Hearthside Haze

The wine tasted good. It was bittersweet, a welcome reprieve from the sweet-and-savory rose bread, and tingled as it touched his lips. It, too, carried a faint rose flavor, and the scent itself was almost as heady as the drink. But the feeling of heat that filled him was exquisite relief for his chattering teeth and rattling bones.

For a moment, Alrek was lost, the glass raised above his head, his mind immersed in warm, easy bliss. His head lolled backwards slightly as he emptied the glass into his mouth.

He smiled, feeling a bit dazed, and allowed Nanne to take the glass back. Her fingers grazed his hand as she did so, and he flinched slightly, but decided not to make a scene about it. His mind was wandering, trying to find the thread of... oh, right.

"It was cramped," he said, his smile lingering slightly as he reached down and took another slice of bread. To his surprise, there was a whole other loaf now, as well as a bowl containing some sort of orangeish curry sauce. Curiously, he dipped the sweetbread in this and took a bite.

It was a very interesting flavor. Sweet, salty and savory. Definitely unusual, but he found he liked it. Almost like the candied cave prawns he'd tried a few winters ago.

And very, very spicy.

Once again, he'd finished the bread without thinking, lost in the moist delicacy. Only now his mouth was on fire, and he looked up with wide eyes to Nanne.

Beaming, the goblin maid presented him with a refilled glass. Too full of relief to be annoyed at this second act of charity, he took the glass and downed it, gulping down the contents in seconds. Sure enough, the wine helped. The mulled wine was itself spicy, of course, but it seemed to change the spiciness to more of a pleasant tingling.

His mind was swimming when he lowered the glass. He leaned back in the chair, suppressing a small burp. He'd done that too fast. He was sweating, now, in his heavy layers. The rosy light of the lamp seemed distorted and strange.

He stared across at Nanne, blinking blearily. Had her neckline... always been quite so low? Her dress seemed so loose all of a sudden. He yawned. He couldn't trust his own memories, he supposed. Or his vision. The wine was going to his head, and making him feel... fuzzy.

Very fuzzy. Very fuzzy and mellow. He smiled lazily at his drinking companion, who giggled at him. The rosy light flickered around him and cast bewitching shadows on her pretty, heart-shaped face. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You were saying..."

"Um, yes." He shook himself a little. He had to finish the story, at least. But it was already so disjointed. Maybe his storytelling skills were rusty. Or maybe he was just... sleepy. "It was cramped," he repeated, his voice drawling and low. "I even had to crawl some places to get around."

"Like a baby!" She tittered.

"Yes." He was a little annoyed at the comparison, but found himself nodding and smiling along with Nanne anyways. It didn't feel worth the effort to get mad at the cute barmaid. "Like a baby. Everything smelled sweet. A lot of the walls were sticky with treesap. And..."

He fanned himself. His head was still buzzing from the wine. He knew he wouldn't be so sleepy if he wasn't so hot...

"Oh, are you too warm now?" She tilted her head. "Want me to help you with that?"

For a moment, Alrek thought she meant undressing him, and his breath caught. His mind and words started stumbling and bouncing around like a wheelbarrrow dropped down a spiral staircase. "Um—I—I don't, uh, I mean, you're not my—I don't want any. T-touching. Not that your touching wouldn't—I mean, I'm not saying you're ugly—you're really not, but—"

"Um..." Nanne raised one eyebrow, gesturing to the window.

He blinked. "... oh."

And now he felt even hotter.

"S-sure," he said without thinking, eager to escape the awkward moment. But as Nanne reached for the latch, he had a moment's total confusion.

And then the shutters flew open.

A flurry of freezing snow blasted into the cabin, eliciting a startled squeak from Nanne. The lamp sputtered and died instantly. Alrek saw his gloves, scarf and hat go flying across the room, borne off by the wind. He nearly fell off his chair from the force of the storm.

"Close it!" he barked, momentarily roused.

He shot to his feet and grabbed at one shutter as Nanne grabbed at the other. Without the rosy light, everything suddenly felt crisp and clear and cold. He put all his strength into the shutter, setting his feet at an angle against the rough stone floor and pushing forward.

And as the window was re-closed and latched, almost all light fled the cabin.

There was a pitch black moment when all he heard was Nanne's heavy breathing and his own. His head was swimming, and he tried to lean against the table for support—but Nanne was between him and the table. The surprised little goblin caught him, fortunately, and he was too dizzy to really complain as she gripped him by the hands and helped him remain standing, her head resting against the many layers of furs covering his chest.

