Aftermath

Author's note and disclaimer:

This is based on the book, but with a more mature concept of Howl's courting of young ladies and his moral code.

I do not own anything and write out of love of the story, not to benefit from Diana Wynne Jones' work.

AFF warning: HxS M/F, oral, stuff and SMUT!

000O000

Chapter 8

In which Howell comes to an understanding

Ingary is a land of natural beauty and the view outside of the Wizard Howl's moving castle was no exception. The steep sloping hills and flower dotted valleys glistened and glittered in the morning sun. The aforementioned wizard was not aware of it. It would be a mistake to say he slept through it however, as he hadn't slept much at all the night before. Instead he kept his nose to the grindstone, drawing and plotting out something quite massive. He'd ignored several knocks on his door since dawn, several calls to come sit for breakfast and the sound of concerned voices holding meetings outside his door. He intended to ignore all other attempts to get his attention as well.

“Howl?” He heard Sophie's voice at his door again. “There's a messenger here to see you.” Sophie waited, but so did he. “Um, should I send him away?”

He had to answer that, couldn't have her sending away paying work. “Do what we always do, woman! He's a damn messenger. Take his message and send him on his way.” He heard her snort and listened to her footsteps as she went back down the stairs. Howell stood, feeling empty and in need of a bath. He gathered his notes and kicked through the mess of blankets on the floor to find his clothes for the day. With a few spells, they should look fine again. He was just gathering them in his arms when he heard knocking again.

“Howl?” Michael's voice came through. “Can I come in?”

Howell felt he owed it to the boy and he was curious about the message, so he released the charms on the door and sat on the bed to wait.

Michael entered with a tray in his arms, laden with food Howell was unlikely to eat and on the side, a roll of new parchment. He followed Howell's gaze and shrugged as he set the tray down on the corner of the bed, leaning up against one of the side posts. “Sophie's, uh, idea,” he said. Howell gave a short grunt of acknowledgment and took the parchment. It was what he expected.

“Did you have a go at the spells?” He set the paper down and looked over the food. There were some cream puffs that looked interesting. Without compunction, he took one pastry and devoured it. Its sweet filling clung to his mouth and chin as he realized that the boy hadn't answered. He glanced up, setting the second treat down to focus on Michael. The teen was clearly uncomfortable and he doubted it was due to Howell's state of dishabille. He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

Michael shifted his feet, unable to meet his teacher's eyes. Howell waited. Michael cleared his throat and, as if he were the adult speaking with a foolish child, he said, “Howl, this is insane. You and she... You haven't been yourself since she came, really. First it was the curse, and now this sulking, it's too much. Look at you! I don't understand--”

Howell jumped in, “What you don't understand is everything, Michael! Martha's your first girlfriend. I can't count how many I've had.” He watched Michael steam up over this.

“First?! She's my one and only!”

Howell raised his hands and signaled Michael to lower his volume as he went on, “But I've never been in love before and...” He thought of the words he wanted and was pleased that Michael calmed down enough to listen. “And she's not making it any easier. She's been trying to manipulate me. I don't care if it's because of others; she's had the chance to show her love for me and she's failed. I don't want to lose her, but... what can I do?” He turned away from the plate of food. His apprentice stood with his mouth open. Howell shrugged and began to dress. They had several projects to start. He grabbed a piece of paper off of the floor and pushed it into Michael's hands. “Go make sure we have enough of these on hand. I'd hate to be halfway through and run out.” He looked at the slight blush on the boy's face. “You did look at the spells, didn't you? No? Well, don't stand there looking guilty, we've got work to do!” He smiled a bright grin at him. No harm done, he could do this part alone really and the boy would get up to speed quickly enough. As Michael assured him that he'd go see to the supplies, Howell stood and held the tray of food out for him. “I appreciate that you care Michael, but please don't get involved. I've got enough meddlers to deal with right now.” He waited for the boy to leave before transporting himself to the bathroom to shower and freshen up for the day. Another hot day, he guessed.

Grumbling greeted him as he emerged from his morning routine. He ignored Calcifer who stopped his complaints to Michael at the first sign of Howell.

“Work!” Howell shouted and Michael ran to follow him outside. From the size of the King's order, he guessed that the negotiations with Strangia weren't going well. Howell hated war, but his main concern was with keeping the death toll down, at least on Ingary's side. Not much he could do about the other chaps. The metal he and Michael wove through spell work and grunt work should help those on the front line. Just as he never used love spells when dating, he didn't use his home world's methods to helter skelter bring in technology. If he couldn't do it by magic, he didn't do it. When the solution to strengthening and lightening the metals came to him, he saw several uses, none of them for war. But, thanks to Sophie, the King wanted new chest armor for his soldiers and Howell would do it. He doubted Ben could do anything on this scale! The day got hotter and hotter as they worked out in the sun and finally Michael asked for a break.

