Chapter 40
April 10th, 1944
Hope
“I would like to start by apologizing. I— I should have fought the curse harder, the way I touched you, the way I stomped—”
“Abraxas,” I interrupt with my hands raised, pulling his gaze from his feet. “Please stop apologizing, that isn’t why I wanted to talk to you.”
Wide silver eyes meet me across the familiar bar I summoned for this conversation. The second he arrived, he stormed up to the the sticky dark wood with more determination than I’ve seen in some time. Just a minute ago, I was wondering what drink I should make him, having chosen an optimistic strawberry and banana daiquiri for myself. Something I’ll be adding a rum floater to for what is starting out much darker than I’d hoped.
His gobsmacked expression takes a beat to thaw, but once it does, he chokes out, “Yo— you’re not upset with me? That I chose to stay in character and let the curse make me…I still followed along when I know how to fight that magic, Hope.”
“I’m more than aware,” I tell him with a kind, but firm look. “But, I know about you warning Tom of your fears, all the digging into your own family you did for my safety. While I’m not thrilled I wasn’t included in the planning— which there will not be a repeat of, by the way— I was dumb enough to agree to marry a Slytherin. Some scheming must be expected, it seems.”
Sliding over a glass of Woodford Reserve, I watch him sniff it curiously before tossing the double shot back in one swift motion. Once he sets it down, the color returns to his ashen face, and seems much more comfortable looking me in the eye, “My guilt over that weekend will not lessen for some time, I will warn you now. Acting out a will that was not mine harmed something deep within me, and I will not know peace until I feel I’ve made this up to you somehow.”
My expression softens, “Just get us a really good wedding present, if you must. Well, when you can, I mean. There’s going to be a lot on your plate, isn’t there?”
His laughter is hollow and speaks of a long day, which I’m sure he had. As does the slightly uncomfortable look on his face, “Yes, to say the least. Adding up all the kidnapping, torture, misuse of magic, intent to’s, and what not my Mother admitted to under Veritaserum; the Wizengamot is intending to send both away for life. Father was far more than simply an accomplice, however with his mind gone, he cannot be sent to Azkaban like Mum.
“On the other hand, turning my parents in to Dumbledore and the Aurors made a statement in the government’s eyes. Especially when Tom readily volunteered his memory of breaking me from the Curse. Due to my ‘clear understanding of right and wrong in the face of adversity,’ they seem to want to strip my Father of his title and seat. Instead of simply expunging Malfoy involvement entirely, they would strike him from the lineage, allowing me to inherit the position in about a month— once I’m of age.”
The puff of pride is due to their scheming, nothing else, and I roll my eyes. The smile on my face is completely irrelevant, and I gladly sip at my drink. Over the past months, Malfoy and I have become close in an odd way. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised given he’s Tom’s ride or die, but still.
It’s nice, but makes me feel a little guilty. Sure, rules of time travel always dictate that you’re not supposed to tell people their future— but that’s been thrown out the window and ran over at this point. This might be a conversation where he’s apologizing to me, but I genuinely don’t mind. So he allowed a spell to make him enjoy touching me slightly immodestly in an effort to have me married to the correct person.
Had I been told the plan, I would have agreed to it, and hell will be raised at the appropriate time. But, it wasn’t Abraxas’ call, and the poor boy officially is losing his parents. They may have been considered lost long ago in his eyes, but Dumbledore has assured me of two things; that Armond and Hazel will pay dearly for their crimes, and no one will find out I’m a werewolf. Tom ensured no one would remember before help could arrive, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.
“So, today’s packed schedule went well, I take it?” I ask, continuing after he nods his confirmation. “Good, I’m glad. Already having a rapport with so many others in a seat seems to be coming in handy, although your name probably still holds a lot of weight.”
