From Morning 'Round Till Night
When returning to her old dorm at Cloud Tower, with her girlfriend Iorda, Darcy begins to think of how she would like their relationship to... develop.
(Post-SSS, my post-s8 fic)
(Aka, Iorda and Darcy's first time being sexual with each other)
@thewillowofveles @rerarlo @ieatedanimation @darlenicy @dariaslore
Scent was a sense that held many more memories for Darcy than the others; the smell of wet grass on Zenothe, iron blood filling her nose once she formed the coven bond with her sisters, and that beautifully smoky scent of incense that still clouded the dorm she hadn't seen in many years.
She adjusted the bookbag on her right shoulder—some past belongings during her senior year were still tucked into the shadows, and so she would reclaim them—and took a step in.
"Has it changed much since you three left?" Iorda, lingering in the doorway, asked. "Then again, I'm sure that at least two witches were mumbling about your 'cursed' dorm.. Maybe it was untouched."
Darcy repressed a fond snort. Her delightful girlfriend and her habit of finishing her own thoughts as they exited her turquoise-painted lips. It was as if the neurons in Iorda's mind connected thoughts as they were forming instead of in advance.
But she still had many neurons, and, as Darcy discovered during the many hours of researching in the library with the girl, Iorda had many intelligent things to say when she wasn't trying to goad her with questions such as, 'Did you know that on Earth we have things called jellyfish? Their mouths are also their anus, by the way—please don't throw the pillow in my face.'
Iorda was an intelligent idiot, but her idiot.
"Cloud Tower did like us enough to form the gateway," Darcy remarked with a tilt of her lips, eyeing the mirror in the corner of the room. The memory of using it to traverse the underground tunnels was almost nostalgic. "Maybe the freshmen are afraid it'll swallow them whole if they trespass."
"Seniors were the ones who were gossiping."
"Seniors, really?" Darcy raised a brow. She tossed her bookbag onto her ex-bed then sat down on the chair next to it. No way was she about to ruin her silk pants with dust. "They're afraid of getting sent to the dungeons for a day or two?" She huffed. "What have we witches come to?"
"Oh, please, as if you ever got sent to the dungeons," Iorda said with a smirk, adjusting her ankle-length skirt as she leaned against the far wall. "Miss Straight-A student."
"Many exceptional students have been sent there. Grades do not matter as much as tact," Darcy explained. Cloud Tower was fickle in who it preferred. "Which someone didn't seem to have when that someone called Icy a bitch to her face her second day here."
Iorda winced a little at the knowledge that, like many times before, Darcy had won this little debate of theirs. She wasn't wrong either. When the line between fairy and witch in Iorda's body was still blurry, off she went to Cloud Tower and...
Well, Icy had happened to be giving Nith—a sophomore witch who'd witnessed the attempted attack on Bloom in an alley in Magix City all those years ago—a talking to just as Iorda was taking a nightly stroll, and things escalated.
"Okay, but..." Iorda started. Darcy tilted her head. "Don't I get a few points for the audacity I had back then? A small point?"
Darcy was ruthless in her banter and teasing. Her insults and wit had been known throughout the halls of Cloud Tower for years. Feared by her enemies. Known for crushing spirits. But her sneaky girlfriend was using those cute little eyes to her advantage, smirking, because of course she knew how much of a disaster the witch was.
She sighed, looking up at the roof. "Cloud Tower..."
"You didn't answer the question," Iorda quipped.
"Swallow my girlfriend whole—"
"Your school loves me, it wouldn't."
"—to the depths of the abyss—"
It was then that Iorda made the wonderful decision to plop herself down on the past bed of her girlfriend, unbothered by the thin coat of dust. Both of them knew how much Darcy would miss her if the school decided to swallow her into one of its dark corners. Witch or not, Darcy often took the form of a weighted blanket, and a very stubborn one.
Darcy eyed Iorda's position and pushed her fingers under her glasses to rub the corners of her eyes. Not because they were itchy. But because she hoped that it would give her patience. "Honey, the dust."
"I'm going to dust off my skirt before we leave or see Miss Griffin again, don't worry," Iorda reassured plainly, still unsure of referring to Griffin as Darcy's mom. The two were still estranged after all.
