Work Text:
It’s not unusual for them to share their dreams- typically it’s Agatha wandering into Wanda’s vivid memories (although Wanda’s fallen into Agatha’s odd nightmares a time or two, when Agatha’s granite-like control slips).
This is definitely not that.
Agatha doesn’t realize she’s here, not with how preoccupied she is with what’s in front of her, and her back to Wanda’s psychic presence. Wanda quietly tries to slip back into her own mind, her blood pounding in her ears, but she must make some sort of psychic noise; Agatha suddenly turns and looks back over her shoulder- then they’re staring at one another in different degrees of shock.
Neither of them moves, as Wanda tries to find something to say, opening and closing her mouth fruitlessly- meanwhile, the dream figure that’s so occupied Agatha’s attention freezes in place, rippling around the edges.
Wanda can’t not stare- it is an image of her, after all. She feels like she has a right to look.
(It’s strange to be seeing the pair of them from the outside; which isn’t to say Wanda doesn’t like it. She really, really likes it. She makes a mental note that maybe they should conjure a big mirror in their bedroom. For the future.)
But beyond that, she doesn’t think she could tear her eyes away if she tried; she’s absolutely transfixed on what exactly it is that Agatha and the dream Wanda are doing, right in this moment. The image seers itself behind her eyelids, scorching white hot in her mind, indelible.
She feels her body reacting, and shivers, suddenly feeling hot and tight, like she’s swallowed fire and it’s swirling around her, settling between her legs.
At the same time, something darker in Wanda’s chest shakes itself to life and growls, an urge she’s grown familiar with- the impulse to dominate, to possess. To conquer. To control.
She knows viscerally she’s not going to be able to get this visual out of her mind, not until she’s able to experience it herself.
She wants it. She had no idea (had no idea this was even a thing) how much until right this very moment. And now that she’s seen it, she feels obsessed.
Her thoughts are cut off as Agatha’s dark, blown out eyes flare violet, and Wanda’s suddenly back in her own body, violently ejected from Agatha’s mind. She’s sweating as her heart thuds in her ears, and aching between her legs.
She regains a small sense of her surroundings and immediately rolls over and on top of Agatha, who’s already panting and trembling underneath her. Agatha starts to snarl, reflexively, but Wanda cuts her off.
“Let me finish you.” Wanda murmurs, her hand sliding down the soft plane of Agatha’s stomach, towards where she knows Agatha needs her, right fucking now.
Agatha yields almost instantly, her hands coming up to grip Wanda’s hips as she moans, sounding absolutely wrecked, letting her legs fall apart. Her body is streaked with sweat, and when Wanda slides her fingers under her waist band, she hums to discover Agatha’s so wet Wanda’s fingers can’t find purchase, slipping before Wanda finds the right place to push inside.
Wanda ruts into her hard and fast, and it doesn’t take more than three strokes before Agatha’s clenching down and coming, throwing her head to the side and whimpering into her pillow.
Wanda’s never heard her like this before.
She sounds vulnerable. Helpless.
The darkness inside Wanda bares its teeth. Wanda resists the urge to bite into the side of her neck, to mark her, but it’s close.
Agatha comes down from her high, still panting, and wordlessly slots one of her thighs between Wanda’s legs. Wanda takes the hint and grinds down, riding her leg in sharp, short thrusts until the coil in her stomach snaps and she releases, grunting as she finishes, her blood pulsing and her body throbbing.
She collapses on top of Agatha for a moment, then rolls back off her as she pulls out, quickly sucking her fingers clean and humming at Agatha’s familiar, sweet taste, before she props herself up on one side. She’s still trying to catch her breath, and not quite sure what to say.
The afterimage of what she’s just seen in the dream flashes in front of her eyes and she throbs again.
She takes a breath and opens her mouth, she has so many questions, but Agatha, still on her back, cuts her off sharply. “If you don’t ask, you can cuddle me.”
“But-“
“Not one more word, hot stuff. Or this offer is rescinded.” Agatha’s eyes glitter in the dark, before she rolls over, facing away.
Agatha’s going to be really stubborn about talking about this, Wanda thinks with a sigh. She only barters snuggling when she really doesn’t want to discuss something.
Wanda might be dumb, but she’s not an idiot; she’s absolutely not going to give up the opportunity to cuddle with Agatha’s warm and tempting body, no matter what her burning curiosity and newly awakened longing are telling her.
