Pooka blues and motley crews...**OPEN for one male, PM first please!**

[laceandcogs]

((This is a Changeling: The Dreaming story. It's very helpful if you know of/have played this game before. If you have some experience with the White Wolf gaming system and/or World of Darkness setting, that's just as good.))

Eileen was always nervous approaching a new Freehold. She knew that that was foolish, and, in fact, sort of the opposite of the point of a Freehold. Still, one never knew what one would find in there. Boggans were always nice, and always present, and almost always had food. Trolls were less frequently nice, and less likely to have food, but great friends to have at hand in the event that someone became sore displeased with one. Of course, if one was a Pooka, and last she checked, Eileen was, the Troll was as likely as anyone to become the sore displeased. Nockers were a social nonentity, Sidhe barely noticed her, Redcaps noticed her exactly long enough to want to eat her- but really, with that gorgeous hair and that bad-boy attitude, Eileen was not entirely opposed to being nibbled.

She shifted her suitcase to her other hand and made a quick inventory of her appearance. Her jeans were dusty, but certainly not dirty, and the way they clung to her long, sleekly muscled legs and compactly curved ass like ink-washed skin did a great deal to improve the charitable mood of an observer. Her jersey was decidedly cleaner, if a bit wrinkled from the last six hours of bus ride, and the "baseball" style worked wonders at outlining her supple, toned arms and tightly nipped waist. Plus, with the two sports bras she had on beneath it, her chest was nearly not obscene. Inconvenient as always, but not obscene. Eileen carefully adjusted her tweed scally cap to more effectively conceal her long, silken ears, and wiggled the waistband of her jeans and the hem of her shirt until she felt her cottontail was as hidden as possible. Though these...additions to her shape we not noticable to humans, and though her perfectly normal if exceedingly twitchy nose may spill her beans to a clever Fae, Eileen had realized through long and frequently painful experience that it was best to keep her Seeming low-profile.

"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darnit, I can outrun every fuckbucket who doesn't like me." Eileen's whispered self-affirmation may have been a bit outside the norm, but she believed it with every beat of her heart. With a straight spine, a lifted chin, and a determined step, Eileen crossed the street, mounted the Freehold porch, and pushed the doorbell.

 

[marauder13]

Ding... Dong... Dang... CLONK... CLANK... WHISTLE

"Oh, fuckin' 'ell. Who let Bodger loose on the doorbell?" Rick let his chair fall forward, the solid wooden legs crashing into the slate tiled floor. His leather clad arms slammed into the table, adding a loud crack to the dulling echoes. Beneath the scuffed leather jacket was an old Metallica tshirt that had seen better days.

"Her Ladyship did, Rick." The massive elder man at the other end of the table was sipping tea from an equally sizable mug while he read a newspaper that he managed to control with one hand. "Ever since that Knocker found out about her sweet tooth, well..."

"Fuck. I'm going to have to start searching his room then. I don't know where he's hiding his stash, but I am getting tired of him fixin' things around here."

"Good luck, Rick, you're going to need it," the other man rumbled a laugh.

Rick nodded towards the front door, some of his dreadlocks coming loose. "So, why aren't you answering the door, Burt?"

"Tea break, Rick. As per the rules."

"You're fuckin' joking? Tea break?!?"

Burt turned to look Rick in the eye. "You can argue with the Baroness about it. But, while I am on my break, you're it on the door, mate." Burt raised his mug in a salute, returning to read the paper.

"Mate, this place has really gone to shit since the Baroness was foisted on us." He dragged himself out of the chair, dragging his roughly polished military GP boots along the floor. The plain khaki drab pants fell over the tops of the boots, held up by a length of rope wrapped around his waist twice before being knotted in place. He felt around the collection of red dreadlocks before he found the one he was after. He gathered all the others together, and used the loose one to tie them up. By the time he reached the door, his naturally ruddy complexion supported a slightly aggravated expression.

He pulled the door open hard, readying himself to deal with the intruder outside their home from the wintry chill. His reddish brown eyes ceased being narrow as he saw who stood outside. He filled the doorway, and openly looked over the woman standing outside. He was impressed by the compact bundle of female outside, and he knew in an instance she was not one of the masses, nor a dreamer. She was one of them.

"H... h... hello there, miss." Rick took a quick look around to see if anyone was close and handy before he smiled. His mouth went impossibly wide, flashing an impressive set of pointed teeth. "Welcome to the Clarence Street Freehold. I can definitely say that I am pleased to see you. Very pleased." Rick took the time to look over her again, noting the manner that the clothing sat on her, showing off her charms well, without going overboard.

"I'd like to invite you in, but there are rules that I have to follow, or the Door Warden and her Ladyship will get the shits with me. So, I have to ask you a few questions before you can come in.

"What's your name? Why are you here? Are you single? What's you Kith? Do you get horny often? Are you hungry? Have any charges been laid against you? If so, what are you willing to offer to get yourself pardoned?"

Rick leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed while he spent most of his time openly staring at her chest.

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen tried not to step back as the Redcap filled the door. It required most of the force of will that remained after three days of trains, buses, and unpleasant people. And that badly taxed control was further pushed by the Cap's open appraisal of her body- in a better mood, she likely would have blushed, teased, maybe even flirted. Right now, she wanted to sucker punch him, cry, and wear unflattering turtlenecks for the rest of ever.

As Rick's barrage of questions rained down around her ears, which, despite their mildly uncomfortable imprisonment in her hat, were far more sensitive than most others', Eileen felt the twitching begin to start. Her little nose, mostly normal looking if slightly on the side of... well... pink, begin to tremble and wiggle with a mixture of fear, anger, embarrassment, and exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to clap her hands over it and hold it still, but there was a certain fundamental lack of wisdom in displaying a weakness to a Cap.

"My name is Eileen. I moved to this city for a change of pace. I'm a Pooka, sorry and fuck off. I'm very, very hungry. As far as I am aware, I'm currently uninteresting to the law." Eileen was pleased to find her voice level and mostly warm, and even more pleased to find that she didn't stumble when omitting answers to Rick's less-pertinent questions. Maybe the last few days hadn't dinged her as much as she thought.

Eileen rolled and stretched her shoulders and neck, hefting her suitcase again and planting her free hand on her hip, which she shot out in a fluid, rawly sexual motion, advertising the sleek strength that lay beneath those womanly curves. She canted her head to the side and regarded Rick from beneath the brim of her scally cap, her eyes a shade of silver-shot violet that even the dullest mortals knew wasn't "normal". "If you're interested in the answers to your other questions, I'll be needing a seat, a sandwich, and a beer."

 

[marauder13]

It might not look like Rick was paying attention to the Pooka as he continued leered at her, but he was. He took it all in, but also let his smile crank up a notch when she got to her request for "... a seat, a sandwich, and a beer." But her little change of stance got his blood flowing in certain places in his pants. It also formed a large dollop of drool that smacked the ground with a thunderclap.

"Well, far be it from me to turn down a travel weary Kithain in her time of need. And I am available if you do need." He stepped aside, bowing and indicating to the pooka to come in. The bow had nothing to do with courtesy, but everything to do with putting his eyesight closer to the jeans that showed off remarkable legs and hinted at a fantastic ass as well. He maintained his low position to fulfill his desire to closely see said features, delighting in the fact that her ass was even better than hinted at. He closed the door with a hard push, the closing bang echoing throughout the freehold.

"This way please, Miss Eileen." Even as he walked back down the warmly decorated hallway, he spent more time watching Eileen than he did where he was going. All the doors were closed, but the hall, and the room they approached, were warm. They entered a large dining room, dominated by an impressively sized wooden table, surrounded by nearly a dozen plain, sturdy wooden chairs.

"Have a seat, Eileen. Burt, meet Eileen. Eileen, Burt." He turned to walked out of the room, walking through the pantry and into the kitchen. Rick's mouth began to water at the masses of aromas barraging his nose. He took a quick look around, partially nervous as he wandered over to a tray of freshly baked danishes. He hand slowly reached out, still peering around to make sure that he was not being watched. The nervous, cautious expression turned into one of childish success when a large wooden spoon slammed down on his knuckles.

