Content Warning:

Sex, and big emotions. Very gay. Run away if scared of these things.

I’m a mess of tears and joy and absolute overstimulation as the final note crashes down on my body and soul.

It was a masterpiece of song and story told beneath one of the larger little branch woven amphitheaters. Dancers were all enraptured by the undertow of the tale, and the jolt of its end was a shock to my mind.

I didn’t understand all of the Fae words, but the… the flow of it was clear as springwater. A story of a trio of lovers, constantly separated by tragedy and desire. At the end they found each other after a century of pain and misfortune, spent many more together, and shared one final farewell and embrace as they chose to exit the dream together. Unraveling their bodies with one final song.

At some point Awnya had wrapped an arm around me, and the warmth of her embrace helped my soul endure the more painful parts of the performance.

There is a pause as the weight of the end washes over and through the Fae. Then an uproarious chorus of song and discordant praise erupts and slams into the performers as they move center stage to bow.

I join my songless voice to the cry of love and thanks.

It doesn’t really quiet, but many stand to approach the performers' circle, Awnya and I are content to just… sit and absorb the harmony and aura of the whole endeavor.

I have no words as I reflect upon it all. On the love and tragedy. On the different characters’ personalities and flaws, and how they fought through it all to be together.

And how now… they were all three dead and gone from the dream.

I don’t even try to stop the tears that pour down my cheeks as I look up at the moon and stars above. The characters weren't real… probably. But… How many times has this same story played out? How often had they found happiness at the end?

“Dreamer’s Tits.” Awnya has to nearly shout, and I look over to see her wiping away her own tears. “That was…”

I just… nod, a smile betwixt joy and sorrow on my own face. Then reach up to the hand around my shoulder and hold it.

“Thank you for bringing me.” I blubber out.

She smiles through her own tears. She’s so gorgeous… even when she’s crying.

The thought startles me. I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion as I wonder how much of the sudden fluttering in my heart at her is just leftover echoes of love and romance from the performance… and how much of it is… just… me?

* * *

We’re not able to really talk until we have truly left the plateau of song and wonder. With little sweet fruits in hand Awnya leads us back along the quiet pathways.

“Sorry it was so…” She sighs. “I didn’t… didn’t expect them to go the way they did with that. These things normally have happier endings.”

I smile, tears threatening to come back again. We’d both had to slow down or stop a few times since leaving. The songs of the lovers' sorrows still echo through our thoughts.

“It was perfect.” I reply softly. “The happiest ending possible.”

She glances over, gives me that little pretty head tilt. “The constant tears disagree.”

Warmth rolls down my spine. I fight to ignore it as I answer. “Ending their part in the dream, dying, isn’t… It isn’t a sad ending. It’s…” I take a deep steadying breath. “I’d hate to pass alone in silence. Especially if I can go in the arms of someone I–”

Love.

That stops me in my tracks.

Thendra doesn’t love you, and never will…

The tears hit me again as the songs of the story weave together into shapes I’d never know. Even amidst all of the sex Thendra’s inflicted upon me.

“I don’t know. Sh- she...” I begin to stammer as Awnya’s other hand moves to my back, rubs small circles in misunderstood comfort as I blubber out. “Maybe she could eventually… someday…”

…Love a slave?

End up needing to sit down as I begin to weep at the stupid thought. Awnya kneels beside me on the side of the abandoned pathway, and as my sobs continue to grow she pulls me into a hug.

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“I’m sorry Lyra.” I think she understands who she is. “I'm so… so sorry. You are so strong and amazing, beautiful and soft and so kind! You deserve more than–”

“No.” I hiss, as that makes me weep for an entirely different reason. “I don't!!! I’m an ugly messed up thing that doesn't deserve–”

“Lyra!” She squeezes me gently but firmly.

“I court death and pain and misery in my very soul.” I wail Thendra’s words. “I don’t deserve a happy end! Just… just… What little Dreamer Blighted pleasure I can take!”

A pause.

“May I see?”

Confusion causes a stutter in my tumble of sobbing madness.

“May I look at your Amwella?” She pulls me up, smiles at my tear-stained mess of a face. “Will you give me permission to see your soul?”

I hiccup. “You… You didn’t already?”

She shakes her head. “It’s kinda rude to do to another Fae without permission.”

“Oh.” I whisper, don’t even try and wipe the tears away. “I… I don’t know if I can handle you seeing… seeing how bad it is.”

She squeezes my hands. “I can weave a Fae song that will let us both see each other’s Amwella.”

“I… I can see Amwella if I need to.” I murmur. “The curse doesn’t stop that.”

“Can you see more than the size and basic shape?” She asks, “The colors and texture? The… Deeper things?”

I shake my head. “No. I didn’t… didn’t even know there was more to see.”

“Would you like me to sing it then?”

Don’t trust myself with words. So I just take a deep breath, and nod.

Then she Sings. It’s a low and… almost haunting thing. But her voice is… it’s so soft and soothing and perfect.

A moment passes, then a golden flame stirs and glows from her. It’s no bigger than mine, perhaps even smaller. But… there’s a density to it. It’s packed with energy that swirls and dances and flits about in a whirlwind of shifting hues.

