in wonderland

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

There's an unusual stillness in the air. 

The house breathes under her feet, as if alive. Lilia could sense it from a mile away, the space in which a witch lives integrated within their being. She places the key on the lock nonetheless, taking off her shoes before closing the door behind her. 

It’s not uncommon for the wooden floor and moss green walls to feel heavy, bubbling with magic underneath. The permanence of three powerful beings under the same roof making the place absorb their energies. It’s easy, then, for her to ignore the atypical tranquility. Her exhausted body welcoming the unfamiliar maternal warmth in the air. 

The afternoon had been long. Looking for a new address with the current amount of money she had saved served to be a challenge, the eviction notice haunting her thoughts every time she thought of going over her budget. The various places she had visited for the day were barely big enough for a bedroom, let alone sufficient to accommodate her shop - and only source of income. Without her readings, her reserved funds were burning faster than the material they were made of. 

Her budget was lowering as the weeks went by. 

“Agatha?” The divination witch calls out, voice reverberating on the dark empty hallways, unanswered.

The lack of response doesn’t bother her, shouting for the sake of announcing her presence was a habit she had long picked up when arriving home - a lesson learned after catching her housemates on compromising positions a few dozen times. 

Her magenta robe flourish over the floor as she walks. The lights are out, the moon casts uneven shadows over the kitchen, illuminating her path to the sink. The fortune teller moves with practice, reaching into cupboards and finding relaxing herbs in the house’s shared collection. With her mind elsewhere, it takes a moment for her to sense it. 

A divine smell evades her nostrils, her eyes rolling back as her toes curl underneath her. The unexpected scent takes her back to Sicily, centuries ago, a long forgotten memory of her mother putting her to bed, wrapping a thick blanket around her and muttering soft protection spells under her breath. 

The nostalgia raises goosebumps over her skin as she stands still in the dark room, water running from the faucet and into the teapot in her hand. 

The abrupt image makes the grey-haired woman take in the space around her. Magic wafts through the air, lulling her like a song and imperceptibly taking the weight of the day from her shoulders. The unusual stillness is acknowledged for the first time, and she turns around then, hearing the sound of boiling water from the stove. 

A small pot is halfway filled with milk. The scent is rich, sweet and inviting like nothing she’s ever smelled before. 

Contrary to popular belief, it is very uncommon for a witch to get poisoned, fooled by another’s magic or killed with any kind of ingestive spell. They know, they instinctively feel when something is wrong, alarm bells ringing in their head in the face of imminent danger. 

Lilia knows then, knows that - whatever this is - it would do her no harm. 

Albeit normally the divination witch would think twice before taking an unknown potion lying around - specially with her colorful housemates - it is as if hypnotized that she reaches for the mug by her side, dipping it into the shimmering white milk and filling it to the brim, drops cascading down the porcelain and wetting her fingers as she brings it up for a sip. 

A grunt tears itself from between her lips. 

The scalding drink goes down, not burning, but warming her up from the inside. The taste lingers on the tongue, saccharine and creamy, addictive. She downs it, doesn’t even care what it is, only focused on the sensation spreading over her body. 

It feels as if coming home to an embrace, the comfort of pillowing breasts under your head as you take an unworried sleep. The coziness of nurturing, the need to protect someone, to feed and watch as pleasure booms in their face from the milk in their lips. To observe as their eyes roll from the sweetness gracing their tongue, feeling as they suck and moan around your skin. 

The temperature around her increases, sweat gathers in her brows as she groans around her mouthful. Her chest grows hot, redness blooming across her skin as her nipples stiffen under the material of her dress. Heat spreads over her thigh, arousal washes over her in a strange encounter of lust and comfort. Her bra becomes unreasonably tight. 

“Lilia.” 

She doesn’t jump, isn’t frightened by the figure hovering in the shadows, but as if someone snapped fingers in front of her eyes, she blinks harshly, emerging from the trance she had been in. Her upper lip is wet and her breathing is irregular, there’s nothing much she can do besides drag her tongue over her skin, cleaning the white mustache her desperate drinking had caused. 

The pot is now empty, no more divine smell wafting from the stove. She feels full, as if a banquet had been served and eaten with gusto. It is clear that the milk is gone and, even if one of her housemates has just arrived, it is also painfully obvious that there is no one else to blame for its disappearance besides her. Even if she doesn’t remember taking more than one sip. Even if she’s never felt so out of her mind before. 

“Rio.” 

Death herself lurks in the darkness, watching Lilia with an unreadable expression, black predatory eyes inspecting her panting form. If she is mad, or concerned, because the divination witch drank the unknown potion, she doesn’t let it show. 

The grey-haired woman’s chest burns, she feels a blush rising all the way up to her cheeks, out of embarrassment or as a side effect of the magic, she couldn’t tell. 

She’d bet on both. 

“I wouldn’t worry.” The green witch reassures, jumping to sit on top of the kitchen counter. 

As non-elaborated as it is, the remark is enough to make the fortune teller let out a relieved sigh, still out of her wits and barely grasping the gravity of the situation. Even without effort, the couple she lived with still managed to drag Lilia into whatever trouble they were currently plotting. 

A million questions run through her mind, her thoughts are jumbled and her body is unknown, acting on its own accord. The divination witch narrows her eyes, but in her dazed state can’t do much more than ask. 

“Is it hot in here?” Reaching for her robe, she’s quick to get rid of the warming material, discarding it near the sink.  

“Are you hot?” Rio counters, eyeing her up and down with a smirk, amused by her condition. “Well-” She amends, cut off by the stare Lilia levels her with. 

The green witch’s cackle reverberates around the tense room, her feet banging against the bottom cabinet as her head falls back. 

“Goddess.” The fortune teller whispers, hands fanning herself as she looks upwards for any form of aid - and patience. 

Sparing a moment to breathe, the gray-haired woman presses the tip of her fingers against her temple, trying to massage away the upcoming headache. How stupid was she to drink an unknown potion lying around? It was as if she hadn’t had control over herself, a calling, a need to feel more of what the smell was already providing. 

The calm intake of air is enough to bring a portion of clarity. She couldn’t be losing control again. Not when her chest felt heavier than usual, her neck was sticky with sweat and her underwear was unreasonably wet. Not when closing her eyes made her picture the woman in front of her squeezing her breasts, lips closing around a bud of milk on her nipple. 

Her posture stiffens at the image, startled. Her mouth flies open to yell at the figure in front of her before she’s interrupted by footsteps. 

