" Wow... it's beautiful! "

Having been made privy to a densely wooded area just east of Parch City, Basil had gone to explore the area, and he already quite liked what he saw. There were pine and hickory trees in abundance and a vast, thriving ecosystem beneath their towering figures—why, it almost made the fairy feel at home again, and with the added peace of solitude that made him feel truly safe. This was his own little world, one he could get lost in for a spell while the others were busy with their own tasks at hand.

A pleasant breeze rustled through his leaves and all across his olive skin, fully bared to the empty forest. Though his magic carried him as it always did though flight, he allowed his wings to flap as if they were truly the ones propelling him, adding their quiet buzzing to the myriad of ambient noises coming from all around him.

And though he appeared to be wandering aimlessly, his trained eye was looking here and there for an area with certain... qualities.

What qualities, might one ask?

Basil giggled secretively, thrilled at the mere idea that he was getting to search in this manner. He was now alone with his thoughts, and more importantly, he was away from others so sensitive to his energy that he dared not to even think such thoughts in their presence... how could he not long to be free of his inhibitions? Free to just sit back and...

Ah! He'd found it!

A small stream was bubbling away nearby. When Basil made his way to it and arrived at its shore, he was delighted to find that the running water was bright, clear, and obscuring. Its steady flow was the dominant sound in the area that drowned out most others, and would continue to do so unless someone made a sudden great racket, or moved the rocks from the slight dip in the stream that resulted in the sound of water splashing upon them. He planned to do neither of these things, of course—but he did feel inclined to take a dip inside of it, given that he was currently no bigger than a young rabbit and would submerge about halfway like this.

Basil lowered himself to the ground until his feet planted firmly, and then stepped into the stream, his wings stiffening briefly from the slightly chilly temperature. Almost as soon as he was fully inside, he summoned a gentle, golden glow from within, warming the water until it felt like it had been sitting in a sunbeam for some hours, instead of inside the dark shade. The fairy sighed, a decadent relaxation falling over him—he let it take him, and bent his hips forward to take cups of water in his hands.

When he closed his eyes, splashing the warm water over his face and through his leaves... already, he saw a familiar face, one that he'd been eager to call forth as soon as he stepped foot into the forest. It seemed he couldn't wait, but Basil was hardly complaining, the thought of the virtuous, handsome prince sending a new wave of warmth through him, just underneath his skin.

Suddenly, he was recalling his time spent with the prince in the ocean, carrying him on his back as he swam. Their first foray into the depths was a rather desperate one, a mad dash to save their ally from an angry sea and an unseen foe, but their subsequent trip to the shore... just the two of them, upon the prince's request...

Basil remembered the hands laid upon his shoulders, and in a daze, he put his own hands there, damp from the stream. He remembered the way they would sometimes also stray down to his wings, to touch them as if they were something to be revered... his wings opened from their resting position, fluttering outwards in such a way that they pulled at the very spots he had touched, to mimic their sensation.

Lost in a blissful daydream, his whole body felt blanketed with a numbing comfort, but a thrill of excitement shot through the fairy when his mind dared to wander its first step further.

What if the prince had touched him even more?

Taking a deep breath, Basil shifted in the water, his heart beginning to pound. It brought a small smile to his face, and slowly, he slid his hands down from his shoulders to just above his waist, as if the prince had snuck them just past his wings to this position. With increasingly unsteadying breaths, the fairy those hands up again, and up, until they veered inwards and gently groped his chest, prompting another deep sigh. Would he be as gentle as this? He always treated Basil like porcelain, it was so... so...

Completely overtaken by his fantasy, the fairy's wings suddenly dropped to a neutral position again, their tips splashing the water and effectively startling him awake, his legs going rail-straight and disturbing the water's surface so suddenly he heard a couple of birds take flight.

" ... Oops. "

Basil's face was as red as autumn leaves, hot and embarrassed. He hadn't meant to... ! Not out in the open like this!

Quickly, his eyes scanned both sides of the stream for a place to hide, and found it in the form of some thick ivy partially obscuring a large, smooth rock. The fairy hastily stepped up out of the water and into that little nook, kneeling down to rest on the rock and huffing with exasperation, using his sun magic to dry the many dewdrops off his skin... and taking note of the persistent warmth that had nothing to do with his own magic.

