide smile. "And we need one more. Any thoughts?"
Milo groaned, running his hands down his face. "Isn't it too early for this?"
"Nope, it's the perfect time," Ciarán replied, stepping closer to the tall elf. "Who do you trust to watch your back and mine?"
Running a hand through his short brown hair, he groaned again. "I guess... Fionn. He's got a good head on his shoulders. Knows what's what."
"Great! I'll go get him. Meet me by the east gate? Father's there," Ciarán said. Once Milo nodded—though his shoulders were drawn and his dark eyes looked even darker—Ciarán sped off to find Fionn.
The blond archer sat in front of his family home, tending to a bow longer than him. Ciarán closed the distance and called a greeting.
"What do you need, healer?" Fionn asked, keeping his eyes on his work as the cleaning cloth moved down the length of the bow.
"Milo mentioned you might have some time this morning to accompany us out onto the moors," Ciarán started, his fingers wrapping around the strap of his satchel. "I need to collect herbs for the village."
A moment of silence, another, and Ciarán opened his mouth to speak.
"Very well," Fionn muttered. "I'll get my armor."
Ciarán beamed, straightening. "Wonderful! Thank you, Fionn—"
Fionn shook his head as he set aside his bow and stood. "Do not thank me. I am doing this for Milo." Without looking back, Fionn disappeared through the doorway.
Swallowing, Ciarán rubbed at his neck, his amber eyes dropping to the dirt path. Did I... do something?
Ciarán ran through all of his interactions with the archer but came up empty. He couldn't place if he'd done something to upset the elf or not. Ciarán fidgeted with the well-worn staff as he waited, running his fingers over each burned rune. The winding lines, swirls, and arcane letters wove through the wood, ingrained in its very soul. Ciarán lost himself in the runes, marveling that such a powerful, ancient artifact belonged to him—
"Well? Lead the way," Fionn interrupted his thoughts, thunking down onto the path from his family's raised porch.
Clearing his throat, Ciarán quickly turned from Fionn towards the east gate. "East gate," he said, tugging his robe tighter around him. "Milo said he'd meet us there."
A snort and Fionn strode past the mage, his long stride outstripping Ciarán easily. The mage flushed and followed, picking up the pace so he didn't fall behind.
At the east gate, Milo stood atop the barricade speaking with his father. Hide armor protected his muscular form, and two swords sat on both hips. From Ciarán's viewpoint, the two elves were identical: short brown hair, intelligent dark eyes, golden skin, tall, muscular. Milo even had a similar scar to their father; the pink line stood out against his dark gold shoulder.
Fionn called out a greeting to Milo, raising his hand. "Milo. Ready to go?"
"Fionn! Glad my brother could convince you to help out," Milo called. He smiled at his father, who sighed, shook his head, and waved Milo off. The elf warrior hopped down off the barricade and strode quickly up to Ciarán and Fionn.
"So what exactly are we looking for?" Milo asked, turning towards the gate as it creaked open.
"Faerin mushrooms," Ciarán said, keeping his voice low, "and lior ferns."
"Where do we find them?" Milo drew a sword from his hip, keeping his eyes alert as he scanned the immediate area.
"The mushrooms will be in the tall weed grass by the edge of the moor pools, and the ferns will be in the middle of the weeds," Ciarán explained, hefting his staff as the wood began to give off a faint blue-green glow.
"So we're basically going into the depths of drowner territory," Fionn muttered. "Great." The archer drew three arrows from the quiver on his hip, knocking one but not drawing the bow.
"Don't forget the sahuagin," Milo quipped, grinning over his shoulder. "Hey, Ciarán, if we take any down, do you need anything from them?"
Swallowing down roiling nausea at the very thought, Ciarán shook his head. "Definitely not. Let's avoid all manner of beasts that we can. I don't use anything from moor beasts."
Milo shrugged, leading the way out of the village. Their small party fell silent as they made their way through the moors, carefully keeping to the dryer paths. Fionn watched their backs as Milo led the way and Ciarán kept pace in the middle. All three men stayed alert, knowing anything could come out of the mists—or the pools just centimeters from their feet.
A baby's cry reached their ears, making the three men stop. Ciarán immediately ducked down beneath the tall weed grass, knowing he'd be in the way otherwise. The baby's cries rose and fell, shrieking and wailing into the air. Milo motioned for Fionn to get down, crouching as he did. Fionn obeyed, keeping his eyes and bow ready.
"Kelpie," Fionn muttered, his head swiveling with the slightest sound, "or wisps."
As the cries continued, Ciarán kept his eyes on the murky water on either side of them. He spotted the first lior fern—a blue-gray affair of small stalks, smaller leaves, and a single root bulb. Taking the chance, Ciarán quickly smoothed aside the earth until he could get the fern—root bulb and all—out in one piece.
"Ciarán, we need to move," Milo murmured. "We're too exposed."
"Hold on, I've almost freed it," Ciarán replied, his voice low. The mage bit his lip as the root bulb stubbornly kept hold of the ground. He got to the end with a little more digging and tugged the plant free. "Okay, got it!"
"Let's go," Milo growled, "keep low."
Following Milo's lead, Ciarán kept low as he stowed the fern in his satchel. He didn't have time to wrap it—and hoped he could when they stopped for mushrooms.
"Sahuagin tracks," Milo muttered, stopping suddenly. "Hold on. Ciarán, how badly do we need those mushrooms?"
