Page 13 of I Will Always Find You
“You smell like the sea and the earth at once, man. And of human musk: a sweat of determination, exertion, and passion. All combine in an intoxicating aroma of arousal. I could sense your trepidation in approaching me, fearing I cared about such things as potent odours, but I am of the natural world, and my senses understand the origins of man and beast, earth and sea. You smell like desire. Know that I want you as much as you want me.”
Aodhán reached down and grasped the Romani witch’s groin, gently yet firmly squeezing the covered bulge. The organ concealed beneath the weathered garments quickly stiffened under the intimate contact. “Yes, you definitely desire me. This is good.”
The Romani witch’s eyes opened wide in surprise. He did not equate this type of forwardness with Aeneas, whom he had always known, in every lifetime, to be bashful. Even during their love-making, which was frequent, his beloved had always preferred the submissive role—to be the anvil, not the hammer. He was not weak or cowed; he simply enjoyed being directed.
But this is not just Aeneas—it is also Aodhán.The Romani witch was undeniably intrigued by this entirely new experience, but he was also mindful. He realized he ought to change his approach with this incarnation of his beloved. Instead of his usual authoritative approach when making first contact, he needed to allow himself to be graciously and, at the same time, erotically led.Yes, it is in my best interest to relinquish some control.
“How—I mean to say—Aodhán, you know nothing about me! How are you so unafraid, so bold, so desirable of me, especially in keeping with my bedraggled countenance! Although you say you do not care, I am uncomfortable with it around you. You deserve better.”
“And how would you know what I deserve—or desire?” Aodhán laughed heartily again, still gripping the Romani witch’s groin tightly. His tone was not mocking or showing annoyance; it was wholly playful. “I see now that I need to show you who I am, that I am a man of my word and, like the blessed Goddess, never lie or embellish.”
Aodhán guided the Romani witch the rest of the way out of the forest through the dense underbrush, with no hint of resistance in the other man’s demeanour. The soft rustling of leaves mingled with the distant call of waterfowl as they drew closer to the shimmering expanse of the lake. As they arrived at the shoreline, a gentle breeze danced across the surface, creating soft ripples that caught the sunlight.
With deliberate care, Aodhán removed each piece of the Romani witch’s clothing: the vibrant tunic that swirled around him like a colourful breeze, the snug breeches that clung to his form, and the sturdy boots that had tread countless distances through the wilderness, until he stood bare before him, vulnerable yet radiant.
Without hesitation, Aodhán took his newfound friend—soon to be more than that—into the lake, the brisk waters enveloping them in a refreshing embrace. His rough hands and calloused fingers moved over the Romani witch’s goose-pimpled flesh with unexpected tenderness, gliding over his lithe form.
With each deliberate stroke, he washed away the remnants of the Romani witch’s travels: the accumulated dirt, sweat, and the weight of the outside world. He scrubbed him clean, leaving onlythe purity of their moment together untouched by time, that primordial component of the universe seemingly frozen.
When Aodhán determined that the Romani witch had been thoroughly cleansed, having meticulously washed every inch of his body, paying particular attention to his most intimate parts, he led him out of the water. The afternoon light filtered through the lush canopy of leaves overhead, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor as the Celtae witch conducted himself and his soon-to-be lover toward a soft, grassy knoll nestled deeper within the woods.
There, Aodhán gently laid the Romani witch down; the cool grass beneath him was a lush blanket, smooth and slightly cool against his skin. Each delicate blade was thin and needle-like, yet together, they formed a seamless bed of velvety emerald green that wrapped the Romani witch in a soothing embrace.
Aodhán tapped his fingers along his new lover’s naked torso ever so gingerly, moving friskily down toward the thickened cock he could not take his eyes off of, lust causing his tongue to ever so slightly jut out the side of his mouth.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he brought his moist lips to the Romani witch’s tantalizing, turgid shaft. Pushing the foreskin all the way down, he savoured the flavour of the clear fluid that was slowly oozing from the tip. Soon enough, however, he enveloped the organ whole, starting with a soft kiss over the head, his tongue dancing eagerly over its textured surface, exploring every delectable section of skin.