Observing his surroundings for a moment, he realized that on the other side of the rock, there was the old skeleton of a plant with thick and tangled branches, a tumbleweed that reached slightly over his head like a sort of ceiling. Getting an idea from this, he sat up and crawled towards the spot he had entered, pulling some of the ivy over it so that it became a truly private, enclosed space, just enough for his tiny self to fit in.

Pleased, Basil leaned fully against the rock now, resting his head back and recalibrating his thoughts—naturally, it didn't take them very long to once again find the man they were so often fixated on in the first place.

The fairy felt his heart ache with want. Prince Chamomile of Astera, royalty from another world entirely and yet coming to the aid of this one so readily... would he ever get the chance to tell him how much he yearned to be his lover, far beyond the bounds of being just another one of his fairy companions? Was the prince's gentleness a telltale of his own hidden affections, or was he simply so kind and virtuous to all that he met? In the midst of such great peril as the Anomaly, would there even be time for such feelings to be appropriately exchanged?

Basil sighed, long and wrought, and slipped his eyes shut, bringing one of his legs slightly up and straying a hand down to his round stomach. If he were to become the prince's lover... perhaps, he would be taken back to the world where his kingdom lie. Maybe his people wouldn't take too kindly to himself at first, being one of the very Fair that had repeatedly plagued their lands time and time again, but the prince would stand up for him and swear he meant no harm—and swear that no harm come to him, his love.

The fairy took a shuddering breath, his hand sliding down past his stomach. What did a royal bedchamber look like? When he would be taken there, maybe the bed would be large and luxurious, enough for them both to roll around in for a few minutes of pure, joyous fun, the sound of their laughter filling the room. The curtains would be closed to head off the setting sun. Then, he'd suddenly feel his back pressed against the bed, and...

Basil whimpered, sly fingers having made it past his folds and now onto his swollen rosebud. He hadn't expected the sheer sensitivity of it—no other act of his self-pleasure had been brought on by such desperate fantasizing—but once the shock had subsided, the fairy shifted his hips, spreading his legs slightly to allow for a gentle rubbing motion to stimulate it.

He couldn't imagine the prince as anything but the most gentle of lovers, treating him with the same careful grace as he always had, but now daring to venture further, to explore every inch of him and pick apart his seams. How soft his lips must feel as they would softly kiss, his taste as sweet and refreshing as his earthy, flowery scent—his senses would be so overcome that he would swear no one else existed in any world but the two of them. His weight would bear down, resting comfortably against the plushness of the fairy's larger body, and he would feel that thick, attractive musculature against him like a brand, marking him even though their layers of clothing. Basil would soon grow determined to remove those layers, and he would push past his shyness to sneak his hands to the base of that orange tunic and grab onto it, pushing it up and shifting impatiently. He would feel the prince laugh against his lips and part, briefly and just as urgently, to finish the job of removing it, leaving him in a simple white blouse with an open neck. Unable to contain himself, Basil would lean forward to that newly opened expanse of skin, breathing into his warm collar and planting reverent kisses onto it, relishing in Chamomile's deep sigh of pleasure.

" A-Ah... "

He would soon find himself pressed against the bed once again, being ravished more eagerly than before. He was no longer fully aware of either of their hands, now that they had tasted intimacy and craved so hungrily for more. They pulled and tugged and maneuvered, such in tandem, until Basil's shorts were the very last to be pulled off, revealing his warm and waiting sex to be attended to. A deep desire would pool in his stomach as he watched the prince observe him with a ravenous fire in his deep mauve eyes, and he would lean forward for a kiss—such a coy way to distract from the hand that dipped down between his thighs and ran between his folds, pressing deeply to send shocks of ecstasy racing into his thighs, and...

" —Ohh! "

Basil suddenly threw a hand over his mouth, his own fingers pressing down insistently to wring a very sudden orgasm to its full completion, his hips writhing as he felt his core constrict and contract. He'd been unprepared for it, his vision going white behind eyelids squeezed shut. His thighs felt like they would never stop trembling until the very moment that they did, and then the fairy's hips fell motionless back onto the rock, his chest heaving with heated, gasping breaths.

" ...Nn. "

Even as his contractions ebbed away, he still burned. His mind still urged him forward towards the completion of the fantasy, despite the light soreness he felt as he stroked himself after his climax, pulses of overstimulation lazily pulling at his abdominal muscles. Huffing in light frustration, his hand slipped down even further, where it found an ample amount of his own slickness, no doubt brought on by his first orgasm. He'd never been able to make much headway down there, but perhaps...

