#char writes

"Is it a lie if I was previously unaware of a piece of information?"

Angel peeked up from behind their sketchbook, seeing Lee immediately avert his gaze in favor of darting his eyes to the wall, then the floor, and back to the wall again. It wasn't anything unfamiliar, Lee always seemed to avoid eye contact even in the most comfortable of situations.

This wasn't an aversion to eye contact this time, however. No, this was an expression Angel had come to see as Lee's 'please don't leave me' face, one that had become less frequent as their relationship has grown.

They pulled the end of their pencil they'd been chewing on out of their mouth, instead tapping it against their cheek in thought. "No, I don't think that counts as a lie." Angel shifted where they sat, setting their sketchbook down and instead just holding their knees to their chest. It had always been comfortable sitting somewhat strangely like this. "To be a lie I think you'd need to like... purposefully hide something from me or something." The topic of truthfulness and trust was always important when it came to their history, so they made sure to give their boyfriend the most undivided attention they could as a guy with unmedicated ADHD.

It had been some time since the events that led to the pair fleeing across the country, living in a cottage Angel could only have ever dreamed about owning. It had given the two of them a lot of time to think about things, about themselves, about what they were together.

And it ended up with time that Angel realized after everything was done, Lee was still the guy he started falling for even before that life-changing Friday. The "this guy is kind of your doctor" had never been a turn-off, it certainly didn't keep Angel from inviting him into the bathtub with them.

And that guy he sat in the tub with, who didn't lay his eyes on them, the guy who joked with them, who shared things about himself that Angel was almost certain that no one else knew... He had never been fake. At the end of the day, after all the lies and the horror, Lee was Lee and that was what they liked about him.

No one had ever looked at them like he did. Paid attention to who Angel really was. And for fuck's sake, he was the first and only guy who didn't misgender them.

This was real. Their relationship was real. Their biggest fear had been that they'd find out that all Lee was after was their body, to use them. But it never happened. The least they could do was listen to what their boyfriend was so worried about.

"Sooo... What's the 'lie' you're so worried about?"

Lee swallowed the lump in his throat and wrung his hands. One, two, three, he squeezed down his left hand's fingers with his right. Proximal, middle, distal. Three separate phalanges to make up a single digit, save for the two in the thumb. The repetitive and rhythmic motioned to help calm his nerves.

"...I had lied once before. About my childhood dreams. The first answer was.. sanitized, to say my main dream was to be a doctor. It was true, but so was the fact that almost all I wished for as long as I can remember is death. I thought it was my greatest desire. But.." He finally laid eyes on his partner. "I don't think I want that anymore." Angel moved closer to Lee, the two of them now sitting on the bed together. They gently laid a hand on his hand, and slowly he relaxed enough to allow them to join together. The smaller man's hand was cold, but grounded him so well.

"I think what I wanted most of all.. It was probably to feel loved. Not empty, forced love, but to be truly cared for." Angel rubbed his hand gently. Lee didn't cry often, but his eyes seemed fuller as he spoke.

"Angel.."

They reached up, gently wiping a single tear that was threatening to fall with their jacket sleeve.

"Thank you for making my dreams real."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

song that inspired the title

When Theseus is home alone, everything feels too quiet. It’s not that he minds, exactly- in fact, after spending most of his childhood and early adult years surrounded by people and noise, some peace and silence is appreciated. But now that he’s so accustomed to constant stimulation, it’s almost strange to be without it. It’s rare that he has time to himself like this nowadays.

At first, it had been fine. Chiara left for the weekend with Elisa, Mira, Veronica, and a few other of her friends for a girls’ trip. With Theseus himself off work, he’d tried to make the best of the time. Cleaning the house, organising the bookshelves, watering the plants… but that only took up so much of his day.

Now, the next morning, he has no idea what to do with himself. He’d slept awfully- he supposes he never realised how big the bed was until he was the only one in it. He turns the page of the book he’s reading, not absorbing any of the words. He hopes Chiara is alright. Well, of course she is. He’s seen her borderline shred people with her bare hands, and she’s got her friends with her, who are no group to mess with. Even so, the thought of the slightest thing going wrong, and Theseus not being there to help, makes his stomach hurt.

Sighing, he sets the book aside, resigning himself to the fact that he’s not going to get anything done today. He gets up and stretches. Yep, bookshelves are still all in order. Plants still thriving. The sofa looks fine, the grey-green rug is free of clutter… Honestly, he should let himself enjoy having a lazy day for once, shouldn’t he? He’s been so overworked lately, he really needs it. Even if he’s feeling a bit lonely.

There’s a loud crash from the kitchen, reminding him that he isn’t completely alone. He has their pet niffler, Maysilee, to keep him company- not that she’s much good. The little fluffball has always preferred Chiara over him, which is understandable. He goes down the corridor to their small kitchen, where he finds the creature on the hardwood floor, surrounded by scattered silverware. It seems she’d pulled the cutlery drawer out, and is now making a mad dash to cram all the forks in her pouch.

“Honestly, Maysilee,” He groans. Theseus grabs her before she can vanish in a flash of gold fur. At least he’s got something to do now, all things considered. He takes her by her feet and hangs her upside down, a trick he learned from Newt, and shakes her until the silverware comes tumbling back out again. He spots a few of Chiara’s earrings in there, too. “You little rat-”

She snorts at him as the last of the stolen shiny things hit the floor, then wriggles from his grip and scampers away. Maysilee only acts up like this when Chiara is away. Theseus has tried for what feels like forever to get her to warm up to him, but she’s a mama’s girl, through and through. Theseus picks up Chiara’s earrings and pockets them. He’ll need to find a better place to hide them. He starts scooping the silverware back into the fallen drawer, trying to put everything in order. An exercise in futility, really, since it’s always all loose in there anyway. Hm, perhaps that’s what he should do next- find a way to keep the drawer organised.