A deep sigh escapes him as Abraxas shakes his head, finally plopping down onto a bar stool. Leaning against the counter, he sounds so boyish despite the deep timbre and serious topic, “That is true, however I was followed by reporters all day. A rushed early morning pretrial with me on the side opposing my parents stirred up more than a little attention.
“Your memories garnered the gasps and outrage you imagined, and my Mother retained enough intelligence to plead guilty to all charges for both my parents. A public trial would be more like a spectacle, and saving face is far too important for her to risk airing out the family laundry, only to line the pockets of the Daily Prophet.”
“While unfortunate, I can’t say I’m surprised,” I say, and then silence takes over the space. There’s so much I want to say, so much has happened. Emotions swirl within me, each vying for my attention.
Just when I gain the courage to open my mouth, his small voice cuts me off, “I hadn’t realized just how much your curse makes you suffer. Such a silly thing to say, I’m sure, but…hearing about your bones breaking had not prepared me for the reality of your life.”
“You aren’t the first. I won’t lie and say it isn’t as bad as it looks, because it really is. But, I’m still lucky; after my birthday, I won’t have to worry about that anymore,” I tell him with a sigh. Pouring him a second glass, I join him in the whiskey.
Both to keep my hands busy, and to help me get through the subject, “Back in October, Tom followed me to the Shrieking Shack, and saw the beginning of my transition. He said he wanted to see a werewolf change, naively thinking I was more similar to those from this world. I’m used to horrified reactions or others taking pleasure in my pain, but I think that day, something in Tom changed.”
So much has happened since I came to this world, and I can only imagine more is in store for us. Knowing what went through my husband’s mind, feeling the surprise and terror when my body started crumbling before his eyes…My life was never going to be a fairy tale, love doesn’t sprout from a meet-cute for someone like me. Maybe I should be bothered by the fact that in a lot of ways, Tom fell in love with me because of that. Because of everything that sets me apart from humanity.
Although, maybe it started earlier, when I asked him to kill me. Somewhere between me rejecting him at every turn and the Halloween Ball, I became someone Tom Riddle was unwilling to pass by in the halls. It took time to be convinced that I am more than the magical freak that could be used for selfish purposes to him. Now, reminiscing about our past feels pleasantly nostalgic, and I almost wish I could go back in time to explain. To share with myself the truth and depth of Tom’s attentions so I could live in happiness instead of fear and annoyance. This isn’t necessarily on topic, but I cannot take anymore apologies today.
Yet, Abraxas chuckles softly— mostly to himself— as he swirls the amber liquid in his glass, “His feelings for you started as obsession, something I’m sure you’ve come to realize. After seeing for myself, I’m not shocked to learn that your transition may have sparked some of the alterations that would result in my current friend. All I know, is that our lives are better with you in it, and I’m also thankful to not be soul bonded to you.”
Now I laugh, throwing my head back as he joins in. Music from the 1970’s plays through the jukebox in Gillespie’s Pub, everything reminding me of another time, in a different world. I don’t know how I might feel if I went home, to the real bar.
After accepting my place here, would I feel strange? Like the lone pen among a box of colored pencils? In a lot of strange ways, I think sending me away was truly the right decision. At the time, I wasn’t sure, but maybe Tom is right. Maybe together, him and I balance out, saving both worlds from the destruction we were fated to cause.
“You know, you’ve never brought up what I know Tom told you,” I start, feeling nervous about the topic I’m bringing up. “If you want, I can tell you the rest. Especially since the future of your family will be very different from what it would have been.”
A touch of color leeches from his skin, but the easy smile on his face doesn’t feel forced, “I saw what Tom turned into after Dark Magic and death ruined him, witnessed the monstrous wraith treating my son like the filth beneath his shoes. If I felt that was still likely to come to fruition, I can assure you that I would not still be with my friend.”
“I know, but there is still good layered in with the bad. Your grandson is who I’m most familiar with, although your son did plenty in the series,” I tell him with a shrug. There’s no reason for me to share if he doesn’t want, but it could also be nice.
