Peace in Pieces (Moira O'Hara and Rowena MacLeod)
You were a good person, a good soul; well, you tried to be. You did your best to be a good witch. The world had enough evil just spreading the life. But temptation called.
It started with the house, in the house, you were certain. You purchased it a few weeks ago and while the residence had an old charm to it, things began to happen. Two days into your status as a homeowner, the scantily-clad maid had introduced herself as coming with the house. You had never had a house keeper and said as much.
Moira O'Hara didn't even flinch. "It's not a thing. I'm open to all kinds of experiences and I can tell that you are too." She wasn't wrong about that, but most of your riskier moments were spells and you had enchantments to keep in line. So what if she was exactly your type? You would never present yourself to someone who was monetarily tied to you. Could never risk that. Now, that didn't mean she didn't present herself to you. She propped out her backside when cleaning any horizontal surface. It was very distracting.
You worked the night shift at the local hospital and sometimes overtime. So, you didn't bring any work home except paperwork for you personally. Living alone in that big ole house, you'd think you would get lonely. But as a witch and a nurse, there wasn't much your mind wasn't open to. And for that, and thanks to your magic, you could see all the home had to offer. The deformed in the attic to the mourning mother in the basement and all of the ghosts inhabiting the nigh-empty rooms in between.
In fact, you'd gotten to work to allow a bit of peace into the Hell House. It only took a few spells to release the demonic toddler and murdered nurses. You'd thought the others would be asking for release, but nothing really changed. Perhaps they hadn't even noticed. As you walked downstairs, chains in hand, Beauregard trailed behind. "Come on, doll!" you coaxed gently like encouraging a dog. "You can't stay up there anymore. I'm sorry. Primarily because that's where our kind practices. But it's not good for you." You led him to the ground floor and unlocked the chains, not that they'd pulled on your journey down the steps.
"Room," Beau managed to express.
You held his face between flat palms. "Home. This is your home. All of it. And you can go anywhere in it you want."
Crystal blue - clear - eyes turned down. "Scary...."
Sighing, you raised his chin with your finger. "No one will see you if you don't want them to. Cept me. But you don't scare me," you told the man from where you'd positioned yourself beneath him.
Beauregard smiled and a line of drool leaked free, but he couldn't leave a mark with spit if he tried. A little blonde girl came running through, piggy tails flapping, and she caught the big lug's eye. With an even bigger grin, Beau ran off after his sister. You walked to the study where you locked up bizarre artifacts you found or were used against you.
And in doing so, you found the help you were trying desperately to avoid. Moira was dusting the shelves in there, still being used by the shrink. In that too-small uniform, garters exposed, stocking's straps revealed, it was torture to watch her spin to face you. A confident smirk lit up her features like she had a porno spotlight on her. "So, you like chains," she noticed in that sultry tone. "What would you do with me if I couldn't stop you?" she asked like it was a conspiracy.
You swallowed quite uselessly, your insides on fire. To be honest, you'd never touch her, especially if she couldn't stop you. Unless she needed actual help, but her implications were hot. "I- uh- Beauregard," was your only response. You set the chains down and left the room. Moira only watched you go with that smirk half the fun was surprising the tenant. The other half was the pure temptation. She'd yet to have a fuck which was fun. But you were a delight. So easily flustered and always running away from her, Moira soon developed real feelings and she truly wanted you to take her. Unknown to her, you were, in fact, taken.
*
Moira was everywhere on the days she was present. It happened to be your day off, a rotating day off due to your weekend schedule, and you dared to attempt your own breakfast. You had hardly entered the kitchen when you saw it. Not a massive feast, your generous and kind housekeeper had prepared just what you planned to make for yourself. And she was cleaning up what she cooked with.
"Oh, you didn't have to- Thank you, Moira," you cut yourself off. You didn't want to express hesitance or scold her, but you had a rule that whoever cooked didn't have to clean the kitchen. The maid had taken care of that before you had the chance to appear.
