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Wanda awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed with sweat beading across her brow and temple. The fabric of the soft pyjamas that she wore now clung to her body uncomfortably, soaked through with cold sweat. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest as she tried to slow her breathing, hand over heart. She blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkened room of the dusty old cabin, breathing a sigh of relief when nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
She brought her attention to the reason why she’d woken from her slumber, shifting in her seat to lessen the throb between her legs, all while fighting the burning sensation across her cheeks.
The dream she’d woken up from had felt so… jarringly real. She could still feel every caress, each flick of that wicked tongue as the picture of Agatha’s face between her legs swam through her thoughts. The dream version had watched her intently, switching from using the flat of her tongue for long, broad swipes to using the tip for slightly faster strokes, all while gauging her reactions from all the little gasps and sighs that followed.
Wanda bit her lip and crossed her legs, pulling the hem of her pyjama shirt down self consciously in shame. She glanced down at the other witch next to her, who was thankfully still asleep with a small frown gracing her features. She pulled the blankets back and swung her legs from the bed, cringing as her bare feet hit the cold, wooden floorboards. She made her way into the kitchen silently, fetching a glass from the cupboard to fill with water. Her eyes closed as the cold water washed over her tongue, and she relaxed after a few large gulps.
After setting the glass down in the sink, she tiptoed back to the bed before slipping back under the covers. Agatha still slept soundly, or so she’d first assumed. Now that her eyes had fully adjusted to the low lighting, Wanda could just make out the sweat that drenched her neck and chest, absorbed by the plain white T-shirt she wore. Her brow still held a frown and her lips parted with a sharp exhale. Agatha’s eyes fluttered slightly, and dread filled Wanda as a tiny glint of red light, her chaos magic, gave off a glow underneath the other witch’s eyelids.
Had she projected her magic? Her dream onto Agatha? Her blood ran cold as she heard Agatha mutter her name with a quiet breath, nearly jumping when a hand reached out to grasp her pyjama shirt with an iron grip.
Memories of the residents surrounding her at Westview clouded her mind, begging her to stop the control she held.
“Just let us die…”
“Your grief is poisoning us!”
“When you let us sleep, we have your nightmares.”
Each memory crashing into her like vicious waves, over and over again, making her wince with guilt. Only this time, it wasn’t a nightmare that she’d projected, and it was Agatha that was paying the price.
While she was distracted with her thoughts, she hadn’t realised that Agatha’s hand had curled around her middle, right before she was pulled across the bed until her back was flush up against Agatha’s front. An arm was flung over her waist possessively, pulling her closer with a low growl. She stayed completely still, listening to Agatha’s deep breathing against the back of her neck. Hot breath blew the hair at her nape, tickling her skin. The hand around her waist slackened, only to lift the edge of her shirt and reposition underneath it. A soft palm slid across her warm skin, squeezing every now and then, as if experimentally.
Wanda sucked in a breath as the hand rose higher, dancing across her ribs until a thumb skimmed the underside of her breast. Agatha mumbled sleepily behind her, making her shudder as she felt those lips mouth against her neck. The hand slowly shifted higher still, until the warmth of a palm cupped Wanda’s breast.
She heard a pleased noise come from Agatha, almost like a purr as she was fondled gently, letting out a gasp when her nipple was tugged between two fingers. Agatha’s fingers felt so good against her skin, mapping her body with curious touches. Her thighs clamped together as a burst of arousal shot straight between her legs, but she couldn't help but feel guilty.
Should she wake Agatha? It wasn’t fair that her dream was influencing the older witch’s actions, no matter how pleasurable they may be. She turned her head to face the woman, noticing the frown had gone from her features, replaced by a more peaceful expression.
“Agatha…?” She whispered through the dark, trying to shimmy away from the woman.
Her movement was met with a tighter squeeze to her breast which made her squeak, and Agatha’s thigh pressing up between her legs as the woman’s body curled against her back. Wanda squirmed as the thigh between her legs flexed, nudging her with barely any pressure. Agatha’s ministrations became slow and deliberate, plucking at her nipple with nimble fingers, and an almost ghost of a touch between her thighs.
Fuck.
It was torture, a sweet, delicious torture.
