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majicka2021-03-17 08:45 pm
eternalmagic) wrote in majicka2021-03-17 08:45 pm
waiting for the moon to rise
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve
Ostara is approaching.
It's been a long winter, but that doesn't bother Mordred much. He's seen plenty of long winters before, worse ones than this, and having Wanda to share the cold nights and bitter winds has made this one of the best in a long time. They're restricted by nothing, except perhaps her occasional responsibilities, but Mordred never minds waiting for her to return. Sometimes he'll travel to where she is so that they can enjoy the local flavor for a while. Sometimes he'll simply escort her home. It's worth it to be in her company, even for a little while.
If he'd been asked whether he saw this coming when they met, any denial at all would have the taste of a lie. Even knowing the risks, Mordred was drawn to her from the beginning; her very existence is intoxicating to him, a reminder that there is no limit to magic, even beyond what he himself can ever aspire to become. He couldn't have resisted. In the end, he tried very little.
He lights a fire in the hearth with a gesture, and turns to look at Wanda, silhouetted in the window by the light of the cold moon. Her power comes from beyond this world, he knows; fitting, then, that she should be so unearthly beautiful.
"What are you looking at?"
There was a time when Wanda regarded Mordred with apprehension and approached him warily — she could feel the allure of the magic that radiated from him; it was so intoxicating it frightened her. The knowledge that he possessed over magic and the world was impressive; she often wondered who knew more, him or Strange — it would be interesting to watch the two of them have a battle of wits. In addition to his knowledge, she felt the darkness and pain that lurked beneath, and in the end, that is what attracted her to him the most. That he might have an understanding of the turbulent emotions within her, that they might bond over that, and he wouldn't look upon her with pity the way her comrades often did.
She never imagined things would get to his point — he opened his home to her with the vast knowledge that he possessed along with his body and heart after some time. It was strange how things fell perfectly into place. He was patient, understanding of her apprehension, and before long, she felt herself longing for him in ways she was afraid to experience — she wasn't sure she could handle the pain of being hurt again.
Mordred's voice pulls Wanda from her thoughts, her eyes shifting from the moonlit landscape before her and seeking out his familiar figure in the firelit room. "Trying to figure out the best place to moon bathe Ostara. I think I remember a few of your books stating it is best to do it in the nude," she chuckles softly at the thought, reaching a pale hand out toward him.
"I was also admiring the forest, how at home it feels here and also reminds me of the comfort I felt in the woods that surrounded the outskirts of the city I lived in as a child. Pietro and I spent hours wandering them together. Our mother often feared that Baba Yaga thought we were lost and took us as her own." Wanda's eastern European accent easily comes out with the ease and comfort she feels with Mordred.
He loves that accent, so well different from anything he grew up with, no matter how long ago that might have been. Mordred approaches her, reaching out to take her hand in his own as soon as he's close enough to do so, and loops their arms around her front so that he can slide up close against her back. The sky is very bright for so late.
"Even if my books didn't suggest it, I certainly would," he murmurs by her ear with a little grin, keeping his voice low even though it's only the two of them. "There is a lake just down the mountain, and no Baba Yaga to terrorize you, I promise."
Without unwrapping his arms from around her waist, Mordred finds her hand again and presses his palm to hers, lacing their fingers very loosely, lifting it up in front of them. "At a time for celebrating balance and new life, I would certainly celebrate you."
There is a swell in Wanda's chest the moment their fingers connect, a fond smile sliding across her lips as he wraps his arms around her. Wanda happily leans into his embrace, her head tilting back to rest against his chest.
"I was almost certain that was your handwriting I saw in the book, scribbling that little note there," she teases, enjoying his closeness and the sound of his voice soft and low against her ear.
She feels the heat begin to radiate from her cheeks as she flushes slightly, thankful she's facing the window and he's behind her. Wanda's fingers easily curl around his, enjoying how easily and comfortably her fingers fit between his. "Celebrate me? What and how would you celebrate?"
"Do you even need to ask?" he says to her, in that same secret tone. "Within yourself, you balance power with control, constantly in growth with one another. Your place in this world, with the feeling of otherness. The earth with the stars themselves." Mordred leans his head down to the side of her neck and presses a soft kiss behind the curve of her jaw. "And you've risen like a phoenix from the ashes of one war after another to claim a new life that you make for yourself. Why don't you tell me, Wanda, who exemplifies the spirit of Ostara better than you?"
