It had been over a hundred years at least since he'd last been summoned, and even one of the Fae could take only so much boredom before he started climbing the figurative walls. Fionn had just about reached his limit.

Spending most of his days and nights alone, he'd become a hermit, his entire world reduced to the four walls of his boudoir. On rare occasions he might take a walk along one of the beaches that ringed Tir-Na-Nog, but even then he did so in solitude.

There wasn't a single book or parchment in Tir-Na-Nog that he hadn't read several times and practically committed to memory, nor was there a single activity he hadn't engaged in over the years. Painting, sculpting, calligraphy, weaving -- he'd tried his hand at them all, and each had had similar disastrous results. He simply had not been blessed with talent in the usual Fae arts. There was really only one thing Fionn was good at, and that was the one thing he was no longer allowed to do.

He found the company of his own kind to be tedious. Conversation was stilted as everyone knew of his curse and would try to tiptoe around it, not mentioning it but certainly thinking about it. Fionn was sick of the sympathetic glances and tongue clucking. Especially considering that Fionn's peers spent most of their time indulging themselves in the one activity that had been forbidden to him. He, for one, took no pleasure in their company. As a matter of fact, he took no pleasure in practically anything anymore.

Sighing heavily, he thought that perhaps a walkabout would ease his mind, although he knew it wouldn't do much for the discomfort in his groin. As a matter of fact, it might make matters worse. Today was one of those days when Fionn's balls felt as swollen as a pair of casaba melons, and walking with them bouncing between his legs would be uncomfortable at best, and downright painful at worst.

Damn Danu and her highhanded curses. What had he done to deserve such a punishment? She'd acted as if he'd known that her attendants were off limits to anyone but her.

Well, in all honesty, he had known. But he'd been thinking with his cock at the time and it surely hadn't given a shit. The memory, as crystal clear in his mind as if it had happened only yesterday, still burned his ass, even after thousands of years.

"Fionn!" Danu had screeched, flashing into the room just as Fionn had been teetering on the edge of release, having spent the past half hour enthusiastically slamming his cock into the ass of Danu's -- as it turned out, favorite -- attendant. Hearing her shrill voice had deflated Fionn's cock as quickly as if someone had let the air out of it, softening it to a useless lump of flesh that slid out the whimpering attendant's ass to swing pitifully between Fionn's legs.

"Och! For fuck's sake, Danu! Couldn't ye wait another two minutes? Didn't ye ever hear that 'tis dangerous to interrupt a man just as he was getting ready to come? Do ye want to kill me?" Fionn had roared, too frustrated over his instant flaccidness and thwarted release to worry about to whom it was that he was yelling. He stared down at his cock, frowning, slapping it against the attendant's ass trying to force it back into its former iron-hard state.

Danu's thunderous bellow drew Fionn's attention to her, and when he looked over at her face, dark with rage, it finally dawned on him just what a dangerous situation his cock had gotten him into.

He'd never seen Danu turn that particular shade of red before. It wasn't becoming in the slightest, but, remembering at the last moment that she was the Queen and he a mere subject, he wisely refrained from mentioning it.