"Fuck sake, Pru," Rick pulled back his injured hand to his mouth. Rising from behind the other side of the counter was a rather dumpy, flushed looking woman of older age. Her iron gray hair was pulled back into a severe bun. The steel gray dress was covered by a stained pink apron.

"Richard," she said in a tone used by all mothers to their wayward offspring, "how many times have I told you not to come in here?" She emphasized her point with a sharp jab to his stomach. "Now, you will get out of here before I get cross, do you hear me?" She advanced around the counter, grabbing a skillet on the way.

"Pru, don't you dare even think of it. If you do, I'll eat it." Rick slowly backed off, hands held forward in a defensive posture. "I just came in here because we have a new arrival who is in need of some food and a beer. And, while you're fixing her something, can I have the same?"

Pru smacked his elbow with the spoon. Rick spun around, swearing in pain as he jumped around. Pru followed up with a full blooded blow to his rear with the skillet, sending him stumbling out into the dining room. Burt looked over his paper, and started laughing at the sight of Rick sprawled on the floor.

"Mate, when will you ever learn. Mistress Prudence has declared the kitchen her private domain. And, she's not afraid to defend her... um... fief."

"Fuck off, Burt. Have ya cha, and get back to the bloody front door." Rick picked himself off the floor. "Well, Eileen, if Pru was listening while she was attacking me without good reason, she should be out here soon with some food." He dropped down into the chair beside her. "And a beer too."

Pru came out into the dining room with a tray laden with food. Two plates piled high with sandwiches, a plate with danishes, two large tankards full with foaming beer and a bowl of chocolate balls.

"Here you go, luv," Pru spoke to Eileen. "Nothing like a nice little spot of tucker after a long trip. Anyway, you eat up, and don't mind trying to eat it all. Anything left will be eaten by the garbage disposal beside you.

"Oh! Forgive me. I'm Mistress Prudence, cook to the Clarence Street Freehold. If you need anything, just call out. I'm sure that the lads will look after you in the meantime. You're such a pretty thing too." Prudence bustled back into the kitchen, humming to herself as she went.

Rick looked back at Eileen, taking the time to gaze at the Pooka's lower half openly and appreciatively.

"So, now those other questions I asked..."

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen followed Rick into the freehold, feeling the emotional and physical warmth slip over her almost instantly. It was always so rejuvenating to spend time in a well-kept, well-loved freehold, and Eileen paused, still as a stone, just to inhale deeply of the rather delicious air. With a dreamy smile and a much sharper hunger, she bounced along behind Rick into the main hall.

Left alone for the moment with Burt, Eileen slid into one of the wide wooden chairs and let her road-weary body slump. It always took a bit of wiggling to find a position that did not bother at her cottontail much, but once found, she could remain quite comfortable for days. The peacable silence was interrupted by Rick's rather unceremonious ejection from the kitchen, and then by Eileen's forcibly muffled giggles. Her lovely little nose wiggled and wriggled furiously as she fought for a straight face, and for an expression of sympathy for the much-abused Cap.

The arrival of Prudence, and of the food she bore, left Eileen wide eyed and slack jawed with joy. It was so... beautiful... "Oh, Mistress Prudence, it's absolutely lovely... oh, thank you so much!" Eileen was moved nearly to tears by the generosity, and decided, somewhat out of form, to eat her way back to composure.

If Rick thought he was going to get at much of the snacks, he would be sorely mistaken. Eileen polished off one and a half sandwiches and a good quarter of the beer before bothering to speak. "You'll have to remind me what you wanted to know, Rick. This veritable feast has wiped my brain straight clean." The Pooka gazed down at Rick, amusing herself with a handful of chocolate balls. She hadn't forgotten in the slightest, of course, but she was curious as to whether Rick would have any more subtlety or wit if given a second chance to chat her up.

 

[marauder13]

Rick continued to admire Eileen openly while she reacted to Prudence's arrival with the food. Seeing her jaw drop was a common sight for any first timer, and more than a few regulars too. Rick wasted little time reaching for one of the plates of sandwiches and one of the tankards before he got stuck into eating.

He was really liking the Pooka's legs. They were definitely well shaped, firm and probably got that way from lots of exercise. He thought of the thrill of the chase prior to capture. And after the capture, there was the enjoying the spoils. Rick chuckled to himself at the images that came to mind.

"You'll have to remind me what you wanted to know, Rick. This veritable feast has wiped my brain straight clean."

Rick looked over at the Pooka, wondering how honest she was with her declaration. While he thought through on that angle, he pondered what he would ask her. He made a great showing of pushing food from between his teeth, and politely keeping his mouth closed. His eyes just kept going over her compact form, mentally removing her clothing and picturing what was hidden underneath.

"Well, since you're forgetful, I'll ask you again. Are you single? Do you get horny often? If charges were laid against you, what are you willing to offer to get yourself pardoned?"

Burt looked over the top of his paper, staring straight at Rick. Without any further word, he closed the paper, folded it up, and made his way back to the front door. Rick wasn't all together certain, but he thought that the grump may have been blushing. This caused Rick to fall off his chair, roaring with laughter. He was still chuckling heartily when he finally, and with some effort, hauled himself back onto his chair.

"Oh... oh that was fucking marvelous. Damn, never thought ol' Burt would be such a prude. Anyway... as I was saying. So, Eileen, the line of questions basically boils down to this. Would you fuck a redcap, namely me?"

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen watched the Redcap eat, though it was at least partially to ensure he wouldn't tuck it all in before she was done. Grabbing another sandwich, she munched thoughtfully, feeling her body tingle under Rick's eyes.

Answering his questions honestly would lead to trouble. Eileen knew enough about honesty- from stories only, of course- to know that it was only rarely welcome, and still more rarely an advisable course of action. Does she get horny often? Well, yes, ladies and gentlemen- did you ever know a rabbit who didn't like to fuck? Was she single? Yes, again, and painfully so, and desperately trying to convince herself that it was by choice. If she were in trouble with the law- and she had to consider whether or not she was, because, after all, the law had an awful sense of humor- she would do anything this hot mess of teeth and hair asked. Then again, she might do that anyway...

The bluntness of Rick's final question stunned the Pooka, and she gave him her most wicked grin, letting the query hang in the air between them. With her nose scrunched to one side, her lips took center stage, quirked into a conspiratorial smile that silently intimated elaborate games of truth or dare, pillowfights, pantyraids, and brief prison sentences. Her two front teeth, slightly overlarge, bit lightly into the fullness of her lower lip as she leaned close to Rick. It was a position that practically demanded he lean in too, a position from which great secrets were told.

Her violet eyes glittered with playfulness, and she let her voice attain a husky contralto before speaking. "Would I fuck a Redcap, Rick? A Redcap like you?" Waiting for him to draw closer, Eileen let her candy-pink tongue trace obscenely over her teeth, as though she were already savoring the taste of him. "I'm afraid I'll have to think about that. If it makes you feel any better, Rick, I'll be doing this thinking in bed tonight, with busy little fingers and a very wicked imagination."

 

[marauder13]

As he expected, Rick's question hit the Pooka like a slap in the face with something cold, floppy and damp. But what followed really got his body warming up. The way she lightly bit her bottom lip and leant forward entranced him and called for him to mirror her lean. The wicked grin the preceded it all had him envisaging all kinds of raunchiness.

Then came the voice was was pure sex molded in words. "Would I fuck a Redcap, Rick? A Redcap like you?" He was mesmerized by the tip of her tongue dancing across her teeth. He thought of all manner of places that tongue could dance and the joy he would have hunting for it. But that lusty voice that threatened to make his bones melt returned. "I'm afraid I'll have to think about that. If it makes you feel any better, Rick, I'll be doing this thinking in bed tonight, with busy little fingers and a very wicked imagination."

He felt her breath blasting against his face; warm, soft and full of aromas that made his mouth water waiting to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. Rick turned his head enough for him to be able to safely pick up a chocolate ball.