He blinked rapidly. Alrek had always had good night vision, but now he had spots in front of his eyes from sleepiness hampering him, as well as the lingering pink haze from the lamp. It was taking a while for his eyes to adjust.

His body was tense, and he was angry now. What had Nanne been thinking? What had he been thinking? This was absurd. He never drank with strangers, and this was why! As soon as he could see, he was going to shove Nanne away and give her a piece of his—

"Here." He felt a warm glass pressed to his lips. "To calm your nerves."

Alrek wasn't sure what Nanne meant, but he drank anyway. He let the hot, spicy wine trickle down his throat, and sure enough, he felt the tension in his shoulders fading, felt his whole body relaxing. In fact, he practically melted into her arms.

"I'm sorry about that," the goblin barmaid said softly in his ear. "The latch broke."

He squinted. That... didn't sound right. "No, it didn't," he said. "You opened it."

"Oh, why would I do that?" She gave a musical giggle. "Poor boy. Here. I'll take you to the fireplace."

Part of Alrek wanted to refuse on principle at this point. Part of him wanted to keep arguing about the window—it was so petty to lie about such a stupid mistake, and Alrek was stubborn by nature. He still wanted to take Nanne to task for that.

But he was tired. So tired and fuzzy. And Nanne felt soft and warm, and he felt strangely affectionate towards the curvy little barmaid. She'd clearly learned her lesson, and she was doubtless now embarrassed at the foolish mistake that had left Alrek in the dark, disoriented, and in her arms.

So he let her half-guide, half-carry him over to the fireplace. His eyes were slowly starting to adjust, but as his head was resting over her shoulder, he couldn't see Nanne's expression as she gently—ever-so-gently—lowered him into a feather-down-soft armchair with a long footrest. It was incredibly comfortable. He leaned back, and it was a sudden struggle to keep his eyes open. His eyelids seemed eager to close.

She straightened, and he caught one bleary glimpse of her looking down at him with a perky, excited smile before she turned to the dark fireplace and knelt down.

He heard a strange crackling. A moment later, the fireplace erupted in pink fire.

"Finally!" squealed Nanne, clapping her hands together like a child who'd just been given a pony for their birthday. She spun around and skipped back over, breasts bouncing with every footfall. His eyes followed the breasts with the easygoing shamelessness of one barely awake. As she drew near, the fireplace increased in intensity.

He groaned, staring at the brilliant light. The flames spat and danced with a wildness he'd never seen in fire before. Strangely, he couldn't see any wood in there... but his eyes were still dazzled. In fact, everything aside from the fire, the chair and Nanne was enshrouded in darkness now. It was like he was lost in a separate dimension, a soft, warm world of pink. With Nanne.

He looked up, realizing she was standing over him again. There was a very pretty sort of glimmer to her eyes, he supposed.

"Sleepy?" she asked sweetly, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. He was startled by the sudden intimacy—and by how sensuous and wet the kiss was, and how the sensation lingered after she left like a heavy lipstick stain, like a mark, a brand.

He was having so much trouble focusing. He shook his head. "I'm not staying the night," he mumbled. "Just... warming up." His hands settled on the short armrests.

She abruptly sat down on the right armrest, and he felt his right arm pinned right beneath her plump ass. It didn't hurt—her form was as soft as the chair—but his heart started to race as he realized his arm was now trapped. This was the kind of physical contact he had nightmares about.

But then Nanne was reaching forward, something doughy clutched between her fingers. And as he opened his mouth to speak, she popped it right into his mouth.

"Mm!" he protested, flinching away from her. She pulled back, biting her plump lower lip guiltily.

Annoyed, he chewed and swallowed. It tasted good, anyways. It was a kind of dumpling—doughy on the outside, but filled with spicy, savory... somethings.

It made his tongue burn, whatever it was. He panted—he was sweating like a pig in this chair!

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh, you're so sensitive! Would you like some more wine?"

"Now you ask," he muttered, annoyed. But his head was too fuzzy and drooping to really muster any anger. He limply accepted the glass of wine from her, spilling a little on his furs as he raised it to his lips.

"Oh, no..." she said softly, leaning forward and dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief. She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, "What a mess!"

He wanted to object, but it was just too much effort. He kept drinking, turning the painful spiciness into a powerful tingling instead. His whole head felt so... heavy. It was buzzing. Everything seemed to be glowing around him.