Or… he picks up one of the nice forks to put away, then pauses. They never have any real opportunities to use the really fancy silverware. They got it as a wedding gift, but Theseus can’t think of a time they’ve used any of it. There are fancy plates, too, assuming Maysilee hasn’t also gotten to those. He’s got the whole rest of the afternoon until Chiara gets home, so why not cook her a nice dinner? Aside from the fact that it would be an excuse to use it, he’s missed her quite a bit, and he likes to do things for her. He wants her to feel appreciated.

“Well done,” Theseus says to Maysilee, who is glaring at him from under the kitchen table with baleful blue eyes. “You’ve given me an idea."

It did, in fact, take almost the rest of the day to prepare everything, but he doesn’t mind the work. He’s set the table with their best tablecloth, navy blue and embellished with silver details, and the wedding dinnerware. Maysilee, to her credit, is for once not trying to snatch everything, although the cufflinks have vanished again. Fine, so long as she doesn’t ruin the tablesetting. He went out and got a load of orchids, Chiara’s favourite flowers, and put them in an ornate, hourglass vase he’d definitely borrowed from Newt and Tina. He scattered petals across the floor as well, because why not go all in? Chiara is more than worth it.

The fish is cooling on the counter, the wine is poured, and the pie- Chiara’s favourite, an apple shortbread- is baking in the oven. It should be done any minute, and just in time. The telltale crack of someone Apparating just outside the door announces that she’s home. Theseus takes a few flowers from the vase and rushes to greet her.

“Welcome home, darling,” he says as the door swings open.

Chiara walks in, long blonde hair pulled back in a bun. That’s new for her, but Theseus is absolutely not complaining. She looks gorgeous. She always does. “Hey, you,” she smiles up at him, flicking a stray bit of hair from her face. “Miss me?”

More than she’ll know. “Of course I did.” He offers her the flowers. “For you, my love.”

She smiles even wider, wide enough that her dimples become visible. “Ach, you shouldn’t have.” Chiara takes the orchids as a slight blush colours her freckled cheeks. “They’re lovely, Theseus.”

“Not as lovely as you, sweetheart.”

“Such a flatterer.” She grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him down to her level for a quick kiss. “Hmm,” She sighs after they break apart. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve made us dinner.” Theseus wraps an arm around her waist.

“What’s the occasion?”

“That I love you, and that I missed you terribly.”

Chiara giggles. Even that is positively adorable. “What am I going to do with you, Scamander?”

“Kiss me again?”

She readily obliges. The flowers drop to the floor, fingers tangle in hair, they might be about to forgo dinner altogether, when suddenly she jerks away and wrinkles her nose. She sniffs the air.

“Is something… burning?”

The air outside is chilly, the whole neighbourhood is quiet. The only noise is the sound of hushed laughter, as Wanda tries to fit her key in the lock. I have to stifle my giggles in the crook of my elbow as she tries every single one of her keys, apparently having forgotten which one goes to the front door. Then, when she finally finds the right key, I have to use the torch on my phone to light the keyhole for her. She shakes with repressed laughter, her hand failing to keep steady enough to slide the key into the lock. It takes a few more moments of almost silent hysterics from the both of us, before she manages to unlock the door and usher us inside.  

It’s well past midnight, and I ought to be tired, but the air feels charged and heavy with the prospect of possibility. All of a sudden, a whole other world has opened up to me. There’s so much Wanda and I could do, simply because we want to, because we are now an ‘us’. We could lay on the sofa for hours, without the barrier of pretence, intertwined in each other’s embrace until morning. I could wrap my arms around her waist and press my lips to hers, allow myself to be lost in the feel of her.  I could reach out and touch her, whenever I want to, just to feel her warm skin against mine. No more excuses, no more lingering touches disguised as something other than what they truly are. 

I watch Wanda as she shrugs off her outer layer, stripping to just her white blouse. With her sleeves rolled up, I can see the freckles dotting her arms. I take my coat off too, and Wanda’s suit jacket, but despite the relative warmth of the house, I still shiver. I got so used to the warm velvet of Wanda’s jacket, that now my skin comes out in gooseprickles, revolting against the lukewarm air.  

‘’Are you cold, honey?’’ 

Wanda is still grinning, her smile wide and mischievous. She reaches out her hand, groping into the empty air between us. I go to her instantly, intertwining my fingers with hers, and allowing her to pull me into an embrace. She holds me tight to her, just as she did when I told her I wanted to be hers. She cradles me against her like I'm about to slip through her fingers like smoke. I nuzzle into the crook of her neck, her hair tickling my face, and I nod, humming in affirmation. Though it's warmer here, close to Wanda. Even more so now, I can feel the charged energy between us, as though we both know what’s coming, but neither of us can mention it.  

''Do you want to go upstairs and warm up?'' 

My heart jumps to my throat, and I nod, maybe a little too enthusiastically, because Wanda laughs heartily at my response. ''Let's get you nice and toasty, then, sweetheart.'' 

The trek up the stairs seems to last several lifetimes, and I am forcibly reminded of the first time Wanda led me up this staircase. I remember how hard I tried not to stare at her as she walked in front of me, my eyes resolutely focussed on the thick carpet covering the steps. Now, however, I look at her unabashedly. Her suit hugs her in the most beautiful way, and I'd be content to simply watch her like this, fully clothed, even just that feels like a luxury. Not having to avert my gaze, to hide the longing in my eyes. Wanda clearly wants to be assured of my desire for her, and I’m more than happy to provide that for her. 