Another solution, this one to a personal problem, had presented itself to Howell's mind. It was... unpleasant. Manipulative at its best, reprehensible at its worst and most likely to blow up in his face. Still, it was already in motion and he had to see it through. He was more comfortable dealing with spells than with feelings any day!

Howell went inside and up the stairs to the flower shop. Sophie, in her pretty blue dress, was sweeping up petals and taking an order for a future party from a pleasant looking woman in the dull, provincial dress typical of Market Chipping. He swooped in.

“Good day to you,” he smiled and the customer blushed as he knew she would. Sophie snorted and bent to sweep the debris into her dustbin. “You look like a beautiful rosebud today.” He pulled a pink rose from the air in front of the woman and she gasped as he handed it to her. Ignoring Sophie, he went behind the counter and pulled out a quill and paper. “Do you mind if I write your order down? I don't want us to forget a detail and ruin a perfectly lovely party.” She willingly repeated her order, inflating the amount of flowers needed as Howell's eyebrow raised here and there. She couldn't be see skimping.

He pulled the blinds and put out the sign that they were closed once he'd escorted the woman out the door. Sophie rounded on him as he locked up. “What was that all about? I don't forget details!”

Howell beamed at her. “Of course not, darling Sophie, but I do and you know Michael is so distracted these days with his lady love.” He took her elbow and began to guide her toward the castle entrance. She looked at him oddly, but he kept up a cheerful countenance and she seemed disinclined to upset that.

As they came out into the main hall, Howell let her go, but moved to her sleeping area, still bare since the destruction of his sheets. He turned to her. “Will you need help with packing, my dear? You can always come back to collect anything you may have forgotten, but I won't have your mother thinking we're stealing your belongings.” He pulled a suitcase out of thin air and set it on the cot. All eyes in the room were on him and he looked around to see confusion mirrored in all of them. “Well?” His grin broadened as Sophie didn't move. “Shall I help you, then?” He began to call various items of hers out of the workroom and packed them himself when they arrived. Boxes, ribbons and clothing bobbed across the room as if on parade.

To add to the festivities, the sound of knocking began. “Mansion door,” Calcifer called out. Michael ran to it, a pair of socks falling over his shoulder as he interrupted the flow of garments. Howell ignored the entryway as he concentrated on his task.

“S-stop,” she stuttered. Her voice sounded weak, not at all like the feisty girl he loved. Howell might have listened to her, but for the next voice that he heard.

“Howl! What do you think you're doing?” Calcifer was still in the hearth, his blue face flickering with emotion.

“Packing. Sophie here is going back to her family today. There's really nothing keeping her here and there's her mother now.” He kept his back to the room as Fanny entered, followed by a silent Michael. A small triumph, Howell thought. Perhaps Michael trusted his mentor to do the right thing or perhaps he was just too tired?

Sophie whispered, “Why?” but Howell pretended his excellent hearing had failed and ignored her. Fanny came to stand next to Sophie, putting her arm around the girl's shoulder and telling her how happy she was that her step daughter had changed her mind.

“What about her training?” Calcifer challenged.

“What about it? She doesn't want to listen to me.” He turned to face the women as they stood by the table, the parade of Sophie's belongings having ended. “Do you, Mrs. Knows-it-all? Perhaps you can drop by for lessons on ethics, though. You have some odd notions about that.” Howell waved an arm dismissively and turned back to the bed with the suitcase on it. He heard Sophie sit down heavily and smiled to himself. She was taking this as badly as he'd hoped she would.

Calcifer couldn't let it drop. “Howl, you idiot! You can't kick Sophie out. Who'll clean my hearth, huh? Who'll take care of us?”

“Kick her out?” Fanny cried incredulously. “Why, she doesn't need any more of your abuse!”

Howell turned back again. He didn't dislike Fanny at all. She was rather beautiful, perhaps only a decade older than Howell and she took care to always look her best, but that special anger she held for him soured his view of her. “I believe you're projecting, Mrs. Smith. The years of abuse you heaped on her as an unpaid worker are being confused with a few months work that I never asked her to do.” He was careful to keep his tone cool, his demeanor soft. There wasn't much chance of his plan actually working, but if it did, he would someday want her on his side. No hope of that today, however as she seemed to be torn between tearing out of the castle and tearing him apart.