She shuts her mouth with a snap, and scoots in, spooning Agatha, enjoying how she immediately presses her shapely ass back and into her. Agatha’s tense, but gradually she relaxes, before fading back into sleep.
Wanda’s not so lucky; instead she turns her options over in her mind- what is she going to do here?
Her prickly lover can be very, very touchy about discussing anything remotely involving feelings or vulnerability, and Wanda suspects that this, what she saw, involves a lot of both of those things.
But Wanda still wants it. The dark, howling thing that’s suddenly awake in her chest needs it. And she’s not going to give up, until she’s able to ask Agatha if that’s really what she wants too (and if so, how soon can they try it); no matter how difficult Agatha makes the pursuit.
Even if she’s being, well, Agatha about it, she must want it on some level, Wanda thinks, trying to consider what the notoriously complex other witch must be feeling. She marvels for a moment at how talented Agatha’s imagination is- had she actually done that with anyone else? Or was her subconscious just that powerful? It was Agatha, anything was possible.
A stray thought flits through her mind, and she frowns. It would, of course, be okay if that, what Wanda had seen, was just a passing fantasy through Agatha’s dreams, and Agatha didn’t actually want to try it. Of course it was. Wanda would just take all of her newly awoken desires and shove them back down- she’d never want to make Agatha actually uncomfortable.
However: Wanda strongly suspects that it’s not just a fleeting whim. She had seen the expression on Agatha’s face, right before she’d gotten caught in her dream.
Agatha had been enraptured. And a little stupefied. And turned on nearly out of her mind.
Wanda wants to see that look on her face again.
Wanda wants to be the cause of that blissful, fucked out expression so badly it’s almost paining her.
She can do this. She’s got this.
She has an idea.
She mulls it over for a little while longer, before finally letting herself rest, dozing toward sleep, satisfied with her little scheme.
She’s got a plan, and despite knowing that people have actually died in the pursuit of what she’s about to attempt, she’s going to get Agatha to talk about something that she clearly doesn’t want to. The risk, Wanda thinks, is worth the delicious reward she had glimpsed. Come hell or high water.
She drifts off, her nose buried in Agatha’s violet scented hair, a little smile on her face.
The plan is naturally smashed to smithereens when Wanda wakes up the next morning and finds Agatha has completely disappeared.
Agatha is almost never awake before Wanda is. Nine mornings out of ten, Wanda slips out of bed before she even stirs, leaving Agatha in a messy cloud of her hair, her face smooshed adorably into the pillow.
Not this morning. This morning, Agatha’s side of the bed is cold, and when Wanda reaches out, following the link between their minds, all she gets is a blur of static and a general sense of the direction of down, before the connection between them snaps shut.
Fantastic. Agatha’s in the freaking basement.
Wanda takes a moment to rub her temples, and be thankful the boys are staying over at a friend’s this weekend. This could get messy.
She does have to admire the strategy as an avoidance tactic. If Agatha had just left the house, Wanda would easily be able to teleport to her.
But Agatha’s in the bewitched basement. And she’s deep in there, Wanda had gotten that much of a read before the link closed. Agatha’s lair, a magical, mobile labyrinth that Wanda only partially knows how to gain access to.
Tricky Agatha. Tricky.
Wanda dresses athletically, yoga pants and a sports bra under a loose shirt, before she steels herself and heads downstairs.
She’s feeling much less charitable toward Agatha and how clever she is when she finally stomps into the elaborate, massive hall that must be Agatha’s private library three hours later, sweating profusely, her clothing stained and torn in multiple places.
She’d encountered some issues in the greenhouse.
She’d encountered some large, carnivorous, hungry issues in the greenhouse.
“You.” Wanda snarls, pointing to Agatha, who’s not even bothered to look up from what she’s scribbling into a notebook, sitting at a large, ornately carved ebony wood desk, elaborate fountain pen in hand.
Wanda charges her hands, getting ready to catch her if she tries to teleport, but typically, Agatha outplays her. Rather than try to escape, Agatha glances up, her mouth moving, and gestures, as a bolt of violet light flies from her fingers, catching Wanda by surprise in the chest.
Wanda expects pain, or something unpleasant (she’s a little confused why she’s not a toad or something right now), and opens her mouth in surprise when nothing bad happens.
Or rather, she tries. And doesn’t quite succeed as she realizes that Agatha has just successfully hexed her mouth shut.
Wanda sees red, literally, and holds onto her temper by the skin of her teeth.
Agatha goes back to the notebook in front of her, utterly ignoring Wanda.