I am lost in my thoughts, watching the curve of Wanda’s hips, when she suddenly snaps her head around to look at me, catching my downturned eyes. To my surprise, I am not ashamed.  ''Why don't you take a picture, honey? It'll last you longer,'' she teases. I chuckle in return, mulling over the thought of having a beautiful photograph of Wanda to call my own, something to place on my desk or my bedside table. But that won’t quite do, not for a woman like Wanda. 

She’s like the moon. In reality, she is the most breathtaking beauty I have ever had the good fortune to lay my eyes upon, and I could sit for hours on end simply taking her in. But every time I try to capture her beauty, to keep it with me, even when she has long since left, the photograph turns out dull, and nothing at all like the real thing. No one can take a photograph of the moon, which is more beautiful than what you see when you look up at the night sky. Wanda looks beautiful in photographs, how could she not? But every time something is missing. That glint in her eyes, the vibrancy of her smile, it’s never quite right. It doesn’t do her justice. She needs something more, something much more substantial than a simple picture. 

I think of an art exhibit I went to once on a school trip, when I was a teenager. The theme was space, and there were lots of fantastic sculptures and paintings, depicting all the different wonders that our universe has to offer. But, throughout the whole visit, I couldn’t get myself to look away from this one particular piece. A huge canvas, larger than myself, depicted the full moon in all her glory. Every crater, every dent, every last detail was masterfully crafted. It looked so real, it looked so beautiful, like I could reach out and touch the actual moon, not just paint on canvas. I took a picture of it, but it never looked the same as it did on that day at the exhibit. 

Wanda stops on the staircase to strike a pose, a hand in her hair, a cheeky smile on her face. I don’t pull out my phone to take a picture, I reach for her hand instead. 

‘’I’d rather have a painting of you, to be honest,’’ I say, ‘’but I suppose the real thing will have to do.’’

*** 

The door to the bedroom, our bedroom, has never looked more inviting. Wanda lets me in, and I feel the nervousness hit me for the first time. I try my best to look casual, and unassuming. I fuss with my earrings, taking much longer to take them off than is strictly necessary. I can tell Wanda is watching me, I feel her eyes burning hot against the back of my neck, so I struggle to find something to break the silence.   

''I should probably shower and wash this makeup off,'' I say, not because I mean it, but because I want Wanda to tell me to stay. I need her to acknowledge to me that she wants me, just as she needed me to tell her over and over again that I want her. I turn to look at her, and I can see that she's undone three of her buttons, exposing the soft, pale skin of her chest. Wanda cocks her head at me, taking in the slight pinkness of my cheeks, and the barest tremble in my hands. ''I think you'd rather be doing something else, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?’’

''I- I-'' My voice seems to have failed me, my throat drying up like water in the sun. Wanda gives me a sympathetic smile, like she almost pities me, but not quite. ''I think you want to stay, don't you baby?'' She moves closer to me, walking slowly, like a predator stalking her prey, until she has me in her grasp once more. ''I know what you want,'' she breathes against my waiting lips, ''but you're going to have to ask nicely.'' 

This time, when she kisses me, there is a sense of urgency behind it. Her hands leave their usual spot, resting against my cheeks or grasping at the back of my neck, to roam over my body. She glides her hands down my back, over my hips, and up again. My skin tingles with her touch, and I wish it were my bare skin she was touching, not the silk of my dress. In response to her touch, I allow my own hands to wander. With my fingers I draw a path up Wanda’s arms, from the bare skin of her forearms, to her biceps, hidden by her white blouse. She's strong, I can feel the muscle hard underneath her soft skin, and I wonder how easy it would be for her to throw me around if she wanted to. 

Feeling brave, I break our kiss, to dip my head into the crook of her neck, and place a soft kiss there. Wanda shudders when I dart out my tongue, to glide it against her skin. I can taste her perfume, but I don't mind, not when I finally get to do this. Wanda groans at the feel of my tongue against her, and slides her hands to my lower back, lingering just long enough to whisper breathlessly, "is it okay if I- ?" 

If my frantic nods, as I let go of her neck, aren't enough to make it clear, my desperate plea of "yes, God, please," most certainly is.  She slides her hands down, grabbing at my ass, squeezing and pulling me ever closer to her. I stumble a bit when she pulls me flush against her, but she holds me tight, not letting me fall.

"Why don't you lay down, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, her voice sweet like honey, "I don't want you falling over and hurting yourself."

So, I allow Wanda to lay me down on the bed, flat against the mattress, the pillows too far to reach. She straddles me, her strong thighs enclosing my hips. Leaning down to look at me, her coppery red hair falls down to frame her face. She reaches out a single finger to trace my cheek, where I can feel the heat blooming. "Baby, you're all flushed. Are you hot? Maybe we should take off that pretty dress."

I’m afraid to speak, unsure of what words to use, scared to make myself look like a fool in front of Wanda. I want her to think I’m pretty, that I’m sexy, but most importantly, I want her to see how obedient I can be. Her words make me tremble, and I reach for the straps at my shoulder instantly, knowing what she wants and wanting to please. Wanda chuckles, the sound coming from deep in her throat. "Ah, ah, honey. That's my job. You're my little present to unwrap." 

She leans down to give me a quick little kiss on the tip of my nose, before finding the small zip at my side and tugging it down all the way. Her touch is careful and gentle as she slides the straps from my shoulders. She presses her lips to my collarbones, peppering them, and my shoulders with kisses, as she slides the top of my dress down my torso, to expose my breasts to her. My dress was designed to have formed cups, and underwire support, so I forwent wearing a bra. When the cool air runs over me, I feel my nipples hardening. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest, my face aflame in a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. ‘’Oh no, baby, don’t hide. You look so pretty like this,’’ Wanda husks. My face glows red-hot, and I can tell without looking that it has spread to my neck and chest too. ‘’Come on pretty girl,’’ she coos, running her hands along the outsides of my thighs, ‘’let me look at you.’’