"But you're ruining your skirt."
"My love," Iorda said with a deep inhale, steepling her hands. "I got this skirt at a thrift shop for five Magixian dollars, and I already tore the hem when my desk chair hooked onto it."
Was she annoyed? No. But she wanted to see her girlfriend spoiled and with many good things, such as haircare that was not a 3-in-1 shampoo. Yes, she was a hair sob, and no, she would not change that.
Iorda wasn't a slob in the slightest—Darcy wouldn't have been able to handle that—and she kept herself smelling nice almost every second with that quite delightful perfume of hers, but Darcy just wished that she would actually use their money.
Both of them were comfortable, after all.
With Darcy with her job in coven work on Zenothe, and Iorda teaching at Cloud Tower, they had more than enough for their apartment and other expenses. Iorda just seemed to have this habit of either doing things herself instead of paying someone or keeping her torn skirts in case she needed the fabric for a spare altar cloth.
"I'm getting you a new skirt," Darcy said without any room for 'buts.'
Iorda chuckled. "I don't—"
"I get that you have always had this 'giver' attitude and not wanting to take up space—" Darcy started. Iorda opened and closed her mouth before clearly realizing that, once again, her girlfriend was right. "You've finally met your match, honey."
Iorda scoffed, but her lips tilted up as she stood from the bed. "I met my match seven years ago when you first tried to kill me." She casually tugged down the waistline of her skirt. It wasn't the first time the ever-aware Darcy called her out, and it wouldn't be the last. "But fine, I'll shake the dust out on the balcony."
Darcy's eyes scanned over the many pleasing features Iorda had. Hip dips. Full and delicate thighs littered with lovely little flicks of hair. A very nice ass that was one of the girl's greater assets. All the beautiful parts that made up the woman that she had spent many hours thinking about. Thoughts that were more suitable for private than public conversations.
Due to Iorda's uncaring attitude in revealing herself, Darcy got to see her girlfriend naked very often. Lucky her. They'd even started to sleep bare together when the weather got too warm for fabric and decency.
Unlucky for her, she was a disaster.
Who was very tempted to tear out her ovaries so that she could no longer blame her vulgar thoughts on ovulation and just say that, 'Honey, I adore you, you're a work of art, one I'd like to bite into, thank you,' and have sex with her girlfriend already.
Why was she so intimidated, Darcy wondered.
Fuck, she's had Iorda helpless beaneth her before after all! Even if that reason was murder attempts and not sex, that counts, right? Now she just has to do it without the murder! And the... near-death experiences. Knowing her, though, she'd die from being such a pathetic romantic.
She groaned, resting her head against the chair's backrest as Iorda flicked out the dusty skirt on the balcony. All she wanted was to finally get laid by the woman who had stayed by her through pains, tears, laughter, nightmares, and many long nights together.
Was that too much to ask?
To have some good, emotional, and passionate sex?
Despite having sex many, many times with Riven in the past, the first time with someone she adored was always nerve-racking. Not because she didn't want to have her girlfriend sit on her lap, touch her, worship her, and gently tempt her fingers up her—
"Consider the skirt dust-free!"
Darcy stopped biting her lip when Iorda walked back into the dorm with her skirt hiding her hips and thighs once more. Disappointing. She wanted to stare a little longer.
Maybe she could ask Stormy to electrocute these thoughts away.
That'd surely be easier than dealing with this... this mood.
No wonder some of those Earthlings considered—as Bloom explained—lust a sin. It surely felt like torture on her psyche when she couldn't work herself up, past all her anxiety, and enjoy herself.
"You're thinking very loud. Extremely," Iorda said as she walked over.
Iorda still required focus if she wanted to accurately read a thought, despite the many hours of one-on-one lessons Darcy put her through to learn psychic magic after years of neglect. All she heard was constant white noise, reminding her of how Tecna's devices sounded when Kiko chewed on the wires.
"... Is everything okay, love?" Iorda asked. There wasn't space to sit next to the witch in the chair, sadly. She resorted to embracing from behind. "Are the memories of being back here, too much? We can go if you want. Or you can go, and I can gather up your old things?"