“Rio? I can’t smell it anymore. Have you drunk it already?” The owner of the house’s voice sounds from the stairs. “I thought we agreed to-” 

What had they agreed to do would continue a mystery to Lilia for when Agatha sets foot in the room she cuts herself off, matching satin purple shorts and a tank top covering her as she glares at the duo from the kitchen entrance. 

“Hi Lilia.” Unphased by the older woman's presence, the brunette moves to perch herself by Rio’s side, elbows resting on the wood. “What is going on?” 

The fortune teller doesn’t have time to form an answer. 

“Lilia drank the milk.” The black-haired woman replies simply, toothy grin mocking the divination witch’s predicament. 

“Oh, did she?” The one in purple snorts, lips spreading to a smirk of her own. “And how much did you drink?” She questions the grey-haired woman directly. 

Lilia eyes the empty pot on the stove, tongue wetting sugary lips before pressing them together. An irritated furrow grows on her brows as anger rises alongside her arousal. 

“All of it.” She grunts, watches as the couple's eyes tinkle with malice. 

By this point, it’s clear what is happening; their unworried posture has dispelled Lilia’s anxiety and, by paying attention to her symptoms, she was able to quickly piece things together. Of course they would be playing with sex magic and, naturally, she would be drawn into the middle of it. 

Her boobs ache something fierce, taunt and heavy, filling up with milk and just about ready to burst. Her body is heated, a pleasant warmth swirls in her stomach and her cheeks burn. Her first instinct is to give in, enjoy the sensations coursing through her veins and ask the two idiots for help. Just the mere image of their pretty pink lips sucking her tits is enough to make her hold back a moan. 

She isn’t sure the urge is only a side effect of the potion. 

“Oh, they are going to get big.” Agatha smirks, amusement lacing her tone. In an uncanny show of synchrony, the couple’s heads drop to the side as they hungrily stare at the other woman’s cleavage. “Well… bigger than they already are.” 

It isn’t uncommon for Agatha or Rio to flirt with Lilia, but, given the situation, their unperturbed demeanor is aggravating the divination witch more than usual. And, in the end, her exasperation wins over her soaked slit. She huffs, rolls her eyes and storms out of the kitchen. 

“Lilia!” The brunette exclaims. “C’mon, live a little! This isn’t going away by itself. We can give you a hand.” She gesticulates openly, following Lilia out of the room with Rio calmly accompanying them. “Or, more precisely, two mouths.” 

The joke is ignored. The couple observe from the first floor as the fortune teller stamps her way up the stars, cursing the pair under her breath. 

“Don’t be proud, Calderu.” Rio shouts, a last attempt at smoothing her feathers.

“Fuck off.” The grey-haired woman yells, hearing the entity’s snicker at her response. 

“Good luck!” Agatha screams, sharing a grin with the black-haired woman as a door bangs on the upper floor. 

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

If asked, Lilia would answer that shame and pride don’t match her color palette.

Therefore, when an hour has gone by and she makes her way into the living room - by now with a bigger problem on her hands - she refuses to act like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs.  

Head held high and robe tightly tied around her, she walks calmly through the dark hallway, towards the faint sound of conversation she hears from afar. Her little episode in the bath is all but ignored, her wet center still begging for more of the relief brought by her fingers. 

Looking at herself in the mirror had been startling, the reason behind the tightness of her bra was clear the moment she saw her naked reflection. Her breasts had doubled - she’d say even tripled - in size. They felt painfully heavy, her neck stiff with the unfamiliar weight.  

Worst of all was the desire to nurture, to have someone plaint in her arms as they sucked her dry. 

She had tried it all; squeezing, massaging, using some goddamn magic pump that had not worked. Nothing helped, in fact, her attempts appear to have only made it worse. Her tits felt fuller than ever, sore and tight, the liquid pressing against her skin. 

And what if she had gotten frustrated enough to get herself off with the image of the couple who put her in this predicament for starters? She wouldn’t tell, and her shame wouldn’t show either. 

It did not go well with her color palette after all. 

“I’m big, it’s the pictures that got small.” 

The voices Lilia had heard from upstairs were apparently from the television, for the couple was too occupied to talk. Their kiss is languid, slow, with a familiarity that makes it all the more torturous for Lilia to watch as she stands by the living room threshold.  

If one of them notices the new arrival, they don't let it show. 

In an attempt to draw the attention of the pair on the couch, the fortune teller forcefully clears her throat, by now used to catching them in similar predicaments. 

They separate from their kiss, surprised grunts escaping their lips. Rio doesn’t bother to leave Agatha’s lap when she catches sight of the grey-haired woman, only smirks in the darkness of the living room upon seeing her, impish eyes watching the divination witch from her straddling position. 

“Took you long enough.” 

Lilia can’t help but to scoff at the brunette’s remark. 

The ache on her tits is, however, stronger than her desire to turn on her heels and head back upstairs. 

Agatha straight up dumps Rio on the sofa, patting the cushion and making space for the older woman to sit between them. The entity scoffs and smiles, shaking her head at her wife’s rough treatment and taking no time to kneel on the soft pad to face Lilia, dark eyes following her movement. 

The fortune teller presses her lips forward in a hard line, fidgeting with her flowy sleeves as she moves to take her designated place. The temperature is high, the room feels abnormally hot and electric, their bodies' warmth mingling and increasing in the close arrangement they find themselves in. 

The black-haired woman hums under her breath, leaning towards Lilia.

“You smell like jasmine.”

As if Rio’s words are a cue, the fortune teller feels Agatha's palms traveling up her midsection. 

The slap is so quick the brunette doesn’t have time to evade the contact, bringing her hand up to cradle against her chest. 

“Lilia!” She exclaims, faking offense. 

Unfortunately for the smug couple, the divination witch would not let them play her like a prey.

Fixing her posture, Lilia starts. “Shush. This is all your fault. If you two-” 

“We weren’t even with you when you drank the milk.” Rio cuts her off, shrugging when the grey-haired woman throws her a fuming glance. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose for a few seconds and gathering her non-existence patience, the fortune teller takes in a deep breath before opening her eyes and saying. 

“We’re going to make this quick.” Index finger pointing at their respective faces, rings reflecting  in the low light of the television. 

The glance exchanged by the couple did not go unnoticed by the divination witch, however, she chooses to ignore it. Whatever non-verbal conversation they were having didn’t affect her instruction on the matter. 