With my face still burning, I cautiously uncross my arms from my chest, choosing to let my hands rest on Wanda’s thighs instead. When she gets her first good look at me, she lets out a little sigh of delight, the kind you make when you can see the stars on a clear night. Her hands abandon my thighs in favour of my bare torso, her fingers tracing the line where my skin meets the pushed back fabric of my dress. Her nails tickle my upper abdomen as she trails her fingers up, and up. Her hands skirt over my ribcage, like a musician performing a glissando on a xylophone, before finally coming to rest over my breasts. 

She’s so gentle as she touches me, like she’s afraid I might startle, or break, or both. She watches me closely for any reaction, but her watchful gaze makes me nervous, it hits me like an acute case of stage fright. Her touch is nice, more than nice. Her thumbs rub over the stiff peaks of my nipples, and I squirm and hold back a sigh. But when she leans down to take a nipple into her mouth, I can’t help but let out a soft gasp, my hands shooting slightly up, moving from her thighs to her waist. I can feel her smile around my breast, pleased at even the most miniscule reaction from me. 

She stays there, bringing up more saliva from her mouth, sliding her tongue over my hardened nipple and sucking gently. With her right hand, she teases my free breast, squeezing and pinching to make me writhe under her, before switching her attention to the other breast. Her mouth is warm, and wet, and when she flicks her tongue over my stiff nipple, I imagine it’s my clit instead. The pressure between my legs grows by the minute, and I find myself trying to buck up my hips, to rock against anything that might alleviate some of this ache. However, Wanda’s legs enclose mine so tightly that I barely have any room to move at all.

She evidently takes notice of this, because she lets go of my breast with a pop and looks down at my feebly moving hips. Her eyes shine with amusement when she looks at me, my lips parted, breasts wet and puffy from her attention. ‘’Awww,’’ she tuts in fake sympathy, ‘’am I making you feel good, honey?’’ 

Her words cut a path straight to my clit, and I feel myself throb. I want to say yes, to shout it at her. To beg her to touch me in the way I’ve fantasized about for so many years. Have I not dreamt of being forced to kneel and beg for what I want?

Now I’m in the spotlight, however, with Wanda observing every twitch and shudder, I feel rather shy. I can’t hold eye contact with her, and I most certainly can’t say the words I know she wants me to say. So instead I cast my eyes downward, focussing, not for the first time this night, on the swell of her chest. The buttons she undid earlier reveal the barest hint of cleavage, but when she leans down to kiss me, I can see straight down her blouse. Greedily, I stretch out my hands, to fumble at the other buttons of her blouse with trembling fingers. Wanda throws her head back and laughs, ‘’I’m sorry baby, I’ve been so greedy taking you all for myself, I forgot you might want to see me too.’’

She helps me to unbutton her blouse, her fingers much more steady than mine. My head feels rather clouded, partially from the ache between my legs, partially from seeing Wanda like this for the first time, and partially from the exhausting night I’ve had. 

I marvel at the sight of her, blouse hanging off her shoulders, breasts spilling out over the top of her bra. Her hair hangs down over her face in a fine curtain of shining red hair, like the soft glow of a hearth fire. She has freckles on her chest too, a whole other galaxy of tiny little stars, waiting to be explored. Over the past few weeks, I have become intimately acquainted with the freckles on her face and arms, connecting them all with the tips of my fingers, weaving an unseen tapestry of a skyline only known to us. The freckles on her chest are wilder, somehow, than those on her face and arms. They’re spread farther apart, and are fewer in numbers. I want to put my mouth to them, and kiss each and every one. One of my fingers darts out to begin mapping out the first few connections between the freckles, the stars in my galaxy, and Wanda, my perfect, shining, moon. 

I don’t realize that I’m crying until I feel my nose close up. The tears haven’t quite escaped my eyes yet, instead they pool in the corners, waiting for me to tip my head, so they can be released. When Wanda hears me sniff, she starts and raises her gaze from her chest where my finger is still connecting one star to the next, to my tear filled eyes. A wild sort of panic flashes across Wanda’s face, and it’s enough to draw a teary laugh from me. ‘’What’s wrong? Why are you crying, honey? Do you want to stop?’’ 

Wanda is so sweet, and so kind, and so gentle. She extracts herself from me gingerly, shrugging off her blouse to cover my chest, and she looks down at me from where she’s laying on the bed, raised with one elbow braced against the mattress. I shake my head, smiling, knowing my voice will be thick with emotion if I try to speak. 

‘’I can’t say I expected you to be crying and smiling at the same time when I tried to seduce you for the first time.’’ This makes me laugh, a real, deep laugh, and as my eyes squint the pooled tears fall down my cheeks. Wanda swipes them away with her thumbs, leaning over to kiss me on my forehead. ‘’Do you want to stop, honey?’’

I shake my head quickly, vigorously, making Wanda smile. ‘’No! I don’t want to stop at all, I just- I don’t know, you’re just so pretty, and I still can’t believe this is real and that you want me.’’ I feel silly saying it out loud, and I’m cursing myself inwardly for not having a grip on my emotions. But, Wanda’s gaze softens, her hand cupping my cheek to pull me into a warm kiss. When she pulls back, she scrunches her nose at me affectionately, pushing the hair back from my brow. Even in such a tender moment, I struggle to hold her gaze, and I lower my gaze, forgetting that she’s no longer wearing her blouse. 

She snorts, teasingly dipping her head to catch my eyes as they linger on the swell of her chest. I flush. ‘’I’m sorry, I didn’t-’’ But she breaks me off with the sound of her dazzling laughter. ‘’Honey, don’t apologize for that. I want you to look at me,’’ she says, intertwining the fingers of her free hand with mine, ‘’because this is real, and I want you more than anything or anyone in the world.’’ Her words wash over me in a wave of warmth, like getting into a hot bath after being out in a chilly December evening. It feels so good, so warm, so safe. ‘’I want you too,’’ I whisper, ‘’more than anyone or anything.’’ 