Michael was watching with concern on his face, but was keeping quiet. Sophie's face was hidden in her hands and Calcifer flared up and down the chimney with anger. Fanny's indecision gave him the opportunity to speak to Calcifer, “Funny thing about that, Calcifer... There's really nothing keeping you here either. Perhaps you can find work with another wizard?” He walked over to the mirror on the workbench, all eyes following him as he pulled the fabric off of it, but didn't attempt to contact anyone, it was understood. “Imagine the fun you can have powering up Mrs. Fairfax's honey spells or maybe Ben can use you from time to time? I'm sure we can find you a nice placement with my recommendation, but as you've pointed out on so many occasions, I've been beastly to you. It's high time for you to take a break. If you like, perhaps Michael and I can whip up a second shell for you to use, you know, every now and then.” Howell smiled. Thin purple lips curled into a sneer as the fire demon digested Howell's words.

“You? Kicking me out? I built this place! It's my home! You told me that!” He didn't sound hurt, although Howell knew must be some of that, but primarily he sounded disbelieving. The logs hissed and popped with emotion. “I don't need another monkey suit. I'm done with trying to be like you guys; it's too confusing!” He towered up, his face in a demonic fury from the hearth to the chimney. “I'm the best thing you got going on, Howell Jenkins! Your power--”

“Will do just fine for us,” Howell interrupted, his voice calm and mild. “I have some plans outside for a flying castle, inspired by you, Sophie dear. How else can I hope to visit all the nice girls I have to apologize to? Michael and I will manage perfectly well now that we're not trying to dodge the Witch or avoid the King. Really, I'm surprised you're not both ecstatic.” He paused, trying to decide how thick to lay it on.

Calcifer roared, “A flying castle? Without me! I don't see how you think--”

Howell interrupted the demon, saying calmly, “I think everyone's getting just a bit out of sorts. It must be the heat. Don't you think it's hot out, Michael?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure?” The boy leaned against the wall, uncertain what role he was supposed to play.

“Well, it's too hot to ask Sophie to carry her own bags. Here, come and take these out to the carriage for her.” Howell held up the suitcase and a small bag. She had very little when she came, but had somehow expanded her stuff in the few short months. Michael approached tentatively, knowing Calcifer was glaring and Sophie sobbing into her step mother's hug.

“No.” The little gray mouse from Market Chipping whispered the word at first, then she said it again with slightly more volume. Michael stepped back, bags in hand.

“What was that? You'll have to speak up,” Howell said as he prepared a shield, just in case.

“I said, no!” She stood next to Fanny and put her hands on her hips. “You aren't kicking me out!” Fanny patted her back and told her that it was for the best. She signaled Michael to come, but he stood watching Howell and Sophie.

“Of course I'm not. Nothing of the sort,” Howell lied. “But you must admit, unless you want me to hire you as my cleaning lady officially, there's nothing keeping you under my roof.” He realized he'd stepped over the line when he saw the hurt on her face. His smile faltered. “Perhaps you should tell your mother the real reason you want to stay?” He waited as she grew red in the face.

Sophie turned to Calcifer first, but the fire, back to normal size now, effectively shrugged. His flame flickered and his eyes were large, but he had no help for her. She then turned to Howell again. “I don't know what you mean,” she said defiantly.

A heart is a great burden and Howell's gave a quick squeeze, maybe as a reminder that it was there. He kept his hand from moving to it though and schooled his face to keep a nonchalant expression. “You've had so many chances,” he said. His voice held more sadness than he would've liked. He covered it with a more aggressive tone. “Why! Tell her! Tell me.”

Fanny tried to hold Sophie again, saying that they should just go and leave him alone, that he was crazy and she was better off without him. As Howell predicted, that didn't go down well. Sophie drew strength in the form a deep breath and, looking at her hands, whispered, “I love him.” The room went deathly silent. It wasn't the way he'd want a declaration of love made, but it had to be done. “There,” she spat the word at him, her eyes searching his face. “Are you happy?”

Howell had to admit himself that he was, in an odd sort of way. It gave him hope, having it in the open like that. He couldn't show it, of course, because running to her now would ruin all the work he'd gone through to get her to the point she so effortlessly got him to all of the time. He kept his expression blank.

She flinched away. “I'm sorry, Howl,” she said softly. “I didn't mean to hurt you. Believe me, I am sorry.” She reached for Fanny's hand and started toward the door.

Howell couldn't keep his laugh out of his voice, “Apology accepted, Sophie Hatter.” He saw her back stiffen and she stopped walking, her hand held in midair as her stepmother tried to keep going. “And you know how I feel?” Not turning around, she nodded her head. “Say it,” he demanded.