"If anyone gets hurt, I don't have a strong painkiller and numbing agent available," Ciarán replied, glancing around his brother to see the tracks. Just from his amateurish tracking skills, he counted four—no, five—sahuagin.
"I guess we really do need it," Fionn murmured. "But we should find them fast. I don't think it was a good idea to come out today."
"Where to?" Milo asked.
"There, towards the trees. More likely to find the mushrooms," Ciarán answered, pointing towards a clump of massive trees with their trunks high above the water.
Milo nodded and changed course, keeping low in the weed grass. Ciarán and Fionn stayed close, watching for any movement in the mist or the murky mire.
Another cry, an ear-piercing shriek, and Milo took off running. Ciarán stretched out his legs to keep up, Fionn hot on his heels. More shrieking, the splash of water—
The thunk of hooves—
His heart hammering in his ribcage, Ciarán scrambled up the thick roots. Milo and Fionn joined him moments later and shoved him up into the tree's branches.
"Climb!" Milo growled, pushing him up. Ciarán reached for the nearest branches and pulled himself up, even as his legs shook with weakness.
Not now, not now—
"Fuck, there's over a dozen of them," Fionn hissed, tugging himself up into the branches near Milo and Ciarán.
"Now what?" Milo muttered, running a hand over his face. "Surrounded by kelpies... probably a troop of sahuagin patrolling the area... pretty sure I saw a wisp or three."
"At least kelpies can't climb, right?"
"So far as we know," Ciarán replied, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to get his legs under control.
"Do we really want to find out?" Fionn asked as he prepped an arrow and crouched on the branch for balance.
"Wait," Milo cautioned, "if we don't attack, they might just leave for easier prey."
"Or they'll find a way to get to us," Fionn countered, narrowing his eyes. "Maybe your brother can enchant them. Or, hell, a fireball would be great right about now."
Ciarán clutched his staff, his cheeks pinking at the dig. Ever since the accident, anything beyond minor enchantments or herbalistic magic stayed out of his reach. Before—
There was no point thinking about before.
Huge horses trotted out of the mists, tossing seaweed-covered hair. Their hides sparkled with moisture, dim light glinted off scales, and their long tails swished in the pools of murky water. Enormous hooves dug gashes into the earth with each step. Hides of red, green, brown, gray, muddy white, and black paced around the clump of trees. Snorts, shrieks, and flashes of teeth kept the three elves where they were.
Mouths that stretched longer than they should opened in bays, shrieks, and howls. An enormous black kelpie tossed its head and snapped at a white one, who sidestepped away before bucking at the offender.
Then the kelpies lifted their nostrils, a deafening silence falling. Snorting, the massive predators herded each other into the water beyond the trees, diving into the pools.
Ciarán, Fionn, and Milo held their breath, their eyes wide and watching the mist.
Nothing scares a hunting party of kelpie—
"What..." Milo began, but Fionn hissed him quiet.
Trotting out from the dense mist, its head held high, came a blue-green kelpie. Its hide shimmered in the dim morning light. Each measured trot bulged muscles beneath the deep blue coat. The long green mane bounced with the pace, showing off the kelp woven in the strands. The same green as its mane, a lengthy tail snaked out behind the kelpie. Around its hooves, green feathering covered its hocks.
More immense than the others, the gargantuan kelpie stopped before the trees and snorted, flicking that long tail. With a toss of its mane, the kelpie lifted its nose. Its nostrils flared for several moments before the beast opened its mouth unfathomably wide, revealing dagger-like teeth—
And let out a sonorous, thunderous shriek.
Ciarán clung to the tree trunk with one arm and tried to cover her ears with the other, shutting
his eyes tight. Sticky warmth coated his fingers as the shriek rose in volume.
The next thing he knew, he stared up at an empty tree with a spinning head.
Groaning and touching the back of his head gingerly, Ciarán slowly sat up. His legs tangled with the robe until he yanked the fabric free. Wincing at the rough movement, Ciarán glanced around him. The mists around the trees created a white-gray wall and blocked his view. The haze lingered around the base of the thick roots, drifting between the roots and creating a sea of fog.
"Glad to see you're awake," purred a deep voice from behind him. His spine shuddered, and his skin crawled, alarms going off in his head.
Slowly, Ciarán turned to look over his shoulder.
A tall man lounged against a tree trunk, picking at his wicked talons. With each subtle muscle movement, the man's dark blue skin shimmered in the dim light. Depthless black eyes from under kelp-green hair pinned Ciarán in place. Only shadows clung to his body, not a scrap of cloth around.
"I was worried you'd die from that fall," the man purred, "that would be a shame, don't you think?"
Ciarán trembled as a wave of energy crashed over him. His fingers clutched at his robe, needing something to hold on to—
My staff—where's my staff?!
Quick, furtive glances around him—while keeping an eye on the creature—Ciarán caught sight of the staff sticking out of the sea of fog several meters away. Ciarán carefully crawled up the trunk to get to his unsteady feet, suppressing a groan. His legs buckled, and Ciarán scrambled at the tree bark—
Strong arms wrapped around his middle, supporting him, holding him between a solid, warm chest and the rough bark. Talon-like nails dug into his golden skin, sending trickles of fear down his spine.
"Another fall would do you no good," the creature purred, hot breath puffing against Ciarán's ear. "Allow me to help you. My home is not too far."
"Who... what are you?" Ciarán whimpered.