Iorda embraced her tighter. "Hm?"
Or as Iorda and Bloom say often, carpe diem.
"Actually..." Darcy stood, brushing her hair over her shoulder with a delicate and deliberate flick of her hand. She knew how to seduce. Very well. Despite being a disaster. "You might've been onto something, sitting on the bed." With a thump, she tossed the dusty sheets onto the floor. Back turned. A smirk on her face. "I'm tired, and it's here, so we might as well..."
I love her, I love her, I love her, Darcy repeated like a mantra. Maybe she'd just have to say it bluntly: please strip, I want to have sex with you right now. I love you. I want to kiss you.
Darcy glanced over her shoulder. "Honey, when two witches love each other very much—"
"Oh. Oh. Sex. You meant sex," Iorda said as her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened to a delightful rose pink. She's definitely had a thought or two about... doing it with her girlfriend, but bringing it up took much more gall. "Here?"
"It's empty, isn't it?" Darcy shrugged.
"If you don't want to, forget it," Darcy said, cheeks blushing dark with embarrassment as she started aggressively adjusting the pillow. "It's fine."
Not angry at Iorda, she'd never, but at herself for being such a—
Two arms wrapped themselves loosely around her waist, cold enough across her stomach to cause a sharp inhale. Darcy froze. Stormy would be teasing her half to death for being caught off guard and blushing like a schoolgirl, especially as Iorda's fingertips ran back and forth over her stomach.
Iorda sighed as a warm feeling wormed its way into her heart like a glorious snake of want and adoration. "I really, really want to do this with you." She kissed Darcy's shoulder, leaving a stain of turquoise lipstick. "A lot. So, so much." Then, with a little tilt of her head, those gorgeous, heterogeneous eyes shone with both a pure, sweet love and something that made Darcy's heart flutter. "I'd really like to worship you. Can I do that, please? Many pleases?"
Darcy choked at how bluntly Iorda just asked if she could worship her. Yes, that was what she wanted and had been thinking about, but hearing that Iorda was eager for the idea was an entirely different thing she had not emotionally prepared her tender heart for.
She raised her hands and buried her face in them. "How can you just say something like that so casually?"
"I'm supposed to be the composed one. Not you."
Iorda chuckled and left one last kiss before pulling back. She grabbed Darcy's hands in a gentle hold, turning the witch around to face her in the process. "You can be composed after I make you feel good, okay?" Yep, Darcy was deceased. "And bite you. You like biting, right?"
Darcy's cheeks went from rose pink to crimson. "Iorda!"
"What?" Iorda sang-song innocently. "That's what you said when we were discussing what we were open to if we ever did eventually have sex, like, a month ago." She chuckled. "And worship, but that's a given—"
"I am aware of what I like."
"—luckily, I really wouldn't mind worshipping you because you're gorgeous, goddess-worthy." Iorda opened her mouth to continue, but Darcy's eyes narrowed and pressed a finger against her lips. "Okay, maybe I was being a bit of a little shit because I like watching you get flustered, but do I really have to be reprimanded for that when I'm about to worship you really, really, emphasis on really well?"
Iorda's bravado faltered. "Pretty please?"
Without the issue of height difference, Iorda easily gave Darcy a small kiss on her chin before swiftly sitting down at the foot of the bed. Both of them knew that Iorda would be happily doing all of the work, but now that she had started the little teasing battle between the two, Darcy was going to be holding the strings. Quite possibly, Iorda's tongue would be cramping up by the end of the evening as a result of said string-holding.
Iorda stared wide-eyed, breath faltering, as Darcy sat down on the opposite side of the bed while adjusting her position to lean back against the two pillows. They did have a more comfortable bed back at their apartment, but thanks to Iorda's teasing riling the witch up, neither of them wanted to wait much longer to finally make love with the fuel of passion.
"You're so pretty..." Iorda hated how much her compliment sounded like a whine. Banter was a skill she slowly developed, but when it came to it, she listened to one woman and one woman only.
