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Agatha Harkness is on her third glass of wine when she feels a familiar presence.
She smirks around the rim of her glass, avoiding eye contact with the dark-haired woman lingering near the door. Instead, she focuses on her mark, another young woman who’s giving eyes at her from across the bar.
It’s a crowded room, the interior of this place more stuffy than it should be. It’s early in the century, and gay establishments are not a fancy affair, which they become later on. For now, they are hidden in back rooms, away from prying eyes. She had followed this witch here tonight, after many weeks of stalking her, waiting to take her power. She seems to be covenless.
“You’re early,” she says simply as Death approaches.
She feels the entity stiffen behind her, and then she settles into a stool next to her. Their legs do not touch, she’s leaning away, waiting patiently.
Agatha chances a risk to look at her. She regrets it almost instantly, those brown eyes threaten to pull her away from the task at hand and into her ex-lover’s arms.
Jesus, she’s had far too much wine.
Instead, she forces herself to look away, clearing her throat and taking another sip from her glass.
Okay, admittedly, it’s been a while since Agatha’s… gotten any action. Power siphoning may be a rush unlike any other, but it’s not quite the same.
“Wanted to see for myself,” Death replies, hands in her lap. She may be wearing human clothes, but she is looking nothing like a normal bar patron.
Agatha rolls her eyes and slides her glass over to her, just to give her something to do with her hands. “How did you even know I was here?”
“I was in the neighbourhood.” Her cold, inhuman hands close around the glass, and then she’s lifting it and taking a sip. Agatha can’t help but track the movement with her eyes. “Seeking power again?”
“You know me,” Agatha says, looking back at her mark. Her jaw is set, and she feels a little thrown off, but she doesn’t let it show. “Always looking for more power.”
Silence falls over them. The woman across the bar is laughing with a stranger, but she keeps glancing at Agatha. There’s a shadow over her eyes now, and she keeps flickering her gaze over to Agatha’s companion. After some time, Agatha notices that she’s starting to stare at Rio more, and for far longer.
Rio is staring back at her now, eyes narrowed. She’s looking her over, and Agatha hates the awful feeling that stirs in her gut suddenly.
Death only having eyes for her is something that has always boosted her ego.
She isn’t about to let this feeling control her. She has no right to feel this way, not when the jealousy stirs in a pit of resentment. “I see you found her. I should probably –”
“Can I try?”
Agatha glares at her. Rio meets her eyes, and there’s an honesty in her expression. Her voice comes out a bit softer now, as though she hadn’t intended to blurt that out. Her expression, however, remains painfully neutral. “I never get to see this side of things. Might be fun.”
No fucking way, Agatha thinks.
“Fine,” she says instead.
Rio stands, handing her glass off before she walks over to the stranger. Agatha watches as the woman’s eyes widen, then her smile turns sickly sweet. She can’t make out Rio’s face from this angle, but the strange woman is batting her eyelashes, touching her hair, and Agatha cannot deny the fact that she might be a little bit jealous.
Then Rio shifts, turning her body to lean against the table between them. Agatha is horrified to see the smile on her face, the way her eyes scan the stranger. She schools her expression back to neutrality, suddenly wishing she had her fucking drink back.
Rio smirks at the stranger, leaning over a little bit. Her lips part, her tongue pokes the inside her cheek, in a flirty look that makes something inside of Agatha snap.
That adorable little quirk has always been reserved for her.
She’s moving before she even realizes what she’s doing. It isn’t long before she’s right before them. Their conversation stops, and Agatha plasters a smile on her face, masking the rage underneath. “Excuse us,” she says simply, taking Rio’s arm and leading her away.
She forgets what she’s even here for. All she can think about at this moment is Rio. Her limbs are trembling as though she’d just grabbed power anyway, and she tugs Rio away, towards the back hallway, where the bathrooms are. She lets go of her once they’re alone, the bar live music fading, and turns to her.
“What the fuck was that?” She growls. She feels completely out of control, but she isn’t about to reign it in.
Especially not when Rio raises an eyebrow, looking at her incredulously. “I was just trying to get her alone. Isn’t that how you usually do it?”
It almost makes her more angry, for Rio to act all surprised, as though she doesn’t know what she’d been doing. She knows that Rio has eyes only for her, but that almost makes it worse.
Agatha’s eyes narrow. The lighting in this back hall is so awful, she can hardly make out her ex-lover’s expression. She leans forward until she’s close enough to see all the colours in her eyes, the depths of them, the darkness of her pupils. She watches, as predicted, as Rio’s eyes drop to her lips.
She wants to see it up close, to know that Rio desires her above the random fucking witch in the bar.
It’s sickly satisfying. The tension in the air shifts, and Rio becomes very still. When she wants to be, she can will any part of her body to stop moving, until she is still as a statue. Her lungs do not even move. Agatha stays locked in her gaze on purpose, letting her feel it.
“Are you that lonely?” She asks, watching as Rio’s expression shifts. Pain flashes through her eyes, and it’s almost as satisfying as the desire that replaces it. “Missed me that much, hm?”
Rio doesn’t say anything. Her lips part, and Agatha watches as she wills breath into her own lungs, unaware she’s even doing it. She lets out a breathless huff, on the edge of saying something.
“Is that what you want?” Agatha asks in a low voice, closing the space between them with a final step forward, until Rio’s back hits the wall. She isn’t even in control of herself anymore. She doesn’t know if she’s horny or angry, if she just wants to steal the desire in Rio’s eyes, or get the upper hand on her. Maybe both. “Want me to fuck you? Is that why you’re here?”