Choking back a sob, Sophie started, “You don't ever love a girl once she loves you back.”

This time Howell couldn't stop himself and flew across the room, startling Fanny as he spun Sophie to face him. “Is that what all of this has been about?” he asked, incredulously. He clasped her to his chest as he looked at the fireplace. “Calcifer? Is this what you've been telling her?” There was no anger in his voice, just astonishment. The fire had no time to answer before Howell asked, “How could you think that, Sophie?”

He lifted her chin so that he could see her pretty blue gray eyes. “I can never stop loving you, cariad!” He placed a soft kiss on her lips, watching her eyes widen and then close as she kissed him back, a smile at the edge of her mouth.

Fanny cleared her throat. Howell and Sophie pulled back from their kiss, but kept gazing at one another, the magic from Midsummer's Day back in force for them both. “While that's all well and good, I would like to point out that it is still unseemly for you to stay here, Sophie. He's not your husband.”

Howell's face fell and he said apologetically, “I said I wouldn't ask you again.”

Calcifer found his voice. “If she goes, I will too, Howell. She's the best thing that's happened here since Michael moved in.”

Michael laughed and put down Sophie's bags that he'd held during all of the drama. Howell and Sophie both turned to him. “Well, in the common way, you guys are already married.” Even the crackling of the fire was silent for a moment. “Um, if you wanted to be, I guess,” he said hesitantly. Everyone stared at him as he went on. “It's like my folks... you know, sometimes people wait months to do the ceremony, but as long as you tell an official your intent and you live under the same roof, you know... um, consummating. It's the way lots of people do.” The teen blushed bright red, but his embarrassment wasn't noticed as Howell and Sophie looked at each other, mouths open. Michael forced himself to go on, “I think the King counts as an official and you guys have... well, the other morning when Sophie came out of your room. I thought you knew--”

He wasn't able to complete the thought. Sophie shouted, “Race you!” and was gone up the stairs. Her stepmother's dress waved in the wake. Fanny shook her head in disbelief before taking her leave.

Realization crossed Howell's face and he blinked out of the living room, appearing at the top of the stairs and catching Sophie up in his arms. “Cariad,” he whispered from under a shower of her kisses. “Are you sure?”

She nodded and looked into his eyes. “I love you, Howl, and I want our happily ever after. I don't need any rings or ceremonies. I want to make you happy.” She pulled him into a kiss and he laughed at her need which so resembled his own.

“Rwy'n dy garu di, Sophie. I love you,” he said before pulling her into his room.

Downstairs in the living area, Calcifer shrugged his way into his human costume and turned to Michael. “Close your mouth before you catch flies, kid. I think a walk is in order. Grab the boots. I know an inn we can get a room at.”


He could wait, Howell told himself, honest he could. He realized she was still a kid, just nineteen and still all elbows and nervousness. Not that age had been a factor for him in the past. He'd been ready to shag her seventeen year old sister after all, but Sophie's naivety held him back. He continued to kiss her as they stood in his doorway, his mind racing along it's multiple tracks. Marriage could wait; he could wait until he was sure she was ready. Howell kissed her ear as she pulled off his jacket and he laughed low as a button flew off into the mess of his room.

Sophie might not agree, of course! He pulled her fully into his room and closed the door, setting a silence spell. “Slow down, little mouse,” he said, pulling away from her to plant a playful kiss on her nose. This would have to be handled very carefully, judging by the stubborn set of her jaw. He didn't have the best track record with such things, but he had to at least try. Her hands busied themselves on his shirt.

“Cariad,” he said, starting to push her gently away.

“What do you mean?” Her brows creased and she stepped back, folding her arms across herself in a gesture Howell knew spelled trouble. As he opened his mouth she raised her hand. “Not the word, Howl... I mean... this...” She gestured to the space between them. He smiled at her intelligence.

“We don't need to rush, Sophie,” he said. “That's all. Let's wait until you're sure, until you trust me a bit more.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Don't think you're going to slither out of anything.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he lied. Well he wasn't trying to get out of anything for his own sake! In fact, he dreamed of getting her into his bed all the time. But, as the older and more experienced of the two, he thought he should naturally be the one to advise-- Howell lost all thought for a moment as she closed the space between them, pushing him hard against the door. The enchanted objects on it protested being crushed, but only he could hear and he wasn't listening, not to them. His will was melting under the onslaught of her kisses on his neck, his face, and then his mouth. She felt so good! He parted his lips, inviting her to deepen things on her own and she did. Her kisses were hungry now, no longer tentative. His hands brought her even closer and she ground her hips against him. His body reacted and he realized he was losing his resolve. A new approach was needed. Fast. Again he pushed her away, but this time he did so roughly. “Strip for me,” he said, his eyes half lidded with desire.