Her eyes flutter shut, and a shaken breath escapes her parted lips as she tilts her head to the side slightly — giving him better access to her neck. Even with all, they have been through and all they have shared, it is still strange to receive the amount of praise he gives her. For so long, she hated herself, and her abilities for disaster, destruction, and despair seemed to follow her, but he urged her to hone her powers — to do more and be more. With his nurturing guidance, she has blossomed into something she never imagined she could be.
"I don't think I can ever see myself the way you see me," she says softly, her freehand not entwined with his reaches back, gently sliding through his hair to cradle the back of his head. The truth is that she could enter his mind to view herself through his perspective, but she enjoys the mystery of how enamored he is with her. "I have only been able to accomplish this much because of you... Before I was limited on what I could do, the other Avengers wary of my abilities, and I couldn't blame them since I lacked a true understanding of what I could do."
He chuckles softly, closing his eyes at the sensation of her fingers slipping into his hair. "If you could see yourself the way I see you, you might not have much use for me at all."
Mordred kisses her again, and then again, leaving a short little trail down her neck to her shoulder, and he brings their hands back to her body to spread against her stomach with the lightest pressure. "You would have found your way. I believe that with my whole heart. But it's been my honor and pleasure to walk this path with you."
Then he gently loosens his hold just so he can turn her around to face him, her back to the window, haloed by moonlight. "Would you like me to tell you more about how magnificent you are? Or should we practice for Ostara instead?" He grins, just a touch wicked. "Inside or out."
"You can't be replaced that quickly; I can think of at least ten other uses for you off the top of my head," she teased as she continued shifting her fingers through his hair, enjoying the comforting feeling. However, her hand paused once he started trailing kisses along her neck and shoulder.
Wanda trembled, her mouth slightly ajar as she sucked in a sharp breath; it was unfair how easily he ignited the fire within her and how much she craved every inch of him. "You say that, but I feel like I would have walked a darker path without you by my side helping me along the way. At least take some credit."
She looked at him now they were facing one another, a flush to her cheeks and a smile tugging at her lips as her eyes lovingly scanned over his features. "That's unfair; why can't I have both?" Reaching out, the tips of her fingers touched his face, enjoying that wickedness. "Out."
"To tell the truth, I don't think I could be stopped from telling you how magnificent you are."
Maybe it's too much, the way he showers praise upon her; it would certainly seem excessive from the outside. But Mordred has lived a very long time and never seen or met anyone like her. She deserves whatever he can give her, and there's no one on this planet except her who could tell him that enough is enough. She might even have some convincing to do. He slips a hand into her hair, cradling the back of her neck.
"Kiss me first."
Wanda's eyes fluttered shut as his hands slid through her hair, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she struggled to open her eyes. Reaching out, she took his face between her hands, thumb brushing against his cheeks as her smile widened.
"So demanding," she teased before closing the distance between them with barely half a step forward, her chest pressed against his as she leaned up to press a kiss against his lips. A gentle moan came from her as her eyes drifted closed once more, her head tilting slightly to deepen the kiss.
A warmth goes through him whenever she touches him like that, one he knows he hasn't felt in a very long time; it could cause him trouble, thinking like that, so he doesn't, and instead just lets it happen without thought of any kind, except for how much he wants her to keep doing it. Over and over. So there's nothing else he has to think about, ever again.
It's not realistic, but it's such a nice story to tell themselves for a little while. Mordred answers the kiss eagerly, pressing deeper as if he could somehow taste the moan she let slip against him, and he pulls her as close as she can be, one hand slipping down her back while the other stays in her hair. His own eyes slide shut, after a moment; there's no sound, no real sensation, but suddenly there's a night breeze on their skin, softness under their feet, and when Mordred lets the kiss break they're standing outside under the bright moon.
For a moment or two, all he does is look at her. "If I didn't know that you were a star child, I think I would realize it sooner or later, seeing you in this light." Then he leans in and kisses her again, just once. "We owe the moon a gift, for illuminating you so well. So I'll offer your pleasure up to her. I'm sure she'll love that."