"Please, call me Lor," the creature replied, effortlessly lifting Ciarán up into his arms. One hand held Ciarán around the shoulders, squeezing his arm, while the other supported him under his knees. "Is what I am all that important? I am helping you."
"L-look, I don't know what you've encountered before now, b-but normal people don't just let random strangers help them," Ciarán countered, squirming and pushing at the man—creature—Lor.
Lor laughed, a deep sound like crashing waves. The vibrations close to his ear made him wince as another wave of dizziness and nausea passed over him.
"You are a funny boy," Lor chuckled, starting to walk from the tree. "I will take you home now, where you can rest and recuperate."
"W-wait! My staff—I need my staff!" Ciarán struggled harder, though his strength drained quickly.
"You are a weak foal out here on your own," Lor said, "and that staff is a dangerous toy. You do not need such a thing."
Foal—
Kelpie—
"L-let me down! Please!" No matter how hard he struggled, the man's grip merely grew stronger until Ciarán hissed and stilled. "T-that hurts..."
"You mustn't struggle so," Lor purred, "I do not wish to drop you." The man's grip loosened negligibly, but he still held Ciarán with a bruising grip.
Before Ciarán could protest more, Lor jumped from the roots to the soft ground below. Jostled in his arms, Ciarán grit his teeth and pressed into Lor's chest, wincing.
"Ah, does your head hurt?" Lor asked, his strides eating ground faster than Ciarán thought possible.
His head swimming, Ciarán closed his eyes and whimpered, "Y-yes."
"I will have our healer look at you when we arrive," Lor replied, his grip tightening again. Ciarán whimpered and tried to pull away from the man's grip.
"Shh, we're almost there," Lor purred.
Ciarán's eyes snapped open as the splash of water reached his ears. The young mage whimpered as the fog and mist roiled around them, rising from the dark water. With each step of the creature, the water crept closer to Ciarán.
I'm going to drown. I'm going to die by kelpie.
The water closed over Ciarán's robes, sucking and pulling at the heavy fabric. Another whimper as the fear rose in his throat, and Ciarán squirmed again in Lor's grip.
The creature's talons suddenly dug into his arm and around his kneecap. "Now, now, be good. Just a little further... I'll set you down soon."
"I-I don't want to d-drown—"
Lor chuckled, pulling Ciarán tight against him. "I won't let you drown. I promise."
"B-but... I thought that's what... k-kelpie do?" Ciarán stuttered.
Lor laughed again as the waters around them splashed, roiled, and lapped at the creature. "So you figured out what I am. Good. But not all of us seek to drown you land dwellers. Sometimes we like to devour your guts first...."
Cold fear seized Ciarán, and he stilled in Lor's arms, eyes wide.
Seeing that, Lor flashed Ciarán a sharp-toothed grin. "But no, I said our healer would look at your head injury, and she shall. I have no plans to kill you."
Yet. Though unspoken, Ciarán felt the weight of the word in Lor's assessing eye. Ciarán ducked his head, thinking quickly. There had to be a way out of this—
The sound of a hoof meeting wet sand came to him moments later, and Ciarán flinched. Lor chuckled, his strides never faltering. Wet sand gave way to soft dirt and long blades of grass. Finally, Lor stopped and knelt, laying Ciarán down on a pallet of woven hay.
"Stay there. I'll go get our healer," Lor ordered, straightening. As Lor turned, Ciarán's eyes found the missing clue—Lor's muscular legs ended in enormous black hooves covered in kelp-like feathering.
Swallowing down his fear, Ciarán scrambled to his feet. Though his legs wobbled, he steeled himself; he had to get out of there. A kelpie nest was no place for a sun elf.
Careful of making any noise, Ciarán crept back the way they'd come. Sounds of hooves reached his ears, and Ciarán ducked into the tall grass, hunkering down. He tugged his water-logged robe over him, trying to hide his golden skin. Massive hooves passed by—four, eight, twelve—until the thunk and thud of those hooves faded. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ciarán crawled from his hiding place. Keeping low, he ducked behind boulders, fallen logs, and underbrush, dodging open ground as much as the kelpies.
When he dove behind a grouping of boulders, hearing the mutterings of voices and the thunk of hooves, Ciarán pressed his back against the rock and covered his mouth. Praying they hadn't seen him—
A low groan nearby snapped his eyes to the side. His legs buckled beneath him as his eyes went wide, and he choked down a cry.
Bloodied gold skin, torn and shredded, exposed organs and muscles to the air. A seared stump at the shoulder remained of a once muscular arm. One brown eye remained untouched in the carefree, scared face. Milo's head fell to the side, catching sight of Ciarán. A gurgle and blood trickled from his open mouth. His lips moved even as his body shuddered in shock and blood loss—
"Run," Milo mouthed.
Ciarán reached for the warrior, pulling aside the tall grass to see the extent of the damage—
And stopped.
His legs were gone. Only stumps remained at mid-thigh.
Tears sprung to Ciarán's eyes, and he fell to his knees. With his one remaining arm, Milo clutched Ciarán's robe.
"Run," Milo gurgled, blood bubbling up and staining his lips bright red. Then the warrior—his proud brother—shoved Ciarán so weakly he could have been a babe.
Scrubbing his eyes, knowing he could do nothing more for his brother, Ciarán glanced around for a rock or a sharp stick. Anything that he could use to end his brother's suffering.
