The course of true love…

BY : SPGinc
Category: > A Midsummer Night's Dream
Dragon prints: 120
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Shakespeare or A Midsummer Night's dream & make no money from this. Any resemblance to real life people/events is coincidence.

Lost in the forest, preparing to sleep on the ground and relying on soft heather to keep them comfortable- that wasn’t like her. Hermia had always prided herself on her level headedness. Even her decision to elope with beloved Lysander had not been an impulsion of the heart; she considered it to be the only sensible thing to do in the name of love, rather than remain with the husband chosen for her, Demetrius. Now she was preparing to sleep in the outdoors like wild Indians in the stories she listened to as a child.

While it had been Lysander’s idea, having confessed “And to speak troth, I have forgot our way,” it was Hermia who had so readily agreed to it.

“Be it so Lysander: find you out a bed; for upon this bank shall rest my head.”

The decision was, again, one that she considered the practical solution, yet the very thought of it was so… primal.

And yet she couldn’t deny the very childlike shiver of excited anticipation at the thought of such base behaviour. She was in the very deepest, darkest depths of a towering forest, about to spend a night like a savage, alone except for a strapping young man who was also her true love, who barely had his passion in check if the kiss he’d given her after she ‘d agreed was anything to go by.

Hermia paused with her dress halfway down her arms. As soft as her patch of mossy ground was, sleeping in her clothes promised to be uncomfortable enough to keep her awake all night, so once again she’d decide to do the most sensible thing and remove them. But now, kneeling in the dirt wearing nothing but her corset and petticoat, she could feel the weight of male eyes upon her. She turned her head, and sure enough she found Lysander gazing at her from where he lay a few feet away. The look of humiliated guilt that crossed his face as he was caught staring exaggerated the boyish look that his young face and coal black curls gave him, but his obvious inability to pulled his gaze away from her half undressed form was a potent reminder that he wasn’t a boy.

Hermia smiled, both complimented and embarrassed by the attention. The blush she felt running down her face and over her exposed crest and arms felt so hot that she was sure her skin must have been matching the colour of her hair. Trying to stifle the spot of joy dousing her whole body, she gently admonished him.

“Gentle friend, for love and courtesy lie further off. Such separation as may well be said, becomes a virtuous bachelor and maid. So far be distant, and goodnight sweet friend. Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end.”

Lysander looked undeniably disappointed- she wasn’t sure how she should feel about that- but he offered a smile in return.

“Amen to that fair prayer say I,” he said, slightly more chirpy than one would expect “Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest.”

He settled back down on his makeshift bed. Somehow Hermia didn’t feel that the matter was completely settled. She wondered if she should open the topic for further discussion or, more sensibly, move somewhere out of sight in case temptation prove too much.

Against what she considered to be her better judgement this time, Hermia did neither. She could not in good conscience say she loved Lysander if she did not also claim to trust him. She would sleep where she’d settled, in plain sight of her beloved with no doubt or fear, though admittedly she changed her mind over loosening her corset laces.

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Hermia awoke with an odd feeling of contentment. A contentment that felt strangely intrusive at the same time. It was still dark- she hadn’t been asleep for long. Dimly she felt her torso shifting as though she was heaving, yet she was neither out of breath nor feeling sick. The young woman bleared down between her arms as she registered a pressure on her chest that seemed to be the nexus of the sensations afflicting her.

A hand was slapped firmly around her breast.

“Lysander!” Hermia bounded to wakefulness with a yelp. She rolled from her side onto her back to find the young man sprawled across her body, his head above her stomach, gazing at her from over her bosom.

“One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; one heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth!”

Hermia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She looked over to Lysander’s bed in case he was still there and it all turned out to be a dream. His bed was empty, and to her surprise all Hermia felt was the relief that her mind did not have the capacity to conjure up such a vivid fantasy.

“Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, lie further off yet, do not lie so near,” Hermia pushed herself out from under her love, propping her head up against the truck of a tree.

“O take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!” Lysander sat alongside, looking down on her, speaking almost breathlessly with passion. He pulled away something at his waist.

“I mean-”

Despite both the words of her suitor and her compromising position, Hermia exploded with a giggle that she strained to stifle with one hand. Lysander was as naked as a robin! She felt neither the shock nor horror that a lady should feel if she found herself lying in a deserted forest with a naked man leaning over her. That very clearly went against level-headed reasoning.

Lysander too laughed if sympathy, but continued speaking.