With a deep sigh, Abraxas clutches his drink with both hands, as if preparing to learn he has some incurable disease. But, with a determined nod, “I have been curious. Please, tell me the good things today. The bad can be dealt with at a later date.”
“Your son has a great love,” I inform him, enjoying how his eyebrows reach for his hairline. “With one of Cygnus Black’s daughters, who are all vital to the future. Honestly, that’s the reason I wouldn’t let Tom kill him for drugging me. I didn’t want your son to miss out on the love of his life.”
Malfoy snorts, running a hand through his hair while digesting what I’ve shared. With eyes wide with humor, he tells me while wearing a crooked smile, “While I would hate to be related to that oaf, even through marriage, I have to say how pleased I am in your dedication to the continuance of my line. Was my grandson your favorite character or something?”
My face explodes in one, giant blush, and I nervously chuckle, “Uh, not exactly. There’s…You see…In my world, where books and movies dominate society, people have created a safe space to write stories about anything. Usually, about characters from an established franchise doing things outside of the source material. Some of my favorite of those stories included your grandson and a Muggleborn witch that will one day go to Hogwarts.”
Like the coward I am, I tell this story to my shoes as I’m unable to look Abraxas in the eye. Chancing a glance up, I find the man nearly bursting with silent laughter. Tears are streaming down his face, which is slowly turning a light purple, and he clutches his stomach so tightly I worry he might fall off the stool he’s perched on. All at once, he gives one huge breath in, and then starts boisterously dying with laughter. Rolling my eyes, I try to keep the smile off my face while wiping the bar down. It’s a pointless task, but keeps my hands busy in the meantime.
“This world of yours, I have to see some of it one day,” he says once he catches his breath. Wiping his eyes, the Malfoy I call a friend continues, “Will I need to worry about you in however many years? Are you going to push my grandson and that girl together?”
Letting out a gasp of indignation, I can’t help my lips from twitching towards a smile, “I would never! Besides, who knows what will happen once they exist in this world. Truth be told, his existence completely relies on two people getting together, and they haven’t even been born yet. Without Tom as the villain of the story, anything can happen between now and then.”
“Fair point, yet it will be interesting over the years. Seeing you meet people for the first time that you already know. Our first meeting sure makes a lot more sense now, including the look you gave me once in Potions class. While you and Mary were scouting for boys, once upon a time,” he jokes light heartedly.
With a flick of my hand, my magic pushes the goof clean off the stool, sending him toppling to the ground. Now, I’m clutching my stomach while laughing really hard as he lets out a loud oof. He joins me in the laughter, our friendship maintaining the happy platonic that’s existed for longer than I’ve realized.
When he’s seated again, he pushes the hair out of his face, “I suppose I deserved that. Yet, how could I resist such a remark after hearing about your literary interests? Tell me, are your books as untoward as some of the music from your world?”
At this rate, I’m going to be red for the rest of the day. But, it’s my fault for introducing the subject, “There are some that would make even a well-educated heir like you choke on your tea. British culture, in this world or mine, is very…prudent, I’ll say.
“Meanwhile, nearly everywhere else, people are more open about their interests. That fact, plus Muggle innovation, I could easily watch people doing immoral acts on a screen. At any time, day or night, nearly anywhere I wanted. Reading about it in a book is practically chaste in my culture…”
“Wh-what? You simply have access to what, windows?” he asks incredulously, his eyes wide with interest and curiosity. Taking on a bemused expression, I try to level Abraxas with the look that question deserves.
“Not windows, you weirdo,” I say with some humor. “Wizard pictures move, right? It’s kind of like that, only instead of capturing a few seconds, Muggles have made a device that can record for minutes, if not hours. The results are widely distributed, and sometimes they include naked people.”
“Oh, wow. So, your books including my grandson— how do they depict him?” the knowing look on his face turns my stomach. But, if the tables were turned, I would be just as curious. In that case, I might as well swallow my pride and tell him the truth.
