medicalling | Open Post

A soft huff of a laugh against her lips before he let his tongue twine around hers, toes flexing in his shoes as he lifted up to grind into her at a different angle. He could feel her magic rolling up and crashing down around him, as if testing to see where it could seep in and make itself at home. Their powers were like their own creations, curling around each other in an arcane mating ritual while he started moving his hips faster. "So much talk. Where's all this action, witch? Why want something when you can just... do it."

Another quicker, faster succession of thrusts, hearing the table protest as it started to get scooted along the table. The sound of it moving was irritating, but eventually, it would get somewhere it would stop. Or it would break. He was prepared for either.

Her honest laugh got cut off by the fast thrusts, her head thrown back in pleasure. Did he just bait her into coming again? Maybe - it's possible.

"Oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck," was the so much talk she managed as he picked up the pace, her only warning. Not that she imagined him slowing down now - she might scratch him if he teased her like that, not when she's wound up so tight. The sounds of the table resisting valiantly against their onslaught get to compete with the filthy wet sounds of her cunt, and the latter might be louder when she topples into coming again.

He lets out a feline snarl as he feels her body squeezing around his, that gripping release that flexes and holds while she comes. Then he picks her up off the table, one arm at her back, one on her ass. He moves towards the stairs, still buried in her, still without coming, using magic to get his shoes and his pants the rest of the way off before he stops at the base of them. "I'm planning on taking you upstairs and ruining your bed so that you won't be able to sleep in it without thinking of me. Any objections?"

She can't help the flutter around his cock at that promise, because apparently Rowan has the gift of suggestion. "Nope, zero objections," she answers him. By the door that leads upstairs to her flat there is a little alarm box that she stops him by - he can hold her up a little longer, yes? - so she can lock the shop properly.

She brings down the wards on the door to her apartment with a touch of her fingers to the tattoo over her collarbone, and gives him a cheeky wink.

"I should warn you that I plan to ruin you for all other witches. Second door on the right." Otherwise, he'll end up with them in her kitchen, and that table absolutely cannot make it if they fuck on it.

Such a trial for him to hold a naked witch in his arms, cock buried inside her, but somehow, he manages. He pauses to let her set what she needs to set, then walks up the stairs with her- which is an interesting sensation when one has one's dick buried to the hilt in another's body.

His glamour is flickering slightly when he reaches the top, that need crawling up through him until it was getting to be hard to think past the urge to mate. "I haven't exactly had a line of them at my door, waiting for a ride." Mostly witches either ran away from him because they knew he was something, or they kept their mouths shut because they knew about the fae and didn't want to bring down any immortal creature's wrath on themselves. Smart witches, but he wasn't the usual fae.

He got to the door to her bedroom, a thought making it open before he reached it and he stepped through into her bedroom. It smelled like her, and he was infused with the need to make it smell like him- and sex.

It really is, but being the one who has the dick buried inside her, she would fully recommend it - it feels like he bounces her on his dick with every step he takes, and if by the top of the stairs she is breathy and clamped tight around him again, well. Blame her, sure.

"Good, I'm competitive. It's a problem." She possibly should have been one of those witches who should've kept her mouth shut, but the problem was that he was too much fun to be around, trade barbs with, and look at. The worthy cause wants what the worthy cause wants.

He walks them through the door of her bedroom, the moonlight bathing it through wide windows to the side of her bed. She could turn on the light, or she could kiss him, and Ariadne has her priorities stright - so she kisses him, and trusts that he'll either find the bed or fuck her into the floor. Either way, she's winning.

Fae senses were a wonderful thing. They included such useful things as stamina to fuck a witch for a whole night, speed to make it seem as if time was his bitch, and the ability to see in near total darkness. Tolkien had apparently had some familiarity with fae, or the makers and writers of elves had. For all intents and purposes, that's what he was capable of, though there was more magic in his kind than the elven ones.

Which meant that he could make it over to her bed, to kneel on it, to lay her down while still buried inside her and thrust into her to make sure he was fully seated before he braced up to look down at her. "Are you, then? Well, what's the wager, Baby Yaga?"