Moira turned off the faucet and turned to face you, revealing her soaking uniform, clinging to her skin and outlining her body. Your jaw dropped as did the fork. The young ginger rounded the island to near you. "You have no idea what I can do that'snot part of my job." You jumped up and slid backwards as far as you could. You soon met the wall and Moira closed in. Nowhere to run, her wet front pressed against your dry one. The water leaking through your fabrics was cold, but her presence always set you on fine. She was a bit warm herself. "I could show you. Just say the word. Do what you want to me. Please." She was almost whimpering, begging you to seize her.
Moving quick, you slid to the left, tripped over the step stool Moira must've been using, as you tried to escape her, then stumbled to the other side of the room. Your ankle throbbed and your face burned, then your mind pricked.
"Jesus, Moira. You just can't keep your hands to yourself at the cost of your own soul," came Constance's snide comment. She stood in the kitchen's exterior doorway. "Let alone the poor girl's." She leaned inward - likely for the second time - but found she could not enter. "What the Hell is this?"
"Anti-intruder charm. You're not getting in this house without express permission."
The blonde obviously didn't believe you as she kept trying to enter. "Why, that is just-"
"And if you'll excuse us, and even if you don't, Moira and I need to have a private conversation." With the snap of your fingers, the door casually slid shut and strangers couldn't even touch the door knob. You turned to the stunned housekeeper. It was quite an intoxicating expression. You could only imagine the face she would make if you fulfilled her wishes. What were you thinking? Of course you could only imagine her satisfied surprise to be satiated. Not only did you have a rule, you were already in a relationship.
She wouldn't appreciate the term and she probably wasn't even being exclusive like you were, but she would be all you would see if you indulged with Moira.
Facing said redhead, you reveled in her complete ignorance. With how many years she had existed, Moira probably considered herself worldly and wise. You were happy to prove her wrong. "Clearly, I am very capable and I know things you don't. You know things I don't. Stop trying to sleep with me."
The surprise melted into another smirk. "I just need your healing hands, nurse," she teased, taking a step toward you.
With more fast moves, you limped from the kitchen and back upstairs. You were still hungry, but it was long forgotten. You tried to hide out and ignore the lava in your veins. Of course, you eventually had to leave the bedroom, the second one because you couldn't step foot in the Master without hearing that gunshot and you couldn't sleep without seeing Moira die, to pee. Intent on starving until Friday, you only went down the hall only to run into your maid, on her knees, scrubbing the rug.
She looked over her shoulder at you like she knew you were coming. "I was worried, Miss. So I brought you some lunch, but I was so distracted thinking about your tongue and I made a mess. Not just down here." She eyed the rug and then you enticingly. "Can't you clean me up, miss?" she begged, backing her exposed, wet panties toward you.
You felt a pulse of need in your own growing wetness. For a second, you could imagine her wrapping her legs around your back, pulling you in to taste her. You caught a glimpse of her cleavage as she stood and you bolted. You locked your knob and set your back against it.
Moira stood before you, her blouse's buttons entirely undone. "You know that won't keep me out," the redhead deadpanned. She reached out and took your wrist, pulling your hand under her skirt. "You'd be so good. Make me..." your other hand rose to hold her side; she moaned softly at the willing touch, "Feel-"
You very suddenly, but calmly pushed Moira back a few steps. Your fingertips remembered the feel of her soft thighs. "Moira. This will not be happening. I am not alone and I will be heard. If I have to seal my room or tell you to go away, you will not invade my space again."
With those words, Moira seemed to understand how far she'd gone. In a blink, she was gone from your space.
You let out a sigh of relief and dropped onto your bed. You crawled under the covers and dragged your phone off the nightstand, hoping to stomp out the tumultuous feelings. But the burst of cold and light cut off your downward spiral.