In spite of how clear it is, the order seems to be all but ignored when they both move to mount her, each straddling one of her thighs, matching smirks looking down at her. 

“Did you hear what I just said!?” The fortune teller exasperation is clear.

Her breasts become more sore by the second, this cat and mouse game has made her madder than before and her composure is quickly slipping. 

The thin materials separating their skin are no help. 

“Relax, Lilia. You were the one who said you wanted to make this quick.” Agatha says, hot center covered by satin shorts rubbing against the divination witch as she moves to throw her long hair back. “Well, two mouths are better than one, or however that saying goes.” 

The gray-haired woman rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

“Don’t be stubborn, Calderu." Rio amends simply, deep cleavage close to Lilia’s face. 

The fortune teller’s blood boils. 

“Honestly!” She rages, unbalancing the women on her lap as she reaches down to untie her robe. 

Her restraint had run dry. 

“If you intend to annoy me, you should use your mouths for something better.” 

The surprised raised eyebrows and smirks are completely lost on Lilia as she struggles against the knot. 

Her hands are softly removed before Agatha’s deft fingers work on the tie, unwrapping the older woman like a present. 

The robe spills to the sides, opening to reveal creamy white skin, wrinkles from neck to bust and engorged breast, hard nipples begging for release. Rio’s grin is positively predatory as she watches a single drop of milk form under the new attention, trickle down and disappear underneath Lilia's breast. 

Following its wet trail, Agatha’s nail brushes upwards and she watches as the grey-haired woman shudders underneath her, letting out a sound of discomfort. The caress is a torture on its own, if Lilia’s nipples could get any harder than they already are, they would, but with her skin as tight as it is the motion only leaves her throbbing. 

The brunette’s eyes are fixed on the newly exposed skin, gaze unmoving as more milk produces under her soft touch. The other occupants of the room watch the brunette’s tranced state with bated breath as she leans in to close her mouth around a nipple.  

A combination of moans echo through the living room, the dialogue coming from the television unable to drown them out. Lilia’s hand acts on its own accord, her eyes shut close and her hips involuntarily can up, fingers tangling in the brunette’s mane and bringing her closer. 

The relief is instantaneous and the arousal smearing her panties-free thighs is not lost on her. 

Rio stares as pleasure blooms on her face, mouth hanging open as Agatha’s lip works on her nipple. Like a starving woman, the brunette loses herself to the feeling of the warm milk coaxing her tongue, her mind nowhere to be found, her actions controlled by nothing but her instincts. Groans escape her and her palm reaches for the other woman’s breast, squeezing the taunt flesh. 

An invisible bubble seems to form around them, the world ceases to exist to the women engaged, and Rio watches, entranced by the image upon her. The way Lilia’s brows furrow under the attention, legs rubbing together to relieve some of the tension there. How milk cascades down Agatha’s chin as she rapidly gulps, wits lost to the magic, to the overwhelming attraction she has always had for the older witch. 

“Yes, baby, just like that.” 

Agatha whines at Lilia’s encouragement, hips grinding down on the gray-haired woman’s thigh. Her nails painfully sink into the flesh of the divination witch, her breath comes out in uneven puffs against her skin. Rio’s fingers join Lilia’s on her scalp and the entity softly pulls Agatha up by the hair, the fortune teller’s palm falling to her neck. 

“Agatha.” Rio calls gently.

The brunette’s pupils are blown wide, her eyes staring deeply into her wife’s as she pants from the exertion, mouth white with milk. She continues to ride the other woman’s leg, Lilia’s thumb caressing her throat. 

“Breath.” 

Rio pulls her in for a kiss, tongues meeting halfway. It's slow, the black-haired woman settling a rhythm to calm the brunette, and in the process tasting Lilia for the first time. 

The moan that tears itself from her throat is animalistic. She squeezes Agatha’s scalp harder, thighs closing against the divination witch’s leg. The magic pricks her lips, leaving a sort of numbness behind. It’s sweet, not quite like anything she has ever savored before, and it sends a wave of heat down her body. An unusual desire to be nurtured, to have the gray-haired woman’s finger fondling her while she enjoys the warmth of her body. 

To growl and bite at anything that dares come too close to them, to protect what is hers. 

She suddenly feels parched. 

Letting go of the brunette, she instinctively turns towards Lilia as Agatha goes back to sucking her dry. The fortune teller’s pupils are similar to the brunette’s -and she’d bet her own-, her breath is ragged and she watches the entity back, eyes searching for reassurance. Whatever it is that she wants to find, she doesn't have the time to do so because Rio pounces on her, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. Teeth clashing painfully and the taste of blood gracing their tongues. 

It doesn't matter, for the kiss is short lived. Death pulls away, gazing deeply at her before moving her mouth south, joining the other woman at breast level. If Rio had been the only one in her right mind, that had been thrown into the wind. 

And Lilia can’t find it in herself to care. 

It was undeniable that she found the other two witches attractive and now, with the potion decreasing her inhibitions, she couldn’t find a single reason to not act on it. Not when they look so prettily sitting in her lap, swollen pink lips bringing her pleasure. 

Ring clad fingers cradle soft locks, back dislodging from the couch to chase the pleasure coursing through her. Their groans mingle and reverberate on her skin, her nipples pleasurably sore under the attention. She doesn’t even notice when her hands travel down to hips, holding waists to help both women grind down against her. Wishing to somehow retribute the pleasure they are providing to her. 

The couple has no qualms in following her lead, used to embracing their desires a lot more than she is. The thin material of their pajamas rub against her leg, silk soaked by their wet slits. The sucking sounds echo each other and the women on her knees close their eyes, tongue caressing her nipples and teeth lightly scraping her sensitive skin. 

Lilia can’t help but curse out loud, sicilian nonsense escaping her lips as she trashes on the couch, nails sinking into any flesh she can hold on to and tears pickling her half-closed eyelids. 

Breaths mingle over her chest and the couple clash over her once more to share a kiss, this time, however, it's frantic. 

Rio’s previous caution is out the window and the fortune teller hears the woman growl, a sound resembling a wild predator. 

Lilia can only watch, entranced, as the milk on their mouths cascades down their fronts, smearing over their cheeks in their hectic encounter. Movements speed up, groans growing louder as each search for their own pleasure in her thigh, scratching and biting the other while at it. 

The fortune teller throbs, wetter than she has ever been before, the display unhelpful for her aching cunt. She wants to reach out, touch them, touch herself, but she feels paralyzed by her overwhelming arousal. 