A thrill of excitement runs through Wanda's body as their eager lips moved together and their bodies are drawn to the other. Her back arches, pressing her chest flush against his as his hand slips down the curve of her back — leaving a trail of goosebumps along her skin in the wake of his touch. Often Wanda marveled at how alive he could make her feel with the simplest of touch, and she cherished each and every moment she had with him — understanding the risk of loving someone like him.
Her toes wiggled, and feet shifted against the soft earth beneath her feet, a smile tugging at her lips at the marvelous work of magic to bring them here from their house. Mordred never ceased to astonish her with the capabilities he had with magic; being able to share in their abilities was something she was constantly looking for before they met since she was the only magic user she knew of.
"It seems selfish to only offer up my pleasure to her," she said as she removed one hand from his face; it trailed down his chest, slowly slipping under the hem of his shirt as the tips of her fingers mapped out every hill and valley they came across. The other hand stayed pressed against his cheek, her fingers curled against his jaw while her thumb brushed against the rim of his bottom lip. "I think we should offer her our shared pleasure."
That makes him laugh, softly, not enough to draw him away from her, especially as he chases her thumb with his mouth.
"Don't worry, cariad," he tells her. "We will."
The touch of her fingers on his bare skin sends off currents of electricity down into his bones, and Mordred pulls her into another deep kiss, caressing her hair back from her face. This time his hands don't settle on her -- it's his turn to run them down to the hem of her shirt and slip underneath, pulling it slowly up. He doesn't break the kiss until he has to, the shirt finally coming over her head, and when he discards it aside it simply disappears. They'll find it later back inside, where it belongs.
"You are so beautiful in moonlight," Mordred murmurs to her lips, as his fingers deftly unhook her bra, coaxing it down her arms. "Like a fallen star."
Again, she moans against his lips, hungry and insatiable against his, though she does whimper in slight protest once the kiss broke. Raising her hands above her head, she shivers as her shirt is removed and the chill of the night touches her skin.
A familiar red glow alights within her eyes as she tugs on the hem of his shirt, the same glow of magic extending to her fingers as his shirt disappears. His praise has a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she leans in to kiss him again. A trail of goosebumps rises on her skin in the wake of his touch along her arms as he removes her bra. "With you here on this earthly plane, it was only a matter of time before I joined you."
One of her hands trails up his arm and down his chest, while the other begins working at his pants; sometimes, it's best to do things without magic.
Once her bra is gone, Mordred pulls Wanda in for another deep kiss as if he couldn't go any longer without doing so, all but trapping her hands between their bodies before she can make much progress with his pants. In fact, before the kiss even breaks, he reaches down to catch her hands, effectively stopping her in her tracks; with a soft hum, their lips part, and then Mordred turns Wanda around and pulls her back against his chest.
"Not so fast," he murmurs by her ear. "I want to make an offering of you first."
With a soft kiss placed on her bare shoulder, and then another, Mordred begins to touch her slowly, letting his fingers first glide gently down the length of her arms, making sure she lowers them so that her breasts are bare in the moonlight. That exploring touch moves from her hands to her waist, shaping out her hips, the lovely groove that could lead him down between her thighs. Instead, he goes the other direction; Mordred runs his palms flat over Wanda's stomach, up to her breasts, letting just his fingertips tease out the shape of them, following both curves in mirror movements. No more than his fingertips, at first.
Ostara is approaching.
It's been a long winter, but that doesn't bother Mordred much. He's seen plenty of long winters before, worse ones than this, and having Wanda to share the cold nights and bitter winds has made this one of the best in a long time. They're restricted by nothing, except perhaps her occasional responsibilities, but Mordred never minds waiting for her to return. Sometimes he'll travel to where she is so that they can enjoy the local flavor for a while. Sometimes he'll simply escort her home. It's worth it to be in her company, even for a little while.
If he'd been asked whether he saw this coming when they met, any denial at all would have the taste of a lie. Even knowing the risks, Mordred was drawn to her from the beginning; her very existence is intoxicating to him, a reminder that there is no limit to magic, even beyond what he himself can ever aspire to become. He couldn't have resisted. In the end, he tried very little.
He lights a fire in the hearth with a gesture, and turns to look at Wanda, silhouetted in the window by the light of the cold moon. Her power comes from beyond this world, he knows; fitting, then, that she should be so unearthly beautiful.
"What are you looking at?"