Darcy brushed her dark, flowing hair over her shoulders to reveal the lipstick stains Iorda had left littering her golden skin. Even more enticing than that was the redness over her cheeks that still hadn't left from her girlfriend's earlier teasing. She leaned back against the pillows, parting her legs, and waved Iorda over.
All intentions of being a little shit gone, Iorda smiled and straddled Darcy's thighs, bracing herself on the woman's shoulders. She leaned close. Rested her chin on Darcy's chest. "Very, very pretty."
"Thank you, honey..." Darcy said shallowly, lacing her fingers through Iorda's hair, scratching her scalp. "I thought you'd be running your mouth a lot more after your sassing earlier."
Iorda shrugged. "I was planning on running my mouth, but..." Her eyes darted down for a split second to Darcy's chest. A violet, sweetheart-neckline top still covered anything improper, but the swell of the breasts was still clear. "... but..."
But maybe she was too distracted to function, and that she should dig a grave for herself, plan a funeral, bury herself alive, all that she could forget this moment. Get rid of her mind so maybe she could get a new one that was much more celibate.
Darcy shakily reached out to grab Iorda's chin tightly. The tension was like a wire. Life. Hot. Waiting to explode and spread flames in its wake. "Are you going to kiss me, honey, or just stare—"
At that moment, the tension did explode.
Iorda shifted closer and then firmly pressed her soft lips against Darcy's, lipsticks of turquiose and violet mixing together with the sounds of gasps. She held tight onto the witch's waist with her thighs as she worked her tongue past the eager lips as if she was whispering secrets and prayers only the goddess of a witch could hear.
Darcy felt a deep shudder move through her heart as Iorda eagerly began to show her just how addicted they were to each other. She tilted her head back against the pillows, parting her lips wider to let more of Iorda's passionate attention in, and dug her nails into the flesh of her girlfriend's waist to keep her just where she was for as long as she desired.
"Honey..." Darcy sighed, eyes rolling back. Iorda was a better kisser than she thought. How ironic. When she studied in these halls years ago, she was known as a sductress. Many pinned for her, but never were lucky enough to earn her attention.
Iorda was the true seductress in her mind. A perfect blend of sass, smarts, and stupid enough in her audacity to be hot for it. Confidant now that she was finally sure in her dark magic instead of pretending to be something she wasn't.
And that very seductress was gripping her waist with those plush thighs and kissing with that tongue for her dear life, like she was some sort of succubus feeding on a meal after years of starvation. Consuming her. Darcy wouldn't mind getting consumed if it meant that Iorda would kiss her with this much feral passion more often.
Iorda sucked on Darcy's bottom lip, her eyes shut.
"You're so good..." Darcy moaned, almost a growl, as she returned the kiss with more passion and strength. Without any hesitation, she dug her sharp, coffin-shaped nails into Iorda's waist until she felt the girl's breath hitch through the kiss. "Take off my top now. Please." She pried the very preoccupied Iorda's lips off her hers. "Do I need to remind you to do things, or are you going to focus?"
"You taste so good though," Iorda whined with a pout. She couldn't help but run her tongue around the inside of her own mouth to pick up any of Darcy's leftover taste. "Did I mention that, my love?"
"... what did I say about running your mouth?"
"I don't know, I was too busy staring at your chest," Iorda said swiftly as she nipped on Darcy's bottom lip and moved her palms under the edge of the crop top to gently lift it off the witch's head. "I like teasing you."
"Oh, I know you do," Darcy sighed shallowly. She lifted up her arms while the top was tugged off, then tossed it onto the pile of dust blankets. Once a hypocrite, always a hypocrite. "I like it too."
Iorda rolled her eyes, her fingers shakily working to unclip Darcy's dark violet bra, covered with black lace, an elegant spiderweb that covered the soon-to-be object of her worship. "Mean. Horrid. Any other adjective that describes how my girlfriend is depriving me of one of the great joys of my life."
"If you ever want me to call you a good girl during this, that means that you actually have to be good, you know?" Darcy questioned. A soft click, and the bra was discarded just as easily as the top. "That's how it works."
"Using my praise kink against me, how nice."
