Author's Note: Hello my Pretties! And a happy All Hallow's Eve to you as we near the end of October. For my last Intoxication update I requested any ideas you guys might have regarding Halloween themes fics. I got a few bites. This story, oddly enough, wasn't one of them, but did come about because of a request I received. Lyra Lupin requested a Samhain (pronounced Sow-een or sow-ween) based fic. Samhain is the ancient Celtic celebration of the harvest and the death of the sun as the year moves into winter. This is NOT the fic I wrote her request. That one is called Into The Darkness and will be forthcoming. But while doing research for that fic, I came across a documentary on Amazon prime called "Samhain: Feast of the Dying Sun". It was immensely helpful for getting the creative juices flowing.

In that documentary they described a folk ritual in which nine young women prepared a "pancake" made from nine ingredients harvested from the earth. When the young women ate the cake they would supposedly have erotic dreams about their future husband. I couldn't find any other information on this "spell" or the ingredients used. Still it sparked the idea for a sexy, sexy sexscapade.

As always, Sofia is grown, proper adult age and all.

Lover Mine: Chapter One

The Imperfect Enjoyment

Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,

I filled with love, and she all over charms;

Both equally inspired with eager fire,

Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.

- John Wilmot, Earle of Rochester

Sofia believed in witchcraft. How could she not when one of her best friends was a witch and she resided with a live-in sorcerer? Still, she had her doubts about this particular bit of magic.

"Are you sure you know what that books says?" Amber asked, a subtle sneer on her lips.

Lucinda glared at the haughty girl. "I told you, just because my mother's grimoire is in codex doesn't mean I can't read it. She taught me my family's code."

"Well," she blond princess turned up her nose in distaste. "I am not eating that. I don't care if it assures I'll marry the maharaja of Timbuktu."

Sofia frowned, tempted to agree. The "cake" didn't look particularly appetizing.

"Look," Lucinda huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "We followed the recipe exactly. This should work. All we do now is cut it into nine equal slices, each eat out piece, and tonight you'll dream about your future husband."

Saturine and Pricilla, the two youngest witches giggle annoyingly. They'd been giggling all afternoon since they'd gathered in Lucinda's kitchen to work their erotic spell. It hadn't been nearly so annoying three hours ago when they were all tittering over the spell's supposed power, flushing and teasing one another as they chopped vegetables and mixed ingredients. Samhain was a time of mischief and mystery, the idea of working spells, calling forth erotic visions of the future, seemed the perfect way to spend a chilly October afternoon.

"Well, I'm not eating it," Amber declared.

Sofia met the eye of her witch friend, seeing Lucinda was on the verge of a wicked witch relapse, her hand twitching towards her wand, about to hex the blond princess. "Sorry," Sofia mouthed silently, pleading with her eyes for the witch's patience.

Lucinda sighed, hand relaxing around her hawthorn wand. Sofia knew the only reason Amber had even been invited was because they needed a ninth girl. Jade and Ruby thought of Amber as good company, but Lucinda could barely stand the young woman's high airs. Four other witches rounded out the group, all squeezed into the cottage kitchen, hurrying to complete the spell before Lucinda's mom returned and found that her daughter had "borrowed" her grimoire.

Ruby cut the cake into pieces, passing out each on a plate. She set one in front of Amber, who crinkled her nose further. Sofia took a cautious bite, not wanting all of Lucinda's hard work to go to waste. Chewing thoughtfully, she decided it wasn't half bad. An odd combination, made with a collection of harvest vegetables and fruit, she found the flavor intriguing. A staunch vegetarian (talking to animals will put you off eating them) she could appreciate and tolerate earthy flavors better than most.

The same could not be said for the other girls. Ruby took one bite, made a face and pushed her plate away. Jade made it three bite in, determined to know if Gregory the baker's son was sincere in his declaration of marriage, before she too gave up. Lucinda and the other witches, more accustomed to bitter potions and sour tinctures, almost made it, by in the end they all stopped short of finishing their slices. Only Sofia cleaned her plate, blinking innocently when the other balked at her.

"What? I thought it was good."

Amber dropped her piece in the trash, untouched. "I don't think you know the meaning of the word, if you think that was good. It smells like feet."

"Magic isn't supposed to be pleasant or easy," Lucinda chided, parroting her mother's words. Then her green eyes narrowed. "But, maybe that's not the problem,. Maybe you're just a prude and too afraid of a little wet dream."

Amber stomped her foot, her cheeks going flushed. "I am not a prude."

"Really," the witch's smile was sly. "Then prove it, Princess. Have any prince charmings been up your skirt?"