There was a time when Wanda regarded Mordred with apprehension and approached him warily — she could feel the allure of the magic that radiated from him; it was so intoxicating it frightened her. The knowledge that he possessed over magic and the world was impressive; she often wondered who knew more, him or Strange — it would be interesting to watch the two of them have a battle of wits. In addition to his knowledge, she felt the darkness and pain that lurked beneath, and in the end, that is what attracted her to him the most. That he might have an understanding of the turbulent emotions within her, that they might bond over that, and he wouldn't look upon her with pity the way her comrades often did.
She never imagined things would get to his point — he opened his home to her with the vast knowledge that he possessed along with his body and heart after some time. It was strange how things fell perfectly into place. He was patient, understanding of her apprehension, and before long, she felt herself longing for him in ways she was afraid to experience — she wasn't sure she could handle the pain of being hurt again.
Mordred's voice pulls Wanda from her thoughts, her eyes shifting from the moonlit landscape before her and seeking out his familiar figure in the firelit room. "Trying to figure out the best place to moon bathe Ostara. I think I remember a few of your books stating it is best to do it in the nude," she chuckles softly at the thought, reaching a pale hand out toward him.
"I was also admiring the forest, how at home it feels here and also reminds me of the comfort I felt in the woods that surrounded the outskirts of the city I lived in as a child. Pietro and I spent hours wandering them together. Our mother often feared that Baba Yaga thought we were lost and took us as her own." Wanda's eastern European accent easily comes out with the ease and comfort she feels with Mordred.
He loves that accent, so well different from anything he grew up with, no matter how long ago that might have been. Mordred approaches her, reaching out to take her hand in his own as soon as he's close enough to do so, and loops their arms around her front so that he can slide up close against her back. The sky is very bright for so late.
"Even if my books didn't suggest it, I certainly would," he murmurs by her ear with a little grin, keeping his voice low even though it's only the two of them. "There is a lake just down the mountain, and no Baba Yaga to terrorize you, I promise."
Without unwrapping his arms from around her waist, Mordred finds her hand again and presses his palm to hers, lacing their fingers very loosely, lifting it up in front of them. "At a time for celebrating balance and new life, I would certainly celebrate you."
There is a swell in Wanda's chest the moment their fingers connect, a fond smile sliding across her lips as he wraps his arms around her. Wanda happily leans into his embrace, her head tilting back to rest against his chest.
"I was almost certain that was your handwriting I saw in the book, scribbling that little note there," she teases, enjoying his closeness and the sound of his voice soft and low against her ear.
She feels the heat begin to radiate from her cheeks as she flushes slightly, thankful she's facing the window and he's behind her. Wanda's fingers easily curl around his, enjoying how easily and comfortably her fingers fit between his. "Celebrate me? What and how would you celebrate?"
"Do you even need to ask?" he says to her, in that same secret tone. "Within yourself, you balance power with control, constantly in growth with one another. Your place in this world, with the feeling of otherness. The earth with the stars themselves." Mordred leans his head down to the side of her neck and presses a soft kiss behind the curve of her jaw. "And you've risen like a phoenix from the ashes of one war after another to claim a new life that you make for yourself. Why don't you tell me, Wanda, who exemplifies the spirit of Ostara better than you?"
Her eyes flutter shut, and a shaken breath escapes her parted lips as she tilts her head to the side slightly — giving him better access to her neck. Even with all, they have been through and all they have shared, it is still strange to receive the amount of praise he gives her. For so long, she hated herself, and her abilities for disaster, destruction, and despair seemed to follow her, but he urged her to hone her powers — to do more and be more. With his nurturing guidance, she has blossomed into something she never imagined she could be.
"I don't think I can ever see myself the way you see me," she says softly, her freehand not entwined with his reaches back, gently sliding through his hair to cradle the back of his head. The truth is that she could enter his mind to view herself through his perspective, but she enjoys the mystery of how enamored he is with her. "I have only been able to accomplish this much because of you... Before I was limited on what I could do, the other Avengers wary of my abilities, and I couldn't blame them since I lacked a true understanding of what I could do."
He chuckles softly, closing his eyes at the sensation of her fingers slipping into his hair. "If you could see yourself the way I see you, you might not have much use for me at all."