Wanda grasped at the hand holding her breast and squeezed, holding it there. She bit her lip upon hearing Agatha sigh behind her, feeling lips caress behind her ear. Her eyes widened when she felt another hand slip under her ribs and snake its way across her stomach.
Fingers toyed with the elastic of her underwear, and a frustrated grunt sounded from behind as Agatha’s nails scratched her skin. Wanda reached down to lift the band of her underwear, cursing when Agatha’s fingers wasted no time in slipping underneath to card through her short curls.
She was wet, embarrassingly so, from the thought of those blackened digits fingering her, claiming her, making her cum. Wanda’s eyes fluttered with a groan as Agatha’s hand cupped her, and those corrupted fingers stroked between her folds.
“Oh, f-fuck…” Wanda hid her face into the pillow and bit down to muffle her moan.
Agatha hummed as her sticky fingertips brushed over Wanda’s clit, and she buried her face into Wanda’s hair with a deep inhale.
“Mm…” another inhale, followed by a long, sleepy sigh, “you smell divine, hon.”
Wanda froze at the words, jerking her head back to look at the other witch. She could still make out the red glow under the woman's eyelids through the dark, as she was seemingly still asleep, only now her expression had turned a little smug.
Of course. Even while asleep, the woman still managed to be insufferable.
Wanda gasped when one of those sinful, blackened fingers found her clit, and began teasing it out from under its hood with slow, up-and-down strokes. She rolled her hips, losing herself in the pleasure that Agatha brought.
“You’re so wet for me, dear…” Agatha husked next to her ear, “I’ve thought of having you like this for so long…”
Heat spread across Wanda’s cheeks at those words, and her thighs twitched as another wave of arousal pulsed between her legs. Agatha had thought about this? Or was it her own control? Her own feelings being pushed onto Agatha? She became insecure and tried to move away like before, only for the sleeping woman to hold on tighter.
“Do my fingers excite you, Wanda?” Agatha asked, pressing down on her clit more firmly, “even when they’re tainted with corruption?”
Wanda bit her cheek, unwilling to admit anything to the woman. She wanted those fingers inside her, but she wasn’t about to tell Agatha that. The thought alone made her hips buck, and that was all the answer the other witch needed from her.
Agatha’s low chuckle vibrated against her cheek as the woman sat up suddenly. Wanda glanced over her shoulder to find Agatha’s eyes were now open and devoid of magic, heavily lidded with sleep but watching her attentively.
“Agatha, I didn’t mean for–”
The hand that gripped her breast left as a finger came up to rest against her lips, effectively shutting her up.
“Didn’t mean what, for it to get this far?” Agatha snorted, amused with Wanda’s fumbling, “we both know you did, toots.”
“The question is,” Agatha continued, still idly stroking Wanda’s clit with the tip of her finger, “is how much further you’re willing to go.”
Wanda immediately closed her thighs around Agatha’s hand, and clutched her wrist before she could move away. She gave Agatha a panicked look, tightening the hold on her wrist in desperation.
And that was all Agatha needed.
Wanda gasped when lips melted into her own, and a hand yanked her pyjama bottoms down, exposing her thighs to the dark cabin room. She kicked them off the rest of the way, hearing them fall to the floor at the end of the bed. Agatha lifted her leg up towards her stomach, bending it at the knee to spread her legs further apart. Wanda was shifted half on to her stomach, whining when she couldn’t reach Agatha’s lips in this position without craning her neck too much. She realised that Agatha was positioning her body to suit her own needs, uncaring if she was comfortable.
Like a toy.
Her stomach fluttered with excitement at the thought.
“Open up for me,” Agatha cooed, tapping her bottom lip. Two fingers slipped past her lips when she opened her mouth, pressing down on her tongue lightly. “Get those nice and wet for me, buttercup.”
Wanda sucked, rolling her tongue around each corrupted finger with a groan. She took them deeper, noticing how the other witch watched her hungrily. Agatha pulled them out with a pleased hum, giving Wanda a slow, filthy kiss as her wet fingers dragged down the redhead’s back, until they slipped into the back of her underwear.
Wanda’s thighs trembled as two fingers slipped inside, already pent up from Agatha’s light teasing. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at how easily those fingers entered her, but the embarrassment didn’t last for long as Agatha’s fingers began to move.