Once the prince was done teasing him, he would start... preparing him. Even as Basil slipped his own two fingers inside of himself, he could feel the tight ring of his untaken virginity, pliable but firm against anything entering for the first time. His own fingers were short and stubby, but the prince... his were long and diligent, belonging to such capable hands. When the fairy let his eyes slip shut again and his head loll back, it was easy to feel the sensation of entry as if it were his beloved's capable hands, sending a brand new wave of sensitivity through him like an intoxicating aphrodesiac.

Quietly, he lamented the fact that he had avoided staring during the few chances he had to catch a glimpse of the prince's naked body, but he had a feeling—perhaps a rather biased one—that he was well-endowed, if his lean and experly-chiseled body were any indication. Yes, he would need the careful preparation to ensure Basil's comfort, and he was ever-patient in bestowing it. The prince's fingers would move deftly in and out, with occasional stretching motions that would make him moan from the sensation, unable to resist those little encouragements so that he would keep going. His hand would then withdraw, far too soon, but any protests would die in his throat, seeing the intense, lustful gaze now fixed upon him, making him feel all at once like an animal being trapped and like he would desire nothing more than to be pinned down and ravished.

Looming over him, the prince would press inside, slick and tight, rolling his hips in waves until he could fit all the way inside. Panting with desperation, Basil in the present day angled his hips up and pried his legs even more open, shoving his fingers deep, deeper than they had ever been. They still hit the wall of his hymen, but it pushed upwards with his movements, acquiescing to his desperate thrusts.

...Gods, Cham would be so tender even then. Keeping the rolls of his hips so languid, opening him up so sweetly, all the while Basil clung to his shoulders and let noises spill from him unbidden, wanting the prince to hear every note of his pleasure so that he knew how much he loved it. Loved him. Chamomile's moans would sound just as sweet to his own waiting ears, and he would spread his legs as wide as they could go, the mere act an undeniable plea for the prince to take what he wanted, to make love to him as passionately as he wanted. With an intentful growl, he would do just that, and in just a few more thrusts, the intense movements of his hips would make the bedframe start to shake, and—

A pained squeak ripped through Basil's throat as he felt a deep, burning pulse emerge from his frantic fingering—had he finally slipped past it!?

This time, Basil didn't have a free hand to stop him from crying out; at the height of his desperation, in an unconscious haze, he had begun to frantically attend to the throbbing organ between his folds, pressing down with shaking fingers. The palm of his other hand slammed against the bottom of his sex with a slick sound and, in a whirlwind of sensation, he felt a second orgasm crash down over him. His hips lifted from the rock, the fingers inside of him halting where they were while his other hand worked overtime to press and pull at his throbbing rosebud, his abdomen racked with contractions so intense they knocked all of the wind out of him at once. His fantasy bled together with the reality of his isolated hiding spot by the stream, flashes of the prince's flushed visage painting the back of his eyelids while his knee knocked against the rough tumbleweed, scraping it slightly.

Finally, after the waves of contractions had subsided, Basil's eyes fluttered open, and his mind was utterly hazy. For a moment, he had forgotten where he truly was, and looked around, blinking, until he recognized the side of the tumbleweed that had scraped him. Slowly but surely, the fairy came back into himself, being hit with the awareness of several sensations one-by-one. Groaning, he withdrew slick fingers from his abused hole, feeling wet all the way down to his inner thighs. Everything between his legs felt chafed and hot, but as much as it made him yearn for the warm stream once again... well, he was just too exhausted. He could feel the thumping of his heart in his ears, as if he'd just run a long distance without any break. To think that the prince had instilled within him such passion that this was possible, even when he was just indulging in fantasies to pleasure himself...

Humming, he rolled over onto his side, stiffly pushing himself further up on the rock as to not bother with the mess he had made on the lower half. Surely, he wouldn't be missed if he were to nap just a little bit...

However, even as he fought back sleep, he still didn't wish to part from that wonderful world inside his head, where the prince was his gentle lover. Groggily, his hand searched for one of the closer vines of ivy and grabbed on, pulling it to himself. During his last wisps of consciousness, he dreamt up that the ivy was the prince laying snug in his arms, his breathing relaxed and steady...

With such a lovely thought, Basil fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.