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A Long Desired Feast

Tana

The forest spins around me and the only reason I don’t drop to my knees in the tremors of my pleasure is Fyrn.

Her arms keep me upright.

Her soft and murmuring words keep me from crumbling to dust on the spot.

I’ve loved Fyrn for so long—I’ve wanted to make this journey for so long—I almost blurt out the news.

I kiss her instead and draw her in front of me.

She coils the length of her body around my waist and barrel and I feel her start to shrink.

Brushing my palm over her hard skin, I love the way she reacts, her hair rustling, her limbs creaking.

Dropping my forehead to hers, I find my breath again.

“I love you, Fyrn.” I take another deep breath and wrap my fingers around her limbs.

“I’ve only ever loved you.”

“I have loved you from the day you thundered into my life and have never stopped. I would have kept you if I could.”

But runaway centaurs are found and dragged back.

Family lines are curated and cannot be broken.

Or they were.

It has taken decades, but I’ve finally managed to drive my hoof through that archaic practice.

No one would dare come after me this time.

I’m hers.

Finally and forever.

She’s curled back into herself, all of her bits and branches collected back into the smaller version of her body.

I bundle her up, holding her close to my chest.

I leave the cloth insert for my harness and my saddlebags by the side of the path.

I’ll have time to come back for them later.

No one will take them.

No one else will come this way.

The forest opens in front of me, trees and bushes easing out of my way.

Her glade felt like home the first time I set hoof in it, and it’s no different now.

It’s always spring here.

Her magic is beyond my understanding.

I’ve asked before, but when she tried to explain, it set my head spinning.

“I’ve missed this place, too.”

Flowers and birds fill the branches.

They all watch us—even those without eyes.

“It has felt like it was missing you, too,” she says.

She’s changed things since I was last here.

Little things.

Things I might not have noticed if I hadn’t spent the last few minutes of every visit trying to remember every tiny detail before I had to go again.

There’s a new apple tree to the left that wasn’t there before, and where she once had a little vegetable garden is now a thick bed of clover.

A pond has formed where that bed once was.

It is alive with frogs.

They sit on lily pads and watch me from under the water with their bulbous eyes.

Dragonflies skim the surface and hover in the tall grass that grows in patches around the water’s edge.

As I cross the wide grass toward that bed of clover, I see the garden hidden away behind a small copse.

Rabbits and a badger sit in the dirt rows, nibbling at carrots and turnips.

Holding Fyrn close, I go down on my front knees in the clover, laying her down before gently dropping down to join her.

“The Goddess is kind and cruel, isn’t she?” Fyrn asks with a sad sort of smile.

I nod, even though the Goddess is finally kinder to us than she is cruel.

Easing her legs open, I say, “Let me show you how kind she can be.”

Fyrn made her pussy for me.

She created it for familiarity, and because I love pears.

In the valley between the legs she has made, her pussy grows outward, forming the shape of a halved pear.

The flesh is red instead of white, and the small dark spot above the weeping slit isn’t a pip, but I don’t want it to be a pear.

I want it to be what makes her shudder through the same pleasure she’s given me.

That pip-like spot will be my focus in the end, but right now, I dip my head and drag my tongue over the sweetness she has made for me.

It’s only half as delicious as the soft breath that escapes her lips.

Fyrn is always quiet, even in this.

I love that I can pull these sounds from her.

I love that she lets me.

Fingers gripping my hair, she guides me and when I finally work my way up to her clit, my face is a mess of juices.

This wasn’t fashioned for me.

It is one of the few parts of her that doesn’t change.

The Goddess gave her the capacity for this pleasure without making her create it on her own.

When my tongue flicks it, she sings like the prettiest songbird, her body rippling and blooming.

Vines shoot out of her thighs.

They wrap around my harness, holding me down so tightly the leather threatens to snap, and they coil around my head, pulling me forward.

I don’t fight them.

I’ll never fight them.

I hold her tighter, too.

She doesn’t taste like a pear.

Her nectar-like sap is too woody, but it’s sweet and syrupy and I drink it down between flicks and licks and sucking at her clit.

Fyrn is an old being.

Her body grows and glows as her orgasm builds.

The air fills with magic, pulsing from her as she murmurs ancient words.

Her body grows around me, caging me even more tightly than before, but when she comes, that cage splinters away from us like it has been hit by a microburst.

Eyes closed, I drink in the last of her orgasm, not stopping until, at last, she pulls me away.

“The Goddess is very kind indeed.” She kisses me before I can tell her she has no idea.