With one hand slipping between the folds of her entrance from behind, and the other rubbing her clit from the front, Wanda started to pant into the pillow. Her hips bucked against Agatha’s hand, grinding down on those delightful fingers that had her clenching.
“So greedy for my fingers,” Agatha tsked, rubbing lazy circles against her clit, “how long have you wanted this for, hon?”
“Since… Westview,” Wanda breathed, “in my kitchen–”
“When the Hart’s were over for dinner?” Agatha asked, eyebrow raised with a slow smirk lifting her lips.
When Wanda nodded reluctantly, Agatha let out a surprised laugh.
“Oh, Wanda… you dirty girl!”
Agatha slotted her hips behind Wanda’s, using them as leverage to hump against the hand fingering the redhead.
“You looked ridiculous in that vintage dress and apron,” Agatha recalled, rolling her eyes, “I wanted to pin you against that kitchen counter and rip the damn thing off you.”
Wanda clenched around Agatha’s fingers at that, swallowing hard when the fingers that languidly stroked her clit began to pick up their pace.
“I wanted to pull on those pearls and ruin that perfect lipstick of yours,” Agatha murmured against her ear, rolling her hips in time with the plunge of her fingers.
Wanda’s clit throbbed under Agatha’s fingertip, burying her face into the pillow with a muffled whimper. She shakily spread her legs further apart as Agatha’s fingers thrusted roughly. She felt the familiar coil in her quivering stomach from a building orgasm, and she bit back a moan at Agatha’s relentless pace.
“Please, c-can I cum? Your fingers, I need–”
“Begging for it already, Wanda? I didn’t even have to ask you to beg! Such a bottom,” Agatha teased, rubbing her finger against Wanda’s clit with smaller, faster circles.
“Scream for me, dear.” Agatha hummed, “I want everyone within a mile radius to know how good you got fucked.”
Wanda clenched around Agatha’s fingers and cried out as the coil in her stomach snapped, bringing waves of pleasure as an orgasm crashed into her. She gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white, rolling her hips with jerky movements as Agatha’s fingers continued to pump and stroke her. Chaos magic buzzed around her, sending vibrations throughout her body as each wave of pleasure seemed to cause a disturbance in the room.
Cracks appeared up the walls, splintering the wooden planks as chunks fell to the ground. The pipes under the floorboards creaked loudly, whining as water broiled and bubbled inside them. The light fixture on the ceiling switched on, glowing impossibly bright before fizzling out with a loud pop. The glass from the window panes shattered around them, causing powdered glass and shards to clatter to the floor. Wanda fell limply against the mattress as she struggled to regain composure, taking deep breaths as she assessed the damage around her.
Agatha blinked, glancing around in alarm. “Well, that sure was… something,” she commented. She would never admit it, but Agatha had always been impressed by the sheer power of Wanda’s magic.
Wanda flicked her wrist, twirling her fingers tiredly towards each broken object until they fused back together.
“Sorry,” Wanda mumbled, embarrassed, “that was…” she trailed off, unsure of what words could describe what had just happened.
She groaned as the fingers inside her pulled out slowly, letting the elastic of her underwear snap against her sweaty skin.
“Be a doll and clean those for me, would you?” Agatha asked, smearing her wet fingers over Wanda’s bottom lip.
Wanda opened her mouth, feeling a shiver run through her body from the taste of herself. It was intimate, sucking Agatha’s fingers clean of herself while the woman watched.
“Has that happened before?” Agatha inquired curiously, pulling her hand back.
Wanda nodded slowly with a wince as she heaved herself onto her back. “Once. When I gave birth to the twins. My contractions caused all sorts of problems around the house.”
She thought back to laying on the floor with Monica’s voice carrying her through labour, aware that the paintings on the wall had begun to spin, how the fireplace had erupted violently, the vacuum running itself, and how several doors in the house would open and slam shut.
“Well, that’s one way to turn me off,” Agatha grimaced, wiping her wet fingers into Wanda’s shirt. “Good night, Wanda.”
Wanda snorted, completely unapologetic as she watched Agatha turn to face the opposite direction of the bed. She turned and did the same with a smile, unaware that the other witch hid her own smile under the duvet.
“Sweet dreams, Agatha.”