This time, the breath leaves Rio’s lungs in a gasp. It’s music to Agatha’s ears. She doesn’t even hear the sounds of the bar anymore, the mix of voices and sound of music fading into nothingness. Death’s beautiful face contorts with the effort of containing herself, but she stutters out a response anyway. “I told you,” she starts, and oh that tremble in her voice gives her away so easily. “I was in the neighbourhood.”
Agatha stares at her for a moment longer, then her lips curl into a smirk. “No you weren’t.”
“No,” Rio replies, unable to stop herself. “I wasn’t.”
Agatha does not let it show how much it affects her. There’s a warm curl in the pit of her stomach, the heat rushing to her gut. The smirk stays on her lips, and she reaches a hand out to gently brush her fingers against Rio’s cheek.
She knows, through many years of experience, that physical touch is different for her. She is a cosmic entity trapped in a human form, everything is stronger. She doesn’t need her lover to tell her, her skin is already pink, and as Agatha touches her cheek, she parts her lips.
She likes it, being the one who holds all the cards. Sometimes, Death gets the upper hand on her, but she’s the one in control right now. She knows if she steps away, that the entity will follow her, no matter where she goes.
So, she steps back, just to test it. Rio’s head leans forward, chasing her hand, something close to frustration on her features. “Already?” Agatha teases, satisfaction growing at the sudden annoyance in Rio’s eyes. Moving closer again, she dips her hand, brushing over Rio’s tweed jacket. She hates the material, but it looks good on her. “Interesting outfit choice,” she says, as her fingers curl around a button so she can undo it.
She’s wearing a similar outfit. She’d ditched her jacket this time, just in her three piece, with the toe around her neck. She doesn’t plan on stripping any of it off right now. She ghosts her lips over Rio’s, letting her taste her warm human breath. “Do you want me to touch you?” She whispers, and Rio doesn’t move a muscle. “Do you think you deserve it?”
Rio doesn’t shake her head, but Agatha can feel it, the way her breath catches. And jesus, that might be her favourite part. To render Death herself into such a human state, where she has a need to breathe and blood in her veins to blush. She’s been addicted to it for years, and there’s no erasing that kind of obsession.
She snakes a hand lower, tugging on Rio’s shirt. It’s a man’s shirt, tucked into her pants, so it takes a second before she finally can drag a hand up Rio’s side. She feels Rio’s breath catch again, Agatha’s palm warm against her cold skin.
Agatha closes her eyes. She doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a kiss yet, instead dipping her head so she can graze her lips over Rio’s exposed neck. She smells like moss and decay, not unlike a graveyard, and it’s so familiar that she can’t help but drag her tongue over the skin, peppering it with slow kisses.
Rio’s hands move, grabbing Agatha’s hips. She allows it. Her own hands are busy, deft fingers moving up Rio’s body until her thumbs ghost over the edge of her breasts. She’s hardly touching her yet Rio holds back a whimper, dipping her hips a bit tighter.
When she pulls her head away, she looks Rio in the eyes.
She doesn’t know what she’s searching for there. She finds nothing but devotion, desire and impatience clouding the entity’s human eyes. They’re the only thing about her that never changes throughout forms, and Agatha finds her soul there, the one she isn’t supposed to have. She finds the love that they can never erase.
There’s a lump in her throat suddenly. She knows, as she kneads her breast and Rio’s expression shifts to one of pleasure, that no force in the world will move Agatha off of her tonight. She can allow herself this bit of grace, this bit of familiarity, just for now.
She shifts herself, pushing her full weight against Rio, until there is not enough room between them for even air. She drops one hand to Rio’s hips, adjusting her accordingly, spreading her thighs so that she can slide her knee between them.
“Agatha,” Rio says, her voice ragged and deep. “The door’s open.”
Briefly, Agatha’s eyes flicker away, towards the door in which they’d come. She’d left it open, and although no one in the bar can see them from this angle, they would be able to if they stepped into the hall.
“What’s the problem?” She asks, looking back at Rio. No one’s going to bother them if they see them, it’s not as though they’re outside. She still has some power left from the witches she’d killed last week, anyway, no one can fuck with them. “You don’t usually care if people watch. Unless, of course…” She punctuates her next words with a pinch to Rio’s nipple, and she hears the moan catch deep in her throat. She whispers into Rio’s ear. “You’re afraid she might hear us.”
Rio shakes her head, her eyes sliding shut. Agatha pinches her nipple again, her free hand pushing on the material of Rio’s pants, forcing her hips to grind against the knee between her legs. “I don’t – I don’t care about her.”
“Don’t you?” Agatha replies, and maybe now she’s just toying with her. But it feels so good to hear the devotion in Rio’s voice. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Agatha –”
“Shhhh,” she whispers, nipping at Rio’s ear. She doesn’t need to push on her anymore, Rio’s hips are moving on their own, but she controls the movements anyway. “Or she might hear how badly you need me.”
Rio doesn’t say anything. She gasps as Agatha’s hand drifts to her ass, pushing her harder against her knee, angling her just right. The sound of the material of their pants fills the hallway. Rio is taking whatever Agatha will give her, panting as the new angle puts pressure right where she needs it.
Agatha wonders how worked up her lover is. It’s sheer willpower that keeps her going, fighting the urge to rip her pants off and taste her right here. But she wants to take her time, really string her out, until she renders Death herself into a flushed, breathless, human woman.