“Wh- what?” Sophie stood partway between the bed and the door, facing him, looking shocked. “Here?” She seemed to rally her courage. “Fine, but turn around.”

Howell shook his head, leaning back against the door, knowing his erection was visible in his Ingary clothes. He also knew she wasn't ready, but would she back down? Her eyes took him in and he hid his shame at her furious blushing. For a second he thought his plan might actually work; she looked like she might push him aside and bolt off. Then, in a flurry of fabric and layers, she was getting undressed. Howell almost moved to her, almost reassured her that he was only teasing and helped her get dressed again... almost.

I'm only a man, he reasoned. Standing straighter, he drank in the sight of her lovely skin being slowly revealed from under the layers of clothes, corsets, stockings and petticoats. She stood, hiding slightly behind wads of crumpled cloth and looking challengingly at him. He tried to put on the nonchalant look he'd had before, but gave up and advanced on her. Sophie backed up and hit the bed with the back of her knees. She made a little sound and Howell stopped. His breath caught in his throat. With a flick of his fingers, the clothes she held fell to the floor. She made to reach for them, but he shook his head and she crossed her arms and legs instead.

“That's not really fair,” she said. “You're still dressed.”

Howell stood still, about one foot away from her. This was everything he'd waited for, everything he wanted. Yet, he made himself hold back. As long as he could keep himself under control, he could salvage this. “There's nothing fair or unfair here,” he told her. “You can put this back on.” He called her under-dress from the floor to his hand. “If you're too nervous.” Contrary to the nice gesture he thought it was, it seemed to anger her. She sat on his bed, naked and without a trace of modesty now. He dropped the white dress to the floor, but didn't come any closer.

“It's not like I have anything you haven't seen before,” she said, attempting a casual toss of her hair.

Howell swallowed audibly. How could he tell her that it was all different? She had changed everything. Sophie was the only woman he wanted and he knew he would want her again and again. Her body was perfect, a touch more heavily muscled than he was used to, but beautiful in that strength. He used the moment to admire every curve and line that he could see. She had upped the ante and Howell decided how to call her bluff. He bet himself that he could please her and still leave her a virgin, thus keeping them engaged until she was really ready.

“Touch yourself. Spread your legs for me.”

She got the look of a startled animal in her eyes. Even as a ninety year old woman, she'd given him that look from time to time.

“Do it,” he said huskily. “Touch yourself, Sophie.” He stepped forward, using his right knee to push hers apart slightly.

She blushed. “I don't...”

“I know,” he said.

“I can't...”

“You're free to leave, then.” He gestured at the door behind him, hoping now she wouldn't take it. This had gone beyond a game. He lost himself to watching as she stubbornly moved her hands down. Howell felt at once excited and ashamed. He didn't stop her, though, as her fingers parted the hair around her labia. Instead he knelt, rubbing his face along her inner thigh as her fingers hesitantly danced along herself. He controlled his breathing, feeling like this was becoming a holy event. He would worship at her vagina if she'd let him, he smiled at the thought. Perhaps he'd explain Mass to her someday.

She gave him a defiant look, asking, “Like this? Is this it? Are you happy... oooh.” His fingers moved to assist hers and soon took over the work of rubbing her clitoris as she grabbed his shoulders. Howell deftly slid one finger inside the folds of hot flesh. Foreign yet familiar territory, he felt around for a hymen, not surprised that there was only a piece of the barrier remaining. She'd no doubt been an active child. The last clinical thought to cross his mind was that it wouldn't hurt her as much her first time.

Soon all thoughts of restraint were gone as he danced his fingers in and out quickly, learning all the sensitive spots in the entryway to her vagina. He listened to her breathing change, speeding up despite her attempts to sound normal. Her fingers clutched at his hair, just short of being painful. He looked up at her flushed face, managing to catch her eye just as she was about to close them in pleasure. She tried to shoot him an irritated look, but couldn't do it. Howell laughed lightly and moved his mouth over her sensitized clit. That earned him another look, this one wide with surprise, before her blue-gray eyes disappeared altogether and she moaned his name out in a long breath. The hands in his hair pulled harder. He kept his eyes on her face as his tongue worked her. Sophie took her hands off his head once she realized she couldn't pull him off that way.