Breathing deeply through her nose in an effort to calm herself, she closes her eyes and reaches into the bond between them. This physically close, she can feel the outline of the psychic wall Agatha’s erected, cutting them off.
This is a challenge. If Agatha actually didn’t want her here, Wanda has no doubt she’d have been back in the kitchen, spinning on her ass, the moment she crossed the library’s threshold.
Okay then. She has two choices here.
One. She’s the Scarlet Witch. She can just remove the hex and the wall, by force.
(Except, as annoying as this is, she doesn’t actually want to hurt Agatha.
Also, she’s pretty sure Agatha’s included something nasty in that hex, something that will go off if Wanda blasts through it. She can’t quite sense what will happen, but she can feel it, around the edges of the spell.)
Which leaves option two.
Wanda glances around this cavernous library, which seems to be two winding, twisting, balconied stories, briefly noting that the books in here seem to be shelving themselves, and the entire thing is lit surprisingly dim for a library- though wasn’t too much light bad for books? Wanda feels like she’d read that somewhere.
Agatha’s desk is positioned in front of a tall set of stained glass windows, magically pouring in light, showing elaborate scenes of mythical creatures in mortal combat with one another. There’s a large, crackling fire lit in the massive, black marble fireplace set into the wall, providing additional flickering ambience to this massive space, and flanked by a pair of overstuffed, purple leather arm chairs.
Wanda stalks over to one, and looking down, finds it occupied by a sprawling, demonic rabbit. She grits her teeth, and moves over to the other, plunking herself down with a huff.
She closes her eyes. She’s never actually been terribly good at this, but she’s so pissed right now, her magic is eager to help.
Between one heartbeat and the next, Wanda’s astral form rises up, and she steps out of her body with a triumphant sparkle of scarlet light.
At the desk, Agatha freezes.
“Oh no you don’t Agatha Harkness.” Wanda hisses, her voice reverberating around them. Wanda knows she can see her, Agatha had spent a lot of time extolling the various virtues of witchsight to Billy just last week, so there’s no wriggling out of this one.
“Good girl, that was clever.” Agatha’s face twists into a smirk, as she tries to reassert some control over the situation. She’s also not making eye contact with Wanda- probably looking for an exit.
Wanda’s not letting her escape. She teleports to Agatha’s desk chair’s side in a flash of light, and uses a tendril of her power to spin it, forcing Agatha to face her.
“I will bind you here.” Wanda threatens, highly irritated. It’s one thing for Agatha to be difficult to talk to. It’s a completely different matter for her to be difficult to physically catch.
Agatha bites her lip, and her eyelashes flutter. Wanda frowns, confused, until she glances down and realizes- her astral form always shows up as her true self; which means right now, leaning over Agatha, she’s wearing her armor and her crown.
This is what the Wanda in the dream was wearing.
Wanda looks back up, and Agatha’s got two spots of color burning high in her cheeks. Wanda stares in wonder.
Agatha is blushing. Actually, really blushing.
Wanda’s aware that she’s the most powerful being in the universe or whatever, but she’s literally never felt more god-like than she does right in this moment.
“You are so busted.” Wanda murmurs.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Agatha says immediately.
“Agatha. We can do this the easy way, where you just talk to me, or we can do this the hard way.” Wanda threatens.
“I pick the hard way.” Agatha retorts.
“No. Actually, you’ve already picked the hard way, so no, I’m not going to pry it out of your mind.” Wanda snarls. “You’d probably enjoy that anyway, which is actually what I’m trying to talk to you about.”
Agatha licks her lips, and flicks her eyes over at the bedraggled state of Wanda’s meditating body, before she smirks. “Have some trouble finding me?”
Wanda rolls her eyes. “Later, we’re going to discuss why it is, exactly, that you have multiple Venus fly traps that are capable of eating someone. Or rather, you had.”
Agatha frowns. “What did you do to Carl and Gregor?”
“Troubling as it is that those things have names, I’m not letting you derail me.” Wanda leans forward again, looming over Agatha.
“Talk to me.” Wanda demands, and Agatha shifts in her seat.
“About what.” Agatha replies.
“What I saw last night.” Wanda says firmly. “Is that the first time you’ve thought about that?”
Agatha pauses, clearly considering something, and then sighs, her shoulders dropping. She shakes her head.
Oh my god, she admitted it happened. Finally, they’re getting somewhere.
The dark, growling feeling is back in Wanda’s chest, its ears perking as Agatha starts to cooperate.