Sofia groaned silently, realizing the trap Amber had walked right into. If she refused to say, then she was a prude. If she said she'd never done anything like that with a boy, she was still a prude. The brunette realized then she should have given her sister greater warning about witches. They tended to have a different moral compass when it came to sex. Not that Sofia considered them lewd or debauched, they just tended to be a bit les constrained than the aristocratic gentry. Lucinda and her friends were raised to embrace their sexuality, not hide it in embarrassment, or lie coyly about their conquests.

But Sofia needn't have worried. Amber was a master of deception as well as distraction. She'd learned her skills in the royal court, the best school in the world for such things. She regained her composure quickly. "You know very well, Lucinda, a princess doesn't kiss and tell. But, if I were so inclined, I could say with confidence that a certain Tangu heir has very, shall we say, talented fingers. And I don't need your smelly old cake to tell me I'll be queen someday."

Amber's saucy rebuttal, complete with arched brow, sent Saturine and Pricilla off on another peel of giggles. Lucinda regarded Amber with a look of begrudging respect.

"What I'd be more interested in," Amber drawled, "Is who the young man I saw Ruby holding hands with behind the town warehouse."

All eyes turned to the sputtering Ruby and Sofia had to mental applaud Amber's tactics. She'd proven deftly that she was not the frigid ice princess others thought her to be, reminded everyone that she was the highest standing person in the room, and managed to turn the attention from further personal inquiries in a few masterful strokes. Sofia knew that Amber fancied their long-time friend Zandar, but she hadn't suspected that things had turned physical between them. In a way she envied Amber's resolve to capture a crown by any means necessary. Sofia hoped her sister would settle on a prince she genuinely cared from, but she knew nothing less than a prince would do for Amber's specific tastes. A prince and heir to his thrown to be very specific.

As Ruby fended off question about her mystery beau, Sofia felt a guilty relief, having the focus turn to anyone but her. All afternoon she teetered on edge, awaiting for the inevitable question why she even wished to participate in such a superstitious Samhain ritual. It wasn't that she was so eager to know the identity of her future husband, but more that she desired a clue that someday she would in fact find a man she wished to marry. So far, beyond the casual crush, she wasn't interested in any of her prospects. Instead she clung to her childhood friend, the one man she felt safe and comfortable with, but she suspected that would soon need to come to an end. At nineteen years of age now, she feared the time to cut ties was actually past due.

But the question had never come to her, and so she needn't fabricate an answer. Even Lucinda didn't seem that set on the results of her spell, having more fun participating in a silly tradition, surrounded by friends. And it was an enjoyable way to spend the last day before the festivities of the coming holiday. Tomorrow was October 31, the official start of Samhain. The festival would last for three days, the veil between realms growing progressively thinner as they moved towards midwinter, allowing passage between the worlds. Divination was common during this time, and their harvest cake seemed to be as reliable as apple peals dropped on the floor or egg whites dripped into water.

As they cleaned the kitchen, erasing all traces of their mischief, the good-natured teasing continued. They giggled over phantom lovers, swapped gossip, from both the village and the castle, and eventually set out to buy a snack of sweet apple tarts to erase the taste of their failed Samhain cake. By the time Amber and Sofia waved goodbye, heading back to the castle, the tiff between Amber and Lucinda was forgotten, as was the reason they'd spent the day with the witch at all. All that remained as Sofia brushed her hair and climbed into bed that night was the memory of the fun they'd shared. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips, never wondering what her dreams might hold.

When she woke, it was still the middle of the night. The waxing moon swelled, almost full, spilling its silvery grey light across the counterpane. Sofia snuggled deeper into her pillows, away from the fall chill. That she was dreaming didn't occur to her, until a pair of warm arms encircled her from behind, and she felt no alarm that there was a stranger in her bed. Beneath the downy covers, her skin lay bare, her nightgown gone. Behind her she felt the warm panes of a man's chest, a face nuzzling against her hair. They lay on their sides, fitted together like a pair of spoons.

His hands began to stir, stroking his fingers lightly up her arm, across her shoulder and down the slope of her chest. Warm lips caressed her shoulder and the back of her neck. His hand trailed lightly over the tip of her breast, stopping to tease the rosy peak to an aching point. She felt shivery and warm, content to let this stranger explore her nude body. Except he didn't particularly feel like a stranger, though she had no way of knowing who he was at all. She felt an intense notion of familiarity and comfort that he was here in bed with her.