"Did you like the dumpling?" she cooed in his ear. "Would you like another?"

"Not so close," he mumbled, reaching forward and accepting the dumpling she plopped into his hand. He resolved to eat it as tidily as possible.

He ate it messily. It was just too much effort—even though it was his right hand she was sitting on, his left hand was tingling like it had fallen asleep, and he basically just shoved it into his mouth and tried to keep his mouth closed while he chewed.

"Messy boy," she whispered with a giggle, dabbing tenderly at his lips. He breathed in subtly, privately enjoying the rosy smell of her handkerchief. For a second, her bare finger teased along his lips, and he caught himself fantasizing about her popping the finger inside—but then she'd pulled the hand away with a bright smile. "All better!"

Her luscious lips tickled his earlobe as she spoke.

As he swallowed, the spiciness was already overtaking him again—and she was already ready with another glass and another amused smile. Alrek was a little annoyed. He was no stranger to spicy food, though admittedly he hadn't had much of it in many years.

He accepted the glass and brought it toward his lips.

As it drew near, the glass slipped from his limp fingers.

In his ear, the goblin maid let out a tiny coo of horror-tinged-with-delighted-amusement as the whole glass spilled over his front. She kissed him on the cheek. "So clumsy!" she teased. "Are you always this big a klutz, or is it only when you have a cute girl handfeeding you? Or am I special?"

Alrek felt his face going beet red. He tried to muster the energy to respond, to shout, even, but it took too long. Everything was moving so fast, and he felt so... slow.

"Let's just get you out of this." Nanne was humming to herself as she pulled him out of his fur coat. He groaned an objection, but truth be told, he was boiling alive at this point. He didn't even really mind losing the outermost coat of three. And it was drenched in wine now, anyways.

He was a bit annoyed, however, when she started pulling off his snowpants. As hot as it was, that felt a bit... familiar. But when he opened his mouth to complain, she popped another dumpling into his mouth and patted his head fondly.

He chewed, surprised at how easy and fuzzy and warm it felt to just lie there. It wasn't as if he could get up. He was too sleepy, too docile... and she was far too heavy on his right hand.

Everything around him was growing staticky as he stared, entranced, into the fire. The rosy flames flickered and rose, danced, almost spiraled. His head was spinning. He swallowed the dumpling, and he almost felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the armchair as the spices danced on his tongue. His adventurer's instincts told him to check and make sure the chair wasn't some kind of mimic, but for some reason it just...

... didn't...

... seem...

... to matter.

He thought he heard her cooing in his ear—caught isolated phrases that almost sounded like 'good boy' and 'obedient' and 'sweet little husband'—but it was all fading in and out, fuzzy, almost meaningless. Everything felt almost meaningless. He found himself drinking again, and the only thought that made it to his mind was, Oh, good. I'm glad she remembered.

The pink flames danced, flickered, like tendrils sparkling out and tugging his mind inward, deeper and deeper and deeper. Heavier and heavier.

He stirred, slightly, as she finished removing his last coat. He realized he was now just wearing his shirt and trousers, and that made him nervous. He blinked rapidly, squinting at her through the flames that seemed to fill his vision like vines in the windowsill.

"There you go!" she purred, her lips curved upwards in a satisfied smirk. "All better."

He stared. His mouth moved slowly. "Fire," he said, his voice mumbly and weak. "The fire..."

"Oh, yes, do you like it?" She tossed a loose strand of dark hair from her eyes. "Isn't it pretty? Don't you like how it dances and spins like a..."

"Hypnotizing me," he said quietly. "It's... hypnotizing..." He tried to pull himself up, but everything felt so heavy, so rosy and soft and warm. His mind was buzzing. The glow was all around him, fuzzy and pink and dazzling. He let out a helpless moan.

And then Nanne was pushing him back against the chair, cooing soothing nonsense words at him. He squirmed. "There, there, my love. If you don't like the fire, why don't I just turn this chair around so you're not facing it?" She leaned in and kissed his cheek tenderly. "No need to be so dramatic."

"Nn... stop kissing me," he said softly, as Nanne hopped down and started rotating the chair. The slow, even motion made him feel even dizzier, and he felt his muscles relaxing again. But his vision was at last freed from the spiting pink fire. It lingered in the corners of his vision, a distant reminder of something amiss.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll stop kissing you if that's what you want" Nanne straightened, beaming down at him with her hands on her hips. But there was an element to her smile Alrek couldn't quite place. He'd never been good at reading people. She seemed impressed, or hungry, or frustrated. He couldn't tell which.

