Pseudo-Erotica for marks

Here's a snippit of the faery tale I'm handing in tomorrow. It has yet to be edited, but I'm posting it anyway because, why deprive the world of the filthy stories I keep handing in! When I'm done posting this one I'll post a bit from my short story I'm handing in on Friday. Don't judge, just enjoy (Quemple is a faery by the way, and the Prince is a male version of sleeping beauty. Mmmm context):

Quemple slipped out of her cottage and made her way to the Prince’s room. Everything was still. The air smelled of dust and lost bodies. She entered the Prince’s room, pointing to light the candles around his bed. He looked so delicate in the soft light. His masculine features still seemed new, even after his hundred year slumber. His lips were soft and slightly parted. His skin was pale. His hands were not calloused and rough, as he had not been permitted to go work in the woods. Quemple breathed in his beauty as he slept so peacefully. The effects of the last hundred years did not register on Quemple’s body at all. Her eyes showed the wisdom she had gained, but her skin was still smooth, her hair still shiny and flowing and her body still taut and young.
Quemple approached his bedside and gazed at the body before her. She felt the tingle she had known only once before. He did look like his father, but he was not the same man. She did not want him to be the same man. She summoned her powers to her fingertips and drew them along his thighs releasing his dressing gown and exposing his skin. She removed her robes and traced her fingers along the softest part of him. She felt a response in her own body as her magic aroused him to a state of delicious hardness. She climbed onto the bed and placed herself on top of his sleeping body. With one hand she guided him into her and began sliding her body up against his. She sat up and continued the motion. The body of the Prince began to stir. Quemple began to feel the hot sensation of pleasure. She reached down and drew the Prince’s right hand to her lips. She traced her tongue along the edge of his finger and just as she felt her body quiver she sucked his fingertip and released the cursed splinter. The Prince regained consciousness as both of their bodies shook with climax. He was madly in love with this woman at first glance. The Prince said nothing as Quemple lay down beside him on the bed and held him in her arms. He felt safe and beautiful with her. He knew that she was his one true love. They did not need words. Quemple was satisfied that the Prince was hers.