But then the sound of a splash—and hooves—snapped his head up like a deer. There was no time. If he stayed, he'd be found. Scrambling away from Milo, Ciarán dove into the thickest clump of underbrush he could find.
"See, he still lives," came a deep baritone voice, "and he is a strong one. He will be good for the tribe."
Ciarán's eyes widened as three tall, muscular creatures strode on enormous hooves up to Milo. A red-ochre-skinned kelpie knelt beside Milo and grabbed the warrior by his short hair. Milo groaned with the rough treatment and coughed, blood trickling from his lips.
"He will die soon, look how much blood he's lost. You went overboard if you wanted to keep him," another of the three muttered, a white-skinned woman said as she tilted her head, long seaweed hair falling from her shoulders.
"Just patch his gut up, he will live," the ochre kelpie insisted.
The last of the three—a gray-skinned kelpie—sighed and tugged at his hair. "You should be more gentle with your toys, Ruadh. If you keep breaking them and making Brónach fix them, Lorcán will not be pleased."
Ruadh bared sharp, pointed teeth, narrowing black eyes. He tossed his red seaweed hair over his shoulder and snorted. Finally, he laid Milo down and said, "Just fix him. I will be more careful next time."
"You will have to hold in your appetite if you wish to keep him," the white-skinned woman said, her hands slowly going to Milo's abdomen. With the practiced hands of a healer, she quickly assessed the extent of the damage. "I also expect you to bring me tender meat when next you go out hunting. As payment."
"Yes, yes, I agree to this," Ruadh muttered, crossing his arms over his thick red-ochre chest.
The healer's hands emanated a green healing light, and Milo groaned, tossing his head to the side.
"Hold him still," the healer ordered. Both Ruadh and the gray-skinned kelpie held Milo down as the healer's hands moved over the torn flesh. Moments passed—Milo cried out, whined, whimpered—and then stillness settled over the small group.
"It is done," she said, straightening.
"When can you give him a womb?" Ruadh asked, his eyes following her even as his talon-tipped fingers clutched at Milo's shoulders.
"Wait a week," the healer muttered, "and bring me more meat. Then you may bring him to my den and I will perform the ritual."
Ruadh grinned and nodded, tugging Milo into a tight embrace from behind. The warrior groaned again, stretching his head away from the redhead's nuzzling.
Snorting, the white-skinned healer and her gray-skinned companion turned and left.
Ciarán's stomach twisted, panic creeping in.
Womb? Good for the tribe?
"You will give me many strong foals," Ruadh growled, his fingers wandering over Milo's golden flesh.
Milo pushed at the redhead's probing fingers with his remaining hand, trying to force the creature off of him. Ruadh chuckled darkly and dipped his hand to Milo's crotch, groping the warrior's cock.
"Did you prefer it when I was eating and fucking you?" Ruadh growled, his teeth flashing. Milo shuddered and groaned, his hand wrapping around Ruadh's groping wrist.
"N-No..." Milo gasped, his injured lungs not completely giving him enough air. "No... more..."
Ruadh laughed, his fingers disappearing under Milo. Milo's mouth opened in a shriek in the next breath, but all that came from his lungs was a breathless gasp. Ruadh's hips thrust up—
Ciarán covered his eyes and ears, hiding his face behind his knees. The slap of flesh, the grunts of the kelpie, and the moans of his brother shattered his world.
"Fuck—ah, you're so fucking tight," Ruadh groaned. "Perfect little broodmare for me—make me cum. Squeeze me tight—fuck yeah, just like—"
The slapping squelches finally ended with Ruadh's heavy breathing. Milo groaned again.
"Time to go back to my den," Ruadh said, "and there, I'm gonna fuck you till you're swollen with my seed."
"N-no... p-please, just kill me...." Milo gasped out.
Stinging tears blurred his vision, but Ciarán had to see—
Ruadh stood, Milo held securely in front of him. The kelpie's dark red cock remained half-lodged in Milo's ass.
"Nah, I'm gonna keep you alive," Ruadh growled, "even if you try to refuse to eat, I'm gonna shove food down your throat. You're going to live as my broodmare."
The kelpie started off, each step moving him inside of Milo. The mighty, proud warrior shuddered, gasped, moaned—
And Ciarán's view of his brother shattered to pieces.
"So this is where you ran off to."
His crotch heated, wetness spreading in a puddle beneath him. The acrid scent of piss curled up into his nostrils as the liquid soaked the ground, his robe, and his pants.
His shoulders trembled, but he didn't turn, even as a vice grip closed around his arm. Lor yanked him up, spinning him around to face the towering, dark blue kelpie. Sharp talons trailed over his tear-stained face, and the kelpie keened.
"Found one of your companions, did you?" Lor purred, a smirk showing his pointed teeth. "Ruadh can be a bit rough with his broodmares. Don't think we're all like that, yeah? I'm certainly not."
"P-please let me go...." Ciarán tried again, even as his legs trembled beneath him.
"Now, now, let's get you to my den," Lor said, turning and starting off, dragging Ciarán behind him. The smaller man stumbled, his legs trembling with each step. "Hm, I think before that, I'll wash you. I do not want my den smelling of piss."
Ciarán stumbled again, tripping over a rock—or was it a root? As he fell forward, Lor snorted in impatience and wrapped an arm around Ciarán's middle, picking him up like a sack of potatoes.
"Are you a weak one? Your magic presence is very strong," Lor said as he walked, his stride never slowing. "Your strong magic will make strong foals... but if you are physically weak, I do not know if you will survive...."