She latches her lips onto Rio’s neck, sucking on her pulse point, where a heartbeat would be if she were human. She feels the ghost of it now, the idea that Rio has an actively beating heart in her chest, and it spurs her on. She drags her teeth over her skin again, leaving red marks wherever her teeth latch, which fade almost instantly. Death cannot be harmed, and cannot have scars, but as Rio sometimes it can linger for a moment. She lives for those moments.
Her hands are everywhere. She’s grabbing Rio’s shirt, tugging it free, dragging up her skin. She’s sliding under the hem of her pants so she can grab her ass, forcing the other woman to move against her knee even faster, and she can feel the heat between them.
She doesn’t even remember how they ended up here in the first place.
She remembers with a quick flash of clarity, and maybe the jealousy has faded – after all, whose knee is Rio currently humping shamelessly – but she hangs onto it, dangling it in front of Rio like a toy. She forces her to slow down, as her hand dives into the other woman’s pants, pushing past the hem and dragging her fingers through her folds. Rio cries out, her hands trying to find purchase, and it’s delicious. “You’re soaked,” she growls, her lips near Rio’s ear again. “She couldn’t make you this wet. This is all for me, isn’t it, baby?”
Rio’s responding moan is loud enough that anyone walking even near the door will definitely hear it. Agatha grins in response, circling Rio’s clit for a brief moment before pulling her hand out entirely.
She steps out of Rio’s space, shrugging off the entity grabbing for her.
The view she’s presented with is perfect, and stokes the fire growing inside of her. Rio’s chest is heaving, as though she suddenly adopted functional lungs, her cheeks pink and legs still parted. Her forehead is pinched, her body as tense as a cable, threatening to break. Agatha feels a bit insane seeing it, and suddenly they need to be somewhere else.
Immediately.
“Follow me,” Agatha says simply, and turns around.
Unsurprisingly, Rio straightens out her clothes and follows her outside. It’s late in the year, and New York is covered in snow, with people crowding the sidewalks. Even in this time period, cars line parking spots outside. It’s almost picturesque, the snow falling across the buildings, crunching underneath their feet. Neither women notice anything about their surroundings.
Agatha’s abode here is temporary. She’s just down the street, in a tiny box apartment, above a bakery. She pays week to week, and intends to move soon, but New York is ripe with witches, so for now it’s home. She enters the building quickly, moving up the stairs, aware that Death is mere inches behind her.
Of course, the apartment is mostly bare. She shuts the door behind them, sliding the locking mechanism into place. It rings out in the empty apartment, loud as hell, and the moment freezes in time.
She turns, seeing Rio standing there, in the middle of her kitchen. The shadows shroud her face, making her look more like a figure than a woman, and she’s still as a statue.
Agatha parts her lips, taking a slow breath. It’s different having Rio here in the apartment. Suddenly she has doubts, unsure whether or not it’s a good idea to let her back in like this. She might wake up tomorrow morning, in her bed, with a knife pressed to her chest. She hasn’t taken the power she’d wanted to take tonight, she’d be more vulnerable than she wanted to be.
The moment stretches on, and Death does nothing but wait.
She decides, eventually, that she’d already chosen to put everything away for the night. She wants her hands on Rio, and really, fuck it.
She steps backwards, towards her bedroom. It’s a small, shoebox of a room, hidden in the corner. She watches as Rio steps forward, following her, and then it’s a dance – both of them moving slow, never breaking eye contact. She steps over the threshold of her room, and then she’s holding a hand up to stop Rio from stepping any closer.
“Take your shirt off,” she commands, really just to see if Rio’s in a listening mood.
Rio quickly unbuttons her dress shirt, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the ground. She blinks then, as though waiting for more instruction.
There’s so much more skin on display, and without her usual Lady Death outfit on, Agatha can easily make out all the curves of her body. She lets her eyes wander, wanting Rio to feel the heat of her gaze, before they drag back up to her face.
Her favourite part of her, although she isn’t about to admit that out loud. It’s more familiar than anything else in the world.
“Step closer,” she says, and Rio does as she’s told.
The distance between them closes, and Agatha raises a hand to drag over Rio’s stomach, feeling the new skin on display. She feels the way that Rio sucks in a breath, as she scratches her nails into the cool skin. She lets that hand explore, touching everywhere from her arm to her collarbone, as her free hand moves to grip Rio’s hair and pull her head towards her.
It feels something like relief when their lips meet. Rio is all tongue and teeth, moaning into her mouth almost instantly, and Agatha grips her hair tighter as she holds her into place so she can drag her tongue over her teeth, tasting the familiar warm breath. She doesn’t even care that her lungs start to burn after a moment, pushing their lips together again and again, swallowing every little sound that Rio makes.
Rio tilts her head, sliding their lips together and capturing Agatha’s bottom lip between her own. She tugs, and then her teeth are digging in, and the skin breaks. Agatha temporarily tastes blood but then Rio is sucking it into her mouth, and Agatha feels her whole body react, lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree. The grip she has on Rio’s side tightens, then she’s pulling her forwards, towards the bed, their lips never parting for a moment.
She turns them at the last second, and forces their lips apart. She can hardly breathe, but she manages to speak in between breathless gasps of air. “Down,” she says, shoving Rio’s chest.
Rio falls back onto the bed, limbs splayed over the blanket. She shifts herself, scooting up, and Agatha watches in satisfaction as Death follows her every command, even her silent ones.