"Okay, you can't do this," a very calm, almost maternal voice commanded. You looked over to see a woman with long blonde, wavy hair. She looked amazing, like she was glowing pregnant. But still, fantastically in shape. "I had a teenage daughter and according to my husband, you probably never got to experience the moody teen stage. He says you take care of others too much. It was a nice thing you did for those girls and the kid."
You just stared at the woman who was also suddenly in your space. "Thanks, but not really. They moved on, but I have no idea to where."
The woman tilted her head. Her wide, kind eyes seemed to see something else when she looked at you. For a moment, an emotion dominated her mind and will, and the woman reached a hand out for your oddly vulnerable face. You flinched from her touch, again bringing a ghost back to her senses. She smiled. "I'm sorry. My name's Vivien Harmon. I lived here a very short time. I know Moira's trying, but she really liked you. It isn't often she shows her body from when she died. She usually lets the owner's psyche decide how they see her. But she wants you to see her as attractive. I'm not saying it's right and you don't have to do anything, but neither of you can 'take advantage'."
You felt as though it was very possible, but logically knew few beings could overpower and none could force themselves on you. And Moira could walk through people if she pleased. It made you feel better (as was likely the point) about moving through the home. Moiraine was calmly wiping out the cabinets when you re-entered the kitchen. You didn't speak, poking your head in the fridge.
"Ma'am," Moira started to speak from right beside you. You jumped and faced her, but nothing and no one touched. She reached past you, grabbing a tin of leftovers. "I'd like to apologize for my previous misstep." Those bright, innocent blue eyes helped with the maid's pout pointed up at you. "I've never felt like I do around you and I'm afraid I got a bit ahead of myself." She bit her lip and stepped further into you. She used the moment to hand you the food, but you could feel the spark she was letting control her.
It made you warm as well and your eyes fell to that pout which immediately shifted to a smirk.
You were saved by the bell, quite literally as it rang for the door. Slipping past the ginger, you didn't slip this time and made it safely around the corner. You slowed as you traversed the foyer. You saw someone through the window beside the door. They didn't move or shuffle nervously, oozing confidence through solid chestnut wood, from 6 feel away as you were still approaching. You felt some lingering excitement, an instinctual reaction, one that you frowned down upon. But as you turned the handle, and saw your visitor, your face lit up with the power of the sun.
Pink-painted lips raised into their own grin, more contained than yours. Emerald eyes twinkled with real happiness, something the woman thought she'd ever have. The ancient witch thought she could be casual. Brush past your shocked frame, claim your bed, and dominate your heart again. It all sounded so simple. She would be safe, she would be loved, and she could go through your hidden Grimoires. Instead, gazing into the eyes she'd been deprived of (of her own volition), Rowena could feel only peace in your presence. The heavy and expensive bags fell from delicate arms and fingers, slamming violently to the ground. She slipped over the threshold, hands extended to hold your face. The ginger kissed you, forcing your arms to hold her tight. You were practically hugging the woman and you didn't let go when she pulled back. Instead, you littered her face with smaller kisses until a sweet smile erupted. You couldn't help but mirror her.
"Shall I take this to your room?" Moira inferred, standing behind Rowena now, holding her bags.
You weren't sure how you should feel, but it certainly wasn't guilt. You had only ever rebuffed the maid. You thought quickly. Of course you wanted to share the room (bed) with your girlfriend, but Rowena had standards. "No, Ro always sleeps in the Master." You didn't bother watching Moira pass with the bags, entirely enraptured by your returned lover. Unfortunately, she was interested in the hardly dressed help. Suspicious green eyes watched the maid until she was out of sight, then she raised an eyebrow at you. You blushed as you always did under her stare. "She came with the house. I didn't seek her out or hire her. But she does know a lot about the house and how to maintain it."
The expectation faded and the witch softened. "I was just surprised at her state, and yes the fact that you have a maid. You don't use the master bedroom?"
"You'll see," you promised in a whisper, easing yourself closer to her. You pressed your lips to her excitedly. "I was about to eat brunch. Join me?" you offered.