“If you want, I have a couple of those stories in this world,” I say with only the lightest of embarrassment. Turning my bracelet over so the crystal catches the light, “Along with music, I brought some literature with me. As long as you promise to still name everyone what they should, I don’t see the harm in letting you read about him. It’s not like these predict the future, and they might give you ideas on how to woo some witches.”
Giving me a frown, Abraxas looks oddly put out by my offer. With a very silly whine that does not fit the Pureblood Prince of this castle, “Now, you’ve gone and had to spoil everything by offering me a present. How could I accept such a thing before you receive your wedding gift.”
“I don’t understand,” my voice is saturated with confusion. There’s still happiness peaking out from the clouds suddenly making him so gloomy, but this is a strange shift in mood, “You can’t keep it, I’m only offering to lend you my magic book. Romance isn’t what I expected to be your favorite genre, but even that shouldn’t make you act like this.”
“No, no, not that,” he sighs, finally breaking out into a guilty smile. “The truth is, your wedding gift begins this evening. As we speak, Mary and Eithne are packing your bags. Of course, I would like to read a fictional story about my descendant, however I could not accept such a thing before sharing a part of the surprise.”
Crossing my arms and scolding him with a smile, my words are long and drawn out with fond suspicion, “Abraxas, what did you do now?”
“Well, you see…,” he starts, rubbing the back of his head while sheepishly grinning.
***
Tom
Once, I saw the future in the mind of a beautiful witch—a vision of my own failure, before my war had even begun. Had that version of me succeeded, I still would have lost. That noseless creature, all rot and ruin, was never the power I craved as a child. Now, with more magic thrumming through me than I ever dreamed possible, I know I made the right choice. Without this transformation, I would have lost more than my devilish good looks—I would have lost my mind, my power, my wife, and more than one life. In the end, none of it would have been worth the cost.
“Are you ready, my Darling?” I ask, offering my hand as the time for our Portkey activation approaches.
Her skeptical look doesn’t keep her from placing an adorably small hand in mine, stepping up the table where the shoe string lies, “Just because I know we’re going to a chateau, doesn’t mean I know where we’ll be. All Mary would tell me is to expect company Saturday and Sunday and to have my music ready. Meaning there will be a party, the real question is the guest count.”
As she comes even closer, I can’t help but inhale deeply. My senses are heightened as well, and while I’ve always loved the way she smells, she’s maddening now. Hope has always been akin to a chocolate dessert with hot peppers in a library. With my new nose, I pick up an additional floral aroma— rose, chamomile, and sunshine. Yes, I can practically smell the difference between night and day now. Being born this way, my wife is not as aware of just how good her senses are as compared to humans. I am under no illusion, Hope Mikaelson was born to be a goddess.
“Italy, my Darling,” I breath, unable to keep this from her. The information has been trying to burst from of my mouth each time the topic of our Honeymoon came up post-nuptials.
An ecstatic smile takes over her face, and my stupid heart swells as it beats in my chest. Hearing the hearts of others around me is also new, and I listen to hers gallop as well, “Really?! That’s so exciting, I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“Well, I believe our departure time is upon us. Shall we?”
With our hands joined, we each grab an end to the string. The world swirls all around with enough force to lift me off my feet, and I hold onto Hope for dear life. This form of travel is so strange, the few times I’ve taken a Portkey have been uncomfortable, to say the least.
However, this time, I don’t mind stumbling into a landing, and even notice my ankles don’t hurt. Once Hope falls into my chest, somehow even more off balance than I am, I wonder if this mode of transportation might grow on me.
“Here we are,” I tell her quietly, turning her shoulders so she can see the massive windows. “Tuscany, Italy. All of Castello di Malfoia is ours for the next four days, Mrs. Riddle.”