His head felt like it had cleared slightly, now that the chair was no longer facing the hypnotic hearth. But he still felt scattered. And when Nanne sat down on the chair again, he carefully moved his arm out of the way.

"Lemme..." His mouth watered as he saw what she had now—a slice of some kind of red-filling pie.

"Hungry?" she said sweetly, holding the slice towards his mouth. "Is my love ready for dessert?"

"Lemme feed myself," he whispered. He couldn't resist some dessert—her cooking was so good, and after all, he'd already accepted supper—but at least he could claim some damn dignity in this.

"Oh, you'll just make a mess of yourself," she said smoothly, bringing the pie slice closer.

But Alrek, determined, managed to raise his hand up and weakly catch her wrist. "I won't," he rasped. "Let... let me... I'm not a child!"

She raised her eyebrows, and seemed like she wanted to object. A moment passed in silence save for the crackling of the fireplace. But then that pretty glint returned to her pink eyes, and she gave him a wide, indulgent smile. "If you want," she said, gently handing him the slice of pie and folding his fingers over it.

He took the slice, ignoring the little dribbles that fell onto his shirt. He was almost drooling. Nanne was sitting on the armrest, leaning against his shoulder, cooing in his ear as he slowly drew the delectable treat towards his open mouth—

And he just... dropped it. No reason, no anything. His hand just relaxed, and the slice fell right into his lap. Indistinct red filling spattered everywhere, as if he'd just been impaled.

He stared numbly at the mess of pie, then at his hand, then back at the pie.

And then he heard Nanne's sweet voice in his ear. "Oh, no. What did I say? Oh, poor thing..." She hopped down again, sighing. "Well... this is a mess. Allow me...":

"No," he mumbled, but she didn't seem to hear him. She reached over and started to unbutton his shirt. She was biting her lip as she did so, and her face seemed flushed—or was that just the lighting? "S-stop."

Her eyes glittered as she smiled at him, reached behind her, and procured a candy cane. "Open wide!" she sang.

His mouth opened, and the cane slipped inside. His lips closed around it. And as he sucked, he felt a strange calm fill his mind. The fuzziness in his head was only getting worse and worse, but he couldn't make himself care. He just enjoyed the sweetness of the candy, heedless of the way Nanne's eyes shone as she unbuckled his trousers and pulled them down to his ankles, heedless of the way his underwear followed. His cock sprang free. He really had made a mess of himself.

But when he felt warm breath brush over his member, his mind sparked back into wakefulness, and he frowned. With what felt like an exhausting effort, he spat the cane out.

Nanne seemed to be enraptured by his cock. It wasn't particularly large, as far as Alrek knew, but the way she stared at it, it might as well have been a giant's. Was it large by goblin maid standards? What standards did goblin maids have?

At any rate, it was hard. And fully erect from all of this attention. And now Nanne knew that.

She grinned up at him and locked eyes.

Her pink eyes sparkled and flickered. He stared into those mischievous eyes, his mouth hanging open, eyelids drooping. Protests died in his throat as he stared deep, deep, deep into those flickering rosy eyes.

Giggling, she reached up, took away the remnants of the candy cane, and undid the last button of his shirt. He felt her spread his shirt wide, baring his chest for her appreciation..

"Poor thing," she said sweetly. "You really can't feed yourself in this state, can you?"

"I... I..." The eyes crackled and smoldered. Alrek' mind was ablaze in lust.

Nanne hopped up and straddled his legs, a sly smile on her face. "We'd better avoid any future spills, haven't we?" she cooed.

He blinked. He yawned.

She reached over and procured another slice of pie, winking at him. "Let's try this again, shall we? Open wide!"

His mouth hadn't even closed yet. She slipped the tip of the slice of pie between his lips, and he compliantly chewed, let the flavor wash over him, and swallowed. She licked the handkerchief and wiped his face clean, then handfed him another bite. He docilely accepted.

The pie was bizarre. Alrek had no idea how to even begin to name it—it wasn't any berry he knew, nor was it any orchard fruit. It was tart and sweet, like pie cherries. The crust was flaky and buttery, and he was making an absolute mess of himself, knowing that Nanne would clean him up and craving more of the delicious treat. It was so sweet, so tangy and smooth and mind-melting and...