"But I doubt that imagination will be wicked enough." Rick returned her wicked smile with one of his own as he popped the chocolate into his mouth. He rolled the ball in his mouth, letting the outer layer start to melt. With a show of his physical prowess, his hand clapped onto the back of Eileen's neck, and the base of her skull and pulled her into a kiss. His lips were rough and slightly cracked as he pressed his claim upon hers. While she was distracted, his thumb and middle finger pressed on her neck, forcing her jaw to open just enough. Rick moved quickly, pushing the molten ball of chocolate past her teeth and into her mouth.

He let go of her, sitting back and licking the little smears of chocolate on his lips. He grinned broadly, reaching for the remains of his beer. He never took his eyes off her as he drained his tankard in one go. He continued to grin as he headed for the front door.

"Oh," he paused as he turned to face her again. "What kind of... nah, never mind." He turned, and continued to head for the front door, chuckling to himself.

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen was completely surprised by Rick's kiss- and it takes a lot to catch a Pooka off-guard. The strength of his hand, the possessiveness of his grip, the ease with which his fingers persuaded her jaw into motion...enough to make her thighs shake. Her lips provided a delightful contrast to his- smooth, butter-soft, parted with a perfectly delicious gasp of surprise- and the chocolate he slid into her mouth turned that gasp into the last notes of a moan. Of course it was the chocolate that caused that, and nothing else. Absolutely. Totally. Eileen wanted to believe this, and chose to believe this, and strove to believe this as Rick walked out the door.

Under her breath, Eileen muttered vicious imprecations upon Rick's parentage, intelligence, personal style, degree of desirability, and favorite book. She drank deeply of her beer, wanting to wash the taste of him from her mouth, finding that easier than chasing away the shimmering, electric heat in her stomach.

Deftly stacking the emptied plates on one cocked hip, Eileen slid into the kitchen. She wanted to ask that Boggan woman about Rick, and thank her for the lunch. Maybe she could also show Eileen to a shower and a bed...

 

[marauder13]

"Lemme guess. I don't want to know, right?" Burt's bass heavy voice brought Rick back to earth as the Redcap approached the front door. Rick jacked his smile up a notch or two and simply nodded to the Troll.

"I'm off to do the rounds. Sharnt be too long, mate."

Burt reached over and grabbed one of the freehold's cordless phones and put it down on the table next to him. Rick laughed loudly as he left the freehold. Even though he had no plans of causing trouble, that didn't mean that trouble wouldn't find him. And when it did, those delightful unwavering bastards known as the police would be there quick smart. Luckily Lady Marcia was good at getting him out of trouble, thought he was near the point of starting to owe her favours, and Rick didn't want to owe a Sidhe any more favours than absolutely necessary.

To the rest of creation, Rick was a member of the 'Red Devils' gang, noted for their bright red head wear which was 3/4 berets. They were into everything in their turf, but surprisingly well behaved as far as gangs went. They provided protection, but they let the protected party decide the rate of pay, if they wanted protection of course. They never did stand over tactics to get them as customers, but word of mouth did more for them than anything else. And the protected their clients well. Drugs, prostitution, fencing stolen goods, theft, muggings, you name it - they did it.

But that day, Rick had some business to attend to with some enterprising fellows who thought they could set up their own business on the Devil's turf. That was not acceptable. He walked in the direction of where they were last spotted, and he hoped that they would do something daft like threaten him.

Rick slowed when he caught the look of three strangers heading his way. Two were clearly muscle, while the one they flanked had the look of a used car salesman. Rick focused his attention on the little weedy fellow dwarfed by the shaved gorillas flanking him. Cheap suit, cheap shoes, gold jewelry that supposed to show he was successful. Rick snorted to himself as he slowed down and looked at his face. Thin, with a prominent nose, light mustache clinging to his top lip and jet black hair combed back. The mud coloured eyes were doing their own assessment of Rick as they came to a stop at a good distance to do business safely.

"Well, look at what we have here? The local boss on his own. That kind of silliness is what gets people put out of business."

"What kind of silliness is that?" Rick replied casually. "Why cart around more hardware than I need. All it does is draw unwanted attention to myself. Plus, from all I've heard, I have no need to have company while having a stroll."

"What a smarmy bastard you are. Thinking you king of the hill or somethin' like that. Well, there is more than enough room here for us, as there are some areas of business that you're not working to the best. So, we'll lighten you load for you. Just being friendly and all."

"Good," Rick answered, having a look around to check on what was happening. "I like people with friendly attitudes and outlooks." He caught the look of surprise on Weedy's face out of the corner of his eye before turning back to face the same cunning expression he had been greeted with. "Since you're wanting to help out so much, then you can fuck off out my turf."

Weedy growled back at Rick, "Listen you young fucking punk. You haven't got the brains to match the balls you have for doing what you're doing here. It's time you let someone with some real experience in here to show you how to do the job properly. Maybe, just maybe I'll let you hang around and keep a cut of the action for yourselves."

"Yeah, right. Like that's going to happen. You've got forty-eight hours to haul everything of yours out, because whatever's left, you'll be loosing it."

"See, lad," Weedy grinned, "that's the kind of fuck up that I have come to expect from a kid like you. Now, piss off before you get a thrashing that you really need."

Rick made a show of cleaning his teeth with his tongue, while smiling broadly. "You ain't got enough muscle on hand to do it. So like I said, fuck off."

Rick wasn't sure how Weedy did it, but the heavies moved in unison to deal with Rick. Rick smiled as he prepared for the fun that was coming.

~||~​

Rick was licking their blood off his knuckles as he was sauntering towards Hammerstein Avenue. He smiled as in his memory he listened to Weedy's pleading for mercy. Rick had been feeling generous and hadn't broken any of his bones in the beating Rick delivered. At least Weedy would be in a state capable of getting his operation out of Rick's turf. The muscle, on the other hand, would be resting up in a clinic somewhere for a while at least, while internal bruising subsided and bones could set.

"Hardly worth getting excited about.He should have brought at least one more heavy with him. It would have made it at least some fun. Hmmpf. Stupid human." He turned left onto Hammerstein and was brought to a halt by what he saw. Sitting not too far from the corner was a woman in her middle years, the lightest touches of frost amongst the rich autumn hues of her hair. Her face was equally touched by the passage of time, though it seemed to accentuate her features rather than deteriorate them at all. Her eyes, when she turned them his way, seemed to sparkle with some suppressed mirth. He saw that she was wearing an emerald green gown better suited for a theatre than for wearing on the street. Rick found a spot to sit, watching her the way a child watched a clown, or a costumed performer of some favourite cartoon character. She bent down and opened the large case at her side. Out came a cello that Rick knew beyond doubt that was as old as she was at least. She got the instrument settled, and gave it a quick check.

Even the warm up notes touched him deeply. The deep, mellow feel that accompanied the short pieces of music made Rick wish they could carry him with them, so he could relish them further. He caught the warm smile from her as she started her first piece. She was no longer a woman with a string instrument; they combined to become an artist. She closed her eyes, and seemed to connect to music and the cello. The result was amazing. Here was a woman as old as his mum, but the years weren't a burden, but a welcomed addition. A refinement like the soothing hand that time has for a good vintage of wine. She drew on her experiences of her life, and gave it to the music.

That was why her music captivated him so greatly. She didn't play it; she lived it and shared that passion she held for the music. Her heart was the metronome. Her soul resonated to every note born of her cello, amplifying each in a way that no technology ever would. Because of that deeply spiritual amplification, she filled the air not only with nearly unearthly beautiful sounds, but colour, warmth, joy and wonder. The icy feeling deep within Rick slowly thawed as the strands of the centuries old piece carried all that heard it further from dearth of winter and closer to the glories of summer.

He didn't care how long he sat there. He didn't even know. All he did was sit and listen to her play until she was done. A face that was almost perpetually in an expression of contempt and annoyance was trying to deal with the instructions to show awe. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he walked over to the little tin box she had opened to receive monetary appreciation of her music. Rick reached her, gently taking her bow clasping hand to his lips, brushing them with the lightest of kisses across her knuckles. With equal care, he released her hand, oblivious to the degree of surprise on the woman's face. He dug through one of his pockets, pulling out some notes and spare change and placed them within the tin. He turned from her, and walked back to the freehold. It took all his efforts to resume his normal expression by the time he reached the freehold door.