“Pants off,” she continues, as she shrugs her own off. She keeps everything else on, including the tie around her neck, but she senses she’ll need proper simulation and considerably soon. Once Rio’s pants are off, Agatha crawls onto the bed, and Rio sits up slightly, on her elbows. Agatha waits until she’s hovering over her before she puts a hand on her chest again, pushing her back down, as she sits back, now straddling her. All this skin on display, now up close, she lets herself look . She had long since memorized it all, every little nook and cranny of this body, yet every time Rio undresses it feels like it’s the first time.
She hasn’t turned the light on, and she does not bother to. The window next to them is large enough to illuminate them from the lights outside. There’s a sparkle of light against Rio’s ribs as she drags her hands over it, soaking in every little breath that her lover takes, the tiny gasps that leave her lips when she digs her nails in.
She leans down, kissing Rio’s chest, dragging her teeth over her collarbone. When they’d first done this, she’d taken control, helping Rio learn how her human body works. She remembers that this specific spot on her chest makes the other gasp, and she leans into it, satisfied when she gets the reaction she wants.
She moves lower. Rio’s body is trembling, she’s already flushed, and as she digs her teeth into Rio’s breast, she gasps out loud. It rings in Agatha’s ears as she wraps her lips around Rio’s nipple, sucking it into her mouth and grasping it between her teeth and tugging.
She had intended to tease her a bit more, but she can’t really resist. She copies her ministrations with her hand on Rio’s other nipple, just as her free hand moves down to cup her over her underwear. She slowly drags her fingers under it, teasing her folds with the ghost of a touch, gathering wetness between her fingers.
It’s such a simple gesture, yet Rio’s hips lift off the bed, and she starts squirming. She can feel how wet she is already, moreso than in the bar and it amazes her to think about such a cosmic being experiencing arousal due to her own actions. She resists the urge to grin, but she looks up at Rio, reading the pleasure on her face. The way she throws her head back, pouts her bottom lip as the absolute lack of any kind of friction irritates her.
She’s never been a patient one, but neither is Agatha.
Her mouth unlatches, and she pulls her hand out at the same time. Rio’s edging on a whine, but before she can do anything, Agatha’s fingers are prodding at her mouth. She parts her lips immediately, her warm mouth closing around Agatha’s wet fingers, tongue flicking out and tasting herself.
Agatha shifts her hand, holding onto Rio’s jaw as she lifts herself up, leaning back on her ankles, taking in her handiwork.
Rio is far more worked up now, and she’s flushed everywhere, nipples hard and lungs working in overtime. She’s taking shallow breaths through her nose, looking up at Agatha with a desperation that she wants to paint on the inside of her eyelids, to stay there for the rest of her days.
Fucking gorgeous .
She frees her hand from Rio’s mouth, letting her breathe some air back into her lungs. She’s already so human, so pliant, it really hasn’t taken much. She grins down at her, her smile edging on the verge of adoration, and she doesn’t bother to pull it back for a moment.
Rio smiles back at her and it’s as though everything between them’s been erased. Suddenly she’s back at the cottage they shared, making love with their window wide open, and no one around for miles to hear them.
She can push the memory away, resist it, but she holds onto it instead. Her hands move again, dragging up Rio’s sides, and she lets the memory of the past meld into the present moment as she leans down to kiss her lips again.
Rio responds in kind, tilting her head so she can kiss her deeply, their open lips pushing against each other’s. The moment passes, and desperation leaks into their kiss again, Rio grabbing the back of her head to push her in closer. With their bodies flush, she can feel Rio’s every reaction, the tremble of her limbs and she wants more .
She pulls away, heaving out a breath. Her hands move to her own neck, and then she’s undoing her eye. Rio is tracking the movement.
“Tonight,” Agatha says simply, just as she slips the tie off her neck. She grabs Rio’s hands, and holds them together, as she starts to tie them up. “You’re mine.”
Rio is more powerful than most creatures in the universe. If she doesn’t want this, she can easily get free, without even thinking about it. Instead, her hands shake, but don’t move an inch as Agatha ties them up and then pins them above her head.
“Tonight,” she continues, hovering her lips over Rio’s. She tries to lean up, but Agatha pulls away, her smile wicked and eyes full of promise. “You’re going to be good for me.”
“Just touch me,” Rio replies, already hinting on the edge of desperate.
Agatha tightens her grip on her wrists, digging her nails in, far harder than she would if Rio were a human. Rio has no heartbeat here, but Agatha knows that she can feel the pain of her touch, and it jolts through her system. “No,” she growls, tilting her head back more. “Say it.”
Rio fusses, and she says nothing, stubborn as ever.
Agatha leans down, until she’s right next to her ear, and nips at her earlobe. “Say it, or I’ll leave you here like this.”
It’s an empty threat, they both know it, but it has the intended effect. “Fine,” Rio stutters out, still squirming under her. “I’ll be good.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Keep these right here.”
She taps Rio’s wrists, just as she lets go and scoots herself down Rio’s body. She kisses down her body again, trailing affectionate little smooches over her skin, until she’s moved down enough to press teasing kisses to her stomach.
She glances up, and thinks maybe that a flushed Rio, looking down at her with her hands pinned above her head, might be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life.
She moves, placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of Rio’s thighs, marking the skin with bites anywhere she can reach. She may not be human but this part of her is human enough, and Agatha spreads her thighs with her hands, breathing her in as she finally kisses between her legs, her last affectionate gesture for the moment.
She drags her tongue over her underwear, tasting her wetness through the fabric, and Rio’s whine is soft and sweet. It makes her head spin, her thighs clench, but she focuses, pointedly grazing her tongue anywhere she wants to reach.