“I mean that my heart unto yours is knit, so that but one heart we can make of it.”

He paused, looking deeply into her eyes, and the intensity of his gaze acutely reminded Hermia of her own half naked state.

“Two bosoms interchained with an oath,” Lysander continued to serenade her. Hermia pushed herself nervously into a sitting position; nervous partly because of Lysander’s invasive proximity, but mostly because of the heat in her body his closeness brought, her heart beat increasing in tempo till it was as if it was massaging her chest from within. She took slow deep breaths, struggling not to pant as her lungs suddenly seemed to empty.

“So then two bosoms and a single troth.”

Hermia was uncomfortably aware that despite how much she’d pushed herself back from Lysander, her position meant that her breasts were left thrusting ahead of the rest of her body. She could clearly see her own plunging cleavage in her peripheral vision, and with Lysander’s face so close to hers now, he must surely be able to see it as well. More than that, but she could not bring herself to try and move to hide that vulnerable part of her body. If anything she was fighting an impulse to push her body forward, her flesh seeking of its own accord to accentuate herself to further entice Lysander…

Or perhaps seeking something more substantial than mere attention.

Hermia was almost afraid- not of Lysander, but of the sudden loss of control of her own body. She knew well enough, as it was written, that she could not turn one hair of her head white or black, but this mutiny of her own self was beyond reasoning.

“Then by your side no bedroom me deny: For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.” Lysander finished his poetry with an attempt at a seductive smile and brazenly stole a kiss from his love.

At this, Hermia felt somewhat reassured, though her rebellious sensations didn’t subside. She was not being confronted by a stranger but by Lysander, the man she loved and had agreed to run away with. The feelings within her, while unnerving, were merely the by-product of their boundless love. And truth be told, she could not deny having felt similar things when alone with her love before, admittedly never this strongly- never like this.

“Lysander riddles very prettily,” she smiled at him. Then, just as a gesture of endearment, and to pacify her restless desires, she took Lysander by the chin and kissed him deeply. He returned it eagerly, and it went on longer than usual as he pushed his body against hers.

They fitted together very snugly.

Hermia assured herself that she had sated her needs for now, but joined Lysander in a second kiss as soon as the first ended out of pure indulgence. She insisted to herself that she was now satisfied.

Then Lysander, still locked to her lips, ran a hand over her chest, and her desires were inflamed again.

“Ney gentle friend,” she reminded him, pulling his hand away and drawing back but still continuing to kiss. She felt his hands move to her sides and grip her. His hold was possessive, aborting her attempt to move away, manifesting her own lack of control of her body. A tickling feeling fluttered through Hermia as her sweetheart’s hands crawled up her thorax. For a moment she thought she might giggle again.

Then Lysander’s hand once again found its way to the twin mounds of her chest. Hermia realised the feeling she sensed in her body was not one of tickling but of an excited tingle that was agitating her passion till she could barely hold herself back from Lysander’s less than chaste advances. She grunted in protest and pulled back; the situation had completely ceased to feel childishly rebellious, and was spiralling deeper and deeper into illicit.

However, Lysander seemed to misinterpret her behaviour- either that or he disagreed with it- because as she fell away from him, not only did he follow but he took her by the hips and pulled her bodily away from the tree so that she was flat on her back, in the perfect position for him to lie right on told of her in his nakedness.

Hermia yelped into her love’s mouth at the weight of his body upon hers, the feeling of absolute contact reaching her through her undergarments like they weren’t even there. Concerned with how far he was going, she grabbed at his sides to push him back, but her touch only seemed to excite him even more. She forced herself to calm down and pushed gently against his shoulders instead, but gave that up even quicker when she realised that the touch of his skin beneath her hands was exciting her!

Hermia stopped dead as the need to resist reached perfect equilibrium with an urge to surrender. Hermia couldn’t deny the desire she felt or the need to explore it, but she couldn’t allow them to go ahead with this act. Lysander was her beloved but they weren’t yet married, and they were lying out in the open forest having just run away from the city to escape the law that forbade their union. It was neither the time nor the place to consummate their love. She could well appreciate the young man’s reluctance to stop, and was agreeing with him more and more by the moment, but it was just… so unlike her. Nothing about what they were doing was sensible or practical. Hermia endured the impasse for a while longer, body splayed beneath Lysander’s helplessly, too busy fighting herself to resist his heaving body and wandering hands.

