Vines and Thorns

Hedera sweeps the hearth for the thousandth time, careful not to let any broom bristles singe.

She checks the clock. For the thousandth time. Twelve minutes until the hour.

She reties her robe, for the thousandth time. Fidgeting, as the clock ticks, smoothing the soft white cotton over her body, brushing out imaginary wrinkles, feeling the warmth of her heated skin through the fabric.

“La dada dum dum la da, la dada dum da dum, mmm hmm hm hmm la da la hm hmm… the holly bears the crown.” The tune always comes easily this time of year.

She straightens the ornaments on her tree.

Hedera shakes her hands and stops herself from fingering imaginary dust off the mantle. He never cares how tidy her house is. He never notices her house.

Eight minutes to go.

She pours wine, the glass and the bottle clinking together as her hands shake. She doesn’t spill though. She takes a long swig out of the bottle so as not to mar the perfect crystal of the glass. For celebration, not fortification, not really, well maybe a little.

A final tug at her robe, a final glance around the room. She kneels in front of the crackling fire, her head bowed, her eyes closed, just as he’s instructed her, just as she does every year.

She knows there are still three minutes to go, but she breathes them away, thinking only of him, of last time he was here. Never for a second does she doubt he’ll come. She would cease to exist if he wasn’t going to come. That’s how she knows.

“Oh the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer, la dada hm..” the music tumbles through her mind until she starts to hear it all around her. It’s getting louder as her breathing gets faster. Her skin is tingling with warmth from the fire and the wine, with anticipation as the seconds count down.

She hears a final tick of the clock, then, in slow motion, the chimes ring out clear and long and low, bong…bong…bong…her chest tightening as she breathes in with each peal. By the time the sound of the twelfth begins to fade, she is ready to burst.

“Hadera, my Love.” Low and sweet and directly into her ear. She exhales shakily as his breath flows around her, bringing her to life, settling her, feeding her.

“My Love,” she whispers. Her smile is brighter than the fire he just came through, warmer as well. He will live for centuries and never tire of that smile.

“Open your eyes, my Love. See me here.”

She gazes up at him, taking him in from his booted feet to his fur collar to the crown of snow white hair blazing around his head. He is magnificent. Exactly as she remembered.

He is matching her beaming smile now, basking in her glow. His eyes are twinkling, knowing the delights he has in store for her, his gifts. Knowing how how they will make her feel. How they will make her ache and beg and laugh and feast. He reaches down and raises her up to her feet, smoothly pulling her into a kiss.

Her fingers pull at the fastenings on his fur-lined coat, brushing it open and grazing across his chest. While she pulls his tongue into her mouth, she grips and tugs the soft hair on his chest, feeling the muscles there tense as she does.

He has her robe down around her shoulders, his hands gripping her upper arms, pulling her close, poking her with his fingertips, leaving bruises that will last for days, she hopes. He slides his hands between them, cupping her breasts, grazing her nipples then pinching them hard, a sharp, pricking sting that makes her gasp, that makes her wet.

She’s waited all year, she’s been so very good and now that he’s really here, she can’t wait any longer to taste him. She slides down his body, her lips never leaving his skin, tasting the bitterness that is only his all the way down. There, the prize, she feels his cock against her chin as she settles down, then caresses the hard shaft against her soft cheek. He sighs and tangles his fingers into her hair.

She runs her face all along him, laying tiny kisses along his shaft until, finally, she slides the tip of him into her sweet mouth. “Yes, my darling, I’ve waited all year for this moment,” he breathes as she inches him slowly, slowly deeper and deeper until her face is pressed against his skin. His grip tightens and he starts to move her head back and forth. Her arms are twined around his thighs, her throat is working to keep her from gagging as she takes him in harder and faster than she remembers. Tears are running out of the corners of her eyes and she is so, so happy.

Later, much later, her limbs are wrapped around his back like vines, her fingers claw and sting his skin as he thrusts and pounds and rides her like one of his wild beasts. He is grunting and panting in her ear and the sound of his voice and the thrust of his hips pushes her over the edge. She cries out and sinks her teeth into his shoulder as he groans and tenses and explodes inside her.

He collapses on top of her, his great weight a comfort, a need. She sees the bright red pearls of blood she’s drawn across his back glittering in the dying light of the fire and smiles. She has left her mark, he’ll come again next year.

“My darling, I must go, it’s nearly dawn.”

She helps him dress and smooths his hair. He kisses her neck and breathes her scent, before lowering her to the floor in front of the cooling coals. “You know what you must do” he says.

“Yes, my love” she says as she takes one last long look at him, then folds her hands and closes her eyes.

“Safe travels, my darling Ilex. Until next year.” She says the words and knows that he hears, even if he’s no longer in the room.

How he leaves without lifting the latch, she can’t be sure, but she has her suspicions. She picks up her glass of untouched wine and as she sips, notices the bag of gifts on the hearth and smiles.

***

This is my submission to Exhibit A’s Awesome Christmas Erotica meme for the Day 4 song “The Holly and the Ivy” (It truly is awesome, you should definitely check out all the entries). I’m not entirely sure my particular entry didn’t devolve into Euph-Off territory, but considering the subject, can you blame me?