I have to bite my lip from gasping at its beauty as more details begin to unravel, given to me by her song. Emotions and the imprints of thoughts and memories curl weave through it. I can see her wonderfully complex mind work as it drifts through the song she sings, while another part of her observes my own. But… There's still so much more! More than a lifetime of watching could reveal!

I find myself enraptured by this brilliant Fae of adventure and wanderlust, somehow barely older than me. Then I begin to understand her current emotions… Wonder at first… then amazement, and… confusion, sadness, anger, fury, admiration, desire, and so… So much more flood through her as she peers into my soul.

She sees me… and… and she means what she said… she… she thinks I’m… That my soul is something amazing and–

I jerk to meet her eyes, and through them the details of her thoughts and soul are magnified. Focused. A wordless mix of all the above emotions as she tries to process and delve into the depths of my soul while noticing me doing the same. Her eyes glance up to mine, and for once… she doesn’t smirk.

Just… ends the song.

Eyes wide with a few tears still deciding if they want to fall, she just… stares at me. The hands holding mine start to shake. If it weren’t for what I’d just seen I’d think she saw something different. Something horrible... but... no.

“Lyra.” She whispers. “Thank you for–”

She cuts off as a hand touches her face. It takes me a moment to realize that, yes… those are my charcoal black fingers. I consider pulling them back, fear and panic begin to bubble up at–

But Awnya does the same while reaching up to hold mine in place.

Then at almost at the same time, we're leaning forward, scooting closer, and moving to press our lips together. Overwhelmed by some… deep hunger and longing to feel the soul of another pressed close.

The kiss is slow and soft. Warm and steady and just… perfect sweetness. Then she is pulling me back, coaxing me to fall on top of her. And before I know it I am straddling Awnya. I move to kiss the tears from her eyes, trail lips across her face and nose and chin. She laughs, and I can’t stop a giggle from sputtering up. The laughter releases some deep weight I didn’t know was bottled up. Tears I don’t understand begin to leak, but when Awnya sees them she pulls me down so her lips can kiss away even the memory of sadness.

“Is this okay?” She murmurs, cupping my face as the laughter and tears seem to pause. “I… I forgot how intense these things can be. I don’t want to pull you into anything you don’t want, Lyra. Especially not while you’re healing.”

“I’m… I’m sorry. Yes.” I nod furiously. “Yes please. I need this.”

She smiles, studies me for a second, then slides arms around my neck to pull me down into another slow kiss. Her lips are soft and wonderful and fit deftly against mine. Eventually I can’t stop my hands from wandering up and down her sides, quickly frustrated by the cloth that separates fingers from skin.

“Lyra.” She murmurs through the kiss. I pull back. Dizzy and short of breath.

“As much as I would love to continue…” She huffs, takes a second to recover her own breath with a smirk. “I just remembered we’re on the side of a pathway.”

“Oh… um…”

“How about we go back to my place?”

** ** **

We barely make it in as Awnya tosses her tunic aside, then turns to help pull mine up and off.

I pause, smitten by the sight of her amber eyes and gorgeous golden skin and a… a smirk from her that asks ‘what are you waiting for?’

Memories of the Amwella sight have cooled, but… now there’s a stirring warmth rolling down my spine. So I take her face in my hands and kiss her. Still very soft, but with an anticipation tempered by an hour-long walk that had felt like much much longer. She drapes arms over my shoulders, relaxes into it. I nearly carry her over to the bed, only pausing to shed our remaining underthings and shoes. The bed is small, which only means I have to curl my body over hers. Neither of us mind that as our legs twist and press up against sensitive areas. My hands wander to hips, then up to breasts and–

I hesitate. Sudden realization that I don’t… that I’d never actually pleasured anyone and I have very little idea how to continue.

Awnya arches her hips into my leg, lets out a little moan as her breasts brush against my fingers and tongue flicks out to play against my lips. And I forget my worries. When I finally think to try and use fingers to pleasure her, and low moans signal an eventual easy climax to our first dance, my Amwella sight flickers to life and I’m enraptured as I watch our souls entangle with each other.

Mine curls around hers, and before I can even begin to fear an eruption of teeth and horror at watching my soul hurt her… it simply… snuggles and licks at hers. Like fire against ice, some of her melts and seeps into my core. I can’t help but shiver at the pleasure of it. It… It’s as good as the physical stuff. Almost… almost better. She trembles too, a sparkle in her eyes showing me that she watched it happen and loves this. As our souls part a little smudge of… of me is left on her as well.

Deep breaths, I remind myself as I trail kisses down her neck. She leans up to nibble on my shoulder, and eventually twists and moves to lay atop me. Slowly, and so much more experienced than I was, with fingers and kisses and warmth she brings me into a shuddering climax. I brace for pain as I watch her Amwella curl around mine and–

Oh… Oh Dreamer’s Clit and Cunt!

A warmth floods my soul while fire bursts from my flesh under her gentle workings. I’m left a twitching puddle beneath her as she snuggles down atop my pleasure drowned form.

Dreamer’s Tits! It’s like... Like my soul getting a big warm hug after a long journey through a freezing storm. N– No pain at all! Just... warmth and pleasure and... and the orgasm is the best I've ever had! The soul hug basically caused a second one atop the first. But... Deeper and more filling!

Once the heat of desire returns, she dances with me four more times before we collapse into exhaustion and sleep. Amwella flickering together in happy satisfaction. Little smudges and love marks left all about our souls and bodies.