Wanda’s mouth opens just a tad bit wider, her chest expanding just a bit farther. Her eyes glow with the same greedy expression that was there when she asked me to tell her again that I want her. I am overcome with a sudden urge to give myself completely to her, to let her utterly consume me. 

***

For a while, we end up laying side by side, safe in each other’s arms. We take our time, getting lost in the taste of each other’s mouths, running our hands up and down each other’s exposed sides. Wanda’s blouse lies forgotten, and she allows me to reach my hands behind her back to undo her bra, as I want nothing more than to feel her skin pressed against mine. 

I marvel at the sight of her, bare in front of me. With a single finger I map out the newfound freckles on her chest, marking them all with a touch, before placing a gentle kiss on every single one. Wanda makes good use of the time I spend with my head inclined towards her, and she pulls every last pin from my elaborate braided updo, until the braids fall down my back, and she undoes those too. Finally, my hair tumbles free over my shoulder, a little stiff from the hairspray, and wavy from the tight weave of the braids. 

While she’s busy, I let my thoughts wander to all the lonely nights I’ve experienced in the past few years, and the fantasies that kept me warm during them. I have been trying my hardest to pretend I haven’t noticed Wanda’s hardened nipples pressing against my chest as I focussed all my attention on her freckles. But now, I can’t keep up the charade anymore. My mouth, hungry and eager, moves lower, and I take her into my mouth. Wanda gasps, and the fingers in my hair tighten. 

It’s everything I’ve been dreaming of, and yet so much more. Her warm body pressed against mine, her fingers in my hair, her stuttered gasps as I lick and suck to my heart's content. The ache between my legs returns in tenfold, and I find myself unabashedly straddling one of Wanda’s thighs with both of my own. Even though there is still too much fabric between us, the muted pressure feels heavenly, and I wonder if this will be enough to make me come undone. 

Hours seem to fly by, but in reality I know it’s only been a few minutes. Wanda is breathing hard, panting as my mouth remains relentlessly on her breasts. I too have caved in, my shame making way for the pleasant cloudiness of pleasure, and I let out several muffled moans, even through a mouthful of breast. When I finally let go of her, the ache between my legs becoming too overwhelming, Wanda seizes the opportunity to extract herself from underneath me. Her hands fly to her belt buckle, and a thrill runs through me at the sight of her undoing her trousers. How many times have I imagined this? Imagined her strolling into my office after hours, bending me over my desk, and sliding off her belt to have her way with me. 

All I can do is lay there and stare as she pulls off both her trousers and her underwear in one go, leaving her completely bare. The sight of rust-coloured curls peeking out from between her legs makes me feel weak in the knees, and I’m grateful for the solid mattress underneath me. She doesn’t give me much time to dwell on the expanse of newly revealed skin, because her hands are on me now, sliding all the way up my thighs, and not stopping when her fingers catch on silky fabric. She pushes my dress up and up, well over my hips. ‘’Arms up, baby,’’ she says with a sweet smile, as if she isn’t about to devour me in a single bite, like the big, bad wolf.

Obediently, I comply, raising up my arms, so she can slide the dress over my head and throw it in the general direction of the laundry basket. I try to close my legs, trying to hide the evidence of my arousal, that I’m sure is there by now. But, Wanda seems to have a different idea, because she holds my legs open firmly with both hands. 

‘’Oh, honey, would you look at that,’’ she says with utter delight, ‘’did that get you all excited?’’

My cheeks glow red, but my cunt throbs at her words. I look down to where her hands are resting on my inner thighs, and I can see just how soaked through my underwear has become. The fabric sticks to me, moulding to the shape of my body. From between my labia, my hardened clit sticks out ever so slightly, swollen and throbbing, begging for Wanda’s attention. 

She sees it too, I know she does, and when she reaches out a hand I am sure it is to touch me there, but to my great disappointment she only settles it comfortably on my pubic bone, holding me in place. A desperate little whimper slips from my lips, my hips canting upwards, searching for friction. My voice is small, and soft when I whine for her, ‘’please, please, touch me.’’ 

Wanda smiles, a devious, horrible smile, that lets me know I’m in for a long night.

***

‘’Ah, ah, oh God, fuck. Wanda.’’

The heels of my feet are digging into the mattress, my hips raised up high, rocking desperately into Wanda’s touch, but she’s not relenting one bit. My underwear has long since been removed, my wetness now dripping down and soaking the sheets. Her fingers glide comfortably over my soaked cunt, carefully caressing my labia, teasing my entrance, but still stubbornly refusing to touch my clit. It’s so swollen it almost hurts, and tears of frustration prickle at the edges of my eyes. My shame left me several long minutes ago, and now I’m unabashedly whining, keening and whimpering. 

Wanda shushes me gently, a look of utter delight on her face. ‘’I know, baby,’’ she coos, ‘’I know it hurts, doesn’t it?’’ My tortured wail in response only makes her laugh, rubbing my lower stomach in a calming gesture. ‘’I haven’t heard you ask nicely yet, baby, you need to tell me what you want.’’ I groan, letting my raised hips sink back down onto the bed. ‘’Please, please, I can’t take it anymore, please just touch me.’’ 

The twinkle in her eyes shows something of mischief, but her gaze softens quickly when a single frustrated tear drips slowly down my cheek. The comforting hand on my stomach rubs in gentle circles, trying to calm me down. ‘’I’m sorry, sweetheart. We need to go slow today, okay? Slow and gentle, because you’re not used to any of this yet.’’