"The day has really been a fucking good one so far."

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen had been mildly irritated by Mistress Pru's incredibly skillful brush-offs of her questions regarding Rick. It was maddening, but the dear little woman had kept her sunny grin in place the whole time. Weren't Boggans supposed to want to gossip? Weren't mother hens supposed to warn nearby chicks of an approaching red fox?

Still, it was hard to be too thoroughly displeased with a woman who was so busily making a beautiful room up for you. Eileen marvelled at the sunlit space she would be allowed to call her own. It wasn't small, though a bolthole would have given her more peace of mind, and the warm wooden floor felt deliciously smooth against her bare feet. Mistress Pru had disappeared after making up Eileen's bed, a queen-sized affair done in pristine white sheets and the most welcoming down coverlet she had ever seen. It was enormously tempting, but getting dressed was probably a safer idea.

Eileen spun for her suitcase, and panicked to see that Mistress Pru had "helpfully" unpacked it. So, she wasn't going to spill the beans on Rick, but the Boggan wasn't above a little information-gathering on their new guest. Heart hammering in her throat, Eileen slid her fingers to the secret catch of the suitcase's lid, and breathed a sigh of reassurance as the panel slid back to reveal her vest, badge, and extremely serious looking, extremely not standard issue S&W 500 Mag. She carefully slid the panel back into place, locked her suitcase, and slid it under the bed. Eileen did not expect to be picking up any strays while she was here, but she never went far from her gun, either.

Dropping her towel, Eileen wriggled into a pair of panties. They were of a low-riding, cheeky-style cut, which she preferred immensely for their ability to stay well beneath her tail. The tail in question wiggled most happily as Eileen cast a glance over her shoulder, admiring the other favorite quality of this underwear- it made her round little ass look fucking fantastic.

The dance of a dressing female crosses cultural and mythical lines, and so suffice it to say that the way a half-rabbit creature of Dream slides into skintight denim, little hitches of hip and bounces of toe and a deeply inhaled breath to fasten, is exactly as alluring as a human woman would be. The way she bends to settle ripe, creamy tits into the cups of a well-overworked bra is no less enrapturing. The way she slides a loose, hip-length black teeshirt over it all, fluffing her hair out of the way with one hand, is every bit as casually fist-biting.

The devil, of course, is in the differences. Though this look was once again selected to protect and hide her extremely sensitive cottontail, Eileen had decided to let her ears be. They sprung from the roots of her strawberry-blonde curls, standing tall and proud in white fur and satiny-pink skin. About eight inches high, they moved to catch sound like any prey's would, and the right bore the marks of a bite that had taken a small but noticeable chunk out of its inner edge.

The one abnormality Eileen worked hardest to conceal was the mess of scars on her lower back. From just north of the tail to well past the delicate arch of her ribs, Eileen's flesh was marked with a network of neat, interlocked scars, clean and crisp, the mastwork of a sadist with entirely too much time to play, and an amount of practice that, had Eileen known about, she would have run from. Upon close inspection, it would be clear that the scars, deep within their fishnet-like pattern, carried a word- an exceptionally deep carving of the word "whore", the scars here thicker, showing how often, and how carefully, they had been reworked. The scars shamed Eileen for many reasons, the message being only one, and the least important- it was the rage she felt at having been tricked, having been gotten over, that stung the most.

At least, she reflected, it was both the first and last time a man had gotten the drop on her.

 

[marauder13]

Rick pushed open the door, openly surprised to see Burt wandering down the hall, paper in hand.

"What's up? Another tea break?" Rick snorted.

"Nah, mate. The Lady has called a meeting."

Rick rolled his eyes. "A bloody meeting? What on earth for? Why does she have - Hang on," Rick's narrowed slightly. "The Lady called the meeting?" Burt nodded, a grin starting to show on his face as he nodded.

"You know what that means, mate?"

"Fuck yeah." Rick replied before the two in unison spoke. "Death by Chocolate!"

"So, Rick, since you're closer, you get upstairs and let the Pooka know she's wanted for a meet and greet."

"But that'll mean less for us, Burt."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't look good if she missed out. Plus, the ladies want to see her."

"Just don't start without me, right?"

Burt's laughter rumbled and echoed as he continued to the main room. Rick took the stairs two at a time, racing up to the accommodation area of the freehold. Since he knew where everyone else slept, and the spare rooms always had the doors open. "We can't have stuffy room when visitors arrive." Rick knew which on Eileen had been given.

He briefly thought about just opening the door and taking his chances, but that left him open to the return, and one gave no such openings to a Pooka, let alone a pissed off Pooka. But he had a good fight, one that even helped him in the long run, as well as having spent some time in the presence of a woman who was an Arcadian wet dream. He hadn't good in ages. hell, not even a pissed off Pooka could take the shine of his day. He slammed his fist in the door three times, then waited five seconds.

"Hey, Cottontail, you in there?" He paused a little longer before he tested the door. Finding it unlocked, he opened it quickly to see what he could find on the other side. He was greeted with the conformation of his strong suspicions. He let out his breath slowly as he looked over the cascades of long, light coloured hair that surrounded her long ears and the jeans that were a second skin over a pair of well defined and toned legs. Images of him picking her up, dumping her on the bed and peeling her out of those jeans. The slight narrowing of his eyes was the only sign of pending trouble.

He covered the distance quickly, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. While she was small, compact and definitely curvy, she was not as light as she looked. Rick knew that meant she was well muscled, and it was due to good active living rather than from working out in a gym. It also lead to all sorts of possibilities that got him rather warmer and tight in a good way. He looked down to Eileen, smiling warmly. He then casually flipped her onto the bed.

"We're gathering downstairs, and you're invited too. There will be chocolate cake too." Rick dashed for the door. "But only if you're quick enough, Cottontail." He raced for the top of the stairs, laughing loudly.

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen wished she'd had more time to prepare for Rick's assault. She let him scoop and dump her, though she had carefully scissored her legs against his hip in preparation for a grip and reversal if he chose to land atop her. Slightly uncomfortable at her displeasure with his lack of desire to do so, Eileen was nonetheless excited for cake. And for a chance to show Rick that there was more to her body than met the eye- though that would have been enough.

She was out the door in a shot, and grateful for the fact that he interrupted her before she could put on shoes- that was going to make this much easier. Four large strides put her two paces behind Rick, whom she began to use as a personal jungle gym. Spinning on one heel to put her back to him, she vaulted into a handspring, gracefully tucking her legs parallel to the ceiling, which she cleared just perfectly. Her hands landed briefly on Rick's shoulders, and she used them to roll her body down the length of his into another handstand. This one she flipped out of in a modified tuck and roll that put her halfway down the staircase in one rotation, on the bottom step with another. With a sleek tumble that absorbed the remaining momentum of her leaps, Eileen found her feet.

It would have been gloating to turn and wave. So she didn't. She was a graceful winner, after all. What she did do was flip the hem of her shirt up to expose the white down of her cottontail and slap her ass in a thoroughly classless self-congratulation. Without breaking stride, Eileen moved toward the sound of conversation- and the smell of chocolate.

 

[marauder13]

Rick was part way to the top of the stairs when he felt Eileen go over his head and down the stairs. He watched a display that would make profession stuntmen jealous. Rick watched the limber body twist and turn in ways that made his joints ache in sympathy. But by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, he was lost in a sea of lust. Watching her little celebration drew a soft growl from him.

'Oh what I would give to be able to slap that ass. And that slapping would be a celebration too. I just need to sound her out some more. Fuck me, but Pooka are not as much fun at times like this.'

Rick caught the smell of the cake, and got half way down the stairs when he jumped the railing. His boots slammed loudly on the wooden floor below.

"RICHARD!" Prudence's voice exploded through the house. The Redcap took on an embarrassed expression akin to a child caught with sweets they shouldn't have.

