It was a dream, and she knew it was one, but that didn't make her savor it any less. Dreams like this were like the most pleasant of memories. In fact, they were the perfect mix between what could have been real and what was no only fantasy. She was atop her lover, a man broad, younger than she was with a mane of dark hair and scars of battle across his hardened body. Dark hair like a mane was atop his head and between her fingers as she hunched over him and the two ignored the light of the fire to instead tilting their heads opposite for the sake of gaining more room for their tongues to twine together. Wet, warm sounds mingled with the breathy groans of satisfaction they sung in chorus crackled like the fire in the hearth across her chamber.

"Yes," he hissed in his voice that was husky with lust, like pure desire itself had ruined his ability to speak like any civil man. "My Queen," he gasped, and grasped her womanly hips with a firm but loving grip that guided her motions. For his strong hips launched her up and kept her in place while she lowered herself back down onto him with a wild smack that let sweat spring from their bodies and made their faces brush tighter together.

The scent was strong, the smell of familiarity, affection, and carnal desire. Their faces were red as they hovered together, and sex had washed from them any shame. It was replaced instead with an endless need for more and more of the other. The queen felt her lips were almost sore from kissing him again and again, and shocked though she was to feel how greedily his tongue explored her mouth, she was happy to oblige it.

In fact, she was encouraging it with a wicked smile, and rewarding him his efforts by plunging down more firmly to draw from his lips a sound he would otherwise be ashamed to make in front of his soldier companions... even if it was one that was brought on by the delight that was their queen.

Then, in response to her own subtle teasing, his hands shifted. It was not necessary to hold and push her hips; she had all the control she needed of them, so after giving her rear a good squeeze to make her squawk as he had, he roamed his touch upon her. Like a blind man feeling for the world, he stroked her shape and committed it to memory. There was want, need, and a pure curiosity that only a woman's body could invoke in a man and it was all in his touch.

One hand eventually came up to cup one full breast so that his thumb worked circles around the hardness of her nipples. The other kept going higher though to wrap into the queen's own hair. With his fingers around the back of her head, he held her down to him. Her body was hunched in a way most unlady-like atop him, but he only wanted her more because of that. "Yes," he repeated, panting against her lips. "I love it when your hair is down," he gasped as her locks curled in his fingers, dark, soft, and full of her familiar scent that was enough on its own to drive a hunger to his crotch. And as a result, his tongue filled her lips once more while his ardently thrusting hips came up to meet her with increased vigor only natural of their rising need.

When she came atop him, she screamed. Her hands were upon his chest, splayed across the hard muscle. She drug her fingertips into him and shouted in his face in a way she would find shameful were she not so far gone to even know she was doing it. Her body heaved atop his, clenching from head to toe as he slammed into her and held it in to her quivering excitement.

That drew out of him his own pleasure. His orgasm exploded into her warm, wet and white even in the amber glow of the roaring fire behind. He was then heaving, panting hard for air as if she had drawn every last inch of it from him. Though at the same time her body was all but collapsing atop his.

But he caught her, pulled her in rather than letting fall and at the same time rolled across her wide, royal bed to place himself atop her where the hot weight of his body could press into hers like a heavy blanket. They both needed to catch their breath, but that didn't stop them from trying to nudge their lips together as they did. The queen raised and closed her legs around him to keep his manhood inside her while her arms wrapped possessively around his neck and encouraged their continued kissing that seemed to have only slowed in pace, and not desire.

"Hmm," came the long low sigh from the man's lips. It reverberated through his chest and into hers such that she could almost feel it between her legs. She tightened them momentarily in response and they both grinned together. Time had drawn on, though it hadn't seem like much had passed. They were locked in the temporal rip that always followed sex of such an intensity. "My queen," he said, his tone formal in a playful way.

"Yes?" she responded in the same playful tone, but now his was growing serious.

"I need you to do something for me... you must keep your hair down all day for me," he instructed her. "You must..."

Then, she woke up. Into the morning dawn flying through her windows, the queen breathed out. "Of course..." and was hit with the weight of reality. She had duties to perform, though she lay in her damp sheets still toying with the throbbing between her legs her dream had left her with until she heard the knock at the door that signaled her servants coming to fetch her.

And when they entered, her day truly began. There were half a dozen of them, three of which were needed to carry the water for her bath, which she sat in while the others scrubbed her and what remained made her bed. Gowns were brought before her to pick from, though none particularly mattered to her. Dresses were just clothes, and she had no one anymore she cared to flaunt herself for in them. Her lover was almost a year gone now, and she had her husband and his jealousy to thank. If he wanted her dressed in a tighter dress then he could take it off of her like the other man had, and kiss her underneath it as he had...