With a gasp, Hope leans against my chest as she takes in the room. Stone and wood make up the frame work, with incredibly tall ceilings and an air of extreme wealth. Truly, this once was a beloved castle of Arioald, the Lombard king of Italy in the seventh century. I’m not sure when exactly the estate was adopted into the massive portfolio the Malfoys have acquired, however it is still fit for royalty.
Sitting on the tallest hill, looking out over acres of vineyards and olive trees with the coast in the distance. Expensive rugs and long drapes cover the space, filled with arches, mosaic tiles, and an earthy color scheme that is a strange mixture of Slytherin green and clay tones. Yet, I still would not be shocked if a principessa strolled through the halls, wearing some ball gown and a tiara. Which means that it is perfect for my goddess of wife.
“Wow, for being as awful as they are, the grown Malfoys know how to decorate. Although, if you think we’re getting steamy on any of that leather, then you have another thing coming,” she jokes, but still gives me a pointed look over her shoulder.
Wrapping my arms more tightly around her waist, I whisper in her ear, “Hmmm, then shall I show you to the bedroom.”
Feeling her body heat, hearing the fluttering of her pulse, I’m so much more aware of her body now. Making me beyond excited to test our connection further; given the events after the wedding, we spent the night separately. If Dumbledore thought he was sparing her innocence another night, then he’s not as good at reading people as he thinks. I, on the other hand, sense her shifting mood before she can utter the words.
“Actually, we have some things to talk about first,” extricating herself from my arms, she pulls me by the hand to the couch with a smile.
A long, dark leather couch squeaks as we sit, and I pull her legs over mine as she explains, “I want to know how you’re doing after completely changing your genetic makeup, Tom. How you feel, if you have any questions. This all happened so quickly, and I just want to make sure you’re okay?”
She slaps my shoulder when I start laughing, and I grab her hand before kissing her palm. With my shoulders still shaking, she rolls her eyes fondly, and I answer her with as much seriousness as I can muster, “Oh, I appreciate your worry, but I can assure you it is unfounded. In truth, I have felt amazing every moment since the pain from changing during the wedding.
“There were a few minutes of feeling as if fire was running through my veins while boiling my skin from the inside out, and then peace settled over me. With you, my Darling, I have everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more. Even if I hadn’t yet created your Wolfsbane recipe, I would gladly take those transitions until your birthday.”
“Yes, but as good as you’re feeling now…you’ll feel that much worse when something bad happens,” her voice is thickening with distress. Her eyes shine as they implore me to sympathize with the plight in her mind.
Finally understanding where this is coming from, I can now accurately assuage her, “My darling, if you would like for us to also practice my mood, that can be arranged. Granted that will be more difficult, however I’m British.
“Few cultures are better at pushing down or masking their emotions, and I am a master at it. You know how many people a day I want to kill while the conversation is happening, I’m perfectly aware that I am now only more blood thirsty and prone to fits of anger.”
At my now serious tone, a tiny smile reappears on her face, and I physically feel weight lifting from her. When we’re apart, these sensations lessen the further we are from one another. However, I would imagine that intense emotions could travel a distance. My goal is to never be so far from this witch that I couldn’t easily get back to her.
Now that I’m seventeen, I can apparate without the government causing a stink, and I’ve been working on building that magical strength. With this recent boost, I may be able to reach every corner of the earth— once I have a handle on it. As I suspected, the flowing stream I once felt is nothing compared to this churning ocean. What happened to Hope’s wand in the beginning of the room makes sense, I can’t imagine using a conduit now.
Last night, I could not help but test some simple spells, and the absolute rush that went through me…Lumos resulted in a globe of light resembling the sun, and took some minutes before I could produce the correct size and intensity. I’m not worried about classes though, Dippet has already expressed to my Professors that I likely will be testing in the same manor as Hope from now on.
Given the traumatic events that transpired, plus my intellect, there’s no chance my grades will suffer due to this change. Practice makes perfect, and I will be able to make Head Boy. That bedroom is as good as mine.