Then, as she felt his seeking fingers running down her back, by intention or perhaps blind luck, they pulled away the knot in the lace of her corset. The cord slipped free from where it had been tied at the small of her back and unlaced all the way up her spine. The tightened fabric loosened from around her body, and with that last sensation something broke free inside of Hermia.

The only response she could muster was to moan into Lysander’s mouth.

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The sound of Hermia’s throaty, pleasure induced moaning nearly drove Lysander wild with passion. The intensity of their predicament was incredible. He’d never experienced anything of such magnitude with Hermia before- never in his life in fact- and yet both he and his love were melding together as competently as if he was Don Juan himself and she were Venus.

The two lovers were flush against one another, yet they fought to increase their closeness, writhing against each other in their desire. Lysander could feel the contours and curves of Hermia’s body so completely that he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. Their bodies quivered sympathetically with desire, chests heaving, scraping against each other, with him as the bow and her as they instrument from which impossibly sweet notes of music in the forms of his sweetheart’s groans joined their intimate meeting, coming up from deep within her soft belly, muffled as they spilled from her mouth into his. He responded in kind with deeper, more guttural moans as they fed each other’s lust with voices of approval.

The thought jolted Lysander. No, this was not a matter of lust. He could barely keep track of his own body through his excitement as his beloved’s arms wound their way around his flesh and attached themselves to his back with caresses, but he knew all the way down to his bones this wasn’t an animalistic act of want and possessiveness. This was merely the very peak of their mutual agreement to unite their very selves; their agreement to submit their persons to one another. The bedrock of this agreement was true love. No other woman could make him feel like this. Even as his passion was inflamed to even greater heights as Hermia’s legs unexpectedly opened and rose up around his hips to seize him, enough of his conscious remained to let him know that this meeting was a matter not of mere flesh but of the heart, unique for them and them alone.

With the conviction that there was no right or reason why they should not join together like this, Lysander’s enthusiasm increased tenfold, and his hands rushed to explore any part of Hermia he had not already enjoyed, running over her face and neck, invoking a shudder as his ten digits flowed down her. They found their way inexplicably to her rump, and, with a cheeky grin concealed by their incessant kissing, he squeezed tightly.

Hermia grunted in surprise at the rudeness of the action, arms and legs tightening about him as she clung like a monkey to his ropey body. Her eyes snapped open, having been closed in carnal bliss. She met Lysander’s and saw the playful spark in them. Even he had to admit that his attack was nothing less than an over presumptuous invasion of privacy, even taking into account their erotic behaviour. Fortunately, Hermia was able to see the funny side of her loss of dignity at the hands of her lover. He felt her own lips stretch into a grin as she sniggered into his mouth, casting aside inhibition as gladly as she cast aside the restrictive dogma and uncompromising laws that would have kept them apart, and revelling in the sexual pleasure shamelessly.

Rather than close their eyes again, the lovers held each other’s gaze as their desperate need became revealed to each other, heightening their arousal even further. At the start of their indulgence Lysander had almost lost contact with the remainder of his senses as all his efforts had sought to enjoy the touch of the girl beneath him. Now, as they delved deeper with wanton abandon into territory unfamiliar, relying on basic instinct to guide them to each other, the young man found that all his senses had awoken to serve harder than ever, granting him a heightened awareness of every factor of their situation. The shadows of the forest were all consuming, yet Hermia’s whole body seemed to glow in the darkness like an angel of beauty, her eyes shining into his like the sun and the moon coming together to bless the expression of true love taking place beneath the trees. Every moan of joy, rustle of a moving body or the stroke of a hand rang in his ears as loud as a morning cock crow. The taste and smell of Hermia was truly something to behold; a powerful intoxicant that awoke a hunger in Lysander he never even knew he had, and that sated that hunger no more than it increased his appetite for it. The days efforts had doused most of the woman’s jasmine perfume, and the raw taste of her mouth and smell of her body was something that put him in mind of vanilla, but far outstripped anything that was not heavenly of origin.

All these things Lysander strove to endure as they threatened to overwhelm him, yet more compelling than all this was still the touch of Hermia’s slender, soft skinned body against his, and the young man decided he had to have more.

Lysander released his beloved’s posterior from his punishing grip and reached for the shoulder straps of her corset. He pulled them down, but unfamiliar with women’s clothing and so distracted with his feasting, he managed to get stuck trying to remove the garment. The mating couple once again found themselves letting out stifled laughter through mouths gagged by intruding lips, before Hermia assisted, and together they striped her naked.