She reached back to grab a fluffy pillow and hit him on the head. “Enough... too much... I can't... I don't know-oooh. S-stop, something's... ooooh. Oh, Howl, please stop. Something's happening.” Her voice rose as his ministrations continued. He felt her internal muscles moving, sliding, caressing his fingers and making her thighs twitch like crazy things.

Howell pulled his mouth back long enough to say, “Too much is never enough, Sophie. Ride the pleasure. Paid â phoeni!” As she laid back a bit on the bed, he murmured, “Trust me, cariad. There's my girl.” He ran his tongue along the outer lips of her labia, tasting the juices there and sending more shivers up her body, more noises from her throat. At least she was biting the pillow instead of hitting him with it, he thought, as he suckled gently at her clitoris. Fingers from both hands worked rapidly, in and out until she arched up and fell backward with a muscle clenching shout. His face and hands were wet, but he waited to clean himself off, kissing her thighs and stomach until she pulled up weakly on his shoulders and hair. He grabbed the pillow she'd hit him with and wiped his face, but waited and then slowly licked his fingers as soon as she opened her eyes to look at him, wonder and love on her face.

“Is that... was that....” she asked, unable to find words in the wake of aftershocks.

“Normal?” he supplied. She nodded gratefully. “Yes, cariad. What do you know of sex?” He slid his body alongside hers on the bed and she propped herself up on one elbow. She reached for his shirt as she spoke, but he kept deflecting her wandering hand as she caught her breath.

“Well. I've seen animals, of course.” She looked seriously at him and still managed a slight blush. “And I've heard my parents. Um, my father and Fanny, I mean. Oh, and it leads to babies. We learned a little about that at school.”

Howell nodded, holding her hand and looking at her face. He had expected an orgasm to calm her down, but she seemed even more persistent. “Sophie,” he started to explain why they needed to wait, but she took this chance to kiss him hard. He rolled with her momentum and found himself looking up at a very naked, very sexy woman. “Sophie?” he whispered her name, stunned by the hungry look on her face.

“I can't help but notice that you're still dressed, Howl.”

“Safer this way,” he replied, but her look got stubborn and she slid off of him. He cursed quietly as her body left his. How could he have a chance of convincing her to wait if his own body disagreed?

“Strip.”

“Sophie,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “This isn't a good idea.” She gazed back at him just as calmly, her hands on her hips. They stared at one another for some time.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves, clothes. Hiding that beautiful man away from me.” She said this in a conversational tone and he had to admire the strength of her magic as he felt it take hold. “Get off of him this instant. Don't tear, but don't tarry.” He could've fought it, negated it with a counter spell, but there was something extremely hot about being undressed like this. Howell imagined the future with another magic user; they could do some... unusual things together. He wriggled to allow the shirt to move. The cool silk slithered off. The thought of semi-sentient clothing charmed to strip him was disturbing however. He'd certainly have to disenchant them, couldn't have that happening elsewhere. Howell made a note to add this to her ethics of magic lesson... but not today.

His breath came quickly as his suit eased itself off of his legs, falling into the untidy pile of clothes and bedsheets on the floor. He lay back on the bed, passively waiting. She admired his body much as he had done with hers. Howell wasn't the least bit embarrassed by her scrutiny. “I want to see all of you. I don't think you need to hide behind those glamours anymore. Spells, you are due a break.” Shock ran through his veins and Howl sat up, his hands going to his face.

“Sophie! That's going too far!”

“No,” she said. “I want to see you, the real you. If this is the start of our lives together--”

Howell didn't mind that his body was open to her inspection, but he'd spent years perfecting the spells he used to beautify his face and hair. “No!” Already his hair spell dissipated and he felt the others, the ones that prevented the world seeing the plain man he was, falling away as well. “You're too cruel!” He curled up into a ball on the bed. “You want me to be ugly! I won't marry you, you mean hen wrach!” This was the lowest cut of all, he thought; making him jealous was nothing compared to making him insecure, although he was arguably less dangerous in this state. “Go away!” As usual, his words had the opposite effect on her and Sophie came closer, her arms going around his shoulders. Being naked together didn't seem quite as arousing to him now. “Just leave me alone,” he simpered.

“Hm,” she lifted his head up by his chin. He glared back at her like an angry child. “That's what I thought. You vain peacock of a man! You don't need magic to be handsome.” She kissed his lips and let him go, stepping back. “I'll bet you can't even see a difference without all that stuff. Well? Can you?”