"Says the one who teased me with the prospect of biting earlier, and yet, alas, my skin is without any marks," Darcy said, purposefully stretching her arms to more obviously reveal her round, moon-like breasts to Iorda's startled eyes. "Sounds like false advertising of your skills if you ask me."
Iorda rolled her eyes, breathing out shakily. "I have skills. I can bite."
"Oh, really?" Darcy raised a brow.
"Yes," Iorda nodded, straining closer in an attempt to throw her girlfriend off guard again and digging her teeth into the witch's right shoulder. Darcy choked, and as she arched, Iorda used that opening to move closer until the two were melded together into a pile of passion and adoration. "See?"
Darcy gritted her teeth. Who would she be if she didn't use any opportunity to banter? "A... anyone can bite, honey." Even if Iorda's teeth digging into her skin felt like her own personal high being pushed into her bloodstream to drive her to insanity and euphoria. "Being skilled takes time and... much more effort."
Iorda leaned enough to look Darcy in her dilated, golden eyes. She wasn't insulted. Far from it. She was one, competitive, and two, often ran on spite. Darcy's teasing was only further driving her need to leave the witch breathless and delirious by the end of this. Maybe that had been the point of the teasing in the first place.
"More effort?" Iorda smirked.
Darcy mirrored the teasing expression. "Yes. Do you think you can handle that, or are you too much of a good girl to..." Her words trailed off into silence as Iorda ran her shorter but pointed nails across her stomach and thighs. Up and down. All while making direct contact with her. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm not doing anything," Iorda quipped, shrugging. Darcy's skin shivvered under her nails as her movement turned from caresses into light scrapes. Beautiful marks would surely show up the next morning. Showing everyone how intertwined the two witches were in their passion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I am not easily caught off guard," Darcy insisted, ignoring how breathless and panting she was moments earlier. Baiting her girlfriend was more important than being honest of how pathetic she was when someone started marking her up. "And yes, you'll have to put in more effort."
But despite her words, Darcy could feel how much Iorda's earlier bite, kiss, and the current scraping of her nails were riling her up so fucking bad. A warmth was continuing to bloom in her gut, no matter how much she tried to snuff it out for the sake of her game. Passion was strong for her. Though it only got stronger the more she continued to drive herself into denial, and oh, how she looked forward to when a second explosion of their desire would hit.
The earlier kiss was a spark
She was looking for an inferno.
Iorda slowly slid her wavy hair over her shoulders and began taking off her top as easily as one would breathe. More effort? She may be the one who was about to put in the work, but that didn't mean that she couldn't have her own fun trying to seduce her girlfriend before the matter. Once her shirt came off, so did her sports bra, revealing her flushed skin across her breasts. Smaller ones, but still enticing regardless.
Darcy bit her tongue, quite irritated that Iorda knew how to get to her. Had the woman noticed her staring? Clearly, she did. Enough to utilize it for her sneaky, cunning, and hot benefit. "..."
After discarding her top and bra into the pile on the floor, Iorda leaned against Darcy's front once more and tilted her head. Skin against skin. Enough where they could feel each other's elated hearts and warm flesh. "Is this enough effort for you?"
"... you're really going to make me ask, aren't you?"
"For me to make sweet and really, really good love to you?" Iorda smirked, tapping her fingertip against the nipple of Darcy's right breast. "Maybe."
"You don't have to beg, just ask me," Iorda said innocently. Batting her eyelashes. A perfect picture of a woman who had many plans for the future once Darcy loosened up a little. Begging was for the latter once the witch was breathless and barely able to speak. "Please, my love? You know how much I like it when you tell me what to do."
Darcy decided that she wasn't going to lower herself to, despite Iorda's reassurances, beg—as least so early, where it was embarrassing, instead of hot—so she laced her fingers through Iorda's hair and tugged her into a kiss, not waiting before she slipped her tongue in. Through her grip, she felt Iorda relax with a barely audible whimper. Her girlfriend was feral in her ways, but at the same time, was quite easy to placate when needed.
She carefully took her fingers away and rested them on Iorda's hips. Just as expected, the woman continued the kiss without Darcy's guidance. Hook, line, and sinker. Darcy dug her nails in and out of Iorda's flesh as the girl moved her tongue over the inside of her cheeks, and sighed as the warmth inside grew to an almost heady amount.