Mordred kisses her again, and then again, leaving a short little trail down her neck to her shoulder, and he brings their hands back to her body to spread against her stomach with the lightest pressure. "You would have found your way. I believe that with my whole heart. But it's been my honor and pleasure to walk this path with you."
Then he gently loosens his hold just so he can turn her around to face him, her back to the window, haloed by moonlight. "Would you like me to tell you more about how magnificent you are? Or should we practice for Ostara instead?" He grins, just a touch wicked. "Inside or out."
"You can't be replaced that quickly; I can think of at least ten other uses for you off the top of my head," she teased as she continued shifting her fingers through his hair, enjoying the comforting feeling. However, her hand paused once he started trailing kisses along her neck and shoulder.
Wanda trembled, her mouth slightly ajar as she sucked in a sharp breath; it was unfair how easily he ignited the fire within her and how much she craved every inch of him. "You say that, but I feel like I would have walked a darker path without you by my side helping me along the way. At least take some credit."
She looked at him now they were facing one another, a flush to her cheeks and a smile tugging at her lips as her eyes lovingly scanned over his features. "That's unfair; why can't I have both?" Reaching out, the tips of her fingers touched his face, enjoying that wickedness. "Out."
"To tell the truth, I don't think I could be stopped from telling you how magnificent you are."
Maybe it's too much, the way he showers praise upon her; it would certainly seem excessive from the outside. But Mordred has lived a very long time and never seen or met anyone like her. She deserves whatever he can give her, and there's no one on this planet except her who could tell him that enough is enough. She might even have some convincing to do. He slips a hand into her hair, cradling the back of her neck.
"Kiss me first."
Wanda's eyes fluttered shut as his hands slid through her hair, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she struggled to open her eyes. Reaching out, she took his face between her hands, thumb brushing against his cheeks as her smile widened.
"So demanding," she teased before closing the distance between them with barely half a step forward, her chest pressed against his as she leaned up to press a kiss against his lips. A gentle moan came from her as her eyes drifted closed once more, her head tilting slightly to deepen the kiss.
A warmth goes through him whenever she touches him like that, one he knows he hasn't felt in a very long time; it could cause him trouble, thinking like that, so he doesn't, and instead just lets it happen without thought of any kind, except for how much he wants her to keep doing it. Over and over. So there's nothing else he has to think about, ever again.
It's not realistic, but it's such a nice story to tell themselves for a little while. Mordred answers the kiss eagerly, pressing deeper as if he could somehow taste the moan she let slip against him, and he pulls her as close as she can be, one hand slipping down her back while the other stays in her hair. His own eyes slide shut, after a moment; there's no sound, no real sensation, but suddenly there's a night breeze on their skin, softness under their feet, and when Mordred lets the kiss break they're standing outside under the bright moon.
For a moment or two, all he does is look at her. "If I didn't know that you were a star child, I think I would realize it sooner or later, seeing you in this light." Then he leans in and kisses her again, just once. "We owe the moon a gift, for illuminating you so well. So I'll offer your pleasure up to her. I'm sure she'll love that."
A thrill of excitement runs through Wanda's body as their eager lips moved together and their bodies are drawn to the other. Her back arches, pressing her chest flush against his as his hand slips down the curve of her back — leaving a trail of goosebumps along her skin in the wake of his touch. Often Wanda marveled at how alive he could make her feel with the simplest of touch, and she cherished each and every moment she had with him — understanding the risk of loving someone like him.
Her toes wiggled, and feet shifted against the soft earth beneath her feet, a smile tugging at her lips at the marvelous work of magic to bring them here from their house. Mordred never ceased to astonish her with the capabilities he had with magic; being able to share in their abilities was something she was constantly looking for before they met since she was the only magic user she knew of.
"It seems selfish to only offer up my pleasure to her," she said as she removed one hand from his face; it trailed down his chest, slowly slipping under the hem of his shirt as the tips of her fingers mapped out every hill and valley they came across. The other hand stayed pressed against his cheek, her fingers curled against his jaw while her thumb brushed against the rim of his bottom lip. "I think we should offer her our shared pleasure."
That makes him laugh, softly, not enough to draw him away from her, especially as he chases her thumb with his mouth.
"Don't worry, cariad," he tells her. "We will."