"Sorry, Pru," he whispered in response while he straightened himself up carefully, projecting an air of innocence in the process. But the allure of Death by Chocolate called him once more and he made his way into the main room.

Pru was glaring at him as he entered, sitting by the massive, midnight black cake. He knew better than to try and sample it before he received his piece. The last time he tried, Pru left him with a decent gash in his arm that took a few days to heal. No one would use their mystical talents to heal it until he had enough time to suffer for his crime.

Burt had taken up his spot at the table, his mug full of tea that he was slowly sipping. His dark pants his massive trunk like legs which finished in a pair of immaculate Doc Martins. He wore one of his many black turtle necked long sleeved tops. Dark brown hair was fighting a rear guard action against encroaching gray, but he hadn't lost a single hair in his lifetime. Gnarled small horns stood like two sentinels before his hairline. His skin was a washed out blue, almost the same strength as the olive complexion of someone of Mediterranean descent.

Sitting beside Burt, and looking rather uncomfortable as well, sat Rodger. The nocker fidgeted with a well worn down pencil, mostly twirling in his fingers in a dazzling display of dexterity and defiance of the laws of physics. He was balding, the long forehead decorated by wisps of hair at the top of his head. The rest of the orange mass stuck out in random directions which seemed to convey the annoyance of the nocker to the rest of the world. He wore deep blue overalls that left his head, hands and feet uncovered. Around that was a modified army belt known to soldiers as either webbing or ALICE ( All Purpose Individual Carrying Equipment ). Rather than the usual military gear, Rodger had tools. Rick felt nervous when the nocker had his tools handy. Propped above Rodger's muddy coloured eyes was a support framework for his magnifying lenses which could be lowered into his normal line of sight, and permitted him to change the lenses on an as needed basis.

Rick took his seat beside Eileen just as the other two arrived. The first to enter was a small girl with snow white ringlets of hair falling over her shoulders. Her unblemished skin was pale, which highlighted her crystal clear blue eyes and her naturally bright red lips. The child wore an elaborate ivory dress with matching shoes that made her appear incredibly elegant. With an overly haughty expression, she moved to the other end of the table, sitting herself down demurely and properly.

Behind her entered a woman who's only similar feature to the child was the paleness of her complexion. Her raven coloured hair poured down her back stopping just above her hips. Her pointed ears helped provide a barrier to waterfall of hair. Dark eyes contrasted her full, ruby red lips. Her expression was completely neutral, giving nothing away at all. Her dress was deep purple, and clung to her body in a way that left nothing to the imagination concerning her figure. Her breasts were completely encased by the fabric, which also supported her significant bust, while hugging her flat, narrow waist and flaring out over her enticing hips. Only her legs were unknown, though the small glimpses through the splits on the sides indicated that they followed the general theme of the rest of her body.

"Thank you everyone," the child beamed to each of the occupants. "We are here to welcome a visitor to our freehold. We have a Pooka, called Eileen, who will be staying with us for a while, and we are to extend the proper courtesies. Wont we, Sir Richard?"

Rick cast a sideways glace at Eileen as he blushed enough to be noticed. Pru sat across from him with a smile that suggested she was pleased with the events while the Mauve clad Sidhe daintily raised an eyebrow and almost smiled.

"Ahh... Yes, my Lady."

"Good." The Baroness turned to her Sidhe companion. "Lady Marcia, I don't know why you think he is so much trouble. He is the sweetest man I have met."

"You obviously have a touch that the rest of us lack, Lady de Wynter." The Baroness almost glowed at the compliment. She turned back to the rest of the table smiling broadly.

"Now, what I would like to do is extend an invitation to Eileen to stay with us, and become a resident of the Freehold." All the faces of the residents with the exception of the two Sidhe were stunned. Heads looked about at each other before turning back to the still beaming child. "Yes, I can tell that this is a surprise, but it is something that will be of benefit to the Freehold and all who live in it." Lady Marcia nodded subtly for those who glanced her way. "Now, I am sorry to say that we will not be voting on this matter, the only voice that has a say in it is that of Eileen.

"Now, to make this better for her to decide, she needs to know who we all are. I am Baroness Alicia de Wynter of House Fiona. Yes, I am a childling, yes, I have many years until I will be grown up enough, but this is my Barony, and I do know how to run it." The last sentence was spoken with a degree of maturity that went beyond the appearance of her years.

"Behind me is my guardian, in the physical sense. Her name is Lady Marcia Hallsworth of House Eilund. She is my Knight Protector and is very good at it too.

"I believe that you have met Burt Jones, our most loved Troll. Rodger Beaumont, Nocker. Quite the talented technician too." Burt rolled his eyes behind Rodger's back. "Mistress Prudence McAllister, a Boggan with a flair for cooking." Everyone moaned in agreement at that last comment. Somehow Alicia's smile widened further when she came to the last member to be formally introduced. "I know that you have met the illustrious Sir Richard Lancaster, our Redcap."

"And resident asshole," Rodger muttered.

"And you're jealous I took that off you, ain't you Rod?"

"Stop it!" Alicia squealed in a high piping voice. She huffed as the smile returned. She turned her beaming smile at Eileen. "So, will you be staying here with us, Miss Eileen?"

Rick turned to face Eileen, dropping a hand onto her thigh and giving it a squeeze. "So, Cottontail, gunna call this place home?"

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen was surprised by the invitation- and even more so by the fact that the Baronness did not ask for, or allow, a vote. She tried to ascertain the positions of the others at the table.

First, her eyes moved to Mistress Pru. As she had expected, the Boggan flashed her a warmhearted smile and a discreet thumbs-up. Eileen returned the smile with a hint of nervousness before turning her eyes to Burt. Since it was practically a Troll's -job- to maintain a poker face, she was pleasantly surprised by the light but obvious wink- excellent! Her smile, a bit more steady, followed her as she turned to observe the Nocker. Rodger looked less than thrilled, but it could easily be explained by his apparent (and apparently mutual) loathing for Rick. Further, when she let her gaze linger for a few more seconds, she watched a pinkening of his cheeks occur under the Nocker mask, and he slid a little lower in his seat. Well, then, it appeared his initial reaction was nothing a little charm couldn't overcome...

Even if Rick's hand hadn't settled so possessively on her thigh, Eileen would have been fairly comfortable with his position on the question. The Redcap was obviously intrigued by her, though she had no guarantee his interest would last any longer than his first orgasm. Gently, but firmly, she slid her hand atop his- and pinched it viciously. At exactly that same moment, she looked very seriously at the Baronness, and smiled.

"I'd be honored, of course. I'd love to. Thank you, very, very much." Eileen's voice conveyed the extent of her warm, happy surprise, the curious and tentative first flushes of a feeling of belonging. "I look very much forward to getting to know you better, all of you- though Mistress Prudence, I fear your brilliance in the kitchen will require a serious increase in my daily workouts."

Eileen felt the older Sidhe's eyes on her, and allowed her gaze to flicker to the mauve-clad woman. She was looking at Eileen, and in a knowing way that made her very, very nervous. Fortunately, she was able to play off the heat of unbidden guilt and shame that prickled over her cheeks and deepened the satin-soft insides of her ears as a blush of gratitude.

 

[marauder13]

Rick watched the rest of the freehold react to Baroness Alicia's declaration, while focusing on the leg under his hand. Her little demonstration of her athletic prowess - in one lesser arena - showed him that she would have a good pair of legs. The jeans that she insisted on wearing confirmed that they were indeed well shaped. His hand added to the intel pool that they were firm, though not rock hard, and had scope for yielding to probing and investigative fingers, and other sensory organs, when the chance arose later. All he needed to find out was how tasty said legs were, and how good they looked with a light sheen of sweat and -

"FUCK!" Rick pulled back his brutalized hand from her leg, ignoring the varied looks he was sure were aimed at him at that point. But he had only one there that he was interested in looking at. He narrowed his eyes slightly, then grinned massively at Eileen.

"Flirt."