His teeth grazed the edges with a tender caution, honouring the offering with a blend of reverence and mischievous delight. He worked the magnificent phallus like it was the shaft of Cernunnos, the Horned God, himself.
With a deep sigh of unbridled pleasure, the Romani witch raised his arms above his head and felt the softness of the grass. Then, as the pleasure inside him intensified, he gripped theblades with clenched fists. The green spikes clung to the earth by their roots, just managing to stay connected to the ground under the strain of his erotic exertion.
Aodhán released his lover’s cock and began kissing upwards, beginning at the man’s navel. He placed his tongue inside the hollowed area on the abdomen and swirled it around, causing the Romani witch to squirm in ticklish delight.
Then, the Celtae witch moved his tongue up the Romani witch’s torso; he licked his lover’s nipples, then bit them ever so playfully until he returned to lapping at the drops of moisture that were sliding over and around the prickly, tanned skin of the stranger to the land of Éire.
When Aodhán leaned in and pressed his lips against the Romani witch’s inviting mouth, a slow, deep kiss ignited a spark that shattered any remaining barriers of indecision and hesitation that might have interfered with this erotic moment of connection.
The world around them faded away, and the weight of their star-crossed history washed over them. Time seemed irrelevant as they surrendered to the connection that blossomed with each heartbeat. Their souls intertwined, leaving only raw, open communication between their hearts and minds, uniting them in a dance of passion and understanding that transcended all obstacles.
To Aodhán, it felt as though the Goddess had breathed new life into him, infusing him with a vibrant essence that rejuvenated both his physical form and his spiritual core. Had she granted him a new profound awareness, revealed a grandeur far beyond his own existence, something more magnificent than any enchantment he had ever encountered or spell he had ever learned? The only possible response to him was a definiteyes.
His bond with her was extraordinary, but this new emotion teetered on the precipice of an unspoken love so deep thatit terrified him. He worried he might dare to blaspheme the Goddess with the weight of his all-consuming passion for another.
The Romani witch felt the grass beneath him respond to Aodhán’s pleasure as if it were an extension of the Celtae witch’s own hands. Each blade of grass acted like a finger, and as he felt Aodhán’s hands on him, he experienced that same sensation replicated hundreds of times with every blade. The physical sensation of countless gentle touches enveloped his naked form.
It was a kind of magic that the Romani witch had never experienced before: sex magic, a practice not widely embraced by his own people. It was blissful, a euphoric sensation on a physical level that he found difficult to comprehend because it transcended logic, this meeting between magic, nature, and the erotic. Then, was sex always meant to be logical?
So, he did not try to reason it; instead, the Romani witch fully surrendered to the overwhelming sensations that washed over him.
With a deep breath, he allowed Aodhán to explore him imaginatively—every contour of his body, every flicker of his spirit, and every intricacy of his mystical essence. Every sensation of touch, from human hands to any part of nature that the Celtae witch’s magic controlled, felt like a delicate probe into the depths of his sexual being from Aodhán himself.
Gazing deep into the Romani witch’s eyes, Aodhán felt a magnetic pull emanating from the radiant ecstasy illuminating his lover’s face. With a gentle but purposeful motion, he rested his hand upon the Romani witch’s chest atop his heart, feeling its steady thrum.
“I am in here,” he proclaimed, his voice a soft whisper yet filled with unwavering certainty. “I have always been in here, even though shadows cloud my understanding. Bless the Goddess, for deep within my soul, I feel assured of this truth. You carry mewith you, although, as I state again, the reasons elude me. Tell me, are we not entwined in the very fabric of destiny, our lives woven together across the tapestry of time, in this life and all others before and yet to come?”
“Yes,” the Romani witch answered without thinking or considering the weight of his punishment and the potential consequences for his beloved. And for the briefest of moments, he allowed all of the walls in his mind to come down, embracing the rich mosaic of their lifetimes of shared memories and experiences.
Yet, as the vibrant echoes of their past enveloped him and flowed into Aodhán’s mind, a sudden rush of awareness jolted the Romani witch back to reality. With a swift, almost panicked motion, he reestablished the walls that kept those profound thoughts to himself.