Rowena pulled a pout, one you were helpless to resist. "Can't we go out?" She had to fight the smirk threatening the power of her pout. Rowena MacLeod knew precisely what she did to you.
You wouldn't argue, but rather present alternatives and if one was good enough, your Wiccan mentor would deign to concede. "You just got in. Tonight?" you offered, rocking hopefully. Not that you didn't love her fancy dinners, but it had been months since you'd spent time with her, particularly (technically) alone. In public, you had to dress and act properly. In private, you were free to jump her bones and everything leading up to it.
*
Rowena stayed. For days. It was the happiest the House had seen you and a few of them moved on purely off the energy you emitted.
Not Moira, you were guilty to be pleased about. She was still there and still seductive. You supposed, because she hadn't re-entered yours or now Rowena's room, she thought you wouldn't do what you threatened. Which you hadn't.
Despite Rowena's great power over you, you couldn't be talked into staying home. She even promised no one would notice - such were her hex bags - and you would get paid the same. Still, you tended to your patients - those could help that was still alive. Neither woman appreciated how much time and dedication you poured into the hospital. Even the hospital didn't appreciate you. So, when you got home, you'd forget your aching feet at the sight of your love and you'd kiss her, only to remember the pain as you went upstairs and changed. Exiting the bathroom, you found Moira bent over, picking up your dirty clothes, emptying your pockets, and putting it all in its proper place. You paused, half of your hair pulled up, mouth ajar. "Oh, you didn't have to- I would have-"
Had her skirt gotten shorter since Rowena's return to your life? You prayed not. The straps between her garter and stocking pulled taunt, about to snap. She stayed partially bent over, ensuring you could see her tits, not that you couldn't always with how many fasteners she left unbuttoned. But she faced you fully. "Oh, it's nothing, Miss. I'm happy to," she said halfway in a dark tone.
"I can tell," an amused voice called from the doorway. You looked over to see Rowena still in her twinkling midnight gown. She stepped into the room, coming to stand beside you.
"It's my job," Moira tried to excuse herself. She sensed Rowena was not to be trifled with and she gained proof when Rowena practiced magic with you. The younger ginger left the room and Rowena leveled you with another stare.
You spent your nights in the master bedroom with Rowena, under her psychic protection. Rowena very easily dominated the house. Moira didn't show when she was around, no hostile ghost did lest she throw them straight to hell. And you, Rowena managed you better than she had anything. She made you eat - if it meant she got to dress you up and take you out - and sleep properly, if it meant making you call out. And she saw... everything. She noticed your nerves a few more times than she caused them and traced it back to her fellow ginger, often being promiscuous. She let the teasing go on until her amusement at your shyness ran dry.
It was that night, of a day you had off, that Rowena cornered the maid. "I see you," the older ginger taunted.
The ghost thought she was so clever, showing her crush's lover only her old self. But Rowena was psychic beyond Moira's understanding. She'd seen everything you had and she understood the attraction. Her question was if Moira truly felt it back. While one eye was cloudy as a consequence, Moira was quite innocent in her gaze up at the witch. She was in the middle of folding clothes, her final chore of the week. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Rowena slowly sauntered into the room, further into Moira's space. "With my darling heart. I've seen you looking, worming into her heart, trying for her pants. Normally, you'd be on the next train down under. Fortunately for you, you're my sweet's type but not exactly like me." Rowena would never compete for your affections, but in this wild world, she could appreciate having an obedient, supernatural eye on her treasure. If you insisted on staying still and working, you could do with the extra company and for that, you chose the perfect lodging. Even if you were thinning the company.
Moira gingerly closed the dryer door. "I don't understand."
Oh, she was so cute! Moira was a lot like you. Moving in, Rowena could feel her heart melt that you got to fall for someone just like you. Dainty hands were not to be underestimated as they wrapped in a scarlet bun and pull Moira up to kiss Rowena.