It's too much. 

It’s not enough. 

A moan escaping her throat is enough to draw their attention again and - she realizes this time when they look at her - their minds seem as lost as hers, they are as driven by instinct as she is. 

They alternate it this time, Rio goes directly towards her chest as Agatha kisses her. It’s different, though, the brunette handles her like a fragile little thing, a porcelain doll she holds dearly in her heart, their lips meeting with care. Agatha’s hand grabs her messy ponytail and brings her close, whining against her lips in desperation. 

It is clear that the magic affected the women differently. 

While the brunette felt almost pliant in her hands, needy and clinging to Lilia as if the older woman could shield her from the world, as if the comfort of her embrace was something she had lacked all her life and she distressedly needed it, the black-haired woman was animalistic in nature, with a possessiveness she had never shown before, eyes darting left and right as if she expected anyone to pounce on them at any moment. Her posture was of starvation, of protectiveness. 

Taking pity on her, Lilia’s hand runs down to help Agatha reach her pleasure, feeling the erratic move of her hips when her ring-clad finger finds her clit in the impossible soaked slit, keeping it still to let the woman chase the pleasure herself. 

It doesn’t take long, it is clear she was close already, and in no time Agatha seizes in her arms, grinding harder and harder until her lips are forming an ‘O’ shape against the gray-haired woman’s one, uneven breath leaving her as she melts in her neck.  

With one orgasm out of the way, they collectively seem to be able to focus a little better. It feels less frantic when Agatha joins Rio once again to finish what they started.  

It has been known by Lilia that there are multiple types of climax for women; she, however, had never thought she'd be able to come only by someone stimulating her breasts. For as long as she has been alive, this is the first time in her life she felt close to her peak without being touched anywhere else. 

And it is in a steady rhythm that her pleasures wash over her, the couple’s administrations on her chest never stopping. The sucking feels other-wordly as the witches’ throats bob against her skin, their palms travelling to her side, grabbing her waist and keeping her still lest she escapes from their mouth.

Rio seems to mimic her in action, speeding up her hips when Lilia’s own cans upwards, chasing her pleasure in time with the other witch. 

It is a feeling she had never experienced before, warmness spreading from her chest through her body, her cunt squeezing around nothing and her clit throbbing without being touched. Her nipples feel impossibly hard, hardening even more so when her peak washes over her. Goosebumps rising over her flesh as she faintly feels Rio’s thigh squeezing her legs harder, her body becoming rigid from the climax. 

It doesn't last long, but the magic accompanies it, leaving her tingling in an unfamiliar way, finger tips numb. Her breasts are still sore, although in a different manner altogether, she doesn't feel the liquid tightly pressing against her skin anymore. They feel lighter, even if still sensible, and she has to close her eyes to gather enough thoughts to deal with the situation at hand.

Rio and Agatha slump beside her on the couch, ragged breathing and wet lips glistening on the low light of the living room, the movie playing as background noise. 

“Well, we can cross two things off of our bucket list now.” 

Agatha snorts at her wife’s commentary. 

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

A faint breeze sways the wind chimes, their soft melody travelling as dry leaves roll down the empty street. The sun reflects off the dust-stained glasses, the faded “Madame Calderu Psychic Reading” sign sits between a nail salon and a supply store. The sidewalk shops are closed, bankrupt due to lack of customers. 

At first glance, one would think the fate of the Tarot business had been similar to that of the surrounding parlors. The exterior is neglected, the advertising is old and the paint is peeling. Surprisingly, though, the “open” sign rests against the door, welcoming clients who never come in. 

In the distance, a car slowly passes by on the street, an elbow resting on the driver’s side window as sunglasses-covered eyes scan the venue. 

“There.” The passenger is quick to point once spotting their destination. 

The wheels roll to a stop and boot clad feet step out of the vehicle, one door slamming after the other. The duo stand in front of the aged shop, a bubblegum pops before the woman with a low ponytail pushes her shades up. 

“Are you sure this is the right place, Gulliver?” She questions, her gaze fixed on the dusty store sign. 

“Yes, Chief Harkness. The leads on the illegal marijuana business trace back to this establishment.” Alice replies, confident in her abilities. 

The brunette hums at the answer and moves forward. The bells jingle as the door is pulled open, alerting the owner of newcomers. The interior contrasts with the exterior, the space is cozy, intricate tapestries hang on the walls and a faint incense scent fills the room. Soft music plays in the background and candles brighten the parlor with a yellow hue. 

“Welcome to the curious.” A voice rings in a mellow tone. 

The sound of curtain beads follows in its wake, a short woman emerges from the backroom. Her gray hair is pinned up, loose strands frame her face and a magenta robe compliments her long dark dress. She slowly approaches the pair, a tight smile growing on her face as she surveys the new figures in her shop.  

“Lilia Calderu, I assume?” The brunette questions, tongue running over her front teeth as she tuts. 

“Yes.” The fortune teller replies, chin raising in attention. “What can I do for you today?” 

The other woman holds her gaze for a few seconds before ignoring her question altogether, turning to pace around the room, hands behind her back. 

“I’m Detective Alice Wu Gulliver and that is Deputy Chief Agatha Harkness.” The shorter one answers instead, retrieving her badge from her back pocket and showing it to the shop owner. “It has come to our attention that this establishment operates a marijuana side business, also known as Lilia's Leggings. ” 

The brunette inspecting the space snickers and mutters. “Good coverup.” 

“It seems that you, Mrs. Calderu, don’t have the proper ministry to run such commerce.” The detective continues, watching the older woman slowly nod her head, furrowed brows. 

Her lips purse forward as she looks sideways. “Well, there must be some kind of mistake.” Robe flows gracefully as her hands move to clasp in front of her body. “My side hustle is nothing more than clothing.” 

Silence fills the room. The deputy rounds the fortune teller, eyeing her up and down before stopping at her side. 

“Unfortunately for you, doll.” She lingers on the word, sarcasm dripping from her lips. “No one believes that.” 

The jab is enough to make the older woman’s fake smile drop, her eyes narrowing as she moves her head towards the brunette's to say. 

“And what evidence do you have of said drug dealing?” 

“We-” 

“That’s classified information.” Agatha interrupts her subordinate.  

Lilia smirks before answering.

“It seems to me…” She says passively, riling the brunette up. “That you don’t have enough of a case to make an arrest.” 