"I know—what you're doing," Iorda gasped as she pulled back, then ran her lips along Darcy's neck. Leaving lipstick stains and bite marks alike. "You're lucky that I don't mind it and that you're so beautiful."
Darcy bared her neck to her girlfriend's attention. "No...." She glanced down, teeth bared underneath her swollen lips. "I'm just lucky that you're such a good girl, honey."
And so, the teaser became the teased.
Iorda parted her kissing lips against Darcy's neck. She whimpered.
Praise easily melted away any plans she had to tease her girlfriend, and instead, her dazed mind just wanted to worship to the best of her abilities. Passion taking the front seat of her emotions, she dug her nails into Darcy's shaking thighs once again, kissing and biting down hard on the witch's collarbone and further downwards. She adored Darcy so much. No matter the pains and troubles of her life, the witch was there to lend her a helping hand or get some sense into her.
She loved Darcy more than anything she had ever felt, more than the air she breathed, and she would give her very soul to protect this wonderful woman who deserved all the goodness in the world.
Also, some wonderful sex, too.
Darcy happily surrendered herself to Iorda's lavish kisses and nips that painted across her body, her body arching against her will as soft lips eased themselves around her left nipple. Already, she could tell that tonight was going to be a night of giving herself up to the skills of her girlfriend.
Her lips parted into a shallow moan as Iorda's hands and lips trailed across her breasts once more before her teeth joined in on the fun. Bites were planted across her breasts, stomach, and hip. Darcy sucked in a breath, bracing her trembling hands on Iorda's thighs, and gritting her teeth to keep her need somewhat contained.
But then Iorda's hand gripped her upper thigh, and Darcy almost choked on how much holding back her desire was suffocating her. "H-honey..."
Iorda panted, face red and lipstick smeared. "Can... I? Can I, please?"
"Iorda..." Darcy gasped to catch her breath. "Do it. Yes."
After a brief moment of air returning to their lungs, Iorda's hand started working at the zipper of Darcy's silk pants. All she could think about was how lovely the witch sounded and how gorgeous she'd look when completely spent. Would she still be able to tease? Would she be limp with pleasure?
Once the zipper was tugged down, she gently pulled the pants off and let them hang off the size of the bed, and her heterogeneous eyes glanced up. "Are you sure?"
"I just want to check, I mean..." Iorda swallowed, trying very hard to restrain herself from moving her hand higher up Darcy's thigh. "It's our first time, there's a lot of vulnerability behind it, so..."
It was a sweet gesture. Darcy, at the beginning of their relationship, often tensed away from physical touch due to how vulnerable it made her feel. Typically, when she was in an otherthinking spiral or after a particularly horrifying nightmare. Often, with Liliss was the main horror.
But now she was so, so sure.
Darcy gripped Iorda's thighs tight, smirking. "Honey, if you don't do something now, I am going to lose my mind." She adjusted her legs under Iorda's enough to part them. "Go ahead. As in, now, please."
Iorda hissed through her teeth at the slight pain of Darcy's nails. She wasn't quite a sucker for pain like her girlfriend was—the biting made that quite obvious—but she didn't mind losing a bit of control in this. How ironic. She was the one putting in the work and worshipping, and yet, Darcy held the strings. Both of them knew it.
Well, Iorda didn't get this far to not succeed in making her girlfriend feel good.
She adjusted her weight on her shins, enough that she was easily able to run her teeth over the peak of Darcy's breast and nibble enough to sting. Flicking her tongue out every so often. A shaky, and almost delicate, moan from the witch reassured her that it felt good, and so, she returned her hand to the pants' waistline.
Darcy did not care that she moaned. Not really. She enjoyed playing the 'who could last the longest game' more than anyone else. But what was even better was the surrender? That feeling of safety and allowing oneself to be vulnerable with a partner, trusting that they would bring warm pleasure, and wonderful reassurance after the fact.
"Hm..." Darcy let herself relax, closing her eyes. "You feel very nice."
Iorda nipped down and smiled as Darcy gasped. "I hope I do."
