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The Shapeshifter

I wrote this several weeks ago as a bit of fluff for some characters of mine. Trinity is a Shapeshifter who was deaf, and Grantham is a mage whose goal was to create the perfect rose.

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   The patter of rain on the greenhouse roof was calming – the rivulets of water tracing down the glass mesmerizing. Trinity glances up from her workspace to admire the view into the garden. It was lush and vibrant this early in the year, and the blooms seemed to open themselves to the falling water, thirsty. She smiles when a small figure darts passed her view, followed closely by a damp Grantham, their shouts of laughter muffled through the windows. It was a sound she would cherish, a sound she could hear thanks to Grantham. His diligence and copious studies enabling him to create a spell for her alone, designed specifically to her body, allowing her the ability to hear so long as he cast it on her.
   She looks back down, carefully snipping away dead leaves from her latest cross-pollination. A vibrant blush of orange tipped in buttercup yellow, her own creation after years of study and experimentation. If Grantham’s expression gave any indication of his opinion, he was proud of her beyond measure. They didn’t compare to his, of course. The Holyoaks Rose. So delicate, so beautiful, with an aroma she could hardly describe, but made her dream of exotic landscapes and a twilight moon. The colors were unreal, as if the very light they were displayed in altered their appearance, each petal divine and faultless. People from countries away sought the rose – brides demanded it in bouquets, widows weeped for them on coffins, churches guilted for them on altars and confessionals. With his lifetime wish complete, he was finally able to seek a life for himself beyond immortalizing his family’s name. He’d asked Trinity what she wanted, and with her beautiful eyes gleaming, she’d said ‘children.’ So they’d traveled to Paris and beyond, adopting 3 of the most fantastic offspring they could have ever hoped for. As their youngest, David, raced by again, he caught sight of her in the greenhouse and paused to wave. He was such a sweet child, his head a mess of dark hair and his eyes as green as a rose leaf. Grantham caught up to him then, whipping the boy over his shoulder in one swift motion, his shrieking giggles bringing a grin to her face. They disappeared from view, but several moments later, she heard them enter the greenhouse behind her, Grantham slightly out of breath.
   “Dear, I think I’ve finally caught that gopher who keeps eating the buttercup lilies. Is this not the biggest rodent you’ve ever laid your eyes on?” Trinity turns, placing a soil-stand hand against her hip and giving the upside-down child a thorough examination.
   “You’re right, Gram, he’s enormous! Surely we have an infestation, there must be at least two more somewhere on the premises. But I’ve heard tickling them is a sure-fire way to get them to rat out their friends!”
    When she approaches, Daniel begins laughing and protesting, but she works her fingers into his armpits until he’s howling and giggling, his little legs cartwheeling in the air. When she looks at Grantham, he’s watching her with warm eyes. He finally set the boy down and smiles down at him.
   “All right, son, time for lunch. Go see Miss Annie in the house, and tell your sisters to get washed up.”
   “Yes, Papa!” He gives Trinity a hug before racing out of the greenhouse and past the line of trees that hides the estate from view. Grantham exhales a breath as he watches him, placing his hands on his hips as water drips from his hair. She laughs and takes a fresh rag from the shelf beneath her to squeeze around chunks of his hair, absorbing some of the rain. His blue eyes watch her, his face set in a small smile.
   “I think you’ve gotten more exercise in the past 2 years than you have in all the previous combined.” She chides, hooking the rag around his neck and holding both ends. “I’m surprised you’re not passed out in the rain right now!” He chuckles warmly, his hands finding her waist to pull her closer to him.
   “Ah, but I’ve an athletic wife to keep me in good working order, don’t I?” When he moves to embrace and kiss her she pushes away, laughing. “Nooo, you’re soaking wet! Go change first!” She turns from him, back to her flowers, and smirks at his reflection in the glass. Ignoring her protests, he presses close to her to look over her shoulder.
   “How are your roses coming along, my dear?” She shrugs a little, gesturing with her scissors. “I can’t seem to keep all the leaves healthy. I don’t understand how you have such an even distribution with yours.” He closes his eyes and nuzzles her long hair, his hands warm on her hips. “I could tell you.” She shakes her head, fanning him with her scent. “No! I want to figure it out on my own.”
   He tightens his hold on her then, wrapping his arms around her frame as he presses a hot kiss to her neck. She stifles a shiver and continues pruning. When his hand finds the skirt buttons at her hip, he pops one open with a smile at her collar. She inhales a sharp breath, her eyes darting up to the tree line. “Grantham, no! The children could come by any time!” His hand begins working the long fabric of her dress up, his other hand still gripping her hip. “No, dear, Miss Annie always makes the girls practice their sewing after lunch, and Daniel goes down for a nap. You know that.” A smile plays on Trinity’s lip when he’s gathered up the last of the material, baring her leg and hip to his fingers. “Well it’s nearly one o’clock, you’ll need to water your roses soon.” She says breathlessly as his hand strokes down into her inner thigh, his thumb brushing her silky underwear. “Trinity, dear, you are the only flower I’m keen to water right now.”