“We were hoping you would cooperate.” Alice says, hands resting on her uniform belt as she stands near the door. “If there’s nothing to hide, you wouldn’t mind us taking a look around.”

“You’ll need a search warrant for that.” The shop owner counters, seemingly in a staring contest with the detective's boss. 

A smirk slowly breaks on the deputy’s face. Biting her tongue, she sweeps the older woman’s figure, glazing a beat too long at her deep cleavage before puffing out her chest and commanding.

“Alice, you may go. I’ll patch things up with this nice old lady.” The gray-haired woman scoffs at the title. “I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding, we’ll talk it out.” 

“But, Chief I’m-” 

“You may go, detective.” Agatha cuts her off once more, turning towards her to dismiss her. 

“Yes, Chief.” 

The bells on the door jingle as the younger woman leaves, a breeze momentarily filling the room. Lilia watches her go, unsure of the situation she’s in, but unafraid to level with the brunette in front of her. 

“Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Chief Harkness?” 

“Yes, you may.” 

The older woman nods, rolling her eyes as she turns and heads to the back room. Her shawl is removed on the way to her kitchen and, placing the fabric on her dining table, she watches from her field of view as the deputy examines the space before settling into one of the armchairs. 

“How do you like it?” Her hands are practiced as she opens a cupboard and reaches for the powder. 

“Black with sugar.” 

A strained silence falls over the pair as Lilia prepares the coffee machine. The brunette watches from afar, legs spread and elbows resting on the arm of the seat, enjoying the tension with a sadistic sense of superiority. The yellow light from the lampshades illuminates the room and it isn't until the sound of the brewer echos that the fortune teller turns to face the cop, robe fluttering behind her as she walks closer. 

“What do you want?” Lilia asks, crossing her arms, her peaceful facade dispelled. 

It doesn’t escape her notice how the deputy’s eyes stray to her chest before she answers. 

“Who said I want anything?” Agatha replies, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “All I want, doll, is to do my job.” The nickname comes out again, heavy. 

Lilia knows exactly what type of cop Chief Harkness is, there’s no doubt about it from the way she portrays herself. Sitting as if she owns the room, someone who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. Corrupt. 

“I fear, however, that my detective and I don’t share the same ideals. She seems to believe that you’re running an illegal drug operation.” Her gaze is predatory, one of her palms falling on the inside of her open thigh. “I can tell that you’re a very proper woman and wouldn’t do such a thing. I’m sure I can persuade her in the right direction, with the right incentive.” 

Lilia sways in place, dress dancing over her feet as she studies the brunette. The meaning behind the words is not lost on her; she’s being bribed. Unfortunately for the deputy, she has come to the wrong place. 

“There’s no evidence-”

The words die in the fortune teller’s mouth, she tenses as the woman in front of her reaches for a small wooden box on the side table, opening and taking out a joint. 

“Predictable.” The brunette scoffs. “I can tell you right now that with a search warrant, it would take less than five minutes to have you in cuffs.” Petting down her jacket, she continues. “As I have observed, regardless of how real or not real this operation is, it doesn't seem to be bringing in a lot of money.” Her thumb points to the bed on the wall as her other hand finds what she’s been looking for in one of her pockets. 

“I’m sure we can still come to an agreement, sweetheart.” She finishes, the pet name muffled by the blunt placed on her lips. 

She winks before bringing her purple lighter to the tip.

Smoke fills the space when she exhales, the smell of weed quickly reaching Lilia’s nose. The fortune teller narrows her eyes, leveling her gaze with the brunette. 

It has become obvious by now what the deputy wants, her free hand rests on her crotch and she looks at the older woman expectantly. 

“Do you want me to draw it for you, hon?” 

Lilia presses her lips forward, taking a moment to weigh her options. 

As annoying and condescending as the woman in front of her is, she’s still extremely attractive. Her long brown hair is tied back in a low ponytail, her eyes are blue and dance with satisfaction. The thought of bringing her pleasure, ripping that smirk off her face as she cums, is enough to make her move. 

The thrill caused by the power play is ignored. 

Lilia walks, places one foot after the other and watches as Agatha looks up, following her approach. The older woman places her hands on either side of the brunette, palms resting on the armchair before slowly sinking to her knees. 

The position changes once Lilia settles, she’s left staring up. Big brown eyes never stray from the intense gaze as her fingers travel up thighs and find a leather belt. A furrow grows on her brows when she feels an unusual bulge beneath her wrists, she promptly looks down when the grin in Agatha’s face stretches. 

She hesitates on the clasp. 

“Go on.” The command comes from above. 

Unsure fingers unzip the cargo pants. A sharp breath leaves the older woman, heat pooling in her lower stomach as she comes face to face with a semi-hard cock, straining against dark blue briefs. 

“Not backing down now. Are you, Calderu?” The question is a challenge in itself, the brunette mocking her perplexity. 

The fortune teller doesn’t respond, she roughly pulls down the material constricting Agatha’s skin, shoving it down to her knees. The member stands, pink head and prominent veins staring back at her. 

“Bet you haven’t seen one of those in a while.” Agatha snorts. 

Snapping up her gaze, Lilia narrows her eyes, jaw moving to the side as she bites her tongue in annoyance. 

“I’m not the one who needs to suborn someone to get my dick sucked.” 

A beat drops, silence consumes the room. Smoke slides past lips and Lilia watches as amusement grows on the other woman’s face. She laughs, low and malicious. Her movements are quick, the fortune teller doesn’t have time to move before she feels a strain on her neck. 

Grabbing a fist full of salt and pepper hair, Agatha's dilated pupils take in the reddened wrinkles on her neck and the rapidly rising bust. She places the blunt against Lilia’s lips and waits for her to take a drag. 

The weed sizzles when she inhales. 

“Y'know, I’m really starting to like you.” Agatha breathes out, noses bumping at the close proximity. 

Lilia snickers at the woman, exhaling into the space between them. 

A surprised grunt leaves the Sicilian when the brunette crushes their mouth together, the burning on her scalp increasing with the pull on her strands. The kiss is hard, forceful. Lilia works to maintain her resolve, but a swipe of tongue has her groaning and fisting the material of the deputy’s flannel shirt, battling for dominance. 

Her feet scramble to stand when the younger woman forces her up by the hair, pushing her until her ass meets the kitchen counter. The smell of fresh coffee invades her senses as she grunts at the force of the collision, pulling away from the brunette and watching as she takes another drag of the blunt. 