“Good girl.” Wanda purrs. “Tell me more.”
“What is there to say.” Agatha snaps back. “You saw what we were doing.”
“Then why haven’t you asked me, the real me, not the one in your dreams about it, if it’s something that you want?” Wanda retorts in kind.
Agatha looks away again, and those two spots of color are back, lighting up her face.
“You’re embarrassed.” Wanda says slowly, realizing.
“Of course I am.” Agatha hisses. “It’s embarrassing. What was I supposed to say, ‘Hey hot stuff, I really need you to utterly humiliate me in this very specific way so I can get my rocks off’?”
Wanda folds her arms, and tries to play it cool, though the reminder of what happened last night is highly distracting.
“You’ve done dirty things to me, and I’ve been able to talk about it.” Wanda points out. “And like seriously, I’ve done some pretty weird things to you already, this is just… more of that.” Wanda’s trying to follow the line of thought here.
“I’ve spanked and dominated you. No one who’s met us would be surprised by that.” Agatha says through gritted teeth, as though that was obvious.
Wanda rolls her eyes. “So it’s different because it’s you?”
“Yes.” Agatha said shortly. “Clearly. I’m me. Unlike you, I do have some reputation to maintain.”
Wanda frowns, distracted suddenly away from the topic of Agatha’s unbending pride and her clear thing for humiliation (she’s not going to get anywhere from coming at this straight anyway, Wanda can already tell), by a new, more troubling thought.
“Have you not been satisfied? With me? And what I’ve done to you?” Wanda asks, immediately very concerned. What if this was something Wanda was supposed to pick up on herself, or some sort of failure on her part?
She’s still pretty new to this whole dynamic they have going, and she worries sometimes at how she compares to Agatha’s literal centuries of experience.
Agatha sighs. “No honey, that’s not it.” She smiles up at Wanda, looking so fond it makes Wanda’s heart ache. “I’ve been very, very satisfied with you sweetheart. You’re a quick study, at least at this.”
Wanda smiles back, her own ego suddenly much more assured under the praise (despite the little dig at the end).
Agatha glances away, before continuing so softly Wanda has to lean in to hear her. “But, I have some, let’s say exotic, appetites. They can be a little difficult for me to talk about.” She licks her lips, looking oddly vulnerable, and the dark thing in Wanda’s chest growls.
“No kidding.” Wanda drawls, smirking down at her, from where she’s hovering, trying to be encouraging by keeping it light. Wanda’s hair kind of floats when she’s like this, or it would be falling over them both, in a curtain of red.
This is good, she thinks, Agatha’s opening up- even if it took all of this fuss to get her here.
Agatha huffs, and avoids eye contact again, looking down at her nails. “I may or may not find it incredibly arousing that you are just a little, tiny bit more powerful than I am.”
Wanda snorts. “Again, no kidding. You’re not exactly subtle.”
“Can you just let me have this?” Agatha sighs. “This is already hard to discuss.” She squirms a little, on the edge of her seat.
Oh, that’s interesting. Wanda knows what that shifting means- Agatha’s getting hot and bothered, just from talking around this subject, and if that isn’t the most intriguing thing.
“Sorry, go on.” Wanda smiles at her encouragingly.
Agatha grits her teeth, and continues, as though pained. “I would like it, if you wouldn’t mind, if you’d use it on me.”
“My magic?” Wanda asks, just to make sure.
Agatha rolls her eyes. “Yes. Your magic. To compel me. To behave for you.” Agatha breathes, barely audible. “And then, maybe, to do the thing you saw us doing last night.” She finishes in a rush.
“God, Agatha. Yes.” Wanda hisses, as the dark feeling in her chest roars in triumph.
Wanda knows if she was in her physical body, she’d be panting, all of the blood running south between her legs. She glances over at her mediating self, considering.
“We don’t have time for this now.” Agatha murmurs, sounding disappointed, following her line of sight. “Your hellspawn will be home in an hour.”
Wanda huffs, annoyed, her bubble burst. But Agatha’s right, what they’re proposing here is probably going to take some time.
Not to mention, Wanda doesn’t want the boys in the house when they do this. What Agatha’s offering to give her is going to be intoxicating, and god only knows what her magic is going to do in response.
“You’re right.” Wanda says with a sigh. “We don’t have time.” She pauses, considering, then asks, “But just like to double check, this is what you want, yes? I’m not like, pressuring you or anything? Because I’m very, very into this.” She stammers. “Just so we’re like, clear. I want this too.”