She lets out a groan at that thrust, her back arching under him, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist. Her bedroom is where most of her glamour spells fade, because what need does she have for armor of any kind here? The makeup is human-made and stays on - but the spell that keeps it perfectly fixed all day is gone, so from hereon out, he's going to mess it up and it will be hot - but the charm that holds her hair pinned perfectly in place is gone before her back hits the mattress.

Splayed around her head like a dark halo, she looks debauched. It's only been a few rounds.

Does she have a wager in mind? She grins up at him. "I wager," she starts, pulling from her pool of natural magic to give herself a boost and rolling them over to sink down on his cock again. "That by the end of tonight, I'll be your favourite." She leans down and gives him a quick kiss, then sits up so she can have the leverage she wants to ride him. "Likely?"

He felt the push of magic, then the physical push as he was rolled over onto his back. He laughed, not minding the mess of make up and hair in the slightest. That's what happened during a good time. Good sex was messy.

His hands slid up along the outsides of her thighs, up over her hips, then up further to cup her breasts. "How many witches do you think I've bedded?" One. The answer was one. It had been thirty years after he'd first left Underhill, twenty after poor Maddie, and he'd been afraid to be with normal humans after her. The witch had shown him that there was something to be said for humans that were a little more than mundane, but she'd also been grieving the loss of her sisters in the aftermath of the witch burnings. They'd taken solace in each other and after that, he'd rarely come across them, other than to see them stare, then bolt.

"Didn't say your favourite witch, darling," she points out. She runs her hands up his chest, rolling her hips and for a moment just enjoying the delicious sensation of just having inside her.

Unable to stay still, those little back and forth motions of her hips become longer strokes, her hands settling on his waist for a grip - you should always hold onto the horse while riding, right?

"Just your favourite." She's not going to hold it against him if she doesn't win the wager, the attempt is fun enough.

His hands move to press her breasts together, to let him take her nipples in his fingers and roll and pinch them. To tug and tease as he bends his knees to brace his feet on the bed and push up into her. Rowan is not the type to lay there and just be ridden. There might be a bit of bucking bronco in him. "What happens if you win or lose?"

One shouldn't make deals when one's dick was being stroked by the inside of a tight gripping cunt, but he'd always been told he needed to live a little.

She lets out a heady moan at the attention paid to her tits, sinking down so hard on his cock when he pinches her nipples that skin slaps against skin. To say she's delighted that he doesn't let her just do all the work is putting it mildly.

Spured on by the bucking bronco under her, she stays at that pace, hard and fast and wet. Ravenous.

"Name your conditions," she says back, because apparently sex is when logic exits the fucking building.

"I want... fuck," he curses, reaching up and grabbing her by the back of the neck to pull her down. He wanted her lips on his, the taste of witch and coffee and female and the taste of lipstick that was smeared over both of them. His other hand went to her hip, down to her ass, squeezing there before he gave it a light slap. "Fuck the conditions. Just don't stop doing that," he begged, panting against her lips as he started to feel the first tickle of his own need rising up through him.

If she thought he smelled like cookies before, that scent bloomed from him and took over the room.

On it, she wants to say, but he pulls her down to kiss her and she gets too into that to be a brat. The angle changes, but she manages to still fuck herself on his cock at the same pace, and kiss him, at least until he slaps her ass.

She smile against his lips, breaking the kiss. "Yes, sir," is the teased answer, and see? Not stopping. Not stopping him, if he wants to spank her a little while she fucks him into her mattress.

The scent of what she's realising is very aroused Rowan blooms all around her, and she pulls from his lips to kiss down his chin, down his the side of his neck. Lick up the column of his throat, and find her way back to his mouth.

His hand moves up into her hair, making a mess of it and gripping dark strands as she teases at his throat. He can feel that reciprocal need to nuzzle at hers, to mark that place where shoulder and neck curve together. That primal male part of him wanted to see proof that he'd been here, that he'd had her, but she wasn't his. Yet. This was a first meeting of the minds to see if there was anything in common to continue later.

Judging by how he could feel himself getting closer to that edge, he was thinking that yes, there might be a few things that they had that worked well together. She taunted him and he growled, both hands down to grab her ass and pull her down harder, all while he upped that vibration going through him into her. Power shuddered, and he pushed it into her at the same pace he was fucking her.