He caught the look from Lady Marcia that said "shut up", which he did. He listened along with everyone else as Eileen gladly accepted the offer to stay at the freehold. Rick was surprised at how good it felt to hear that news. He would freely admit to have a desire to put Eileen through her paces between the sheets, or anywhere else for that matter, but the way he reacted was a little more different than that.

"I look very much forward to getting to know you better, all of you- though Mistress Prudence, I fear your brilliance in the kitchen will require a serious increase in my daily workouts."

Rick's hand shot straight up like a student who had the answer and couldn't wait to tell the class.

"Oh, pick me! Pick me!! I'll happily help you burn up plenty of calories, even if I have to catch you first." He had the good sense to just carry on as if he had not said what had just escaped his mouth. Alicia looked a little confused as the commoners all chuckled at Rick's gaff. But the little Baroness regained her cheery outlook quickly.

"Mistress Prudence, please honour this great occasion with a serving of your heavenly cake for all present." She let herself loose her prim and proper poise and leaned forward, for all the world a five year old girl. "Please, Mistress Pru?"

All the other residents, including Lady Marcia, followed suit with childlike requests of "Please, Mistress Pru?" Pru chuckled warmly as if she was the mother to them all. The large knife made easy work of the cake. Eileen was served the initial wedge of almost midnight black food. She then proceed to hand out the remainder in accordance to her own ranking method. The Sidhe received theirs next, followed by Burt, Rodger, herself then finally Rick. Soon the room was filled with the moans of delight, scraps of spoons and forks on porcelain as well as light clinks from pieces of the wedges being consumed.

Rick was as appreciative as anyone else about the cake. If he had one weakness that he would admit to, it was for Pru's food. It didn't matter what she made, or how she made it, Rick would never turn it down. She was the reason he joined the freehold and stayed on initially. She was the first to look at him as someone rather than merely trouble waiting to happen. She was the first one to earn his trust, and his protection. No one tried to mug her after Rick's one and only intervention. He made it clear what would happen to the next person who tried, and no one has tested whether he would carry through with the threat.

"Pru! Another excellent example of your skill with food," Rick said while showing off the plate he had licked clean. He eyed the rest of the cake with an open hunger, but wisely made no moves to deal with the hunger. As others came to the end of their eating, Alicia looked up at the freehold residents.

"I am sorry to do this, but Lady Marcia and I need to speak with Eileen and Sir Richard privately. Mistress Prudence, could you get us something to drink before you retire to your room?"

Prudence looked slightly offended, but simply nodded. She took the dirty plates and cutlery back to the kitchen, returning with a tray with four clean plates, forks and spoons. Also on the tray was a large glass of orange juice, a wine glass with a rich red wine, and two tankards of beer. Pru placed them on the table, and left without pause nor looking back. Burt and Rodger left with Pru, both looking at each other with quizzical expressions.

"While we are waiting," Lady Marcia spoke as she approached the cake, "it would be wise for us to fortify ourselves a little more before we get into the heart of the discussions." Marcia deftly cut four more pieces of cake, though the pieces for Eileen and Rick were noticeably larger.

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen's smile had been blissful, her ears rotating and collecting the happy smacking sounds of well-enjoyed cake. The taste still clung to her tongue when Alicia spoke. Her words turned the lovely, lingering flavor to ashes, and Eileen's hands shook visibly as she accepted her second piece of cake. In order to prevent the show of weakness, she put down her fork and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

Her face was pale, save for high spots of color on her cheeks, like a fevered child. Her eyes were wide, pupils fixed, her ears bobbing wildly as her instincts prepared her body for fight or flight. The scent of terror, shame, and guilt rolled off her, and she snapped her hands out of her lap. She'd been gripping herself so tightly that the backs of both palms bore half-moon marks, deep indentations from her own fingernails. Refocusing her iron grip on the sides of her chair, she took deliberately slow, deep breaths, and shifted lightly, almost imperceptibly, forward onto the balls of her feet. One foot begin to drum rapidly, a taptaptaptaptap against the floor, softened by the fact that she was still barefoot. The thought pained her momentarily- if she had to dash, she'd be leaving some lovely shoes behind.

Still, her voice was remarkably steady when she spoke, cake and beer untouched. "It's about Ryan Pritfield, isn't it?" Speaking her would-be killer's name aloud was a trial, and her nose twitched violently, an expression of distaste as pure and natural as if she'd just bitten wholesale into a lemon. The man followed her everywhere- an amazing talent, considering the fact that he hadn't been able to leave an eight by ten cell in eleven months, two weeks, and four days. Not that Eileen was counting.

"I understand if you want me to go. I get it, really, and I appreciate your... making a show of courtesty with your invitation. You can tell the others whatever you think would make them happiest to hear." Though she knew it was bloody nonsense, Eileen felt the scars on her back alight, itching, burning, crawling under her skin. She sometimes wondered if Ryan Pritfield was human- most of these thoughts had occured as she screamed and bled beneath his collection of razors, but even in more reasonable moments, she reflected that the things he did, and the pleasure with which he did them, made most everyday atrocities pale in comparison.

Eileen knew she was the only one who'd gotten away. She'd been personally involved in the outreach to get other victims to come forward for the trial, but none had been found. It's not as though she could blame any other hypothetical survivors- no more than she could blame Alicia and Lady Marcia for what she had already convinced herself they were going to do- if she could never think of Ryan Pritfield ever, every again, if she could wash his memory off her mind like she had washed his pleasure-sweat off her body, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

If only. If only.

 

[marauder13]

Rick was as surprised as everyone else at Alicia's declaration of a need to meet privately with both him and Eileen. He viewed it in a good light, mainly because he got a second, larger helping of the Death by Chocolate. But he caught Eileen's reaction out of the corner of his eye. The almost terminally happy Pooka had almost shut down. Not even while he was giving her a hard time over her sex life had she shut down like that. Most Pooka would not have reacted like that. Rick watched and listened carefully for the tip off that would hopefully make it all the more clearer.

Rick was not prone to bouts of paranoia or unfounded fear. He was more the cause of some unfounded fear and paranoia rather than a sufferer. But just being so close to a strong source of such feelings, he was getting caught up in them. He ground his teeth slightly as he fought back against the unnatural feelings she was smothering him with.

'I'm the fucking predator here, not some piss week little piece of fluff that runs at the first signs of trouble. Pull your head out of your arse, Rick.'

Rick heard the constant thumping of her feet, and was trying to figure out his chances of pinning her to the floor before she could bolt. After her earlier display, it was probably not good.

"It's about Ryan Pritfield, isn't it?"

"Who the fuck is that?" Rick's further questions were silenced by a quick look from Marcia, who watched the Pooka intently.

"I understand if you want me to go. I get it, really, and I appreciate your... making a show of courtesty with your invitation. You can tell the others whatever you think would make them happiest to hear."

Rick looked back at the Sidhe. Alicia was as openly confused as Rick was. She was looking at the adults around the table with an expression screaming for someone to explain it. Marcia had a face on that most poker players would be envious of. Rick could tell that she was thinking fast, putting together lots of loose bits. But what loose bits and where he had no clue. Finally her face softened and she put a small bit of cake on the end of her fork.

"Eileen, why would we be telling you that you weren't to stay, with just Rick on hand? What we need to discuss has nothing to do with this Pritfield person. As Rick is fully aware, there is only one motley within the freehold, and Rick is not a member of it. Now that you have joined us, the Baroness has decided that it would be useful for the two of you to work together and see if there is any grounds for the formation of another motley."

"Wait," Rick sat straighter looking at the two Sidhe. "You trying to hook me up, or something? Because I am quite alright finding my own dates, you know."

"I know how hard this is for you to do, Sir Richard, but try and think with the head above your shoulders for once. You know what we mean. We want to know if you too can work together. We don't want to have two changelings without support."

"Besides, who will I get to send out on quests, Sir Richard?" Alicia was almost bouncing in her seat with excitement. "I can't just send my champion out all by himself. Not while he's a Redcap, anyway. And what better 'squire' for you than this wonderful Pooka?"

Rick looked at Eileen with a wicked expression. "Hey, I like the idea of having her under me... as my squire."