Agatha nods, biting her lip, and with the gesture cracks open the wall that had been barricading their psychic link.
Fuck. Wanda swears in the sudden storm of emotions she can feel from Agatha’s mind.
Agatha is so wet, right now, it’s physically paining her- and probably has been for hours, long before Wanda stomped in here.
Probably since last night, even.
You have got to stop running away from me, and just ask for what you want. Wanda says firmly, and with a snap, returns herself to her physical body.
Her legs wobble, as the physical effects of her own arousal hit her all at once. She clamors to her feet, and feels Agatha pull the hex off her mouth as Wanda crosses the carpet in three long strides.
Agatha’s panting in her chair, looking utterly debauched, and Wanda’s not even touched her yet.
“Make it quick.” Agatha says, hoarsely. “We’re going to need time to clean up.”
Wanda can feel that little burr in her voice down in her toes, and smirks, igniting her hands. With a single gesture, she pulls Agatha out of her seat with her magic and bends her over her own desk, face down.
“This wouldn’t have to be quick if I hadn’t spent three hours hunting for you down here.” Wanda hisses. “Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about that.”
She yanks Agatha’s pants and underwear down with one hand, using her leg to kick her feet apart. Arch your back, let me see how wrecked you are for me. Wanda orders in the link between them, and Agatha obeys, raising up her ass, exposing the glittering slit between her legs.
Wanda can’t help it. She winds up, and delivers a hard slap across Agatha’s waiting ass, grunting in pleasure as Agatha actually squeals underneath her.
You’re lucky I’m fucking you, and I’m not making you wait. Wanda muses, conversationally. But I suppose you did finally talk to me, so I can reward good behavior.
Out loud, she says, “Say ‘thank you.’”
Agatha shakes her head, and Wanda spanks her again. “Say it, or I’m not letting you come now, and you can wait until I’m ready to forgive you about the plants.”
Agatha whines, a broken little sound. Thank you.
For what? Wanda asks, and spanks her once more.
Thank you for fucking me. Agatha whimpers, and Wanda smiles beatifically.
“Good girl.” Wanda praises her, and proceeds to fuck her into oblivion from behind, riding her hard and fast, finishing at the same time Agatha does with a grunt and moan that’s lost under the sound of Agatha’s shriek.
Agatha was right, as she usually is. It does take them a while to clean up.
In the end, it takes another week for them to find the opportunity to actually try this out. The boys have school, and Wanda sort of feels like this is something they should try at night. And alone.
In the meantime, she broods on it. And does some surreptitious searching on her phone, while Agatha’s out of the house. She doesn’t want to disappoint her, and the internet was actually quite helpful, once Wanda stopped blushing.
(Wanda’s gotten some interesting ideas she’s keen to try.)
Agatha’s stewing too- Wanda can tell from the sidelong looks she’s been giving her, when she thinks Wanda’s not paying attention. But they don’t talk about it.
At least, not until Friday night. Wanda goes to drop off the boys, they have overnight plans again, and feels a little guilty about the buzz of anticipation that ripples through her when Tommy slams his door shut.
Alone at last.
She drives home a little faster than she should.
The house is quiet when she enters, and her silent inquiry leads her back down to the basement. Agatha’s standing at her desk in the first chamber, reading over something, dressed in her same slacks and sweater combo from earlier today. But her hair’s different- she’d taken it down, and done something to it so it was shimmering in soft waves down her shoulders, and when she glances over her shoulder at Wanda, she’s wearing darker makeup and bright red lipstick.
Wanda immediately sidles up behind her, and feels a little silly that she didn’t try to spruce herself up before she came down here. And maybe sort of pathetic, that she’s clearly so thirsty for this.
That feeling is quickly drowned out by the satisfied growl of the darkness in her chest, and the immediate desire to smear Agatha’s pretty lipstick all over her face.
Besides, it’s not like Wanda’s not about to change anyway.
Wanda puts her head on Agatha’s shoulder, and plants her hands on her hips, nuzzling into her neck with a hum.
“Oh are we still doing this?” Agatha asks, sounding very chippy for a woman who’s pressing her ass back into Wanda. “I thought you’d lost your nerve.”
“Being a bitch to me isn’t going to get you what you want any faster.” Wanda murmurs into her ear.
“I don’t know honey, sometimes losing your temper motivates you along.” Agatha retorts, and tilts her neck, allowing Wanda more access.