Shivering at the very thought, Ciarán twisted in the kelpie's grip. "P-please... I-I don't... I don't want that...."
Lor stroked Ciarán's hair, his talons careful not to undo the braid. "You will enjoy it. I will make sure of that. Ah, but I cannot have you running away again. That would not do."
Before Ciarán could protest, Lor suddenly dropped him. Cold water enveloped him, soaking into his thick robe and pulling him down. Lor grabbed him by his arm, keeping him above the water.
"I will allow you to keep that robe," Lor said, his black eyes roaming Ciarán's body, "but you will remove the fabric around your legs and your torso. You do not need it."
Ciarán opened his mouth to snap back at him, but Lor suddenly began to pull at Ciarán's robe. The mage twisted and tried to struggle, to make it harder for the enormous kelpie, but soon, Lor threw the thick robe onto the shore.
"Now, take the rest off before I shred it off you," Lor demanded.
Shuddering at those talons being anywhere near his middle—and thinking of Milo, gutted and partially eaten—Ciarán's trembling fingers tugged at his trousers. The chill of the water froze his fingers, combined with the gaze of the towering kelpie, and the pants fought Ciarán's efforts.
"You are stalling," Lor growled, his eyes narrowing.
"N-No, I-I'm not," Ciarán whimpered, his teeth clattering. Finally, he got the fastening undone, and he shoved the pants down as far as he could while Lor tightened his grip on one arm.
The sodden pants pooled around his shins, stuck there as the fabric clung to him. He shucked the cotton tunic over his head quickly, trying not to think about the peak of his nipples.
It's just the cold—
A talon traced his left pectoral, and Ciarán flushed darkly. He squirmed, trying to get out of range, but Lor dragged him closer.
"Do not fight me," the kelpie growled, suddenly pinching the nipple. Ciarán's mouth opened in a silent gasp, his amber eyes widening at the unexpected pain. He stilled, though the trembles increased.
"Hm. You are chilled," Lor muttered. The kelpie grabbed Ciarán's other arm, releasing the first as he tugged the tunic the rest of the way off. Lor then picked up Ciarán by his arm, making the mage wince. The kelpie tossed Ciarán over his shoulder, keeping one hand on Ciarán's lower back to hold him there while he tugged the trousers off of his shins. Once the trousers hit the water with a splash, Lor turned and headed to shore. The kelpie stopped only once, bending down to pick up Ciarán's sodden robe.
"This will dry, and then I will return it to you," Lor said as he continued his stride. Moments passed as Ciarán watched the landslip by. Tall grasses danced in the slight breeze around boulders and ponds. The grass and soft earth gave way to trees with thick, twisting trunks. As Lor made his way between the enormous trees, Ciarán studied the copse and noticed eyes peeking out of several trunks.
The tall gray-skinned kelpie from before stuck his head out of one of the trees, solidifying what Ciarán guessed: the trees were hollow.
These were the dens of the kelpie.
Lor finally stopped and knelt, one hand going to Ciarán's neck and the other holding the mage gently at his lower back. The kelpie laid Ciarán on a thick, soft bed of furs, fronds, and woven grass within the hollow trunk of one of the enormous trees.
"This time, you will obey. Stay," Lor growled, one taloned finger in Ciarán's face. Once Ciarán nodded, Lor hung the robe over a tree branch that grew—strangely—inside the trunk. Lor disappeared through only opening. Ciarán rolled onto his side and curled, shutting his eyes tight as his body trembled with cold and fear. He hugged himself tight and tried not to listen to the hoofbeats and voices outside.
"Just check his head to ensure there is no damage, and then I wish to remove at least one leg." Lor's voice drifted in through the opening, and Ciarán whimpered, holding his legs tighter.
"You should remove both, less chance of them trying to escape, Lorcán," a deep voice Ciarán didn't recognize added, humming.
"Hm, no, just one for now," Lor replied, "as I do not know if I wish to mate with him yet."
"Speaking of, Murchadh took the other one as a mate," the woman's voice said, closer now. "I had to check that one already, since he nearly drowned when Murchadh was mating with him."
Lor snorted, but the unrecognized voice replied, "Does he not understand how fragile some of them are? Why take a mate of a fragile species?"
"This one is quite beautiful," Lor murmured, "and his magic is strong. Mating will make the foals stronger...."
"That is true, but the one Murchadh took has no magic," the woman replied. "That one is strong, and Murchadh was not as rough as Ruadh—"
"I apologized, didn't I?" called Ruadh's gruff, deep voice.
"I am sure the foals from these three will be strong," Lor chuckled as he strode into his den. Ciarán did not need to open his eyes to sense the powerful kelpie kneeling beside him, his talons brushing over his damp hair.
"Why is he so cold?" the woman asked as Lor turned Ciarán, pulling the mage's head into his lap.
"I had to bathe him," Lor replied. Ciarán shuddered as the warmth of the kelpie's legs chased away the chill. Finally, Ciarán opened his eyes, staring up into Lor's handsome face.
Handsome? Fuck.
Lor stroked Ciarán's hair as the white kelpie invaded his space. She examined his eyes, one at a time, before her hands glowed a dull green. She hummed before tilting her head.
"There is little recent damage, but there is extensive past trauma," the white kelpie said before turning her eyes and meeting Lor's own. "If I heal the past trauma, I believe his constitution will improve. But I would suggest removing a leg first."