“Fuck,” Rio says, and that’s incentive for Agatha to finally hook her fingers over the hem of her underwear and drag it down her thighs, out of sight and out of mind.
It’s a bit of a fumble to get them completely off, but then Agatha is moving right back where she was, finally dragging her tongue over her folds. She tastes so human, so Rio, that she almost wants to moan out loud herself, but it would’ve been drowned out anyway by the loud gasp that Rio lets out. She resists the urge to smirk as her tongue drags up, teasing her clit.
She can feel Rio’s thighs tremble around her, and she forces them to stay open, wrapping her lips around her clit and sucking. She’s purposefully and painfully slow, aware that every little movement is like a shock of lighting through Rio’s system. As predicted, Rio moans loud, unrestrained and it’s a pleasure to witness.
She tastes all of her. It’ll never be enough, not if she sits here for three days straight, until her lungs completely give out. She shoves herself closer, dragging her tongue down to tease at her entrance, gripping her thigh tighter to prevent her from thrusting up into her. Rio is whining now, unable to get proper simulation, waves of pleasure flowing through her body with no real end in sight.
As Agatha’s lips wrap around her clit again, Rio’s hands suddenly fly down, trying to grab at her hair.
Agatha pulls her head away immediately, letting go of her. Rio thrusts into nothing, and her whine cuts short. “Agatha,” she tries to growl, but it comes out more of a frustrated cry.
“What did I say?” Agatha replies, just out of view of Rio’s face. She knows that she’s flushed, her face wet with Rio’s slick, but she isn’t going to give up control just because she’s turned on. “Put them back.”
Rio huffs, but she does as she’s told, so Agatha moves back in.
She feels the other woman’s body practically melt in relief when her tongue makes contact with her clit again. This time, she’s determined to get her there, wanting to feel her come apart underneath her ministrations. Rio’s already so wet that it’s everywhere, and she’s trying to grind against Agatha’s tongue, this time she lets her.
One hand grips her thigh again, while the other slides between her folds, before shoving two fingers inside of her with no preamble. Rio moans so loud that it’s almost a yell, and Agatha starts thrusting in time with her movements.
It doesn’t take very long from that point. Rio is so worked up that she’s already clenching around her fingers, grinding against her tongue. Agatha could hear nothing but her whimpers, the wetness under her fingers, the moans that break from Rio’s lips every few seconds. She thrusts into her faster, sucking her clit and darting her tongue out to tease it, wanting Rio to tumble over the edge, and quickly. She wants it. She needs it, more than she’s needed anything.
Rio’s grinding turns sloppy, frantic, and her whole body freezes up with a loud cry. Agatha laps it all up with her tongue, slowly dragging her fingers through each wave of pleasure, helping her ride it out. She feels dizzy, breathless, but she doesn’t let up, until Rio’s body finally sags, her thighs shaking around her.
She lifts her head, kissing Rio’s thighs a few times, finally dragging herself up. She kisses her, open-mouthed and wet, letting her taste herself on her tongue. Rio is somehow whimpering again, panting into her open mouth, her hands balled into fists, but still above her head.
She loves her like this. Vulnerable, open, human. It’s a sight to behold, and Agatha lets herself catch her own breath as she leans back, her lungs practically burning.
“Show me your knife,” she says suddenly.
Rio’s eyes widen, and she nods towards her pants. She speaks in a shaky voice, and it brings Agatha a sick satisfaction to know that’s all because of her. “It’s in there.”
She climbs off, surprised at the way her limbs shake. She’s soaked, her own body shaking already, but she tucks it all away for the moment. She pulls the knife out, then removes her underwear – because fuck it – before she climbs back onto the bed.
It’s a risk whenever they do this. Technically, it’s a powerful thing in itself, and in Rio’s hands it can change reality. Agatha’s never been one to turn away from risk, though, so she sets it down in Rio’s hand, before straddling her again. She lowers herself on Rio’s stomach, watching as the other’s eyes zero in between her legs, the wetness that she’s practically smearing over her stomach.
Rio’s next expression is something close to insanity. “Please,” she says, her hands fumbling around her knife. Her eyes have not moved. Agatha starts to grind herself forward, and Rio practically stutters her next words. “Please let me fuck you.”
Agatha hums, as though she’s considering it. Truthfully, though, she has other plans for the night.
She nods at the knife, and says nothing else, gripping Rio’s ribs with her hands, digging in tight as she continues to move. It’s not really doing much for her, the angle isn’t right, but it’s all about the power play. It’s making Rio insane, so it’s perfect.
Rio’s magic sparks in the air between them, and Agatha watches as she forms the knife into something else, exactly how she had in the past. It looks nothing like the “toys” that they have around here – which are practically nonexistent at this point in time – but it’s become Agatha’s obsession. She grins, watching as Rio moves her restrained wrists, handing it over to her.
“Get up,” she says to a confused Rio as she climbs off the bed so she can harness herself in. She doesn’t watch her, she already knows Rio is going to do what she asks, and once it’s secured around her, she looks back at the other woman, who’s sitting up in bed, legs hanging over the side.
She watches the aroused rise and fall of Rio’s chest, and finds that she sort of wants to give her a show. She slowly undoes her vest buttons, eyeing Rio the whole time, watching as her eyes somehow darken even more as more skin comes into display. She’s always been able to make Agatha feel like the sexiest thing in existence. She may not need the confidence boost, but it’s still nice, it makes something deep inside of her heart come back to life.