Wanda doesn’t dignify that with a response. “You look pretty.” She says instead, licking the shell of Agatha’s ear.
“Thanks.” Agatha says dryly. “I thought I’d tart it up, considering what’s on the menu.”
Wanda rolls her eyes. She wants to dive in and show Agatha who’s actually in charge here, but she gets a grip on herself.
“Safety first.” Wanda whispers. “Do you remember the safe word?”
This time, it’s Agatha who rolls her eyes, and Wanda leans back, giving her a quick slap on the ass. Agatha makes a gratifying squeak, and before Wanda’s pressed against her again.
“Answer me.” Wanda commands, and Agatha shudders.
“Yes. Daffodil.” Agatha says, and Wanda slides a hand under her sweater, cupping one of her breasts.
Oh, that’s interesting- what on earth is Agatha wearing under here?
Wanda’s already tenuous self control is massively distracted by the lace and embroidery she can feel around her fingertips, but she shakes herself out of it- this part is important.
“And you know if you use your safe word, I will stop?” Wanda murmurs.
Agatha nods, and in the link between them, Wanda can feel that Agatha believes that. Trusts her with this.
Wanda’s going to eat her alive.
“I might, um, I might lose the ability to speak.” Agatha mutters, and Wanda pauses her campaign against Agatha’s neck.
“Okay.” Wanda tries to process that. “So if you need me to stop?”
Agatha thinks about it for a second. “I’ll tap you thrice. Can we get on with this now?” She says, nearly whining.
Wanda chuckles. “Sure thing, dear.” She sinks her teeth into the side of Agatha’s neck, sucking on her pulse point, and Agatha lets out a cry of pleasure.
Want to show me what you’re wearing under there? Wanda asks, not wanting to release the mark she’s sucking and biting into Agatha’s neck.
Agatha takes a shuddering breath, and snaps her fingers. Her clothing dissolves, leaving her in a set of lacy, heavily embroidered black lingerie- clinging perfectly to her generous curves.
Wanda snorts out a little laugh when she realizes that the entire set is embellished with coiling snakes, hidden among the flowers.
Very pretty. Wanda hums, then moves down Agatha’s neck before biting her again, her hands coming up to cup Agatha’s breasts, finding her nipples through the lace and rolling them, gently.
Agatha’s moaning every time Wanda sucks, and Wanda thinks she could just get her off like this, it would be so easy.
But no. They have a plan, and Wanda’s nothing if not committed to it.
Pulling away from the bruises she’s now left on Agatha’s pale neck, she instead pulls one of her hands up and wraps it loosely around Agatha’s throat.
Then, she concentrates, and her own clothing transforms.
Agatha senses it magically, and feels it as the leather of Wanda’s armor and gloves suddenly press into the soft skin of her back and her neck, and she groans, her hips bucking.
“Now, now.” Wanda says, sweet and condescending. “Behave yourself.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Agatha’s already losing her breath, and Wanda’s magic, the dark thing in her chest, rumbles with pleasure.
“I actually had some thoughts about that.” Wanda says, feigning casual. “Can I try something?”
Agatha sighs. “I suppose there’s no stopping you.”
Wanda smirks. And flexes the hand around Agatha’s throat, casting a spell.
When she pulls her hand away, there’s a scarlet leather collar sitting around Agatha’s throat, snug but not tight, heavy enough that Wanda can pull on it with a delicate looking ring of silver attached to the front.
Agatha’s knees give out as she gasps, and Wanda feels her mind haze. She’s already mostly leaning against Wanda anyway, so it’s not an issue to catch her, her full body weight pressed suddenly into the leather armor of the Scarlet Witch.
Wanda smiles, and props her back up. “You like it?”
Agatha just whimpers, and Wanda realizes that she’s pretty much gone, the leather collar around her neck giving her the final permission to turn that busy, scheming mind of hers off, and just to enjoy the primal, urgent sensations Wanda’s allowing her to feel.
She’s a helpless, whining little thing and trying, trying to rub her thighs together for some sort of relief, pinned between Wanda and her own desk, and it’s then Wanda realizes she can smell how wet Agatha is- she’s already soaked through the pretty thong she’s wearing, just for Wanda’s viewing pleasure.
The blood roars in Wanda’s ears, she spins Agatha around in her arms, and leans in to plunder her open, red lips, angling her head carefully so there’s not a disaster involving the crown.
Agatha’s eyes are blown out, and she trembles in Wanda’s arms, her smart mouth pliant and yielding to Wanda’s tongue and teeth as Wanda doesn’t so much kiss her as fuck her way into Agatha’s mouth.