Ciarán whimpered at that last, trembling in anticipated pain.
Lor nodded. "Thank you, Brónach."
"Call me when you've done so," Brónach said as she stood. "I will heal it all at once."
"What of the womb ritual?" Lor asked, his fingers starting to drift over Ciarán's bare chest.
"Because he has no damage to his insides, I can do the womb ritual after his constitution improves," the white kelpie replied. "If I do it before, the ritual may kill him."
Again, Lor nodded. Brónach bobbed her head before disappearing out the opening.
"Pretty mare... are you going to fight me?" Lor asked as his hand drifted to Ciarán's abdomen, arranging the mage until his back leaned against the kelpie's chest. Though Ciarán trembled and whimpered, shutting his eyes tight, he shook his head.
"Good boy."
Lor's fingers traced down the lines of his neck, dipping into the dimple of his collarbone, before digging shallow red lines between his pectorals. As if Ciarán had breasts, Lor groped and squeezed his chest. The elf shuddered and twisted subconsciously, shame flooding him—right as Lor pinched both of his nipples.
Ciarán gasped, thudding back into Lor's chest. Between two fingers, Lor rolled and tugged the mage's nipples. Ciarán's fingers grasped at the fur beneath him and the kelpie's leg. Lor's rough tugging pulled gasping groans from Ciarán until the mage's heaving, swollen chest blushed red.
"You are a sensitive little thing, aren't you?" Lor purred, hot breath caressing his long ears. Ciarán whimpered, trembling slightly—more from his shameful erection than cold now. Lor's burning hands laid Ciarán on his back, allowing the mage to see the kelpie lick his lips. Dark eyes roamed the boy's smaller form, and a hum of pleasure sounded in Lor's throat.
Lor dipped down, nipping and kissing trails down the boy's chest to the v of his hips. At any moment, Ciarán expected those teeth to open wide or those talons to sink in—
The anxiety of losing his leg, the fear of giving his first time to a beast, ate away at his insides.
Lor's talons and lips caressed the mage's hips, teeth nipping gently at the soft flesh. As if worshiping the golden-skinned elf, Lor hummed as he kissed his way down Ciarán's right leg.
Will I lose that one?
Lor licked the flesh at his ankle, a shudder crawling up Ciarán's flesh at the wet and rough tongue. Then the kelpie turned to Ciarán's left leg, kissing his way up his shin, his thigh, and back to his wet, leaking crotch.
Ciarán trembled under the weight of Lor's black gaze. The kelpie smirked, lowering his lips to kiss the elf's crotch.
"You anticipate," Lor purred, hot breath gushing over Ciarán's cock. The moist, hot breath wove around his member, sending shivers of odd pleasure up his spine. "What do you want me to do?"
"N-not... take my leg?" Ciarán asked weakly, his voice trembling and breathy. "I... I won't run away...."
Lor chuckled and kissed Ciarán's inner thigh. "You have nothing to fear from it... I will take care of you. I will protect you."
Tears sprung to his eyes even as he tried to keep his composure. "P-please... I-I'll be good...."
"I know you will," Lor purred. His tongue snaked out—long and wide—and licked the elf from balls to tip. Ciarán gasped, his spine convulsing as the sensation crashed through him. "Mmm... yes, you will be a very good boy for me...."
Lor pushed Ciarán's thighs up against the elf's chest. "Hold." Once Ciarán did as he was told, Lor returned to his crotch. His tongue ran over Ciarán's cock, licking the shaft vigorously. As Ciarán's pants rose and quickened, Lor hummed—and suddenly stopped.
Ciarán whined as his cock throbbed, so close—
Then Lor's tongue licked at his taint. The kelpie's tongue squirmed around at the elf's asshole, wetting the muscle. Another moment of this, and Ciarán hissed, the tongue forcing past his sphincter. Lor's sharp talons dug into the back of his thighs, tugging Ciarán up and exposing him further.
The elf shrieked with each plundering lick of the kelpie within him. His spine convulsed, arched, and shuddered as Lor found the secret places inside him. Sparks of pleasure covered his vision, his eyes and mouth wide. His toes curled, and his cock throbbed—
With a wet squelch, Lor's tongue popped out of Ciarán right before the elf came. The kelpie smirked down at the panting, whining mess, his talons running up and down Ciarán's legs.
"Yes... a good boy indeed," Lor purred. His enormous, midnight blue cock rubbed against Ciarán's smaller one, the flared head making Ciarán whimper.
No way... it won't fit...
Lor thrust his cock between Ciarán's legs, rubbing himself against the underside of Ciarán's cock a few times and keeping Ciarán on the edge of climax. Ciarán bucked up, trying to get more friction, but Lor chuckled and pulled away. Another pathetic whine from the elf, and the tears in his eyes finally spilled free.
"Shh... soon... relax for me. Good boy..." Lor purred, rubbing his flared cockhead against Ciarán's wet hole. The kelpie rolled his hips, pushing against the elf's hole without going inside. Trembling, Ciarán shut his eyes and bit his lip, forcing his body to relax—and begging it wouldn't hurt.
The thrusting pressure at his entrance became a stretch—more pressure—an impossible stretch—but no pain shot up his spine. With each rolling thrust of Lor's hips, the kelpie's cock reached deeper, spreading him wider. Ciarán's mouth opened in a gasping moan—
And then that cock rubbed his prostate. The nerves flared to life, throbbing from the earlier attention and burning bright with each thrust. Ciarán convulsed, crying out, moaning, shrieking—knowing he'd lose his voice but not caring anymore. His hips moved to meet Lor's thrusts, wanting to feel that cock even deeper. Lor did not disappoint, thrusting his enormous dick past what Ciarán thought he could take. Ciarán felt the flared head in his colon—and Lor's talons caressed the bulge of his abdomen.