But when it came to doing up her hair, the queen swatted at her maids. "I'm leaving it down today," she informed them, to many a incredulous look. "No not even pinned," she responded firmly. It'd just been a dream, but that dream had made her happier than anything else had in ages. It would give some fun to her queenly duties through the day that day to toy with her hair and remember how he'd breathed: I love it when your hair is down.

So followed hours upon hours of niceties. Her husband welcomed his lords and retainers. She smiled for them and curtsied before them. She was happiest to see her sons come back with their own new wives, but she hardly got to speak with them for her husband monopolized their time and their wives were too stiff when speaking to her; they played the part of noble ladies too well, it seemed. And the only other thing that the queen had to occupy herself with were the papers her husband didn't want to busy himself with. She kept everything in order, helped transcribed what had been said and reminded her husband of things his much older mind had forgotten.

When the day came to an end, she couldn't be happier to return to her bedroom. She didn't share with her husband, and hadn't for some time; that was better for them both, though it always had struck her as a cruelness that he refused to even accidentally touch her in his sleep.

She could have been undressed by her maids, but she wanted to do it herself. She wanted to pack the fire herself and wanted to wear the clothes she still had from her lover that she'd hidden in a chest underneath stacks of queenly documents her maids wouldn't touch and her husband was even less likely to care about.

His pants fit her hips well, though the legs seemed to engulf her. His shirt was too wide at the shoulders, but her breasts held it up anyway and best of all... it smelled like him, even still.

She ought to have prepared for bed after the last light of the sun went down through her windows, but she sat on the floor in front of her fire instead. She was proud of how she'd built it up, and it's warmth was the closest she'd felt to a loving embrace since her all too realistic dream the other night which she was still letting bounce in her head. Memories of it began to draw her hand down between her legs when a scream from the hall startled her to her feet.

By the time she got to the door someone forced the lock through. It was her personal guard... or well, her husbands that he assigned to her. He was careful about who he let do the deed now, after how much the queen had come to like her last guard. Thankfully, the man outside didn't recognize the men's clothes on the queen. There was too much otherwise to be concerned about. He was armored, his eyes wild. "You have to come. We're under attack!" his urgency was punctuated by the way he yanked her from her room before she had so much time as to get shoes or anything else she wanted.

"Thank god for pants," she thought to herself as she struggled to match her guardsman's sprint. They took her to a stairwell, down one level so that they could bolster themselves at the castle's heart. A common room for the nobility, their servants, and the king's retainers was there on the third floor so as to be a blockade between the more exposed lower levels and the king and queen above. Yet for this attack, the royalty was being drawn to the commons too, likely because the guard considered the upper levels exposed too. Perhaps that meant they were under siege from heavy weapons, or that the enemy was using ladders.

The queen was willing to bet on the latter, and though disheveled she was, she kept level headed and went to the girls. As queen, she saw it as her duty to be the leader to the all the women of the castle. Panicked as they were, she tried to rally them together so that none got in the way of the men. Their castle was a monolith. Even under siege weapons it would not fall easy, and come morning they would have the light to return fire.

Of course, they would never make it that far. For the force attacking them was beyond simple siege engines, beyond the force of even an army... or at the very least, very much beyond the current king's army. The entire castle rumbled as it entered, shattering stone and wood like it was charcoal and dried twigs. Shouts came and more men hurried past to the stairs. The queen heard their footsteps drift off as some descended down the stairs while others shouted. "Blockade here! It can't possibly break this choke!" The captain's tone was unclear whether or not he meant to be a statement in confidence, or an order.

Regardless, the future he wanted to impress upon the world was a fantasy. The screams reached the third floor in a cacophony. The queen herded the women to her and frantically looked around. She had to get them away, but there was nowhere to go! "C'mon!" she hurried them the way she had come, back to the stairwell that went upward to the fourth floor. They could make another fortification of their own. They could hide themselves and hope that the invaders knew mercy.

The last thing the queen saw was what made her lose all hope. They were not under attack by anything of this world.

There was a turn around the corner across the commons that went to the hall which had the stairwell to the lower levels of the castle. The guards had been positioned there, with their king behind them "leading." In an instant, the several dozen men in the hall came churning back around the corner as a mass of twisted limbs and frothing blood. They splattered on the walls, their swords all broken and twisted as if made from fabric rather than steel.

And when it got a hold of the king... his death was most gruesome. Something like a dark shadow hurled itself from the quickly darkening castle halls like a block of stone falling from a great height. The king was no doubt dead on impact, but the savagery of the attacker was not through. As if with a vengeance it snapped his head in half at the jaw. It folded his spine until it snapped and then slammed the ball of meat that was left so hard into the stony floor of the commons that the queen could feel the floor under foot shift.