Once she’s fully undressed, she moves back to the bed. She stands next to it then reaches out, touching her now warm face. She drifts her thumbs over her cheeks, then leans in and gives her a kiss on the forehead. She sees Rio’s lips flutter into a smile, and she can’t resist the urge to lean in and capture that kiss between her own lips.
There’s still hints of desperation, but their kiss is slow this time, full of affection and love that they won’t admit they still have for each other. Agatha’s hands move to cup her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, letting out a soft hum between them. Rio kisses her back, her hands still wrapped in a tie and sitting obediently in her lap, letting Agatha set the pace.
Eventually, she pushes herself a bit closer, the strap bumping up against Rio’s thigh. She feels her breath catch, and she swallows it with another kiss, before finally pulling away to catch her breath. Still holding Rio’s face, she drags her lips over her jaw, kissing her everywhere she can reach.
She finally drops her hands, reaching between to grab Rio’s hands in her own. She moves them, settling them onto the strap, wordlessly commanding her to start stroking it. She does so, and Agatha kisses her again.
The fire inside of her isn’t just biting anymore. It’s all consuming, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. As Rio strokes her strap, the hilt of it brushes against her clit, and she can’t help but let out a soft moan against her lips. Rio bites her lip in response and she feels practically insane.
“If you want my cock,” Agatha says as she pulls her head away so she can look her in the eyes. “You’ll have to ask for it.”
Death has no primal instincts, yet she squirms away, panting against her lips at the dirty talk. She blinks slow, trying to find the words, and finally nods.
“Oh, honey,” Agatha teases, her tone mocking. “Use your words.”
“Yes,” Rio gasps out, as though she’d been holding her breath. “Yes, I want your cock. Please.”
“Good boy.”
She steps back, out of Rio’s orbit. She sits down next to her, and then she’s pushing on Rio’s shoulders to get her to the ground. “Get it ready for me, baby.”
The sight of Death dropping to her knees to suck her strap will never get fucking old. Rio’s hands are still tied, they remain in front of her as she adjusts herself. Agatha parts her legs to give her proper access, then grabs the base of the strap and guides it towards her mouth.
She has no need for breathing, and Agatha can see the way that she tries to control that as she drags her tongue over it then slowly pushes the head into her mouth.
She tangles a hand into Rio’s hair, suddenly wishing that she had the crown on so she could try and grab it. Instead, she settles on tugging her hair. Rio’s magic allows a bit of sensation, and it feels crazy good, the warmth of Rio’s mouth and the way she hollows out her cheeks as she pushes it further into her mouth, bobbing her head.
She can feel the way Rio’s jaw is working, and waves of pleasure start to rip through her. She tenses, but maintains a sense of control over herself, digging her nails into Rio’s scalp.
Rio moans around her strap and holy shit . She can’t help the moan that leaves her lips, the way her gut twists pleasantly. She forces herself to speak, ignoring the way her voice shakes. “That’s it,” she coos, watching as the praise rips through Rio, and this time they moan in time with each other. “That’s a good boy, there you go,” she breathes out.
Eventually, she decides it’s enough, she’s three seconds from her own orgasm and she really does not want to cum yet. Instead, she taps on the side of Rio’s head, watching as she pulls her mouth out slowly, gasping in air as her faux lungs start to work again.
The sight of her looking up at her, with pink cheeks and drool running down her lips, makes Agatha feel like Death might be the closest thing to religion that she might ever experience.
“Up,” she whispers, her voice tight. Rio rises to her feet, maintaining eye contact. “Get on the bed, darling.”
It’s the most affectionate term she’s used so far, even more intimate than baby had ever been for them. She watches as Rio’s expression shifts, something shadowing her eyes, before she obeys and crawls back onto the bed behind her.
Their eye contact is broken, and Agatha pauses for a second, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Pulling herself away from the edge of orgasm. Maybe also reminding herself that this is temporary, they’re not how they used to be.
When she stands up again, her expression is schooled back into neutrality. Rio is spread out, waiting patiently for her, her hands still tied by the tie. Agatha chuckles at the sight of it, reaching her own hands out and untying it. She wants Rio to be able to access her entirely, touch her body, she suddenly needs it more than she needs air.
She moves to lie next to her. She curls closer, putting both her hands on Rio’s cheeks so she can pull her into a slow kiss. Rio kisses her back, her hands finally roaming, wherever she can touch. She grabs Agatha’s hair, drags her hands down her shoulders, her stomach. By the time their lips part, Rio’s hands have found home on her breasts, and she lets out the cutest little grunt of satisfaction as she finally grabs them.
Agatha hates the rush of affection she feels.
She needs control back, so she pushes closer into her, dragging her tongue in Rio’s mouth. The simulation on her nipples wakes her senses back up, bringing them from a comfortable calmness to a raging fire once more. She pushes an overly encouraged Rio back down onto the sheets, just as she climbs back over her.
She presses sharp kisses to Rio’s body again, digging her teeth into every little spot she knows will make her lover whine. And whine she does, digging her hands into Agatha’s hair, tugging as her breathing becomes ragged. Agatha drinks every gasp up, every little twitch of her body, every soft moan that leaves her lips.
Louder. She needs Rio to be louder for her.
She drags herself even lower down her body, until her teeth are digging into the flesh of her thighs again. Rio’s breath hitches in anticipation, but Agatha keeps her head out from where she truly wants her. Her teeth practically break the flesh of her still-sticky inner thighs, but Rio’s moan is loud and grateful.