"Look how well you take me," Lor murmured, his talons tracing the bulge. Ciarán couldn't help it; he opened his tear-filled eyes and followed the talons' movements.
That shouldn't be possible—
Lor began to thrust in earnest, shoving his cock hard and fast into Ciarán. The elf shrieked, his head falling back as light exploded in his eyes with the force of his climax. Hot spunk painted his chest and abdomen.
Ciarán cumming didn't slow Lor. The force of the kelpie's thrusts rubbed Ciarán's back raw. Wet, sucking squelches and the slap of flesh filled Ciarán's ears. The pressure of that enormous cock filling him took over his thoughts.
Ciarán shrieked as Lor's teeth sank into the muscle of his right leg. The kelpie's thrusts didn't slow even as he tore free chunks of bloodied elf meat. As Ciarán watched in horror, Lor's mouth stretched open, the flesh of his cheeks ripping, and the kelpie bit his foot clean off. Lor thrust deeper into Ciarán as the kelpie threw his head back and swallowed the foot whole.
Shutting his eyes tight, Ciarán twisted his head away, feeling the hot blood pour down his leg and thigh and mix with the saliva and precum at his hole. The heat of the blood sent shivers up his spine as Lor used the blood as an extra lubricant to fuck him harder.
But still, no nerves sent pain to his brain.
Another bite—another—and his right leg from slightly above his knee disappeared down the kelpie's gullet. As Lor licked his lips, his cock thrust thrice more, and waves of hot sperm flooded Ciarán's insides. The elf groaned as each spurt filled him more and overfilled him until Ciarán knew it would spill from his hole like a waterfall.
But Lor rolled his hips again, his enormous cock jumping and throbbing inside Ciarán. The elf whimpered, his head spinning. Blood loss? Pleasure? He couldn't be sure.
"You squeeze me so good," Lor groaned, his hips rolling forward. "I can't wait to pump you full... you'll give me strong foals."
Another whimper fell from Ciarán's lips. "P-please... st-stop... n-no more...."
Lor chuckled and leaned down, pressing his lips to Ciarán's throat. His hot, coppery breath mixed with Ciarán's next breath.
"You've been such a good boy...." Lor purred, "I suppose I can bow to your wishes this once... I will bring Brónach back, and she will take care of that leg."
The kelpie straightened and licked his lips, his talons trailing over Ciarán's remaining leg. His black eyes roamed the golden flesh, and Ciarán's stomach clenched in fear.
"Perhaps... I will eat both...." Lor murmured, his lips pressing to the muscle of Ciarán's remaining leg.
"P-please... le-leave one...." Ciarán whimpered, his fingers slick with his own blood. Lor purred and licked at the blood from his thighs and fingers to the bleeding stump.
Lor hummed before finally saying, "I will allow you to keep your leg... for now." With that, Lor pulled his cock, tugging it free. Ciarán's back arched with the sudden pull, and then emptiness, gasping for breath.
"You may relax now... I will fetch Brónach." Lor didn't even clean Ciarán's blood from his cock before the kelpie left.
Tears trailed over Ciarán's cheeks as he released his knees, feeling the loss of the leg and the thick globs of sperm oozing from his ass. Used, eaten, bleeding—
Still, no pain permeated his flesh. Shuddering at the numbness, Ciarán lifted his hand to scrub his eyes and stopped, seeing the bright red blood. His hand dropped back, his head turning away.
"I cannot wait to breed him," Lor's voice came to his ears as the towering kelpie clopped into the hollow tree, the white kelpie woman following.
"Before I heal the past trauma, with the amount of magic I feel coming from him, it might be a good idea to bind him to you," Brónach cautioned, kneeling beside Ciarán. Her hands glowed a bright green for a brief moment, and blood loss's draining sense lifted. Ciarán breathed easier, but he refused to face the white kelpie. His cheeks burned, knowing she could see the mess of his lower half.
"Hm," Lor muttered before dropping down to Ciarán's other side. His talons trailed over Ciarán's tear-stained cheeks. "If you believe his magic could be a danger to us, I will do so."
"It is as you say," Brónach replied, "I believe his magic could endanger us... you have found a strong mare."
Lor nodded and suddenly grabbed Ciarán around the throat, hauling the elf up and into his lap. The kelpie tugged Ciarán's back tight against his chest, his talons exploring Ciarán's jugular.
"Then I will claim him," Lor replied, "and bind him to me."
Brónach nodded, waiting patiently.
Lor turned Ciarán's head to face him, black eyes boring into amber. "Precious, will you give me your name?"
Names are powerful, Ciarán, the voice of his grandmother drifted through his thoughts, never give them to the fae.
Ciarán slowly shook his head as he tried to suppress his trembles. Lor frowned, his talons digging into Ciarán's side.
"You've been such a good boy for me," Lor murmured, pressing his forehead to Ciarán's. "Won't you stay a good boy? Please give me your name. I do not know what to call you."
Flushing, Ciarán whimpered, drowning in the black depths of Lor's eyes.
"What is the name of my good boy?" Lor's talons massaged into Ciarán's arm. "Won't you give it to me?"