Then it turned upon her. It was a dark cloud, blacker than night, frothing with burning plumes of orange and red like an over stoked furnace. Something like eyes glared at her and she dared not wait to return its gaze. "Hurry!" she urged her girls on, shoving those who were struggling in their dresses.

At the top of the stairs there was a heavy wooden door, banded with iron. The queen slammed it shut and yanked the cross bar over it, though she had no confidence it could stop what was coming. "To the chapel!" she urged. This thing was unholy, and only God could save them now.

But could and would were very different things, and though the chapel was just down the hall and around a corner... they never made it. There was on thump, and then an ear splitting explosion as the door was ripped to shreds like a blanket. Sudden heat rushed down the hall enough to make sweat instantly bead on the skin, and just as quick it was upon them. The queen was at the rear, and she felt it swirl around her, hot and oppressive. It was a weight measurable except in the toll of the screams it brought.

In the wild dark that came, the queen saw bounce past her a head. It was one of her maids, her hair in a braid, her skull was in a similar pattern now. And slammed into a nearby wall was the tattered remains of another girl with her hair done up atop her head in a bun. Another, whose hair was simply tied in a simply knot in preparation for bed had her skull and everything in it revealed.

The queen was frantic, rolling until she thumped into a nearby wall. She sat herself against it and clamped her hands over her head so that she would at least not have to see anymore carnage. She was crying, though the tears weren't coming. It was a deep wracking emotion that made her feel more sick than sad. She couldn't breath right, and she could only hope for a quick death. Only... it never came.

And after what felt like a lot longer than it was, the queen willed herself to look up. The floor was dark, and the burning lights within the roiling darkness flickered off some liquid that was covering the entire ground. It had a reddish tint to it and the smell of iron was strong, but the queen wasn't looking at the floor. In front of her was a shape like a man. It was a black swirling fog, smokey and ethereal, but it's writhing patterns coiled upon itself as if a person was just about to step out... only there wasn't. The shape was entirely the black smoke itself in the form of a man, his chest heaving, arms clenched, and his face blank save for the demonically burning eyes that seemed a source of all the terribly black smoke.

He was looking down at her, staring hard as his chest went up and down in silence heaves. The queen stared back, petrified with her long hair in her hands that were trembling.

Finally, a voice cut through the ringing silence. "Oh-ho. What is this?" asked a sweet, almost cheery woman's voice laced with cruelty. She emerged from the swirling smoke very much a real person. Her own hair was dark, long enough to reach her hips, and her skin was creamy and seemingly untouched by anything but her dark clothes. A intricate star shape hung from her neck, and rings adorned her fingers. "I see," she purred, smiling down at the queen. "You recognized her?" she giggled and knelt down. "Oh... the hair," she took one of the queen's locks in her hand and twirled it around a claw like finger. "Kept it down, huh?" she smiled. "Hmm... I see I didn't contain him as good as I thought... but you're not going to be trouble for me, are you?"

Hello! Sorry for bringing a bunch of blood to your sex subreddit. But I did give you sex too! And hopefully I'll get to give you more! First, let me summarize the story above for anyone that got confused or who skipped to the end first before committing the time to reading.

So, the queen here had a lover from her old guard. It was an affair, but as much an emotional as a physical one. The king didn't like that and had her partner sentenced to death. And now, about a year later, the angry spirit of the lost lover has been conjured up by a witch who wants to take over. She empowered his angry spirit and set it loose on the king's castle. Only, the presence of the queen's lover invaded her dreams, and warned to keep her hair down. In that way, even enraged by the witch's magic he would know her and keep her from harm.

Where the story goes from here is the point of the post! Would you like to play the witch herself, who has to decide how she can draw her new demonic pet to her side fully? Or will you play the queen who is the only person that could possible wrestle control of this new monster from the witch and in doing so get to see her lover again in at least her dreams.

Obviously there will be sex fun along the way, but story stuff too! So let's save the details of the sex for when you message me. Speaking of which, you may not be sure what to send! This is a wall of text and I all too well know the discomfort of trying to respond to something big and imposing (not a pun!). So I'm going to tell you now, as simply as possible: You can send me any sort of response. If you just want to express to me what you liked (or didn't) about my post. Do that! If you've been inspired and want to write this whole thing again from your own perspective. Do that! If your frazzled and unsure what you want to say but you want to say something because you I could be a good partner for you... then just say so!

I'm always happy getting responses, big or small, long term or short term. If you liked my writing but didn't like this prompt then don't think we can't work something else out together. I have tons of old prompts and I'm not at all against coming up with something entirely new either.

I hope to hear from you!

(Also forgive me for not proof reading...^pls)

3 Day Edit: Prompt is still wide open. Don't let the age detract you from responding. I've got upvotes but no messages yet, so all you stop being so shy!