A part of me wants to laugh in her face, to tell her all the things I do to myself, that are far removed from being soft or gentle, never mind all the things I want her to do to me. But, in this state, I really don’t have much energy to put up a fight. I want her to touch me where it matters, before I go clinically insane. 

‘’Wanda, please, I’m not going to break, slow is good, but I’m going to lose my mind.’’

‘’What if I like you like this?’’ she teases, ‘’you’re so pretty when you’re desperate.’’ I open my mouth to argue with her, but she’s already ahead of me. She holds out the index and middle fingers of her right hand, they hover in the air in front of my mouth, and I don’t need her to tell me what to do. I raise my head slightly to take her into my mouth, but she pushes forward, sliding her fingers in to the second knuckle. This allows me to lay back down, contently suckling her fingers, gagging ever so slightly when she begins to move them in and out, in a languid pace. 

‘’I think you like having something to keep that pretty mouth busy, baby,’’ Wanda says, her voice low, and sultry. When I look over at her, I see her watching me with a slightly parted mouth, the barest hint of a flush evident on her cheeks. I nod eagerly, gliding my tongue this way and that as she begins to move her fingers a little faster. Too soon, however, she slides herself free from my mouth, a heavy string of saliva still sticks to her, before falling down onto my chest. 

‘’Good girl, honey. You’re being so perfect for me, and it’s only your first time,’’ she says, leaning down to lick the string of saliva off my chest, stopping to suck heartily at my hard nipples. Her praise warms me from the inside out, I want to hear her say it again and again. I want to be her perfect girl. 

‘’Are you going to keep being good for me?’’ she asks, moving up from between my spread legs, to straddle my waist. My stomach lurches when I feel her slide her wet cunt over my stomach, rocking against me. She doesn’t miss the gasp that escapes my lips, even as I nod my head yes, yes I will keep being good for her, I will do anything to be her good little girl. ‘’Do you feel that?’’ Wanda asks, deliberately grinding down hard against me, so I can feel every inch of her soaked skin. All I manage in response is a weak, ‘’fuck.’’

‘’’That’s all from you, baby. Watching you try to fuck yourself on my fingers, taking me so well down your throat. You make me so wet.’’

My mouth is dry, my throat is dry, my voice has evaporated. I can’t comprehend how this is real, how this is genuinely happening. Wanda above me, grinding her wet cunt against me, the wetness that she says I made appear. My own ache is forgotten, as Wanda moves up higher, her cunt hovering over my chest, so close to my face that I can smell her, and I know what it is she wants from me. ‘’You’re going to put that busy mouth to work for me, alright?’’ she coos, stroking my cheek with her still wet fingers, ‘’and you’re not going to stop until I cum all over your pretty face.’’ 

And with that, she moves upwards, framing my face with her thighs. She holds herself open for me at first, spreading her lips to give me a good look at her. She’s swollen and red, her clit stiff and hard. She glistens with her own wetness, thick and copious, spread all over her. I secure my hands around her backside, lifting my neck to get my first taste of her.

I take her clit between my lips and apply my tongue gently, letting the taste of her overwhelm my senses. It takes only a few seconds for the muscles in Wanda’s thighs to grow taut, and she lays me back down, the back of my head firmly against the mattress. The soft flesh of her thighs slots over my ears, drowning out the sounds of her sighs. She’s careful with me, hovering over my face and holding herself up, careful to not obstruct my airways.

My tongue moves downward, to where her wetness is collected, and then I drag it all the way up to her hardened clit. I am a quick study, testing out all the possible combinations of movements that she likes best. Licking, sucking, flicking, moving my head this way and that. I pay attention to the quiver of her muscles and her muffled moans above me, as I work to keep a solid and steady rhythm going. It isn’t long before the cracks in Wanda’s veneer begin to show. She looks down at me, a slight smile on her slips, her eyes wild with desire. ‘’Your mouth feels so good, honey, I’m going to rest more of my weight onto you now, okay? Tap out if you can’t breathe.’’ I give her a little squeeze to show that I heard and that it’s okay, and Wanda gingerly sinks herself down onto me properly. The change in her demeanour is immediate. Her moans come faster, and louder, and soon she’s rocking her hips erratically against me, sliding her clit over my mouth and nose, grinding and bearing down.

My face is wet, and warm, sticky with her arousal, the flyaway hair at my temples sticks to my cheeks and forehead. It’s messy, and sloppy, and the most perfect thing in existence. I can’t see much of Wanda’s face in this position, but her mouth is agape, her head thrown back, her chest flushed red. She looks like a painting, like a piece of artwork I could sit and watch for hours, filling up notebook after notebook trying to put into words the otherworldly beauty captured within this scene.

I never want it to end, I want to hold her to me like this until the earth caves in on itself. I could die peacefully knowing that even if it’s just for one night, just for this moment, Wanda Maximoff wanted me, desired me, ached for me. I clutch this thought close to my heart, trying to hold on to this feeling of being wanted. 

Too soon, however, Wanda’s rhythm becomes impossibly erratic. She moans long, and low in her throat. Her fingers weaving themselves tightly into my hair, holding me in place as she fucks my mouth. Dutifully, I lay still, mouth open and tongue outstretched, allowing Wanda to use me as she pleases.  ‘’Are you ready, baby?’’ Wanda asks, voice breathless and trembling, ‘’be a good girl and take it all.’’ 

She sinks her weight down onto me, rubbing her clit against my lips in a way that has her gasping for air. Then she goes rigid, muscles tightening, but her hips keep moving, even faster now. Unexpectedly, a copious amount of sweet tasting liquid bursts forth from Wanda, most of it dribbling down my face, but I manage to swallow some of it. She groans, and moans, somehow at the same time. It’s a noise of the purest pleasure, that sounds like absolute heaven to me. 