Lost in the bottomless depths of Lor's black, shining eyes, Ciarán gasped out, "C-Ciarán... Ciarán Ó Móráin..."
Lor's lips split in a wicked, cruel grin. "Ciarán Ó Móráin... I claim you and bind you, body, heart, and soul, to me, taoiseach Lorcán." As the words settled over Ciarán, Lor opened his mouth wide—wide enough that his cheeks split again, exposing all of his sharp, dagger-like teeth. Between one breath and the next, Lor's teeth closed on Ciarán's neck and shoulder, slicing into the soft flesh.
The elf's breath left him in a whimper, his eyes wide. Is this how I'll die?
Instead of dying, however, something wrapped around his core. His sense of self became joined by another, an immense and violent presence.
Lorcán—Lor—chief—
Oh, fuck—
Lor's teeth came free, and his tongue lapped at the trickling blood, wounds that closed quickly with the help of Brónach's bright green magic.
"The bond is secure," Brónach said, nodding with approval. "I'll heal his past trauma now, and open the way for more powerful foals. Hold him still."
Warm, muscular arms wrapped around Ciarán's chest as Lor nuzzled into the mating bite. The phrase—mating bite—came unbidden to the elf, knowledge flowing freely between their bond. Filling in the gaps Ciarán didn't know.
Then Brónach's magic suffused his body, his limbs glowing in the same bright green as her hands. Something in his mind trembled—cracked—shattered—and his magic burst free. Ciaran's mouth opened in a silent scream. His body convulsed, held firm by Lor. Another breath, with Brónach's voice in Ciarán's mind, Ciarán collapsed against Lor.
"He is... stronger than I anticipated," Brónach murmured as Ciarán's head lolled to the side, strength leaving him and shadows creeping in. "I believe I will be able to perform his womb ritual in two days. With this level of magic restored, he will recuperate quickly."
"Good... good," Lor purred, his fingers stroking over Ciarán's flesh. "Come back in two days and reassess... I will call for you if you are needed before then."
"Yes, taoiseach," the white kelpie replied, leaving as shadows swallowed Ciarán's vision.
Ciarán lay beneath a thick fur pelt when he woke next, another bundled and stuffed beneath his head. Shivering slightly, Ciarán forced himself to sit, keeping the fur around him as best as possible. The bright afternoon light crept inside the hollow tree, illuminating a basket of fruits set beside the bed. A waterskin lay beside the basket, reminding Ciarán of his thirst—and his stomach grumbled loudly. Swallowing thickly, Ciarán reached for the waterskin first. He tipped the skin up, sucking down gulps of fresh, chilled water. Taking a gasping breath, Ciarán set aside the waterskin.
He noticed an absence of blood and semen in the afternoon sunlight, both from him and the pelts. Flushing at the memory, Ciarán reached for the fruits, grabbing a round red ull. Biting into the crunchy flesh, Ciarán barely restrained his moan at the sweet and bitter taste. Tears sprung to his eyes as he thought of eating these with his late mother and Milo—
Milo—
"I see you are awake," Lor's cheerful voice said as the kelpie ducked his head into the tree. "And eating! Good, good."
Swallowing thickly, Ciarán let his hands and the fruit fall to his lap. He took a steadying breath and asked, "M-may I see my brother?"
Lor tilted his head at the question, blinking in confusion. "Who?"
"M-Milo... he... he was...." Ciarán flushed in shame, shutting his eyes as he suppressed tears and steadied himself again. Another breath, and Ciarán opened his eyes, meeting Lor's black depths. "W-when you found me. T-the one with brown hair. Near your height."
"Ah, ah! The one Ruadh took a fancy to!" Lor laughed, his grin wide. "That is your kin? How interesting! I will see what Ruadh has done with him. Should he be in condition to have visitors, I will allow it."
Ciarán slowly released the breath he'd been holding. "And... the blond that was with us... Fionn. What's happened to Fionn?"
Lor scratched at the side of his face as he thought. "Hm. I think Murchadh took a liking to him. I believe I remember Brónach mentioning he took the blond elf as his mate." The sea-blue kelpie shrugged, grinning again. "All strong mares from that hunt... we will need to hunt again to feed everyone."
Ciarán clutched at the fruit, dropping his gaze, feeling his hunger turn to nausea. "Is... Fionn okay?"
"Hm... do you wish to see him as well?" Lor asked, striding in and plopping down on the furs beside Ciarán.
Suppressing his fear and trembling, Ciarán slowly raised his eyes and murmured, "If... it's alright... please?"
Lor grinned and reached out, petting Ciarán's head. "You are a good boy. I will arrange it. How do you feel? Stronger? Better?"
Knowing what would happen if he were stronger, Ciarán wanted so badly to shake his head—but he could feel Lor in his head.
He couldn't lie to this creature.
Dropping his eyes, Ciarán nodded hesitantly before forcing himself to take another bite of the red ull. He didn't know when he'd eat again, but Lor had promised to take care of him.
"Good," Lor said, continuing to pet Ciarán. "You are a very good boy... I am pleased I chose you. You will give me many powerful heirs...."
"Until I die?" Ciarán suddenly asked, his eyes blurring with tears.
Lor chuckled and replied, "Oh, no, my precious Ciarán... you and I are bonded. You will share my lifespan. Sun elves like you live long, yes, but us? We are near eternal... and now, so are you. You are mine... and I will not allow you to die."