The touch of her fingers on his bare skin sends off currents of electricity down into his bones, and Mordred pulls her into another deep kiss, caressing her hair back from her face. This time his hands don't settle on her -- it's his turn to run them down to the hem of her shirt and slip underneath, pulling it slowly up. He doesn't break the kiss until he has to, the shirt finally coming over her head, and when he discards it aside it simply disappears. They'll find it later back inside, where it belongs.
"You are so beautiful in moonlight," Mordred murmurs to her lips, as his fingers deftly unhook her bra, coaxing it down her arms. "Like a fallen star."
Again, she moans against his lips, hungry and insatiable against his, though she does whimper in slight protest once the kiss broke. Raising her hands above her head, she shivers as her shirt is removed and the chill of the night touches her skin.
A familiar red glow alights within her eyes as she tugs on the hem of his shirt, the same glow of magic extending to her fingers as his shirt disappears. His praise has a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she leans in to kiss him again. A trail of goosebumps rises on her skin in the wake of his touch along her arms as he removes her bra. "With you here on this earthly plane, it was only a matter of time before I joined you."
One of her hands trails up his arm and down his chest, while the other begins working at his pants; sometimes, it's best to do things without magic.
Once her bra is gone, Mordred pulls Wanda in for another deep kiss as if he couldn't go any longer without doing so, all but trapping her hands between their bodies before she can make much progress with his pants. In fact, before the kiss even breaks, he reaches down to catch her hands, effectively stopping her in her tracks; with a soft hum, their lips part, and then Mordred turns Wanda around and pulls her back against his chest.
"Not so fast," he murmurs by her ear. "I want to make an offering of you first."
With a soft kiss placed on her bare shoulder, and then another, Mordred begins to touch her slowly, letting his fingers first glide gently down the length of her arms, making sure she lowers them so that her breasts are bare in the moonlight. That exploring touch moves from her hands to her waist, shaping out her hips, the lovely groove that could lead him down between her thighs. Instead, he goes the other direction; Mordred runs his palms flat over Wanda's stomach, up to her breasts, letting just his fingertips tease out the shape of them, following both curves in mirror movements. No more than his fingertips, at first.
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Again, his kiss coaxes another breathy moan from Wanda as she eagerly raises onto her tiptoes to deepen the kiss further. With her hands trapped between them can only do so much with the limited space they have. An eyebrow arches once he breaks the kiss and takes her hands between his. With some reluctance, she concedes, allowing Mordred to turn her around.
As she leans back against him, her lips part as though she wishes to say something, but a shark quickly replaces her words inhale of breath. Her eyes flutter shut, lips slightly agape as she breaths in and exhales with a shaken breath. Every inch of her body yearns for him, reacting with trembles and raised flesh wherever his tough goes. It doesn't take long for that flame deep within her to ignite into an unhindered blaze that he can only sate.
"You're such a tease," she manages to say, a soft laugh at the ends of her words. Instinctively she sucks in another breath as Mordred's hands trail up her stomach, the tips of his fingers teasing the outline of her breasts. His touch with the added coolness of the night already has her nipples hardened and ready for his touch.
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His tone certainly suggests that he doesn't expect her to do that. Mordred touches her like he's never done so before, and like he owns her completely, all at the same time: every caress slips over her body like the path is new, but they're bold touches, not afraid to press harder or let his grip tighten. He covers her breasts with both hands, squeezes roughly, pulling her against his chest with the pressure, and one hand stays to roll her nipple between two long fingers while his other hand slips lower, sliding down her stomach.
It takes little more than a deft flick of his fingers to open up her pants, and he nudges them down her hips until gravity takes over. Then Mordred slides his hand between her thighs, his fingertips teasing against her pussy.
"Do you want to be teased, Wanda?" he murmurs, keeping her crushed against him as he toys with her nipple and rubs his fingers between her legs. "Or do you want something else?"
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"I would never let you off the easily, draga*."
Wanda's head falls back against his chest the moment he entraps her sensitive nipple between the pads of his index finger and thumb; an unhindered moan of pleasure escapes her lips. It takes a significant amount of restraint to keep herself from reaching behind her to pleasure him, and she wants him to feel as good as he makes her feel. She moans again, her hips shifting to feel more of his touch against her aching pussy.
The fingers pressed against her panties can feel how wet she is from teasing alone.