Agatha hands her the joint. 

The gray-haired woman studies her skeptically, ring filled fingers carefully taking the roiled weed from the deputy’s grasp, knocking the ashes off. Darkened blue eyes observe the scene, the brunette’s previously gripping hand travels down, from curls to jaw. 

Her thumb strokes, feeling the movement of the older woman’s neck as she inhales, moving to run over her breast and pinch a covered nipple. Lilia leans in, close enough to brush lips as she blows smoke into Agatha's mouth. 

“Given up on your incentive, doll?” The fortune teller asks, mocking the deputy’s earlier words.

Agatha grins before replying. “No, hon. I can’t leave you disappointed now, can I?” 

Lilia’s scoff lasts only a second, the air quickly catching in her throat as she gasps, the sound of ripping fabric startling her as Agatha tears her dress open. 

“What are you doing?” She screeches. 

The brunette doesn’t respond, she turns the older woman around forcefully, pressing Lilia’s pelvis against the wood and making the blunt fly out of the Sicilian’s grasp when she uses her hands to hold the impact. Wrinkled fingers become red as Agatha pins her, the taller woman’s body trapping the fortune teller in place and making her squirm as she feels the erection press against her backside. 

“What does it look like, doll?” The brunette breathes against her ear, biting the lobe. 

The Sicillian tenses as a pair of hands travel down her back, gripping her waist before tearing more of the dark material covering her, opening access to run palms over her newly exposed thighs. 

The deputy does everything with sadistic slowness, enjoying the rigid muscles beneath her. Grabbing a fistfull of Lilia’s ass and digging her blunt nails in, she smirks when goosebumps rise on the older woman’s skin. Resting her chin against the fortune teller’s shoulder and playing with the waistband of the Sicillian’s underwear, she whispers. 

“Looks like someone is enjoying herself.” 

Her fingers sweep the front of the other woman’s panties, feeling the dampness seeping through the fabric and kicking her legs further apart. 

“You are one to talk.” Lilia grunts, pressing her ass against the hard cock. 

A breathy chuckle escapes the brunette as her digits dip into the wetness, running over the older woman’s folds and circling her clit. Lilia’s legs tremble, her knuckles turn white from the effort it takes to stay upright and she bites her lips, attempting to stifle a moan. 

Agatha doesn’t wait for any further preparation, the skin of her cock is hot against her palm and she lines it up with the other woman’s sticky entrance. Her hard thrust makes them both groan, Lilia’s eyes fluttering shut as her hands slid down the wood, her bottom sticking out more prominently in the new position. 

The other woman had been right, it had been a while. The dick stretches and burns her cunt in the most delicious way, she feels full. Her lower gray curls become wet as her arousal increases, her head drops. 

“Nothing more to say?” The brunette taunts against her ear. 

Opening her mouth to answer, she’s interrupted by the moan that escapes without permission when Agatha pulls out her cock and shoves it back in, starting a brutal pace. 

The younger woman’s grip on her waist is firm, keeping her from slipping off as her stickiness starts to run down her thighs, coating the brunette’s balls in the process. They rattle with the force of the deputy’s drive, the Sicillian’s breast bouncing faster and faster. 

“You’re a cock slut. Aren’t you, Calderu?” Agatha says, her breathing ragged from the exertion. “I didn’t even have to touch you and you are dripping.” 

The Sicilian growls, squeezing her walls against the brunette’s member and hearing her huff. Her nails rank down the counter and she meets Agatha’s thrust, enraged groans slipping past her lips. 

“Fu- oh- fuck you!” She responds, cut in half when her hip bone bangs against the counter.

Agatha’s laughter rings over the obscene squelching sounds. Her fingers find Lilia’s hair once more, tugging at the older woman’s strands until her neck is bendinging back and her shoulders are meeting the deputy’s breasts. 

Her teeth graze the fortune teller’s neck, the rough pounding non-stop. 

“I’d rather fuck you.” The brunette snickers. 

Lilia’s eyes roll back, in annoyance or pleasure, one couldn’t tell. Her right palm reaches behind her and grips Agatha’s bare ass, sinking her nails into the flesh and moaning in victory at the younger woman hiss.

Unexpectedly, the deputy slows down. Protests rising to her lips, Lilia yelps in surprise when the brunette grabs her right thigh, hooking her forearm beneath it and spreading her wider by placing the fortune teller’s knee against the edge of the counter and holding it there.  

Agatha presses her front forward until Lilia is leaning against the wood, one elbow holding her up as her spine arches. 

The Sicilian hears Agatha take a deep breath against her nape.  

“Still flexible then.” She mutters, groaning pervertedly. 

With one hand gripping the older woman’s waist and the other holding her leg, Agatha thrust back in once, hard, deeper than before. Her pounding returns to its previous pace, the new position making the head of her cock meet Lilia’s G-spot every time. 

The older woman melts, thighs quivering, leaving the brunette in charge of keeping her upright. Moans escape her mouth unrestrained now, her body tensing as her walls contract. Free hand traveling upwards and sinking fingers into brown locks, pulling at Agatha’s scalp as she trembles. 

“There you go, hon.” The brunette breathes, her voice shaking with her fast approaching orgasm. “So much better moaning for me, it seems that mouth has some use after all.” 

Unlike the previous times, the older woman doesn’t have a comeback. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her muscles are tense, hips stuttering to keep up with the rhythm as her mouth hangs open.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well.” Agatha grunts. 

Lilia groans at the words, unable to form a sentence of her own. Her hard nipples bump into the counter and her nails leave a dent in the wood, the coil on her lower stomach tightening rapidly. 

“Agatha.” She whines, saliva pooling at the edge of her lips. 

“Yes, hon. I know.” 

The brunette’s hand travels from her waist to her folds, struggling for a moment to find her bud as she pounds into her, finger slipping with the abundance of Lilia’s stickiness. 

“You’re so wet.” The deputy’s chuckle is breathless. “I could just leave you like this, it would teach you a lesson about insubordination of an authority figure.”

“Don’t you dare.” The gray-haired woman responds through gritted teeth. 

The smirk on Agatha’s face is that of the cat who got the canary, her teeth graze the other woman’s nape and she pinches her clit, feeling as the fortune teller’s walls tighten around her and her back undulates against her front. 

The scream Lilia lets out is pornographic, her legs turn to jelly and she trembles, wood bursting under her nails. White dots dance in front of her vision and drool runs down her chin as she cums. Breath escaping her as Agatha draws out the pleasure by circling her bud and continuing her rhythm. 