“Agatha,” she cries, and her name falling from Rio’s lips like that is glorious. “Agatha, please.”
She’s a beggar today. Agatha smirks, and then lifts her head. She kisses up Rio’s body for another moment, before she’s grabbing her hips and holding her in place. She slithers onto her like a snake, the strap sitting between them, pushing against Rio’s stomach.
They are nothing but sweat and body heat, and Agatha’s head is spinning in the best way. She watches as Rio’s eyes flicker down, at the length of her strap along her body, trembling with anticipation. She grins wickedly, moving her hands from Rio’s hips to her thighs, parting them.
She intends to tease, even if her body is a live wire, desperate to explode at any moment. She’s meticulous when she drags the strap through Rio’s folds, purposefully avoiding her clit or her entrance. Rio’s moan is full of pleasure and frustration, the perfect combination. It’s loud, too, which is exactly what Agatha had wanted.
Agatha is trying to maintain control, while her thighs shake because jesus this feels good. It’s almost insane how good it feels. She could very well die here and she’d be happy with it.
She might, really. This isn’t exactly the purpose of Death’s scythe slash knife.
It feels so good she briefly forgets anything else. Rio is shaking under her, but she’s so wet that the strap slides through her easily, it sends pulses up the shaft and against Agatha’s clit. She huffs, evidence of her control slipping, and it turns into a moan as it catches against her just right. Whatever magic is in this, she still can’t get enough of it.
Rio’s whimpers turn into pleading. She’s mumbling something, begging in Spanish, but Agatha does not relent in her movements, until her hips are literally rutting against Rio. Her own thighs are trembling so violently it’s a wonder she can keep herself upright. She changes the angle, brushing against Rio’s clit with her movements, and her lover’s babbling turns into high-pitched moans.
“Agatha –” Rio moans out, her breath catching. “Please, I need – inside –”
“Not yet,” Agatha growls, her voice deeper than she’d expected it to be. Her head drops, and then she’s digging her hands into Rio’s body, using it to keep herself upright. “Let me cum first.”
She’s right on the edge, but it’s not until she feels Rio’s hands on her ass, guiding her movements, that she finally tumbles over. Her clit throbs, cunt clenching around nothing as her orgasm overtakes her. She freezes, Rio’s hands the only thing that’s guiding her into riding out waves of her orgasm. She hears a moan at the same time she lets out one, and she just knows Rio is right there with her.
Panting, she lifts herself up slightly to catch her breath. Rio’s hands loosen their grip. The waves finally tamper off, and Agatha is soaked now, overstimulated and loving it.
Rio doesn’t have to beg again, Agatha needs to be inside her within the next two minutes or she thinks she just might die.
She shifts herself back now, grabbing Rio’s hips. “Turn,” she commands, her voice dark and deep. With their combined effort, Rio is soon on her stomach, with her back exposed to her.
In the past couple of hours, she’s yet to place her lips on Rio’s strong back. She changes that now, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her skin with a renewed vigor.
She knows she can’t permanently mark her, but god wouldn’t that be special. To be the only human to mark Death’s skin with a scar.
She wastes no time, no more teasing words. Her hands, still on Rio’s hips, lift her up so she can access all of her. She leans back on her ankles, and then she’s gripping the strap, dragging it over her entrance teasingly.
As expected, Rio’s hips move, trying to push herself onto it. She just knows her lover’s senses are on overdrive. “So eager,” Agatha purrs, dragging a hand over her back and stilling her hips with her other hand. “Tell me what you want.”
Rio’s broken, trembling voice is music to Agatha’s ears. “Just fuck me already.”
Of course she wants to give in, but she drags her hand down Rio’s back and doesn’t move. “Try that again, dear.”
A frustrated grunt, and Agatha’s smile grows. There’s a long enough moment of hesitation that she pulls her strap away entirely, and then finally Rio gives in. “Please. Please, just fuck me already.”
If Agatha were any less turned on, maybe she would chuckle at her desperation. Instead, Rio’s words go straight to her cunt, and she cannot resist her more than she can resist breathing. She angles herself, sucking in a breath as she teases for only a moment longer before slowly pushing inside of her.
Rio’s whine is high pitched and desperate. She echoes it with a moan of her own, as Rio’s cunt tries to pull her in more. She is painfully slow and meticulous, despite her own body protesting, dragging it out before pushing it in several more inches, until finally, finally, she bottoms out.
Warm and wet are the only sensations that Agatha knows. The entire world outside of this bed could cease to exist and she wouldn’t even notice. She can feel it, the sensation of Rio’s cunt around her, like it’s a true feeling. Her jaw is slack, and she takes a second to enjoy the feeling before she feels Rio trying to push up against her, and she starts to move.
This angle is magnificent. She can get so deep, she can see the curve of Rio’s ass, and the side of her face as it contorts in pleasure. She is purposefully taking her time to feel every single inch of her, her thrusts deep and slow, and Rio is finally at the level of loud she’d wanted her to be.
But, she wants more.
She grips her harder, nails digging into her hips as she starts to move faster. She drags her strap out of her fully, watching as Rio’s cunt tries to flutter around it and keep it in, and holy fucking shit. She’d forgotten how this feels. It’s been far too long.
“Look at you,” she moans, her hips thrusting in time with Rio’s own movements. In this, they are perfectly in sync, nothing disjointed about them. “So handsome from this angle, baby.”