Wanda makes sure she does a valiant job of smearing Agatha’s lipstick, before she pulls away, panting herself as Agatha whimpers, sounding bereft.
“Come on honey.” Wanda smirks at her, as she takes a step back. Agatha staggers a step after her, before she regains her footing and pauses, her dark, blissed out eyes waiting for Wanda to tell her what to do next.
Oh, Wanda could get used to this. Agatha’s never looked prettier, and she’s so pliant and malleable like this, Wanda could do anything to her and she’d just take it.
Wanda’s never noticed how tight these fucking leggings are, but they’re suddenly almost claustrophobic, and she can feel her pulse pounding in her clit.
She tries to collect herself. One of them has to stay focused, and judging from the absolute fog Wanda’s sensing from Agatha’s end of their psychic link, it’s going to have to be her.
Wanda takes a few more steps back, and twirls her fingers. One of their favorite leather armchairs, in red, appears behind her, and Wanda sits down on the edge, spreading her legs and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
Agatha makes a sound, and tries to follow, but Wanda holds up a careless hand, freezing her in place.
“On your knees.” Wanda breathes, but she knows Agatha hears her, because she stiffens in place, before shaking her head.
“Are you going to make me make you?” Wanda asks, amused.
Agatha, despite the collar around her neck and her soaked thighs, sticks out her chin.
Wanda laughs at her, meanly, and drops her hand, her magic forcing Agatha to the stone tiles on her knees.
Crawl. Wanda orders into her mind, and lets her eyes glow, an implicit threat.
Agatha’s legs are shaking, but she obeys, and quickly closing the distance between them, crawls between Wanda’s legs.
Wanda’s magic keens in triumphant delight, and it floods the room, swirling around them both, wrapping itself around and inside Agatha’s mind and her surprisingly docile powers.
Wanda’s everywhere, and has control of everything, perched on this armchair like a throne. She’s almost literally floating, feeling absolutely high on the power.
Wanda tips Agatha’s chin up with the tips of her fingers. “Is this what you wanted, you little whore? To be on your knees, worshipping me?”
Agatha moans pathetically, looking practically tortured with pleasure, and to Wanda’s surprise, actually replies. “Yes.”
Wanda chuckles at her. “Mmm, I think this is some of what you wanted. But it’s not all of it, isn’t it sweetheart.”
Agatha looks up at her, her eyes dark and wet. “Please.”
“Please what.”
“Scarlet Witch.” Agatha murmurs, like a prayer, and Wanda throbs. “Please let me.” Her fingers flex and work, and she keeps glancing down.
Wanda knows what she’s looking at.
Wanda throws out a lash of her power, and anchors it to the floor, right next to her right boot. Taking the other end, she threads it through the ring on Agatha’s collar, and with a gesture, slowly shortens it, forcing Agatha’s head down, to where they both want her to go.
Agatha looks up at her from her new position through her lashes, Wanda nearly finishes right there. Agatha’s bent on the floor, her ass in the air and perched on her forearms, her nose just a breath away from the smooth, dark leather she’s so fixated on.
Agatha sticks out her tongue and with a slow, deliberate flick, licks the inseam of Wanda’s boot- just like she had been doing when Wanda walked into her dreams.
It’s degrading. It’s humiliating. It’s fucking hot.
Wanda lets herself go, and her orgasm rips through her like a bolt of lightning; she grunts low in her throat, grinding herself against the edge of the armchair, riding the high, while Agatha keeps on licking, her hips twitching as she moans and drools on Wanda’s boot, her little pink tongue busy working over the surface of the leather.
Wanda regains some sense of herself and releases the tether anchoring Agatha to the ground. Agatha uses the sudden freedom to move her head to the outer side of Wanda’s right boot, lavishing it with the same care and attention, her head bobbing obscenely up and down.
“Good girl.” Wanda pants, her accent thick and heavy in her mouth. “What a good little whore for me, licking my boot. I wonder what else you’d like to lick for me, you pervert.”
Agatha makes a high pitched noise, her hips snapping against the air, and Wanda scoffs.
“You’re not about to come from this, are you?” Wanda mocks. “Running your tongue along my boot, that’s enough to make you cream yourself? Pathetic.”
Wanda summons her improvised leash, and pulls Agatha up.
She nearly comes again when Agatha whines, her tongue still lolling out, and looking helpless, pulling at her lead, trying to put her head back down to her task.