   When his fingers dip inside the crease of her leg, bypassing the material to seek tender flesh, she finally puts her scissors down and closes her eyes. He makes a pleased sound at his first touch and she shivers – she would never get over that sound, would never find anything as arousing as Grantham’s pleasure. His other hand untucks her fitted cotton shirt to find her naked breast, drawing a gasp from her as his mouth once again finds her neck. His thumb and forefinger pin her nipple, rolling it expertly even as his other hand spreads her sex, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. When her hair gets in the way of his lips once again, he draws his hand from her shirt and winds the locks around a gentle fist. Pulling her head to the side, baring her neck, he laps at her until she’s shuddering beneath him, his finger undulating against her folds in rhythm. When she’s all but begging him, he pulls his hand free, touching a finger to his tongue to savor her taste before slowly moving her thigh up, resting the inside of her knee on the counter, opening her to him. He guides her down to lay amongst the discarded leaves, his deft fingers making quick work of her skirt buttons, the heavy fabric falling to her bare feet.
   She feels him kneel behind her, feels his hot breath against the back of her thigh. When they tremble before him, he places warm hands against them, stroking in teasing circles. He doesn’t taste her, not yet, content to just admire her – her taut thighs, her gently flaring hips, her folds opening like a delicate flower. Just as she opens her mouth to plead with him, his strong tongue finds her core and she grinds her teeth against a scream. Mouth covering her, he penetrates her briefly before he finds the sensitive nub, hidden beneath her swollen hood. His pace is mercilessly slow, his wicked tongue creating circles and flicks until she’s undulating back toward him. Grantham’s grip on her thigh intensifies, thrilling her to know he enjoys this. His hand strays, tracing the crease of her inner hip up to his working mouth, then entering her. He strokes her, a second finger joining and working in tandem to make all thought in her flee.
   “Please, Gram. Please.” She whispers, both wanting him to stay but wanting him inside her as well. With a last long lick he stands, supporting her weight as he feels her leg buckle slightly. The sound of his trouser ties coming free is followed by the clothing meeting the floor with her own, and she gasps again when he slowly runs his cockhead along her flesh, wetting it and causing panting exhalations from her. When she rocks her hips back to snare him, he presses a hand down on her back, tsking her for her impatience. He spends several long moments just touching her, stroking her flesh with his and whispering of her beauty. When the head gets caught in the crevice of her entrance, she rocks her hips back quickly, sinking him in a few inches, drawing a gasp from both of them. He grips her wayward hips as she tries to wriggle farther down his length. “Now, now, Trinity.” He says, but his voice is husky. Instead of admonishing her further, he stirs his hips, and Trinity gives a frustrated moan. “Grantham, if you don’t fill me this instant I will shift and eat all your lab notes!” He laughs and leans over her to nuzzle her ear. “Very well, then.”
   He sinks into her, her damp sex allowing him to glide to the hilt. She closes her eyes as Grantham withdraws, his pace slow as they both savor the beginning sensations. Yet soon, his rhythm picks up as his hands reach around her hips, pulling her back into him with every thrust. She cries out with every one and her hand strays to stroke herself. His careful pace grows hectic until the workbench begins to rattle beneath them, and her urgent moans seem to only drive him wild. When he uses a hand to fist some of her hair, she cries out, coming around him. She pushes back into him as he continues to drive into her, urging her climax on and her sex squeezing around his length. When her voice slowly ebbs to harsh breathing, he finally slows and pulls away from her. Her eyes shoot open in excitement as he lifts her torso up, turning her. His eyes are questioning, as they always were when he wanted this, but was hesitant to ask. She nods emphatically, kneeling before him. She watches in fascination as he strokes himself a few times, then offers himself to her. She parts her lips around the crown, suckling the head and down. He groans and begins to move his hips again. Her hand grips the base, her other at her groin, and he begins fucking her mouth. She moans with abandon as he does, and his hand tightens in her hair – he seemed lost that she could want this, that she enjoyed this. Her tongue moved against him, massaging the ridge of his cock as he glides over it. The sucking sensation intensifies and another moan from her vibrates around him. When her teeth gently graze him, he asks her to look at him. Her luminous eyes open to watch him, and he remarks on her beauty. But then she takes his hips and pulls him deep into her throat, constricting around him until his head falls back and he comes, shouting harshly to the ceiling.
   She laps at him greedily despite his hisses until he forces her away with his hand in her hair. Slowly, she stands, her face pink and lively – her smile absolutely infectious. Cupping her face, he pulls her in for a slow kiss, his length gently prodding her. Once he pulls away, she takes several deep breaths. “I love you, Grantham.” Her voice is breathless. His eyes crinkle as he smiles back at her, pulling her close. “I love you, too, Trinity dear.”