Darcy's chest rose slowly up and down, shaking every so often, while Iorda's hands started to tug down the waistline of her pants. She could barely think to do anything other than shut her eyes and take it; that heat in her gut placated her as much as her earlier words had done the same to Iorda. What cruel irony.
Iorda's warm pants soothed Darcy's bitten skin as the remaining piece of clothing was discarded to the witch's ankles, revealing bare thighs that trembled every so often, as if begging to be marked.
The endless and desperate cycle of marking continued as Iorda lowered her blushing face to Darcy's thighs, digging her teeth in to tempt a weak moan or two from the witch's shaky lips. Bright red marks implanted themselves in the golden skin; a wonderful sight for both of them. Iorda whimpered as similar marks of Darcy's nails pricked themselves into her thighs.
She pulled back from her biting to tug down Darcy's lacy black panties, too focused on her task to eye how gorgeous they looked. "Fuck, my love—" Iorda's words cut themselves off as Darcy practically yanked her girlfriend's hand to her thigh. "You... Are you ready?"
Darcy bit her lips, eyelids flicking open. "V... very, honey.. Very."
That inferno Darcy wanted?
One to spread flames over their skin?
It exploded right then and there.
Iorda knelt up to swallow Darcy's weak breaths into the third kiss of the evening, and her fingertips brushed across the crux of the witch's thighs, drawing close to the delicious core before drawing back. Teasing, then returning to her earlier movements of scraping Darcy's thighs, so much so that the witch gripped her tightly like someone straving from thirst.
But Iorda's priority was to make her girlfriend feel good, and so, she brushed her fingers over the dew-soaked folds that parted for her skillful touch like a clam parting to be consumed.
Darcy feared her teeth would chip from how much she pressed her jaw tight, arching her hips into the touch that made a hot warmth move through her core. Blood pumped through her veins and dizzied her mind. She somehow underestimated her girlfriend for the second time, because Iorda swiftly got the hang of what divits of the folds brought a better reaction than others, focusing the circular motions of her soft fingers on what made Darcy tremor.
"Iorda..." Darcy gasped, holding the woman by her hips. "H-honey..." She struggled to speak as the build-up between her legs rose higher and higher with each brush and flick, and as Iorda's lips pressed against her own, sucking. "... by the Dragon, I..."
All words, though, disappeared completely as Iorda's finger gently tempted its way inside her. Darcy arched back with an unapologetically desperate groan, Iorda's lips following hers and eating up the sound. A succubus, truly, this woman was. Darcy would gladly make this old, dusty bed her resting place if it meant doing this again with her beloved.
"You're so good..." Iorda sighed, slowly curling her finger deep while using her thumb to continue the passionate attention over the dampness. "I adore you, yeah?"
Darcy's eyes rolled back, gasping.
And as the need inside her reached its absolute peak, Iorda's thumb pressed down, sending lightning up her spine as she released into a whimper. Finally. Such a thing felt so wonderful, and it made all the teasing and foreplay that much more worth it.
She shook briefly before catching her breath, Iorda giving her one final kiss.
Darcy swallowed, nodding. "Yeah, you've... made... your point."
"And you sounded amazing," Iorda giggled, slowly retrieving her fingers with a shy blush returning to her face. A pause of hesitation. Then—somehow nervous despite making love to her girlfriend—she ran her tongue over them, drinking up the leftovers of the wonderful ambrosia gifted to her.
"..." Darcy's sweat-soaked face managed to glare. "Pervert."
"Hey, it was your idea to have sex in the first place!" Iorda insisted. She moved off Darcy's lap and snuggled into the witch's side, leaving one last lick to her fingers. "You can't blame me for being so invested in your pleasure and its spoils."
"You were quite good, I admit that." Darcy rested her head against Iorda's. "... maybe even very." She hummed as her girlfriend's arms wrapped around her waist. "... I love you, honey."
Iorda tenderly ran her hands over Darcy's slightly shaky body, leaving gentle kisses here and there. A wonderful moment. One she was grateful to have taken part in, especially when, now, it meant that Darcy felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable sexually to her.
"I love you too, my love."