He tried to glare at her again, but a tiny spark of happiness lit in his chest. She didn't think he was horrid; she wasn't repulsed at all! He hid his smile, watching her for a few seconds with his head under his arms, trying to decide his next move. Sophie, still untroubled by modesty, began to sort through the clothes on the floor, finding their things and separating them. That woman couldn't stand idleness. Within minutes of watching her work, his body remembered what it thought of Miss Sophie Hatter and why it was naked in the first place. He started to uncurl slightly, a plan forming. He faded from view as Sophie straightened up. “Howl?” she asked the air. Howell walked to the door, opening and closing it before walking back to stand next to her quietly. Sophie stood, staring at the door, a slightly hurt look on her face. “Oh. That silly man,” she told the bed. “He's gone to put his spells back on. Really! He doesn't need them at all.” She picked up his clothes and held them to her chest, sitting on the bed and sighing as she looked at the door.

Howell sat quietly behind her, reaching around her body. She gasped. He kissed the back of her neck tenderly and his invisible hands roamed her chest, enjoying the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips and the quickening of her breath. “That had better be you,” she said. “Back so soon?” He didn't answer except to suck on the side of her neck. She bent her head away to give him more access. “Mm, am I forgiven?”

“Always,” he whispered into her ear, letting his spell fall away as he nestled in her hair, resting his face along her shoulder. He'd never felt so truly naked, no magic at all between them. The feel of her skin on his body, the silky rubbing of her hair trapped against him, his fragile self control broke. Howell moved his hands, turning her to face him on the bed. She sat with his suit still balled up in her hands and seemed too stunned to realize, so he took it from her, setting the clothes aside even as his small voice of reason politely suggested he put them back on. He scoffed at the notion, but it did cool his ardor momentarily. Howell looked at her face, flushed and lovely. Her gray eyes were wild and her lips red and slightly kiss swollen. He watched her bite them quickly.

“Howl? Please,” she whispered as he stared at her mouth. Howell shivered. Such a simple request. He thought of how this one simple act would bind them together and she was still so young. She should be out dating other young men, enjoying her freedom, her youth. No. He'd die if she ever chose another and this was his chance to claim her, to keep her with him forever. He growled as he rubbed his face against hers, fighting to keep some scrap of control over himself. The feel of her soft cheeks, her breath warm and quick, before he knew it, he was kissing her again, pushing her down against the sheets. She kept her gaze on his, the trust shining there doing more to stir his passion than even her body could.

“Please,” she repeated, running her hands along his chest. Instinct and need overtook him, driving his movements. His hands ran down her sides, pulling her to a better position on the bed. Howell took his place between her knees, but ignored the pressure of her legs behind him as he leaned over her and took one of her breasts in his hand. His lips played around her sensitive pink skin while his tongue teased the nipple itself. He suckled as she arched her back into him, moaning his name. His other hand slid slowly down along her stomach. She stopped straining upward once his hand settled on her warm sex. His thumb played roughly across her clitoris. She whimpered now that she knew what to expect from his fingers. He was pleased to feel that she was still moist. Many virgins required lubrication for their first time and he didn't want to stop.

Howell believed in symmetry, so he moved his mouth to her other breast and her hands hit against his shoulders in the time between his lips leaving one and touching the other. He chuckled at her impatience, although his own body was already straining for release. Experience was useful, he mused, as her hips began to thrust against his hand. He kept his touch shallow, wanting her to feel the difference when the time came. Sophie seemed unsure about what to do with her hands. She moved them hesitantly along his shoulders and arms, but as he released her breast, trailing his tongue along her chest, tasting her skin, she used them to pull him in for a desperate kiss. Taking that as his cue, he lifted his lower body, rubbing his wet fingers along his shaft where her fluids mixed with the first of his. He pulled his mouth away from hers, watching her face and moaning softly in Welsh about how wonderful she felt to him. Howell thrust into her, as slowly as he could manage.

Back when his father decided they should have “the talk,” Howell had already learned enough in school to scoff it off, but one thing his father said stuck with him. “Sex is great, son, but it's always better with the one you love. Always.” He thought he'd known what that meant. Hadn't he loved each girl, at least at first? At least a little? He shook his head as powerful sensations wound around him. They moaned together, lips seeking each other, tongues sliding paths toward bliss. To think, he could have this, have her, whenever he chose... he groaned, releasing her mouth to arch up as his hips met hers fully. He looked down at her smiling face. He'd expected a grim look, most girls did when their barrier came down, but she beamed up at him and he nearly cried with happiness.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concern in her voice.