It doesn’t take long for the deputy to follow the older woman, she grunts as she reaches her peak, hips losing the finery of movement and  giving in to the chase of primal release. Lilia’s walls milking her to the last drop as she falls forward, resting her forehead against shoulder blades. 

The only sound in the room is their irregular breath. 

They remain motionless for a while, eyes closed as they gather their bearings. The coffee is on the pot, hot and ready to drink. The wind blows outside and the bells chime with it. Much like before, there is no movement on the street and the sun shines through the window. 

Lilia clears her throat and raises her head, catching the brunette’s attention. Agatha pulls her soft member out of her, tucking it back into her pants and taking a moment to enjoy the sight of the older woman’s dripping hole, cunt overflowing with cum. 

“Do you have another one?” The deputy asks. 

“Same box.” Lilia hums, straightening up and critically eyeing her torn clothes before using the rags to clean herself. 

Agatha turns and sits in the same armchair, reaching for the small chest on the side table and retrieving a joint. Lighting it, she relaxes on the cushion and watches the fortune teller settle into the small sofa next to her, wearing only her magenta robe now. 

The brunette takes another drag before handing it over, observing as ring filled fingers take the blunt from her hand. 

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

The moon had returned to its usual gray color, its light slipping through the windows and partially illuminating the basement like room. The group sleeps soundly, their energies drained from the Road’s endless path.

The trial hadn’t ended with Evanora’s banishment. There was still some unknown business to attend to that prevented the escape door from opening. The coven wasn’t complaining, however. The cushions made for a great bed after laying in the forest ground for days and, either way, with Alice’s weakened state, there wasn't much they could walk. 

The wood creaks in the night and deep breaths mingle in the dark. The silence is disturbed by a sound, distant and muffled. The fortune-telling witch rolls and remains with her eyes closed, she has always been a light sleeper, the constant dreams weren’t helpful. She does sit up when the noise is identified as a sob and frantically looks around, worried about Teen. 

A relieved sigh leaves her when she spots the boy, laying in an uncomfortable position with his long limbs spread out. The unfamiliar noise echoes again. Curiosity gets the better of her and she stands, following the sound and carefully stepping up the barely lit stairs of the fort, stopping dead in her tracks by the image she comes upon. 

Agatha’s head is buried in her knees, she sits on the wooden deck and her body shakes with hidden hiccups. She is still wearing the purple jersey and the white socks, her short hair falls over her shoulders, wavy strands. Reflexily, Lilia takes a step back, intending to give the other witch some privacy. 

The floor creaks beneath her feet. 

Agatha’s head snaps up and she stands hastily, wiping her tears with the back of her fingers. 

“What?” She barks and the divination witch grimaces in sympathy. 

Her eyes are swollen and small, a red tint covers her face and her cheeks are stained by wet trails, there’s a hard furrow in her eyebrows. They stare at each other, calculating the situation. 

Lilia can see the exact moment Agatha breaks down. Her eyes swell with tears and she stiffens, unable to hold back the hiccup that escapes. The divination witch’s eyes widen and she freezes, not foreseeing this reaction. Her body moves on instinct and she takes a step closer. 

Agatha and her haven’t seen eye to eye, the purple witch got on her last nerve, but the day had been exhausting, especially for her. Meeting the younger woman’s mother made some pieces fall into place and, although her actions weren’t justifiable, Lilia could now see where she was coming from. 

Agatha hadn’t judged her after her hallucinations on the first trial, so she was in no position to do so now.

“Oh, dear.” The words come out of her mouth, her arms wrapping around the taller woman. 

The purple witch flinches at the touch and goes rigid, unused to someone comforting her. It doesn’t take long for her defense mechanism to give out, the warm embrace taking effect. Her walls crumble and she places her palms on her face, leaning into Lilia and resting her forehead against her shoulder. 

“Okay.” The older woman’s fingers run through her locks as she whispers, settling the other on the awkward hug. 

Sobs wrack their bodies and Lilia nearly falls as Agatha melts against her, putting her weight on her and trusting the fortune teller to keep them upright. 

The odd situation doesn’t go unnoticed by the divination witch, but she still lowers them to the ground, carefully placing her knees on the floor as she looks around for a nearby wall to lean against.

Like a crying child does to a mother, Agatha snuggles up to her once they are settled, practically in the grey-haired woman’s lap.

Lilia is as lost as can be, but she holds the other tightly, running her nails through the brunette’s scalp. Agatha’s reaction is unexpected, but not unfounded. Her mother’s word affected all of them, to the point that Alice would have lost her life if it weren’t for Teen. 

It was off biased to hear someone say they ought to have killed their child at birth while said child was standing by their side begging for her life. 

It takes a while, but the crying subsides. The younger woman’s breath ghosts her neck and she pulls away from the embrace to look at Lilia. Her eyes are big now, lost, searching for something in the other witch’s face. The fortune teller brings her palms to her cheek and runs her thumbs over them, wiping away the tears. 

“Better?” She asks with a sharp nod, encouraging voice. 

The younger woman just stares at her, hands moving to clutch the other’s wrists, keeping Lilia’s hold in place. Her eyes are glazed as she pulls the divination witch forward, crashing their mouths together and making Lilia let out a surprised sound at the back of her throat. 

“Agatha!” Pulling away, she gasps, surprise written all over her face as she studies the brunette’s features. 

“I- Please, Lilia.” The whisper sounds loud in the silent room. 

“Agatha.” The fortune teller sighs, head shaking slightly. “I can see you’re affected by the situation, but this isn’t the way to go. You need to rest.” 

“What I need…is this.” 

The brunette says confidently for the first time tonight, grabbing one of Lilia’s hands and running it down her body, up under the jersey shirt and placing it against her cotton underwear. The older woman presses her lips together and narrows her eyes, but doesn’t stop the other from straddling her outstretched legs. 

This is a bad idea, the fortune teller witch can tell. 

She stays rooted to the spot, unable to move or to deny the pitiful witch in front of her. 

“Please, Lilia, please.” Agatha fists the yellow blouse.

A beautiful woman begging has always been Lilia’s weakness, for better or for worse, she fell for it everytime. 

“Okay, baby, okay.” She tells her softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

The fortune-teller runs her hands up and grips the bare skin of Agatha’s waist, pulling her in for another kiss, leading the pace and setting a slow rhythm. The purple witch whimpers and grabs her nape, leaning closer and grinding her hips against Lilia’s front. 