Did she mention that she likes having her hair pulled, or did he just instinctively guess exactly what buttons to push? He's good, he's so so good, and it makes her hopeful for the next time. And the next. Once is not going to be enough.

She muffles that growl of his with a kiss, hands to his hair this time, arms resting on his shoulders. If he's going to grab onto her ass with both hands, she'll grab his hair. Balance.

"Ohfuck, you cheater," she gasps out, when she feels that power vibrate through her, the effects of it instant. She clamps around his cock tight as a vice, and with a quiver that runs up both her legs as warning, she comes again.

He'd laugh if he wasn't busy trying to remember to breathe. Her body tightened around his again and he finally let himself go. Let that pleasure crash up through him so that the light flickered through him, under his skin as it rippled and lit him from within. His fingers dug into her ass, holding her there as he pumped up, then stilled as his body emptied into her with a loud, drawn out sound. "S'not cheating if you like it."

She is just going to stay exactly where she is, sat on his dick, still writhing a little with the aftershocks of that one orgasm, and maybe the fact that he felt him come inside her. It definitely does something to her brain chemistry to know that part. Call it the hint of a kink.

Or the neon sign of one.

Anyway, she's wrung out, and finally collapses on top of his chest, her laugh tired but reverberating against his chest. "Yeah, I liked it..."

He purred, that sound rumbling through him as she rested on him, letting his hand skim down along her back in a petting motion. He nuzzled against her, keeping her exactly where she was while they both came down from that mutual high. "I did as well. Very much so."

He wasn't going to pretend he didn't, not that he'd be able to. He'd never understood human males with their silly barriers they put up when they met someone they liked. 'Playing it cool'. Playing it stupid, more like it. Then they wondered why they were always single and living into their old age alone. Idiots. "We didn't open the wine," he commented, smiling at how quickly they'd gone from 'hello' to naked time.

The petting is so nice, that she ends up humming in time with his caresses. Her shivers subside, and mellow out, until she's settled and comfortable exactly where she is.

The reminder of the wine makes her laugh. "We didn't even bring it up with us," she adds, lifting her head to look at him. "Things kind of escalated, didn't they?" She grins, playful. "Not sure I do remember my name, or where I am, or what year it is."

He laughed, finger brushing her bangs away. "Darling, if you think that's the end of it, I'm going to be thrilled to educate you on just how a fae fucks. It's been awhile for me, and I have a bit of... pent up need." A flex of his lower half to show that while he'd come, he hadn't gone limp in the slightest.

"When I say all night, I do mean all night."

She was expecting his dick to start softening, in hindsight, but it's not until he warns her he's not done and flexes beneath her that she realises that's not happening.

"Oh." She sucks in a breath, squeezing around him experimentally, to see if she is anywhere near oversensitisation. It makes her pulse stutter a bit to feel him still hard, so she does it again, rolling her hips a little to grind down on his dick.

Nice.

She leans down and brushes a kiss against his lips. "Educate me."

He grinned at the kiss, then rolled them over, pinning her down to the bed and grabbing her hands to keep them in place near her head. "Are you certain you're in the right mind set to learn? It'd be a shame for a good lesson to need to be repeated just because your head was in the clouds."

As he said that, he braced his knees, grinding up into her and feeling that wetness from both of their pleasure slip out of her. "I'm not apologizing for leaving a mess on your bed. I told you that was going to happen."

It's with a laugh that she goes limp and surrenders, taking way too much delight at being rolled over onto her back again so easily.

"Oh, you smooth fuck," she accuses, lifting her head to press a kiss to his throat. It's as far as she can go, with his hand holding her arms up, hands locked together in place. The restraint is...delicious. Even moreso, the way he grinds into her, her legs spread and in the air where they ended up when he turned the proverbial tables. "I'll have you know, I'm a fast learner. Very...mm - resilient."

"You are, are you?" He smiled down at her, but when she went for his throat, he tipped his head to the side to bare it to her. Fae liked neck bites. They liked them very much. But they also liked when their partners were teasing little shits- or at least, this one did. He moved again, but it was slow this time. Intentional. "Are you certain?"

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