Lux Calida

So it went for a time, the swamp witch and the starlet going about their lives as normal, playing up their supposed hatred by day while secretly seeing each other at night, alternately sneaking to each other's rooms, touching, talking, and lying side by side in easy silence, only to slink away in the safety of darkness many hours later.

One such night found them in Misty's bedroom, the feral blonde wrapped in the telekinetic's delicate arms as she fought to catch her breath. Madison kissed the woman's hair and rocked her gently as the room grew steadily dark. She'd given up on resisting the affectionate urges she felt in her chest, simply refusing to give them any thought at all. They'd likely vanish of their own accord someday anyway, just like every other good thing in her life. What she did think about, however, was Misty's magic.

Her power had steadily grown stronger over the weeks, and the wild witch was better able to hold on to it, to call it up at will, pulsing it out of herself and into Madison. Yet, in all their time together, with all their shared intimacy (and, dare she think it... connection... ?), Misty had never once offered an explanation. The girl's initial fears, while still simmering on the backburner, had edged over and given space to curiosity.

"Misty?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, darlin'," came the dreamy reply.

"What.. what is that.. that thing you do?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"You know... your.... magic, or whatever."

The woman chuckled softly.

"Well, that's just it, sugar. Magic."

Furrowing her brow, the girl continued.

"But I mean, what is it really? Where does it come from? Why does it happen?"

Misty shifted in her lover's arms to place a firm kiss on her lips.

"Maddi, honey, I don't think you're ready to hear it."

Madison pouted.

"I'm not a kid."

The curly blonde smiled gently.

"I know, I know. All in good time, darlin'. All in good time."

With that, she settled back against Madison, despite the starlet's protests.

"Hey now, you stop that. Just be quiet and take what's comin' to ya."

With that, she took a nipple into her mouth and rolled onto her back, strong arms wrapping around Madison and pulling her on top. Maddi squealed and giggled.

"You can't just silence me with sex," the dirty blonde scowled down at her playfully.

"The hell I can't," Misty growled, switching to the other breast and drinking in her lover's eager whine.

When she'd finally had her fill, she released the girl's aching tit and stared up at her.

"Go on, girl," she rasped. "Get on my face, I know ya wanna. "

"Oh my, Miss Bossy Bitch, what's wrong? Are you sick?" she asked in typical sassy fashion.

Misty reached up and took a hold of the still-wet nipple she'd been sucking on moments before, pinching and tugging hard until the girl squirmed and cried out.

"You're welcome, smart ass. Don't make me change my mind," she said sweetly.

Madison grinned and, without hesitation, moved so her knees where on either side of Misty's head.

"Eat me," she commanded softly, lowering her dripping pussy to the woman's open mouth and sighing when she made contact.

"That's a good bitch," Madison murmured, knowing full well she'd pay for it later, or at the very least be sternly reminded of what her place was.

For now, though, she ground down on her lover's pretty face, reveling in the woman's skilled tongue on her clit and warm hands roaming over her thighs.

As her perfectly flat belly twitched with pleasure and butterflies, she gazed down into stormy blue eyes and bit her lip, marveling at how, for once, everything was right in her world.

*****

Sleep had never come easily for Cordelia, and tonight was no different. From the time she was a little girl, her thoughts had a tendency to race as soon as her head hit the pillow, and over the past few months, those thoughts had been primarily centered around one Misty Day.

Though far from a stranger to female attraction, she'd never in her life mustered the courage to act on it.

But Misty. God. She was something else. Her warm soul and kind eyes were only enhanced matched by her willowy figure and ethereal appearance, and if anyone ever looked every inch a witch, it was her. That deep, raspy voice and sweet, southern twang were the cherry on top. As far as Cordelia was concerned, the woman was Perfection in the flesh, the Goddess Incarnate, even.

Yes, these were the very thoughts that kept her wide awake and yearning. It was something that was so close, just down the hall, even, but for Delia, with her many insecurities and timid nature, it may as well have been another universe.

And yet...

The girl did have a tendency to invade Cordelia's personal space, to saturate every word with innuendo, to let her blue eyes linger not too subtly over the woman's frame. The witch worried her lower lip as she pondered.

Not surprisingly, it was her mother's voice she heard in her own head.

she's just teasing you, delia. don't be stupid.

Realistically, she knew, no one teases like that unless they are interested. Right?

you're not even her type, even if she does like girls. she clearly wants that spoiled little 'film star' brat.

who could blame her? at least madison's pretty.

She sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Get the hell out of my head, Fiona," she growled.

No, she was being ridiculous. The signals were there, loud and clear. All Cordelia had to do was make a move. Something. Anything.

"Damn you, Delia," she muttered to herself, recalling their last interaction, her most recent missed opportunity.

No. It would not go on like this. Tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow, she would be bold, fearless.

But for now, sleep was the main objective.

She yawned and closed her dark eyes, lying on her side and burrowing into the pillow.

Presently, she turned onto her back and settled in with a deep breath.

That didn't last long, and soon she was on her side again.

god dammit.

As she rolled over for the millionth time that hour, Cordelia decided she'd had enough. She needed some help. There were 327 different plant species in her greenhouse, for Christ's sake, there had to be something that would put her out for the night. A sleeping draught in mind, the headmistress rose from her bed.

She crept down the hallway, practically gliding, like a beautiful, pale ghost, perfectly silent in her effort not to wake the girls. As she approached the swamp witch's bedroom, she slowed her steps and gave a quiet, longing sigh. What she wouldn't give to be on the other side of that door, tangled in the sheets and inhaling the scent of the woman's golden curls.

Suddenly, she furrowed her brow. Something had jolted her out of her dreamy contemplation. A sound. But what could it possibly be?

Straining to make it out, she leaned closer.

Yes, she was definitely hearing something, but her sleep-deprived brain still couldn't fathom the possible source. Delia, afraid of prying but desperately curious, pressed her ear carefully to the door. To her abject horror, the blasted thing swung ajar, and, unable to stop herself, she peeked inside.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sting that accompanied the scene she next laid eyes on.