“Enough.” Wanda says. “That one’s done.” She slides herself around, maneuvering carefully, before she pushes her left boot between Agatha’s knees.
“Polish this one with that dripping cunt.” Wanda orders, and Agatha tenses- Wanda realizes she’s fighting her own orgasm with everything she’s got left, not wanting to come before she’s told.
Wanda smiles at her, and cups her cheek. “Good girl. Hold it.”
Agatha’s eyes roll back as she shudders, but she obeys as she lowers herself onto the red, ridged stripe of Wanda’s left boot. She starts to ride, her hips snapping forward, and Wanda can feel how hot and wet she is, even through the leather.
She looks completely destroyed- her makeup is nearly gone, smeared all over her face, and her hair has frizzed, streaked with sweat, while she grinds down, making a little high pitched shriek every time she rubs her clit against the top of Wanda’s boot.
She is absolutely, blissfully, fucked out.
Wanda’s never been more proud.
“Come. Now.” Wanda orders, and doesn’t notice that she does it in Sokovian.
Not that it matters- Agatha understands her perfectly.
Agatha screams. And squirts, smearing herself on Wanda’s boot, as she shudders and shakes uncontrollably, her body convulsing into one or maybe two different orgasms, unable to stop.
She’s still panting and shaking, collapsed against Wanda’s shin; Wanda just wants to gather her into her arms and hold her, but typically Agatha has other plans.
With a final little moan, she pulls herself off Wanda’s boot, and scoots forward, aiming straight between Wanda’s legs, planting a sloppy kiss right where Wanda’s soaked through her leggings.
“You don’t have to-“ Wanda starts, but Agatha looks up at her with a combination glare and pout.
“Off, please.” Agatha says, and runs her tongue over the elaborate belt buckle that comes with the armor.
Well, don’t let it be said Wanda would refuse a reasonable request. She flexes her magic, and the leggings disappear.
Agatha promptly and with no hesitation sinks her teeth into Wanda’s inner thigh, nearly drawing blood, sucking a massive bruise into the delicate flesh. Wanda lets out a shriek, immediately fisting a handful of Agatha’s hair and yanking her away.
“You little bitch.” Wanda hisses, and Agatha smirks up at her. Before she can say anything else with that smart mouth of hers, Wanda hauls her back in, and presses her to her own aching cunt.
“Eat me. And I won’t punish you for that.” Wanda orders.
Agatha opens her mouth, and her magical tongue swirls around Wanda’s swollen clit, before she starts to suck on it. She alternates into her usual rhythm, sucking Wanda’s clit one moment, and then dipping her tongue as far as she can go into Wanda the next.
Wanda ruts against her, smearing Agatha’s face with the evidence of her previous orgasm, grunting and panting as she feels herself build and build.
Agatha gives her one last long lick, and that’s all it takes before Wanda’s spilling into her hot, wet mouth- Agatha swallowing eagerly while she hums in pleasure.
Wanda’s eyes are still closed, but she feels Agatha lean back, and lay her head on her thigh, opposite to the one she’d just bitten.
After a moment to collect herself, Wanda looks down at her, and feels a little sheepish. Agatha’s watching her, studying her face carefully.
“Was that okay?” Wanda asks, suddenly feeling very self conscious. That had been, well, a lot.
Agatha grins, and Wanda feels a weight she didn’t know she was carrying fall off her shoulders.
“You know, I’m still going to turn you over my knee and spank you until you’re screaming, the next time you do something stupid.” Agatha says conversationally, her voice a little hoarse.
Wanda crinkles her nose and tilts her head back, laughing. “I never had any doubts.” She replies, giggling. “And trust me, I’m looking forward to it.”
Agatha sighs, highly put upon. With one hand, she traces nonsense patterns on Wanda’s thigh, next to where she’s pressed her head. With the other, she runs her fingers along the collar.
“This was a nice touch.” She admits quietly. “Well played.”
Wanda flushes pink with the praise. “Would you like to use it again?” She asks, hopefully.
Agatha just nods, looking away, but Wanda can feel how much she enjoyed it.
Wanda did good. Her magic crows in her chest, proud as anything.
Agatha shifts her weight, and Wanda suddenly realizes she’s still sitting on the cold floor, and they’re both absolutely covered in the evidence of what they were just doing, their little remaining clothing destroyed.
“Bath?” Wanda suggests.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Agatha rolls her eyes with a smile, and bringing her hand up, teleports them both away.