She rides out her pleasure for several long minutes, teasing her breasts with her hands, rolling her nipples between her nimble fingers. Then, she lifts off of me, kneeling next to my face,  allowing me to get some good breaths in, checking in to make sure I’m feeling alright. Which is almost laughable, considering I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now. 

‘’Do you think you can go one more time, honey?’’ she asks, still breathless from her relief. ‘’Fuck yes,’’ I say, instantly reaching for her thighs to pull her close to me again. Wanda laughs at my eagerness, but takes hold of my hands to prevent me from grasping at her. ‘’No, baby, I want to try something else.’’

She crawls up the bed to position herself with her face looking down at my body, hovering on her knees high above my waiting mouth. Her fingers find my hair, nudging me to lift my head up for her, so she can get a good grip on me. ‘’You did a great job baby, but now I want to properly fuck your mouth.’’ Without any further preamble, she pulls my face up towards her, aligning my mouth with her clit. ‘’There you go baby,’’ she coos, ‘’now suck.’’

Just like I did before, I suck her clit gently between my lips, putting pressure on it with my tongue. Above me, Wanda groans loudly. ‘’That’s it, keep going just like that, now I’m just going to-’’ With her hands firmly in my hair she pulls me up against her, and then drops me just a tiny bit. A slight up and down movement, that makes Wanda curse and groan. She does it slowly at first, making sure to support my neck. But it can’t be much more than two minutes before she begins to lose control somewhat. She pushes my head harshly up against her, before pulling back just enough that her clit doesn’t escape from the sweet suction of my lips. 

It’s amazing to watch the impeccable Wanda Maximoff lose herself in pleasure like this, and knowing that it’s me who’s making her feel this way, makes me glow with pride. Every moan and gasp, every spasm in her muscles, is a tiny victory. 

I can tell she’s close from the way she begins to swivel her hips, no longer just moving herself up and down. She leans forward somewhat, trying to steady herself on her shaking thighs. And then, she’s coming. Her hips move frantically against me, this way and that, holding me so tightly against her that I can’t breathe. This time, none of her cum makes its way into my mouth, and I’m upset that I missed my opportunity. But, with Wanda above me like this, moaning so loud that the sounds reverberate across the room, and so lost in pleasure that she’s forgotten about my need for oxygen, I can’t really be upset for very long.

***

It takes a while for the both of us to catch our breath. Wanda kisses me heartily, tasting herself on my tongue, showering me in affection. She tells me over and over again how good I was for her, how well I took her, and how proud she is of me. With a wet wipe from her nightstand, she wipes my face and neck down, clearing her sticky wetness from my skin. ‘’I’m sorry I didn’t warn you beforehand,’’ she says, leaning over the side of the bed to drop the wipe in the bin. ‘’I think I forgot about it myself for a sec, that only happens with oral.’’ 

I shrug, ‘’I really don’t mind, it was nice actually, I’m sad I didn’t get any of it in my mouth the second time.’’ Wanda inhales sharply at this, her gaze darkening. ‘’Careful,’’ she says, crawling on top of me, and placing an open-mouthed kiss against my neck, ‘’I want to reward you for that good behaviour, it won’t do for me to get greedy with you again.’’

She spreads my legs with her palms, encouraging me to get comfortable. ‘’Look at you, pretty baby,’’ Wanda says, settling herself in between my open legs. ‘’I bet you’re aching so bad.’’ Her fingers find the source of my wetness, coating themselves in it, sliding inside to the first knuckle without any resistance. ‘’You’re so wet for me, honey. Is this what you’ve been dreaming of all those nights sleeping next to me?’’ 

Her voice is sweet, and gentle, not in the slightest accusatory. But I find myself freezing, holding my breath. Her smile widens, ‘’did you think I didn’t notice, baby? All those times you slipped out in the middle of the night? Going to the bathroom or the room next door? Did you think I didn’t hear you fucking yourself?’’ To punctuate her accusing words, she slides her fingers in father, to the second knuckle, and curls them upward. I can’t help but moan at the sensation, but my face burns in humiliation at the knowledge of her finding me out. ‘’I- I’m- sorry.’’ I manage to stutter out, but Wanda shakes her head. ‘’Oh no, baby, don’t be sorry. I think it’s wonderful.’’ 

Her fingers slide back out, moving up to draw wide circles around my clit, making me writhe underneath her. ‘’Every time we cuddle a bit too closely, I couldn’t help but tease you, baby. Just to get you riled up, because I knew you’d slip away at night to make the ache go away.’’

Her fingers are dangerously close to my clit, and I try to buck up my hips, but she holds me firmly against the mattress with her free hand. ‘’I fucked myself too, you know, listening to you cum. You sound so pretty when you cum, baby, even when you’re trying to keep quiet.’’

I whine now, long and loud. I’m wound too tight, the coil in my belly ready to unfurl. My clit is hard and throbbing, and the knowledge that Wanda was touching herself to the sound of me finding my release, is making me ache to the point of pain. ‘’Wanda, puh-lease!’’ I almost sob. ‘’Shhh, it’s okay,’’ she coos, her free hand rubbing gentle circles over my stomach, ‘’you can let go now, sweetheart.’’

The pad of her finger finds my clit, pushing down on it, creating a wonderfully dizzying amount of pressure. She rubs me firmly, fighting to stay in the same spot, in spite of the copious amount of wetness that makes it easy for her to slip and slide. Her mouth finds my neck, sliding her tongue over it and sucking hard. I can tell there will be a mark there come morning, but I don't care in the slightest. 