"Anyway," Marcia interrupted, "there is little choice in the matter for the two of you. The Dreaming has warned us of your coming."

"And the wonderful quests you'll take on my behalf," Alicia sighed.

"The Dreaming warned you of who's arrival, Lady Marcia?"

"Of Eileen's arrival, Richard. We have been putting up with you for that very reason. Why else would be go to the trouble of putting up with one of your kind?"

"Because he is my champion, Lady Marcia. That is why I want Sir Richard here."

"Of course, My Lady. But for the rest of us, it has been so that these two could be brought together. There have been portents and signs coming up for a while. I wondered how it would play out, but now it is easy to see. The Weasel and the Hare."

"Weasel?" Rick's voice rose an octave. "Hey, that's cool. No one fucks with a weasel unless they're willing to loose something to a bite."

Alicia turned to Eileen, her face aglow. "So, will you try and work with my champion? He's not that bad really."

Lady Marcia's expression didn't fully agree with Alicia's last statement.

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen was very confused now. This wasn't about Ryan? It had nothing to do, nothing at all, with the mark he'd left on her? She'd believed for so long now that his work was more than scars, some black roiling mist of filth and degradation that clung to her, whispered around her feet, her hands, withered what she touched. Alicia's confusion made her feel very, very bad indeed- she didn't mean to confuse the little girl, though she still believed that Lady Marcia knew more than she was pretending to know.

With the skill of a well practiced dissembler, Eileen whisked the terror and shame from her face, replacing it with exactly the sort of wide, mischeivous smile that would appeal to a little girl deeply interested in quests. She leaned forward just a little, so that her violet gaze could lock with Alicia's. "I think working with Sir Richard will be a great deal of fun, my Lady. Thank you for your gracious invitation to whip him into shape."

Here, she dropped into a stage whisper. "I think you're right, you know- he's just a sweetheart. All bark, no bite, unless a bite is needed for a very special quest." She wanted Rick to take the bait. She wanted to rile him, make him try to prove that what surrounded that obvious core of sweetness was a lot of wickedness. Straightening up, Eileen took another bite of cake, and then set her fork down. In an unbroken and clearly joyful chug, she took down the entire tankard of beer, and delicately wiped her mouth before standing.

"My Lady, if you have no more imminent need of me, I would like to be dismissed, please. I haven't had a chance to explore this beautiful freehold, and I think I'd like to take a tour. Sir Richard would be happy to show me around, I'm sure." While most of that was true, what Eileen wanted most was to get out from under Lady Marcia's gaze. The Sidhe was too well-mannered to stare, though Eileen was sure a steely glare was well within the gorgeous creatures repetoire.

 

[marauder13]

Rick smirked at Eileen as she commented about whipping him into shape. Then he remembered the most disliked title that had been nailed on him - Sir Richard - and he would set the record straight with the Pooka ASAP. He reached for his beer, which he almost spilt when he heard Eileen comment quietly to Alicia about being a sweetheart. He almost incurred the wrath of Pru by taking a bite out of the tankard, rather than tell them both off.

"My Lady, if you have no more imminent need of me, I would like to be dismissed, please. I haven't had a chance to explore this beautiful freehold, and I think I'd like to take a tour. Sir Richard would be happy to show me around, I'm sure."

"Oh, I'd be more than happy to show her the freehold and all that is held within. So, My Lady de Wynter, Lady Hallsworth, with your permission."

"Of course, my noble champion, please escort Eileen about, and show her all she needs to see."

Rick let that comment slide, bowed, and guided Eileen along the hallway into the lounge room. A large throw rug covered most of the open floor. Comfortable sofas and chairs were arched around a large coffee table that held the centre of the room. But the chairs also faced the fireplace.

Sitting in the enormous fireplace burned that which made the freehold so special - the balefire. The light blue flame was no different to any other flame. The flame produced a heat that all the Fae felt, though no one else would see, nor feel. Rick stood back and gave Eileen a moment or two to bask in the warmth.

"Now, if there is going to be any whipping into shape going on, you wont be holding the whip." Rick's hand lashed out, finding her firm derriere and applying a hearty smack. Rick enjoyed the feel of her ass, that it was firm and not rock hard. It also had a nice flex to it when slapped. More and more possibilities came to mind after the delightful contact with her backend.

Without further pause, Rick roughly pinned Eileen against the wall, the rough brick interior pushing into her back in some unpleasant ways. He used his height and weight to the fullest to keep her exactly where he wanted her. His anger at the constant references to his being sweet and to his title came to the fore.

"Listen, Cottontail, if we're going to work together, you call me Rick. Call me anything else outside a formal gathering, and I'll take a large bite out of you. Trust me, I will within a heartbeat." The proximity of the Pooka's body, as well as his general lust levels for her combined to announce themselves very definitely and firmly against her tummy.

"So, while we're alone, let's see how fluffy you really are."

Rick quickly shoved his hand down the front of her jeans, squeezing it between the denim and the lacy layer underneath. His fingers swept from side to side, pressing down feeling for anything that was trapped between the lace of her panties and the skin underneath. But the tightness of her jeans prevented him from further exploration.

"Maybe I'll need to undo those jeans to make it easier to find out the answer to my question. I knew they were tight, but not that tight. Also, it seems that my hand is stuck."

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen sighed gently, enjoying the presence of the balefire. The romantic part of her soul- and yes, somehow, there still was such a part- always believed that balefire felt like home and smelled like chocolate chip cookies. It probably wasn't true, the part about the smell. No other Fae she'd met had ever commented on it. Of course, they might have been trying to keep the secret for themselves...

This train of thought was rudely interrupted as Rick smacked her ass and pinned her against the wall. Eileen really liked where this was going...until he spoke. The anger surprised her- after all, she'd only called him Sir Richard because Alicia had, and though the part about "sweetheart" was designed to rile him, she didn't think it would make him that angry. Of course, the way his cock lightly pressed itself into her lower stomach made it clear that this was about more than rage.

Still, Rick's hand was a most unwelcome intrusion, and Eileen felt her own anger rising. Though he felt no "fluff" just yet, she did not appreciate his warm, calloused fingers rubbing against the delicate skin just above her sex. She would need to put a stop to this, and quickly, before she began to appreciate it.

Raising her hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender, Eileen stared up at Rick, doing her best to conceal the inky fingers of fear that were curling around her anger. "Rick, I'm sorry if I called you something that offended you, but I had no idea that it would make you this angry. I was just using the same title the Baronness did because I thought that was appropriate. I won't make the mistake again, but if you don't get your hand out of my jeans right now and take several large steps back, we're going to have a problem of the sort that I don't really want to have with you."

One hand lowered to the snap of her jeans, but didn't unfasten it yet. "I'll undo these so that you can get your hand out of there. I strongly encourage you to take that chance to put some distance between us, and leave the status of my fluffiness for a nice surprise." Though she kept her words as friendly as possible, there was a certain cast to her violet eyes that signalled her firmness on this issue... a cast that Rick would learn soon enough to view as a sign of impending trouble. Even the most distracted predator would note that her ears had become stiff and perfectly still, and that her body was tense with readiness to fight.

 

[marauder13]

Rick felt the not so subtle change in the tension levels in Eileen. And it was not the right kind of tension either. He thought he had been reading her right, but it appeared not.

"...but if you don't get your hand out of my jeans right now and take several large steps back, we're going to have a problem of the sort that I don't really want to have with you.

"I'll undo these so that you can get your hand out of there. I strongly encourage you to take that chance to put some distance between us, and leave the status of my fluffiness for a nice surprise."

"Don't fucking bother," Rick growled. "I wouldn't want to upset your fucking sensibilities any further, since we're going to be working together." He slowly worked his hand out in the same manner that he worked it in, and picking up more scrapes on the back of his hand along the way. He took a step or two back from Eileen, his hands flexing into and out of being fists.

"Well, aren't I the butt of a great fucking prank! Here was I thinking that I was reading your right, but no! You just like every other fucking female out there. All tease and no please. Don't matter how fucking hot you might be, someone like me isn't good enough for ya. Of course, being the fucking Pooka that you are, you couldn't help but lead me along for fun.