The moan that rips through Rio is the loudest yet, and Agatha finds herself grinning in satisfaction. She adjusts her angle, raising herself slightly so she can push into her harder. She doesn’t bother with any more words. She pounds into her, faster and needier, desperate to hear more of those gorgeous moans falling from Rio’s lips. Her lover does not disappoint her.
The world closes around her, the only thing she knows is the pleasure ripping through her body. She thrusts so hard she knows it would hurt a human, but Rio loves it.
It doesn’t take long for her to feel like she’s right on the edge, her stomach in knots, legs trembling with effort. The pleasure shivers up her spine. She suddenly wishes she had a collar around Rio, something to lift her up and get a better view of her beautiful face, the pleasure that she knows she’s also feeling.
“So good for me.” She doesn’t even know she’s talking, it just spills from her, as her hair falls over her face. She sounds as wrecked as she feels, panting into the air. Rio’s so wet it’s dripping onto the bed, there’s no resistance no matter how deep she goes, and Agatha’s entire lower body is wet and shaking. Her heart is pounding so fast she thinks it just might burst.
She’s lost in her own pleasure, thrusting into Rio with no real pattern, pushing more and more and more until Rio is beyond coherence. Her lover’s moans have turned into grunts, her jaw slack, mouth open against the sheets. She can feel every clench of Rio’s cunt, and she just knows that she’s close.
She’s chasing the high of orgasm, and it’s sheer Harkness willpower that takes her over before she cums. She has to force herself to slow down, bottoming out inside of her lover. It’s a test to Rio’s limits. Both of them are sweating and trembling from head to toe. Agatha’s eyes open, and she takes in the sight of her lover, who is gasping for air and crying out.
She leans down, pressing open mouthed kisses to Rio’s lower back. One of her hands moves, dragging along her skin. Rio is whimpering underneath her, but to Agatha’s surprise, she does not protest. She just whines, her thighs shaking but hips as still as they can be, waiting.
That’s what she wants. That obedience.
She revels in it. In this moment, Rio is completely hers.
I love you dances on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it down.
“That’s my girl,” she says instead. “Say you’re mine.”
Rio’s voice is almost a sob. There’s no hesitation. “I’m yours. I’m yours, Agatha, I’m yours.”
Then she’s moving again, fully committing to the speed and aggression in which she pounds into her. The strap rubs up against her clit, not that it needs to do so in order to simulate her at this point. Rio’s moans sound out throughout the room, their lovemaking filling the otherwise quiet apartment. She reaches down, fumbling until she’s rubbing Rio’s clit, and the responding yelp she hears goes straight to her cunt.
“Please please please please,” Rio is whimpering, although Agatha isn’t sure that she even knows what she’s asking for. She, however, is fully aware that Rio is seeking the last bit of permission, unable to fully tumble over the edge without it.
“Fuck.” Agatha’s movements become frantic, almost animalistic, pounding into her with ruthless abandon. She can feel Rio about to cum, and she needs it. She grips her ass with her free hand, and then she’s growling out into the air. “Cum for me. Cum for me, Rio.”
She doesn’t know if it’s the command or the name that undoes her, but Rio cums almost instantly, letting out a loud sob as it starts to crash over her. Agatha can hardly move the strap to help her right out the orgasm with how hard she clenches around her, so she rubs her clit harder, hearing her yelp in surprise and overstimulation. Rio’s thighs are trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her.
She cannot stop herself even if she wanted to. Agatha’s responding groan is so loud she isn’t even sure it comes from her. She feels herself tumble over the edge as well and her entire body freezes, stuck in a moment of time.
It feels like forever before it starts to tamper out. Agatha lets out a breath, trying to will her lungs into functioning again. Rio is panting, shaking strongly, her body finally slack of all of its tension. Agatha kisses her lower back.
Eventually, she slowly pulls out, unhooking the strap on at the same time, letting it fall onto the bed.
She knows what Rio needs after this, what she prefers , and she does not have it in herself to resist her. So her body moves, until she’s laying on her side of the bed, still sweaty and shaky. She reaches out, pulling Rio closer, until they are touching.
Rio’s head comes to rest on her shoulder. She’s still breathing heavily, her eyes half lidded, as she calms herself down. She looks so fucking perfectly human that it actually hurts Agatha’s heart. She wills the pain and resentment between them to rest for now so she can just admire her face, ghost her fingers over Rio’s cheek, and pull her up for a slow kiss.
“Fuck.” Rio says once they part lips, and it’s such an awkward break of the silence between them, that Agatha actually laughs.
“That’s all you have to say to me?” She asks, her voice hinting on the edge of a laugh. “After all of that?”
“I didn’t get to fuck you yet,” Rio mumbles, closing her eyes.
Agatha just looks at her. She is so beautiful, those soft features she’d come to adore many years ago, look the same as ever. If she reaches out again she’ll be touching her fingers to the same skin she’d kissed a million times over the years.
There is one thing she cannot erase or bury under anger and resentment. It sits in her chest, forming a lump in her throat. Tomorrow, it’ll be enough of a truth to make her push Rio away again. They will be back where they always are, running from one another, always one step behind and always edging over whether or not they’re going to fuck or kill each other.
Right now, though, the truth of it feels almost like a comfort. Rio tilts her head, pressing her lips to Agatha’s skin, and she lets the knowledge sit in her mind, wash over her.
Agatha loves her, as dearly as the sun loves the moon. They will always follow each other in the same way, always a distance apart, never together for long enough.
She will enjoy the twilight for now, embrace in this closeness, before the sun rises in the morning and Rio leaves her again.
And maybe she’ll fuck her once or twice again before the morning comes.