Lysander reluctantly pulled back to give her the room needed to extract the thin fabrics from her body, but the sights of Hermia shedding her clothing more than made up for it. He was completely captivated to see the young maiden’s whole body flexing with her arms stretched high, head thrown back as she allowed him to pull the obstructive corset up and away, exposing her thrusting bosom in all its glory. She looked at him as the undergarment left her arms and boldly granted him a coy smile in place of the expected embarrassment. The image of her allowing him to drink in the sight of her nudity was so alluring that it was all he could do not to urgently rip away her petticoat as she began to remove it with what seemed exhausting slowness. He managed to remove her stockings without help; he forced himself not pull them away sharply but to gently roll them down one at a time over her knees and off her feet. Each motion left her shivering with anticipation.

Now free of all barriers, both those born of reasoning and those created by the modesty of clothing, the lovers paused to acknowledge their incredible undertaking. Any disappointed felt from the delay in their coupling was draining away in the face of the swelling desire as they acknowledged each other’s and their own nakedness in the presence of one another. Lysander held his partner’s torso firmly, and she vice versa. Hermia’s legs gently curled around him again with a limber agility he couldn’t have imagined resided in her dainty frame. A heel found his rear and caressed with outrageous abandon. He pulled himself close to her, and as he slid into place their hips came into contact. They gasped simultaneously as the most intimate organs of their bodies met, his an aggressive shaft of hard masculinity, hers a smooth mound of demure femininity. The lovers held themselves together as they used the touch of their nether regions alone to explore the parts of their bedfellow that was the very expression of who they were.

“Lysander,” Hermia croaked. “Oh good Lysander, best belov-mmph!”

The voice of the one he loved was all it took to rob Lysander of the last of his control. He fell upon the girl, plunging his tongue adventurously into her mouth, lapping at the sweet taste, drawing her so tightly and completely into contact with his whole body, one hand across her back, the other on her rear. She obliged his assault by capturing his physical form with her hungry mouth and all four of her limbs, pulling and sucking him hard against her, tender inner thighs caging his hips next to hers, arms embracing him with the strength of a lion. They writhed against each other once again, the intense flesh on flesh friction invoking impossibly more passion but not slowing them down. Hermia’s magnificent globes heaved harder and harder into Lysander’s firm chest with each panting breath. The increased tempo of their ambitious romping gave no time for deep chested moaning. They grunted rhythmic instead, too caught up in each other to worry about the obscene noise, the disobedient perversity of it adding to the moment if anything. Anyone who might happen by and hear the row would surely mistake them for fornicating swine. But to Lysander, his sweetheart’s shocking sounds of enjoyment could well have come from pigs for all he cared, for they surely must be pigs grazing in the meadows of paradise to have lent their sound for Hermia to voice her pleasure.

Driven by a sudden impulsion, Lysander broke his lips free of Hermia’s. She all but whimpered from the loss but he endured her pain, knowing his next act would atone for the cruelty.

Hermia cried out with sensual joy as Lysander’s mouth found a breast and drank deep. He satisfied his curiosity with the pleasing discovery that Hermia’s mouth did indeed taste like the rest of her. Her unique nectar of faded jasmine and vanilla sweetness went down with a salty taste of sweat that rose up on her skin as pinpricks of evidence as to her state of excitement. The tingling bud of her breast expanded to bursting point in Lysander’s mouth, even as he franticly swallowed as much as the flesh as he could, gulp after gulp, his beautiful Hermia gasping out her love for him with every mouthful of her he helped himself to.

With a sudden wild need, Hermia jerked Lysander’s head to her other breast, mewing for attention, her hands alternating between running through his hair and groping blindly at his back. He gave the second side of her bosom the same treatment as a free hand massaged the first possessively, but the time for investigating each other was coming to an end. He could sense it in the twitching of her legs and the shuddering of the mounds in his mouth and hand- she was so ready for him, and he for her.

Lysander abandoned his ministrations and moved above her. Hermia came forward to dote upon the peaks of his chest the same pleasure he had given her. He groaned her name as he felt her warm mouth teasing the sensitive points, and he rejoiced to himself as the affection off her reciprocation served as a reminded that this delicious seduction was not some chance encounter or whim but a seal of undying love.

Lysander pushed Hermia down onto her back. She looked surprised for a moment, but then she realised what he was doing. He felt her body tensing as they balanced on the precipice of absolute, and he prepared himself for the charge.