His inquiring, patient touch skipped over her belly, sliding down her leg, rounding the back of her knee before coming back up to the apex of her thighs. There his fingers ghosted over her curls and she opened for him. He caressed her then, delving two fingers into her cleft, bringing forth and spreading the dew pooled there. Those same fingers dipped inside her channel, their passage eased by the eagerness of her body. His other arm wrapped beneath her neck, elbow crooked to clasp her opposite shoulder. She felt strangely secure in his embrace, not constrained or caged, but protected. She grasped his forearm as an anchor while her hips rocked to meet his thrusting fingers. Against her backside, she felt his manhood quicken, growing long and firm. When her crooked his fingers up, hitting a particularly sensitive spot, she moaned.

At that, he growled against her ear, fingers abandoning her dripping sex to grip her thigh. Lifting her top leg back over his hip, she felt the tip of his manhood glide between her lips. Spread open for him, he gripped his own sex, positioning the head at her entrance and thrust. Sofia cried out at the shock of it, but there was no pain, no fear, only pleasure. That and a sense of completion.

Fiery pleasure coursed through her, overcome by the sensation of being filled so intimately. When his hips withdrew all but the crown of his cock, she whimpered at the loss. He rocked forward, filling her again and again and again, and she answered him, flexing back to meet his thrusts. His hot breath against her neck raised gooseflesh all along her shoulders. His arms held her securely as there connection surged and ebbed, as timeless as the tide. She moved mindlessly now, seeking relief for the tension coiled low in her belly. As if sensing her need, his fingertips drifted down, finding the bud hidden in her fold and stroking just so to make her come completely undone.

Sofia spiraled in ecstasy, every muscle in a riot as he continued to pump in and out of her convulsing core. Groaning against her hair, he rolled her onto her stomach, hovering over her back with a hand planted on either side of her head. His hips ground against her backside, going deeper. Her soaked and quivering channel offered no resistance. Boneless from the onslaught of sensation, she lacked the strength to lift her chest and face off the mattress. Instead she settled for arching her spine, flexing her hips up to the ceiling, letting him take her as it pleased him. His hungry thrusts stole the air from her lungs, but sounds of mindless pleasure wouldn't stop pouring from her mouth. Insensible sounds that pleaded he continue despite her overwrought state. Somehow she never wanted it to end. The sound of his hips surging forward to smack soundly against her backside only heightened her frenzied state of arousal.

Just when she believed to be at her end, unable to absorb any more, he leaned down over her. The intimate press of their bodies, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, chest to back, cradled her with warmth. He kissed her back and shoulders lovingly even as his manhood pounded at the entrance of her womb. Warm fingers raked the hair from her ear and she felt his tongue caress the sensitive whorls there before his breath blew out in a throaty whisper.

"Teacht chun dom, a ghrá."

Sofia didn't understand his words, but the husky command called to something inside her. She sobbed with wanton pleasure, crying out as she crested the waves of ecstasy again and again. He tangled the fingers of his right hand between hers, gripping their joined hands tightly as he emptied himself into her, filling her with his seed. She collapsed in a heap, gasping for air with her hair splayed messily over her face. He gave one last, feeble thrust as he pulsed inside her and her body answered with a flutter of its own. He continued to caress her lovingly, kissing her shoulder, stroking her spine as he slipped from her, moving to lie along her side. She murmured contented sounds, too spent to rake the hair from her face or even turn her head. There she fell into an exhausted oblivion, only to wake alone in her own bed.

Sofia came to consciousness with a gasp. Her womb convulsed and she discovered she was rather embarrassingly grinding her pubis against the palm of her hand. When the waves of pleasure eased, she blinked her sleepy eyes open in wide astonishment.

Author's Note: Okay, so I know some of you are going: That was supposed to be Cedric, right? Why the hell is he talking in some whacked out language? Well, Lucinda said her mother's grimoire was written in code. In my little world, serious magic handling families keep their spells secret by recording them in a code specific to their family. One that is passed down generation to generation. It's highly secretive and wouldn't be shared with just anyone. So, yeah, he speaking to her in his lineage's secret language. Rather than make up a language, I used Irish on Google translate. Seemed appropriate since Samhain is Celtic. So, what did he say? Something kind of sweet and kind of dirty. ;)

Teacht chun dom, mo ghrá: Come for me, my love.

So, I hope to have a chapter every day or at least every other day. This fic will go fairly quick as it's all just for some holiday fun and I'm trying not to get bogged down worrying about character development and whatnot. There should be about 4 to 5 short chapters in all. And look for an Intoxication update before the end of the week.

As always, reviews, please! I cannot express how much I love them!