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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years

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Ficlet: Need

I’m tagging this as #rumbelle monsters ball since I think it’s in the spirit of the event, but it is anyem, not rumbelle.

Summary: Rumpelstiltskin accidentally summons a demon who knows exactly what he needs.

Anyem: Rumpelstiltskin x Curupira

Rated: E

Need

Rumpelstiltskin will always maintain that summoning the forest demon was entirely accidental. Every time he has called upon the forces of nature to assist him with this particular spell in the past, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary has happened, and the spell has gone off without a hitch. Today, though, there has been a cloud of dark green, heavily pine-scented smoke, and now a forest demon is sitting on his workbench, grinning at him like a cat that’s got the proverbial cream.

For a long time, all he can do is stare at her. She’s a tiny little thing, all green and blonde and clothed in vines, and she looks as if she wouldn’t hurt a fly, that the most he should expect from her is a little harmless mischief. But the demons are as old as the forest itself, and the forest has been here for far longer than the Dark Castle ever was. They have forgotten more tempestuous magic than Rumpelstiltskin could ever hope to learn in a lifetime.

“Shoo,” he says eventually. “Begone.”

The demon makes a moue of disappointment, pouting at him as she taps her twisted feet against his chair.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get rid of me,” she says.

“I don’t suppose you can give me any clues as to how to go about that?” Rumpelstiltskin snaps. “You’re rather in the way of some very important work and time is of the essence.”

The demon just looks at him, clearly not believing a word he’s saying.

“It can hardly be important or urgent if you’ve managed to summon me,” she points out, and Rumpelstiltskin moves away from her to look out of the window, unable to betray any kind of weakness to a being much older and more powerful than he is.

The truth is, he has summoned her intentionally, or at least, his subconscious has. These past few days he’s been feeling a certain level of distraction, a specific itch that must be scratched if he’s to have any hope of ever concentrating again. When he called upon the forces of nature to help him, his magic decided that he needed help with the problem in his breeches rather than his spell.

“I know what you need, Rumpelstiltskin.” Her voice is low and husky, full of promise, and Rumpelstiltskin suppresses a groan at the back of his throat, because he wants nothing more than to give in to that promise, but he can’t afford to be distracted at this critical stage of his work. He hears her slip down off the workbench, her movements and footsteps carrying the rustle of leaves with them.

“Oh yes, I know what you need me for, Rumpelstiltskin. I know that you like to think you are content here in your castle, isolated and alone from the world that you have taught to hate and fear you, but I know the loneliness that lurks in the bottom of your darkening heart. Your desires are the same as any man’s, and you long to sink your aching cock into a woman’s wet and welcoming flesh.”

He feels her little arms snake around his middle, one hand coming down to cup his heavy crotch, squeezing gently.

“But women are crafty.” Her hands are gone, and this time Rumpelstiltskin cannot stop his groan. “Look at the last two women you had. They both left you in contempt. No, women cannot be trusted. A demon, on the other hand…”

Rumpelstiltskin turns to see her leaning back against the workbench again. Her smile is seductive, encouraging, and when she beckons him towards her, Rumpelstiltskin goes to her willingly.

“Demons by their very nature are untrustworthy,” he says.

“Precisely.” She’s close enough for him to touch her now, but she pre-empts him, reaching out and running a finger down his chest. “But at least you can always count on that, and you know that if you summon one like you have done, then they will be your willing servant for as long as you need to relieve that terrible ache.” Her finger reaches his trousers and ghosts over the bulge of his erection, desperate to be freed.

“I may be a demon,” she continues, “but my flesh is as wet and warm as any woman’s, and I would welcome you inside.”

The undulating vines she’s wrapped in fall away to leave her green-tinged skin bare; whatever shape she may hold normally, he can’t deny that she is most certainly a woman now, pert breasts with dark, pointed nipples just begging for Rumpelstiltskin to lick and suck, and fronds of the softest fern where a woman’s coarse nether curls would be, hiding her sweet centre. The air is heavy with the scents of earth and pine resin, and of something more indefinable but undeniably arousing.

She lies back on the workbench, opening her legs to reveal a plump and glistening sex, ripe and ready for him.

“What are you waiting for, Rumpelstiltskin? I won’t be around forever, you know, and the next demon you summon may not be as obliging or eager as I am.”

Rumpelstiltskin needs no more encouragement. With a simple finger snap his breeches are unlaced, and he takes his cock in hand, stroking himself to relieve the unbearable pressure before he lines up and thrusts home. She takes him all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion, her channel clutching at him and pulling him in, her ankles locking around his back to keep him inside. Her grin is sultry and lazy, and even though he was the one to summon her, Rumpelstiltskin knows that at this moment, he’s powerless to resist anything that she might do. He finds that he can’t bring himself to care, not when she’s bringing him the blessed relief that he has needed for so long.

He begins to move in her, a hard, fast rhythm that the cant of her hips manages to match stroke for stroke. He wonders if she’s feeling the same heady bliss as he is, but then again, her pleasure probably derives more from seeing such a great and powerful sorcerer come so undone from her body alone.

The feeling of release when he finally spills his seed deep inside her is unlike anything he’s felt before, a sense of satisfaction that settles into his very bones.

“You needed that, didn’t you, Rumpelstiltskin?” the demon purrs, uncrossing her legs from around his back as her vines begin to creep and cover her once more. Rumpelstiltskin can only nod mutely, pulling out and refastening his breeches.

The demon sits up, and then, unexpectedly, pulls him in for a long kiss. Her mouth tastes of moss and earth, disgusting in itself but refreshing in its sheer, raw naturalness.

“I’m sure that all your spells will work to your liking now,” she says once she finally releases him, licking her lips.

She’s about to vanish; Rumpelstiltskin has met with demons before and he knows the way they operate. Before she goes, however, there’s one thing that he must know.

“What’s your name, my pretty little forest demon? Should the need to summon you again ever arise, of course.”

“Oh, names have power, Rumpelstiltskin.” The demon tuts, wagging an admonishing finger at him. “You of all people should know that. But, should you find yourself in need of assistance to relieve future aches, then you are free to call me again. After all, your own hand can hardly compare to a soft lady’s flower, dripping with nectar.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallows; her words along are almost enough to make him hard again.

“My name is Curupira,” she says eventually, and then she is gone, leaving only the wisps of pine-scented smoke behind her.

Curupira. Whether Rumpelstiltskin summons her again or not, he will certainly never forget her name.

#rumbelle monster's ball #anyem #Rumpelstiltskin #Curupira #RumpelstiltskinxCurupira #Fun in the Sun: Sizzling Smutlets

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