There was a single moment of pause, a deep breath before the fall, and then he lunged into her, breaking through her barrier in an instant. She cried out in pain, and the sound pierced Lysander as though the pain were his own, dulling the pleasure of his entry. They embraced each other again, sharing gentle kisses to sooth away the shared pain. The hurt passed soon enough, and the pair took the opportunity to smile wordlessly at each other, having passed the point of no return.

The small interlude ended the same way their lovemaking started- abruptly. Neither of them was sure who it was who moved, but they did, and when they did they both felt it. They were both connected to each other, conjoined at the hips.

They had become one person.

Both of the lovers cried out in joy, their pleasure reaching such a height they were surely feeling the other’s delight as well as their own. Lysander shuddered uncontrollably as Hermia’s inner walls closed around him, squeezing tantalisingly. Whatever limits presented to the young lovers by inexperience were dispelled as the primal knowledge in the heart of every living creature made itself known to them. Lysander’s body moved in the ancient rhythm of love, rowing with long and powerful strokes, and Hermia moved with him, mirroring his actions so that when he drew back she did as well, and when he surged forward she met him. They were slow, delicate in their sensitivity, but as they began to gasp at each other the beat increased. They moved faster and faster, stroking each other towards the moment. Lysander grit his teeth in effort as something powerful began to build inside them. Both he and Hermia’s gasps died away as they focussed on the growing pressure.

The feeling was both terrifying and glorious. It swelled up inside them, pressing out against their chests, their stomachs, flashing through their loins with shocking force. Both Lysander and Hermia marshalled all their strength as the power summoned by their passion coalesced at the point where they were joined and lifted them to the final peak.

The young couple fell into the final apex of desire together. Lysander let out a strangled cry while Hermia openly screamed with passion, limbs tangling around each other as they rocked back and forth through the storm of the moment. Hermia’s entire body contacted hard around Lysander from both within and without, and the alluring motion they made was suddenly assisted by the feel of Lysander’s seed rushing through them both. They couldn’t withdraw from the chaotic peak, and they didn’t want to. They clung to each other for dear life as the storm washed through them, until at last the floated into a final blissful calm.

The two bodies settled in the warm glow of the aftermath, both cradled together in ecstasy. The deed done, Lysander’s arousal began to shrink, even as Hermia quivering innards tried to hold onto it, clenching in their final shared spasms of pleasure.

Finally, their most secretive organs slid apart, and one person became two again.

There they lay, unable to articulate words. Hermia and Lysander remained entwined with each other as they contemplated the wondrous thing they had just shared. To them the moment seemed to last forever, and they would have let it so, but it was Hermia who at last drew back from the mysterious world they’d entered and returned to the real- ever the level-headed one.

With casual effort she pushed her beloved away so that she could look into his eyes. Her smile was dazed as she tried to focus on her lover, still holding onto the divine moment with a corner of her mind despite being too sensible to remain completely lost in it.

“Gentle friend,” she whispered as a hand appeared to caress Lysander’s cheek. He kissed it lovingly in return.

“An oath we have made,” she said gently “but now, to your bed. Such separation, if but for appearance sake only-“

“-becomes a virtuous bachelor and maid,” he recalled her words from earlier, and smiled back at her to show he did not object. She was right, of course. His restraint left much to be desired. He was not ashamed of what they had done, and from her smile and the disappointment in her eyes as he moved away from her suggested she wasn’t either. But they had sated their desires for now, and though their love was in no dispute, they were still unmarried and too close to the city to be free to be together. They would not spend the night together as a couple would but sleep apart, in Hermia’s own words ‘if but for appearance sake only’. The time for true married nature would come, but it would not be tonight.

And so, in agreement, they bid each other goodnight, Hermia passing a garment of her own at random for Lysander to recover his modesty with before slipping her undergarments back on, politely refusing Lysander’s assistance. The man departed for his own bed, and once they’d settled the two of them quickly found sleep, exhausted by the nights activities.

The night proceeded as before, and it seemed as though it would pass without incident. That is until a certain creature happened upon the scene- not a human but a creature from the world of fantasy.

Puck reacted with surprise to discover humans in the forest, before frowning as he looked at the distance between them, turning his head from Lysander to Hermia.

“Pretty soul,” the fairy creature mused before looking back at Lysander disdainfully. “She durst not lie near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy...”

The End



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