This is a very different behavior than what Lilia has witnessed this far, she is clingy and needy, almost as if seeing her mother again has brought on a crave for praise and attention she had long ago outgrown. The older woman’s palms move upwards and she cups the brunette’s breast, pinching a nipple and then smoothing it with her thumbs, Agatha moans into her mouth and bucks against her thigh. 

“Please, I need it so bad.” She murmurs against her lips, fingers threading through gray hair.

The whisper is almost imperceptible, probably released by accident, but something coils inside Lilia. A heat spreads through her body and it's her time to groan as their tongues slide together, any reservations she had thrown out the window. 

The older woman breaks the kiss to latch onto Agatha's neck, leaving a hickey on her pulse point as the other witch whines, clinging to her. She bites the skin, uncaring about the marks she’s leaving behind. Her hands remain on the brunette’s chest, running her nais lightly and cupping them. 

Lilia feels the panties rubbing against her getting damp and continues her work. One of her palms runs down to aid Agatha’s movements against her thigh, putting more pressure on her movement and making the younger woman moan as she speeds up. 

“Lilia-” The brunette lets out. 

“Relax, baby. I know.” 

The unspoken request doesn’t escape the older witch, her hand moves to Agatha’s thigh, cold rings teasing the skin and leaving goosebumps behind. Her lips kiss the bruises and bite the flesh of her shoulder, the younger woman cries out. It crosses Lilia’s mind that they are making too much noise, but when she circles a nipple and Agatha lets out a whimper, she decides it’s not loud enough to make her stop.

Her nails lightly graze the brunette’s panties, she feels the wetness seeping through them and Agatha bucks her center into her hand, chasing the touch. She runs her fingers over the fabric, gripping the younger woman’s waist to still her movements. She takes her sweet time with it, teasing the other witch as she starts to tremble.

Looking up, she sees the tears streaming down Agatha’s face and her features close in worry. She’s about to pull away when the brunette holds her in her place and kisses her, salty lips and wetness smearing across their faces. Lilia reaches up to stroke Agatha’s hair, trying to bring her some sort of comfort and shallowing the sob she lets out at the action. 

“Don’t you dare take your hands off me.” 

The usual Agatha shines through and the older witch levels her with a stare. 

Stopping the teasing, she pushes the panties aside and runs her digits over wet folds, parting the other witch’s lower lips and observing the way Agatha’s eyes glaze over when she enters her with two fingers.

The brunette’s movement is automatic, she rolls her hips and accommodates the stretch, grasping Lilia’s yellow blouse. The older woman curves her digits and watches as Agatha shudders at the feeling, starting an up and down motion. 

Lilia’s attention is drawn elsewhere. The jersey shirt is in the way of Agatha’s breasts, so she focuses on her neck, hoping that the brunette’s Road outfit would cover the redness later. She lets the younger woman chase her own pleasure, doesn’t help with the thrusting and keeps her hand still.

“I-Lilia.” 

“Come on, baby. I know you can do it.” 

The incentive makes her redouble her effort and throw her head back as her hips move faster. Her breathing is ragged with the exertion and she pounds down harder, missing the help the other witch could provide and having to pursue her climax on her own.

The older woman grabs her waist to steady her, leaning in to kiss the brunette’s pulse point and whisper. 

“Oh, Agatha. You’re such a good girl.” 

This completely breaks the brunette. She falls forward, resting her head on Lilia’s collarbone as her body shakes with the hiccups and her hips slam down over and over. The only sounds in the room are the wet plunge on Lilia’s fingers and Agatha’s whimpers. 

The older woman runs her nails through the brunette’s hair and feels her shiver at the caress. Pulling her up by the scalp, she watches the tears streaming down Agatha’s face and the desperate look in her eyes. She runs her fingers down her jaw and grips her chin. 

“Please, move.” She begs, looking into Lilia’s eyes. “Mommy, please.” 

“But you are doing a good job, baby.” 

Agatha’s hips stutter at the praise and she bites her lips, eyes wide and imploring. Lilia maintains her resolve, helping only by holding her waist and guiding her to find the angle to rub her clit on her thigh. The brunette moans when she brushes the just right spot.

The purple witch is long gone, dripping down the older woman’s fingers and rutting against her leg now that she’s found her way into her peak. Her head is thrown back and Lilia’s grip keeps her from falling. Her wetness stains the fabrics under her, soaking her cotton panties and ruining Lilia’s pants. 

“I can’t-” She sobs, her tears falling nonstop.

“Yes, you can.” The older witch tells her firmly, shushing her as she cries.

Agatha's state is so beautiful, her eyes are closed, her bruised throat is exposed, her cheeks are smeared with wetness and she moves against Lilia’s fingers like her life depends on it. The older woman feels her own arousal pooling in her underwear and groans at the image in front of her. 

Agatha’s movements become erratic and lose rhythm, the older woman can tell she is close and latches her mouth on the purple witch’s neck, leaving another bruise behind, marking Agatha for her own pleasure. 

“Mommy, I’m- Can I?” The brunette blurbs out, her ability to speak long gone. 

“Of course, baby.” 

Her legs grip Lilia’s thigh in place and she stiffens up, thrusting harder against the older woman as she shudders and cries out. The other witch clashes their lips together, drowning the sobs and moans Agatha lets out as her peak overtakes her. 

The younger woman clutches the yellow blouse and pulls Lilia closer, holding her tightly as her hips undulate against Lilia’s fingers and her body slowly loosens from the strong climax. Parting from the kiss, the divination witch removes her soaked fingers from the brunette’s core and brings them up, presenting them to Agatha. 

The brunette stares into her eyes as she takes them into mouth, moaning against the taste of herself and running her tongue over the digits, breath ghosting Lilia’s skin as she pants from the previous exertion. 

“Good girl.” 

The previous redness of her skin turns a shade darker and she groans, sucking the fingers one more time before popping them out of her mouth. 

“Feeling better?” 

The older woman grabs her face and wipes away the tears, mindful of her spit-covered digits and keeping them away from the brunette’s skin. 

“Yes.” She nods before amending. “Thank you.” 

It’s clear that it’s going to take a moment for her to return to her usual state of mind, however, they don’t have time to linger. The indistinct sound of the escape door rings through the room and the others wake up downstairs, confused by the situation and groaning. 

They hear Teen’s sleepy filled voice say.