The now young woman rested a hand on her elder's heart.
"Do ya still wish to bed mah girl?" she asked expectantly.
Moira's eyes were almost green at this age. Her plump lips usually bitten down on were now ajar as she was stunned by her prey's lover. She looked at smug, pink-painted lips and felt more alive than she ever had. Real life sex had nothing on the temptation delivered by Rowena MacLeod. "Yes," she sighed, overwhelmed by the idea of two strong witches bringing her as close to heaven as Moira could get.
With her grip on Moira's hair, Rowena pulled the ghost just out of kissing distance. "Then you have to change your approach," the witch commanded.
Moira stared up at her in total confusion. "I know what men-"
"My girl is not some man. I imagine you test the taken ones, expose more and more of yourself until their self control snaps and they fuck your brains out. Your work is done," Rowena guessed. She watched her new squeeze nod helplessly. "If we all are going to make this work, you're going to have to get used to being on top. At the very least, with me there, doing as you're told. " Rowena was careful, but she moved her hand to Moira's throat. "Our youngest can't help but crawl beneath us. She can follow commands and sometimes surprise you, but most regularly, you're gonna have to do the directing. Exert your control; you can make her do the rest, if you so please." Rowena pressed her lips to the ghost's cheek. "But I'll be there for now." Smiling, the ginger led her fellow upstairs, to the master bed.
You were already in there, sleeping soundly on your side, unknowingly protecting your own mind. You had your back to the door, but Rowena allowed none of these factors to deter her. She crawled up onto the mattress with you. Moira stood behind you, her hand playing with your hair. "Miss, maybe we should wait for her to wake on her own."
One dainty finger met your chin, tilting your sleeping face up at her. "Trust me. She'll worry about taking advantage of you because of your position, and even if you met on the street." Rowena lowered her tone so as not to wake you and also to turn Moira on even as she advised her. "It's a perk and a part of her poor submissive helplessness." Rowena rolled you onto your back, watching you stir from the slight movement. Her hands explored vulnerable flesh, squeezing your throat briefly before wandering to cup your ass. Her free hand slid under the neckline of your shirt.
Coming around was a struggle for you. You had severely underestimated this bed, deterred by the visions, but it was mind blowing. You started to understand Rowena's sleeping habits more. And the soft wandering hands couldn't but relax you, accustomed to Rowena's touch. You were not expecting another redhead in the room, so when you finally looked up, your eyes bugged. You sat up quickly, never breaking eye contact with her, even as you tried to right your clothes. But Rowena's grip would not be swayed. She slid one hand lower, going to lift your shirt, but you stopped her. "'Wena," you protested, eyes glued to the maid.
Moira reached for your face, venturing to press her lips to yours. Your hand hovered by the bun, not touching but kissing her just as passionately as her you. Her hands were surprisingly soft, especially considering how hard you knew she worked, but you discovered just how gentle her touch was as Moira followed Rowena's lead. "Be good," she whispered like someone who knew too much.
You groaned your girlfriend's name, knowing she'd showed Moira some secrets.
Rowena pulled your hair so you faced her now. "Little Moira wanted to play. And I can feel how much you want to," the ancient witch teased, hand slipped down your waistband to hold your hot wet spot. She pulled at your shirt again, but, with Moira's help, she succeeded this time. She pressed a kiss to your neck, then another. Then, Moira helped her.
You were dizzy and breathless, arms held out to touch the woman wherever you could.
Rowena was the aggressor, like usual, her lips pushing you into the maid. Those hands seized the opportunity to wander your bare sides then unclasp your bra. Rowena kissed your collarbone while Moira pinched and pulled your nipples. "What dirty thoughts have you been having about your maid?" Rowena teased. You gasped, then stared, never daring to say it. Your mentor bit your neck and pinched your thigh to make you beg Moira to sit on your face. Two sets of emerald eyes twinkled and evil corrupted, as it did.