All of my senses are taken over by her, her body pressed against mine, skin against skin. Her mouth on my neck, her fingers on my clit. In this moment everything else simply falls away, nothing matters, only Wanda and I, and the rapidly unfurling coil in my stomach. I've been built up too long, teased too much. It's been only minutes, not even five, surely. But time feels strange right now, passing by in huge dollops or dragging on for centuries. My fingers find her hips, holding onto her for dear life, something to anchor me to this reality. Then, Wanda adds two more fingers to the one already working my clit, and it's all over. 

My body seizes up so forcibly that I fear I might stretch or tear a muscle. The sound that leaves me is absolutely ungodly, tearing my throat red raw with the force of it. Wanda is smiling against my neck, praise tumbling from her perfect lips. "That's it, good girl," she coos, "let it all out." 

It takes a long time for me to come back to reality, and when I do, I sink limply back onto the mattress, my heartbeat racing. My clit throbs so much that I'm convinced it's actually moving in time with the beating of my heart. The relief is so instant, so wonderful, that I can't help but laugh, throwing a hand over my flushed and sweaty face. 

"Was that good, baby?" Wanda asks, nuzzling the side of my neck, giving me little kisses all over. "Good?!" I say indignantly, "I'm sorry, did you miss the bit where I ascended to heaven, because I sure as hell didn't."

Wanda pulls a thoughtful expression, humming like she's really having to mull it over. "I don't think I saw anything of the sort, honey. I better try again" 

***

Five more orgasms. 

Five. 

By the end I am a blubbering mess, babbling and crying, begging for her to keep going, or to stop, or both. She takes her time with me fucking me with her fingers, pushing in with three digits, to the third knuckle. She turns me around to bend me over, before laying me back to put her mouth on me. She’s gentle, her touch and her words nothing short of reverent. It’s frustrating, but good, so fucking good. When the fifth orgasm wracks through my body, I fall completely limp back onto the bed. Too far gone to speak, or move.

The whole world seems to have shrunken down to this bed, with Wanda and me in it. My eyes are closed, and I can’t seem to muster the energy to open them. I’m laying boneless, on my back, unable to move from the position Wanda left me in. Everything feels warm and fuzzy, the deep, steady thumping of my heart threatening to lull me to sleep.

‘’Hey, little dove, come back to me,’’ Wanda whispers, pressing a tender kiss to my sweaty brow. Blearily, I open my eyes, if only so I can look at Wanda again. She smiles when I meet her eyes, her hands drifting down to rub at my shoulders. ‘’Did you enjoy that?’’ 

Enjoyment doesn’t begin to cover the wide range of emotions I felt throughout our night together, but I am so tired, and talking takes up so much energy, that I merely nod my head slowly. I try to hum in assent too, but the most I can come up with is a burst of air with no sound to accompany it. 

Wanda sees my struggle and chuckles, ‘’Oh, sweetheart, I put you through the wringer, huh?’’ I try again to make some sort of noise, and this time I manage a little whimper. Wanda pets my hair gently, running her fingers through it in a calming gesture. ‘’I know you’re tired, but we have to shower, honey. After that, we can sleep.’’ 

I want to protest, but I know she’s right, and even though I’m dead tired, I allow Wanda to help me up and into the bathroom. Wanda makes me use the toilet, mentioning something about avoiding STI’s, and in turn I make her leave the room, which she thinks is very funny. ‘’I’ve just seen it all, you know?’’ she complains through the closed door. 

Finally, after we’ve both scrubbed the makeup from our faces, Wanda turns the shower on. She lets the water run for a while, steam already beginning to rise up and circle around the ceiling. ‘’Go on, get in,’’ she says, motioning with her head, ‘’ladies first.’’ For a few moments we just stand under the hot water, holding each other tight, skin against skin. It’s so nice, and I feel so safe, that my eyes begin to get heavy again. ‘’I could fall asleep like this,’’ I mumble against the wet skin of Wanda’s shoulder. ‘’No, honey,’’ Wanda says gently, extracting herself from me, to reach for a wash cloth and soap, ‘’we just need to clean up, and then we can get to bed, okay?’’ I nod slowly, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. She squeezes out the reddish pink soap onto the cloth and begins to drag it gently over my arms, and then to my chest. I sink myself back into Wanda, too tired to care about how vulnerable I am, or how intimate this is, I just allow her to take care of me. 

***

I am so close to nodding off now, kneeling on the bed with Wanda sitting in front of me. She has a toothbrush dangling from her mouth, and with my eyes half closed already, I weave her coppery red hair into a long plait down her back. Her pyjama top is still a little wet at the collar, from her damp hair, but the fabric of it is soft and warm. I can’t wait to bury my face in it, and sleep like a dead man all night. 

The clock reads 03:48 by the time we get into bed and climb under the sheets. I yawn hugely, reaching for the lamp on my nightstand to turn it off. The both of us are too tired to chat as we normally do when we go to bed, but we still seek out the comfort of each other’s arms. Wanda holds me closer to her than she has ever done during nighttime cuddles, our legs tangled together, and my face pressed closely against her soft shirt. Wanda kisses my forehead gently, one of her hands cupping the back of my head to keep me close to her. 

My eyes are already closed, my breathing slow and steady, and I wonder if it's always this easy to fall asleep when your heart feels so light. Wanda’s breathing is slow too, but not as slow as mine, her heartbeat still a tad too fast. Her fingers dance up and down my back, swirling and writing nonsense words. Her presence and my exhaustion quickly lull me into that state of half sleeping, half waking, the moments just before you fall into your dreams. 

Suddenly, her fingers stop, and I think that it's because she's too tired to keep going. But she holds still next to me, listening, waiting. "Are you asleep?" she asks. I'm close enough, I think, and I don't say anything back. She's silent for a little while longer, before her fingers return to my back, and I feel her press a kiss to my cheek. She lets out a heavy sigh, her breath tickling my face. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" She whispers, and her voice is so soft I can barely make it out, even though she's right next to me.

"I think I love you." 

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