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I lick my lips as they drop their knees open. A patch of curls covers the mound between their thighs, their fur the same bluish-silver shade as their natural hair.

I move onto my belly to kiss them there and roll my lips together, humming nervously.

I’m new to this, and I know I’m sloppy with my fondling and kisses, but I want it to feel as good as when they do it to me.

“You look so good down there,” they say, their thighs squeezing near my shoulders. “You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of having your tongue on my pussy while you touch yourself.”

My clit pulses at the suggestion, and I dip my tongue down to taste them as I bring my hand under my hips, rocking against my fingers. I explore the entire layout of them, licking them all over.

They play with my tresses as I begin to lap them up in earnest.

“Fuck, you’re doing that so well,” they say.

Their praise goes right to my head and sends a sweet tingle down my spine.

I lick their clit and blow on it, pulling my hand from underneath me. Swirling my finger through their wetness, I sink into their slit, and they make the most satisfying sound as I work down to my first knuckle.

I chase what feels right, pumping my hips in time with my hand, moving into them as I grind against the blankets tangled between my legs. Now I understand why blenny fish squeeze themselves into rock crevices; I’d do anything to burrow even further inside of them.

I start to feel their walls fluttering around my fingers, and I withdraw them, placing them to my pussy again to mix their wetness with mine as I push my face closer to their clit.

Their thighs shake, but I don’t let up. I’m right at the edge when I feel a gentle pulsing against my tongue.

They twist their fingers into the roots of my hair, and I fall into that wonderful, terrifying feeling of a climax, the thrill of it spreading throughout my entire being.

We both come down together, our hands roaming over each other. I rest my cheek on their belly, knowing they’ll have to return to their tent soon.

I want to keep them here for a little while longer.

It’s difficult for them to maintain this form while sleeping, so they won’t get much rest tonight.

“That was —” My sentence goes unfinished as a knock on the door has me shooting up in bed. I pull my nightgown down over my legs, more surprised than frightened because Zephyr’s here with me. “Who’s there?”

“It’s just me,” Bijou says. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

I pat the mattress as Zephyr searches for their pants. “It’s ok. I wasn’t sleeping.”

The door opens a crack, and Zephyr pinches themself into thin air, vanishing right as Bijou sticks her head in. I locate their pants and shove them under the blanket.

The priestess’s loose red waves glow in the light of her candlestick.

“I wanted to check on you since we were sharing ghost stories earlier,” she says, creeping closer. “Sometimes guests complain that this place feels haunted.”

“Is it haunted?”

Her eye wanders over the crumpled bedsheets. “Possibly.”

I wrap my heels up by my hip, my anxiety temporarily melting away. “I once heard a story about the founders of the Lunar Tide Coven and how they created a type of magic called divine transformation,” I say, seizing an opportunity. “Do you know that one?”

A bead of white wax rolls down the candlestick, and she rubs her thumb along the drip pan. “Yes, come with me. Let’s discuss it.”

She takes me to a large bedchamber with pale pink walls and pearly white furniture. The dressers and drawers are all covered with lacy runners and rose-gold pans of fine jewelry.

“Was this your room when you were younger?” I ask.

“Yes, I grew up in the castle.” She catches me admiring a white trunk painted with tiny rosebuds and adds, “That was the trousseau my mother was putting together for me before she fell ill.”

“You were going to get married?” I ask, tracing the thorns on a stem.