"Fuck you! I'm not going to be the brunt of anyone's jokes. Never have. Never will." He stormed towards the hallway, the tears welling in his eyes. He stopped at the doorway, almost turning his head back to her. He couldn't let her see how deeply she hurt him with her callous little game. Too many had done that to him. Too many used him with the offers of affection, or fun times, but never paid their side of the debt. He had one line he never crossed. He never hit a woman, unless she hit him first.

"I guess your imagination will conjure up a nice image for you while your fingers are busy."

He continued stomping to his room, kicking his door open and closed again behind him. He slammed himself back against the door, bashing it twice with his head.

"You'll never learn will you, Rick. You're a fucking Redcap. Just a plain nasty mutherfucker that people like in a fight, on their side. Any other time, they couldn't give a shit about you." He dragged himself in front of the grimy mirror. "Yeah, like the little rabbit Pooka would want to do anything with me. Fuck, I should have known."

He walked over to the rumpled mess of manchester that passed for a bed and threw himself on it. He gained a little joy from the knowledge that Pru's fingers itched to clean up his room, but she wouldn't do it. Not at the cost of letting him into her kitchen without risking his life... or a limb at least.

"Well, we can work together. We just wont be fucking at any point. All too... fucking... EASY."

 

[laceandcogs]

"Oh god -damnit-." Eileen had never met a delicate Redcap before, but Rick's hurt had seemed very real. This was going to be a significant issue, not just for their working relationship, but for the ... extracurriculars that she did, contrary to his apparent belief, very much -want-. It's just that, in Eileen's mind, there was a great deal of space between a hot, rough fuck after a long day's bicker and tease, and shoving one's hand down her jeans in a living room.

There were probably multiple ways to solve this problem, but, for a Pooka, Eileen was surprisingly direct. With a hitch of her jeans and a smoothing motion over her ears, she steeled her nerves and quieted her temper. Diplomacy was almost never fun, so she would have to make this just a little more pleasant for the both of them...

Climbing the staircase to the living area, Eilieen paused before each door, her ears seeking out the very particular sound of Rick's breathing. It didn't take long- his room also carried an amplified quantity of his scent, which she had found more...arousing than she had hoped. Though her nose looked normal, save for a bit of additional wiggle and twitch, it was much more sensitive than average. Helpful in times like this, less so on that ocassion when she had to chase a skip through a pig farm.

Here, outside his door, Eileen paused. Why was she doing this? Why was she so invested in making Rick feel better about himself? Yes, he did make her feel a strange and happy tightness in her stomach, and the kiss he'd planted on her earlier would have necessitated a change of panties if she wasn't headed straight into the shower. But that didn't explain why she cared that he seemed wounded by his perceived rejection- Eileen didn't expect to, or like, worrying about people's feelings.

With a deep breath, Eileen pushed open Rick's door and neatly shut it behind her. Three steps took her to his bedside, and a graceful bounce placed her in his lap, her thighs straddling his, her hips resting lightly against his lower stomach. Her hands stroked into his dreadlocks as she leaned forward and seized his mouth in a hungry kiss, packed with want, heat, desire...and an apologetic tenderness that she hoped he would notice. She didn't want to actually have to -say- "I'm sorry". He'd gotten it out of her once today, and one apology was generally her quota for an entire week. A gentle, sweet groan of lust snaked into his mouth on her warm, pink tongue, and she let his surprise soak in as she pulled back to speak.

"Rick, just because I resent you jamming your hand down my pants in the living room does not mean I am not interested in fucking you. I am
-exceedingly- interested in fucking you." Apologies were not among Eileen's talents, but she did want to convey that he was sorely mistaken if he felt rejected. Of course, the weight of a warm, grinning bunny goddess inserted firmly and happily into one's lap goes a long way toward bandaging egos in and of itself.

 

[marauder13]

Rick was lost in a sea of loathing when he heard the door open. At that stage, he just didn't care. One more attempt with a woman completely blown to hell. Well, one that he thought meant something more than just a casual fuck. Everytime he thought he was interested in a woman, or even rarer, she was with him, it always fell apart.

'Maybe it's just my technique is -'

"Oooooomph." Ricks eyes opened to find that the weight upon him belonged to Eileen. Her straddling him caused him to stir automatically as any young male would when a female was positioned so. He felt her hands pushing through the gaps in his dreads. He was about to speak when Eileen kissed him. He had been given kisses like that before by some women who got a thrill about of fucking a member of his gang, or any similar type of 'naughty boy'. But none of them managed to threaten to melt his bones like this one did. He started to respond to the kiss, reluctantly at first. But his hurt was ignored by some deeper and stronger desire fortified by a huge amount of hormone charged lust. His hands took hold of her flanks, holding her and helping to support her as he unleashed his own hunger into the kiss. When it stopped, he was confused on a number of levels.

"Rick, just because I resent you jamming your hand down my pants in the living room does not mean I am not interested in fucking you. I am -exceedingly- interested in fucking you."

Ricks eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened slightly. The evaporating lust was an almost tangible cloud of steam pouring off him. His eyes narrowed with suspicion as he looked up at the smiling, cute and rather rather sexy rabbit eared Pooka looking down at him.

"And how the fuck am I supposed to believe that? I have been around enough Pooka to know how you lot love a good prank, and can't leave alone once you get started. But, everyone should get the benefit of the doubt, at least once." His grip all but vanished as his fingers started seek out the sensitive spots on her ribs. "Now, we'll see how truthful you are, cottontail. No let up until I am sure that you mean what you say. No exaggerations, interesting definitions of the truth or other Pooka funny business."

His hands roamed all over her body, finding ticklish spots and teasing them mercilessly. His probing fingers seem to be everywhere at once. Whenever Eileen's hands responded to an attack, he was gone to other known site and continuing his assault there. Rick found himself enjoying it, laughing loudly at the childlike fun of a simple, straightforward activity.

He moved Eileen around, either directly by grabbing her and dragging her back or indirectly by the way he tickled her and she moved to defend herself. He thought of upping the nature of his attached to include blowing raspberries on her exposed lower torso. He lowered himself to deliver the first of them to her back. Her shirt was loose and he lifted it to clear the way.

"HOLY FUCKING HELL!!!" Rick jumped back, looking at Eileen. "Wh-wh-what the fuck is that?"

 

[laceandcogs]

Eileen was, unfortunately, a very ticklish girl, and Rick seemed to have a half-dozen extra hands to put to work. Every newly attacked bit of tender flesh made her promise her sincerity around peals of laughter and frantic squirming. She was pink and gasping with the gigglefits when she felt him start to lift her shirt. Panic brought her sense back, and she reached to stop him when she felt his weight shift and heard his cry.

It was her turn to feel defeated, crushed, wounded. She forced herself up into a kneel, pulling her shirt back down quickly to hide the offending scars. Looking over her shoulder at Rick with suddenly very frightened violet eyes, she pondered whether or not to tell the truth...and decided to.

"Thats... that's why I was babbling about thinking the Baronness was going to send me away, Rick." Eileen's voice was very soft, the edges of her words blurred a little bit by the tears she was keeping just barely in check. "I know it looks awful. It didn't feel that great either, trust me." Wrapping her arms around her waist, Eileen climbed off Rick's bed. "I really wish there was a way to make sure you never saw it, to make sure no one ever saw it." Assuming fun time was half past over, Eileen offered Rick a decidedly shaky smile and gently patted his shoulder. "I know it totally ruins the mood. It's fine."

There seemed to be no part of her life that Ryan and his marks couldn't ruin. Rick wasn't the first to react badly to the sight, and she assumed that like every other would-be lover who discovered them, he would want nothing more to do with such obviously damaged goods. It rather explained how she hadn't sucessfully dated since the... since the thing that happened. Eileen had never been comfortable calling the event what it really was. Moving past Rick and toward his door, she decided firmly to answer any future questions with a punch in the mouth and a 'do you want this or not?'.