He laughed, kissing her nose and rocking his hips gently. “Never better, Mrs. Jenkins.” The movement brought a gasp from her, so he did it again and again, adjusting the angle and depth of his thrusts to elicit the most noise he could. She put her hands on his hips and he let her guide his rhythm for a time until she was comfortable and thrusting against each stroke on her own. Howell wasn't sure that he could take much more of this exquisite torture, but he wanted her to lose control one more time; he needed to feel it from inside her.

“Sophie,” he hissed in a harsh, low voice. “I'm going to move you. Relax and try to follow.” She nodded, her eyes closed, face glowing with sweat. With his hands on her flat stomach and under her back, he gently turned her while pulling her hips close to his, trying not to lose contact. She switched her legs underneath, moaning as she found herself on all fours, crouching on the bed, but still connected to Howell in the only way that seemed important. She cried out as his fingers deftly played with her clitoris and then her breasts. Her hands clawed at the sheets and she crouched forward, ginger hair covering her face, trying to let him in as deeply as possible on every thrust. His free hand almost spanked the ass that presented itself to him, but he checked the action, rubbing it instead. This was her first time and she was already more responsive to him than he'd dreamed. Everything else could wait. He was completely enveloped in her heat as the walls within it began to shake, tightening around him in spasms as she called out. He started to lose control, thrusting in short, fast strokes and grunting in a primal way. His muscles began to tighten and he fought for control, but this time his body wouldn't be denied. At the last possible second, he moved his hand to his dick, pulling out and coming along her thigh instead of inside her. His full weight fell onto her back, and he shivered with the effort of trying to regain control as his penis finished its climax against her leg. She stayed still, supporting his body and watching the mess drip along her leg. He hugged her waist, then released her and rolled off to lie next to her, looking up at her beautiful face. “By all that's holy, I love you,” he said.

Sophie smiled, but a crease of worry lingered near her eyes. She rolled over onto her back and he snaked his arms around her shoulders. He pulled strands of hair away from her forehead. Howell was as near to contented as he had ever felt in his entire life. An Ingary girl in a Welshman's bed. He smiled and breathed in her scent, happy now that she never fussed with perfumes. She looked up to the canopy where the spiders were trying to re-establish their tiny web homes. “Um, Howl?”

“Mmm.”

“Why... um...” And she pointed to her leg, the glistening white stain on it beginning to cool in the air.

“Oh,” Howell said, shifting himself upright. “Worried about pregnancy,” he explained. “Children are lovely, but I am a selfish man. I want you all to myself for a little while. We can talk about better methods later.” As she seemed to contemplate this, he bent forward and then alongside her and moved his mouth toward her inner thigh. She gasped as he snaked a tongue out and lapped along the quivering skin.

“Isn't that, I mean does it taste good?” she asked.

“Neither good nor bad,” he answered, his voice amused. “Would you like?” He rubbed a finger in the cum and put it to her lips. Her eyes showed her hesitancy, but after a moment, she took his finger into her mouth. She licked him as he watched, familiar stirrings warming his groin. All too soon his finger left her sweet warmth. “Well?” he whispered.

“I don't know. Maybe. I only tasted a little salt or your finger,” she said truthfully.

“If you give me a minute to rest,” he said lowly, “you can taste it again.” His penis twitched happily at the thought, but he was still nuzzling her thigh and enjoying the afterglow.

“You mean... that is... Can we, um more?” She blushed.

Howell had been reveling in her lack of shyness, so he considered how best to handle this. “I think the point of 'happily ever after' is doing whatever makes us happy. We can make love as often as you like, whenever and however you like. You only have to tell me. There are no rules, well... damned few anyway.” He searched her face, his future hanging in the balance. She smiled and his poor heart jumped for joy.

“I love you, Howl.” She pulled him up for a kiss and his skin slid along hers, but he felt as if he were floating on air. Howell thought, maybe getting my heart back really had been worth all the trouble.

000O000

A/N:Language disclaimer: Welsh is the oldest of the Celtic languages in use today. It is a beautiful and difficult language and I've done the best I can, but as a non-native speaker, errors will occur. Feel free to alert me to any that you find. Pronunciation isn't always what you'd expect and there are letters that don't have an equal in English. You can find many good resources on the web. I particularly like the BBC's http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/welshathome/ for information on learning the language.

Cariad: Beloved
Rwy'n dy garu di: I love you
Paid â phoeni: Don't worry

This story was a lot of fun to write. All reviews are appreciated. Really. Hot? Or not? Let me know. I really do respect the source material and I hope that conveys.

There is a clean version at ff.net. If this squicks you, you may want to re-read it there but the inspiration was this smutty version and the story suffers slightly since some of the sex is integral to the story.