"I always want more of you, I don't think this desire for you can ever be sated, but I want you to tease me a little longer," she purrs as she tilts her head up, letting her nose brush against the underside of his jaw.
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Mordred presses his hips against her from behind, the hard line of his cock through his pants fitting nicely against the curve of her ass. The hand at her breast releases her, to slide between them, up to her throat, tracing her pulse with the gentlest caress.
"My pleasure," he purrs to her, "I can feel how much you want me. No fear at all, out under the open sky. I'm going to fuck you, lovely girl, right here, for all the night watching. My moon goddess."
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The way Mordred worships every inch of her body is intoxicating — enough that her head is light and fuzzy while her body burns with desire for his touch. She never knew such a need existed within her body until she experienced his touch for the first time, and at that moment, Wanda felt truly alive.
A mewl of pleasure escapes her lips as Wanda feels the hardness of his cock press against her supple ass. Slowly her hips begin to move on their own, her ass firmly against his hips as she teases him as she enjoys the warmth and feeling of his arousal. While she moves her hips to tease him, she also works his fingers against her pussy, feeling the pads of his finger press and tease the bundle of nerves between her slick folds.
I'm going to fuck you, lovely girl.
Those words make Wanda shiver as she gasps, her breath catching in her throat — a threat that she can't wait for him to enact. She tilts her head back against him, letting his hand have access to the entire length of her neck as she feels his fingers wrap around that vulnerable part of her body. "Let them watch," she breathes, "I'm not ashamed at how much I need you, and all that wish to watch can bear witness to it."
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A very assertive slave, but a slave nonetheless.
Does the moon shine a little brighter when Wanda encourages him? He could swear it did, and Mordred answers it by tightening his hand around Wanda's neck just enough to let her breath catch, inhaling sharply, almost a hiss of pleasure and anticipation. The seductive ripple of her ass against his cock is enough to make him rock forward, and then, with one hand still at her throat, he slips the other one inside her panties. This time his fingers swiftly find their way inside her, pressing into the slick heat as the pressure of his palm massages her clit.
"Tell me again that you want me, Wanda," he whispers. "I want to hear it."
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She marvels at the sensation of his strong hand closing around her neck, causing her breath to halt as it becomes trapped in her throat. The sense of danger only increases her arousal and desire for him — the amount of trust between them allowing for such things to happen without causing Wanda to worry or feel threatened by the action.
The feeling of his other hand sliding down her smooth stomach and into her panties has Wanda squirming against his old — her whole body feeling flushed with desire as his fingers sink into her warm, welcoming core. Her breath is already labored as she takes in a few deep breaths before answering him. "I don't want you," she murmurs, her voice laced with the arousal she felt for him, though Wanda leaves that statement there perhaps a bit longer than she should before continuing.
"I need you, Mordred... Needing you comes as natural as the magic flowing through my veins. Every inch of me hungers for you, and that hunger is insatiable." She says as she slides her hand slides up to meet his hand that is around her neck, Wanda's fingers sliding atop his and compelling his fingers to squeeze against her neck once more. It produces another heady moan.
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"Yes... that's how I feel. Insatiable." He turns her head toward him and kisses her, long and deep and only half-coordinated, as his fingers pump into her and his hand rubs against her to the same rhythm that presses those kisses against her mouth. And then, in a sudden rush of tingling magic, the rest of her clothes dissolve as if she was never wearing them in the first place, dissolving into the open night air. The moonlight shines on her skin, and Mordred's arms tighten against her.
"I am bewitched by you."
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With his fingers tightly around her neck, her hand slides down the length of his forearm once more, tracing the defined muscles and veins her fingers happen to meet along the way. As he presses his lips against her own, Mordred feels a smile spread across them as she briefly allows herself to get lost in thought — marveling at the idea that his appetite was just as insatiable as her own.
Slowly the smile lessens as she gives in to her kiss, her mouth hungry and desperate against his own as though she has been starved for him. She trembles as she feels the sensation of his magic running over her body and the cool breeze of the night hitting her skin once more. There is a sharp inhale of breath through her nose, but she doesn't protest or mind. Each thrust of his long fingers into her elicits moans and groans of pleasure, her hips eagerly rolling to feel him deeper within her.
"Mmm... I can't think of anyone else I would want under my spell."