“Thank you, I would like that very much,” her radiant expression makes my heart swell even more, and the feeling is doubled by my wife’s similar reaction.
Some might find feeling two people’s emotions overwhelming, however it relaxes me. The soul bond did frighten me long ago, yet that fear dissipated as my need to consume the witch in my arms grew. Now, I rejoice each time I notice Hope’s reactions, imagining myself as her own personal demon with a link that will tell me if she’s ever in danger. Although, there’s a different curiosity I would like to explore this evening.
“Well,” I start leaning further into her space, trailing my nose around her jaw as I clutch her legs. “You tend to lose an amount of control when you’re angry, yet I do remember some rather magical reactions while I’m inside you.”
As her breathing catches, I feel her heating with my words. With her hands gripping my shoulders, she tries to sound unaffected, “Th—that’s true, I guess. But, we need to start your training, and anger is so much harder to control than anything else.”
“By that logic, should we not start with the easier test? Not to mention, who knows how our new connection may have affected your control,” I tell her with a sly smile, my voice rough and gravelly.
Hope swallows loudly, and I just know that her responsible urges are quickly falling to the wayside, “There’s some logic to that idea…”
My chuckle is low as it reverberates through my witch, and she shivers deliciously against me. Blood rushes away from my brain as I smell her arousal in the air, and I no longer have the patience to wait. In a swift movement, I stand, holding Hope bridal style, and start heading to the bedroom.
“Wait!” my witch cries out in my arms. When I meet her gaze, her pupils are dilated with desire, my steps halt as I wait for her to continue, “If our magic goes crazy, messing up the bedroom might not be the best move.”
With a grunt of understanding and agreement, I change directions. Passing through archways, I ignore the splendid furnishing on the way, and grin once I find what I’m looking for. Slightly waving a hand, I ensure a cushioning charm meets Hope’s back as I sit her on a massive, mahogany and marble island within the kitchen.
Being a luxurious vacation home, the room is fully stocked like any professional kitchen. Pots and pans hang on hooks, dark cabinets line the space, fruit sit in bowls, and the walls are a light beige. Colorful tiles accent the walls and make up the floors, everything looking both antique and well preserved. The culture and opulence are lost on me at the moment though, my wife holding my full attention.
“I guess this is better,” she says with a sexy little smile. “Fingers crossed Dobby doesn’t pop in.”
A growl escapes from deep in my chest, sounding far from human, “Speaking another male’s name when I’m about to fuck you is not in your best interest, my Darling.”
My hand wraps around her throat, and her pupils swallow the rest of the color in her eyes. With a nod of my head, the dress and knickers disappear, offering an unadulterated view of skin. Her gasp of surprise makes my grip tighten slightly; not enough to cut off air, but a warning all the same. As my gaze roams over her splendid curves, I guide her to lay flat against the marble, and the most mouthwatering scent completely envelops me.
A moan slips from my lips, my cock throbs almost painfully within my trousers, and the new beast inside of me salivates. Hope’s scent is forever ingrained in my mind, a beacon I will forever follow, yet her arousal makes me feel more animal than man. Gripping her knees, I pull her legs apart, and drop to my knees. Level with her dripping center, I kiss my way up a thigh as the sweet, floral, musky perfume wraps around me.
Usually, I would tease my witch, make her squirm before I descend on her. Yet, tonight, I don’t have the strength to stay away. Her cry of pleasure is like music to my ears, but once her flavor explodes on my taste buds, I need more. Latching onto her clit, I suck and swirl my tongue around the sensitive nub. By now, I know her body nearly as well as my own. The pressure, the motions, the spots to hit, everything that will make my witch sloppy wet for me to feast on.
You were made for this, for me, I telepathically tell her as my eyes close briefly while I drink her essence. Shoving her legs over my shoulders, and holding her against me with every bit of my new strength. Mine. In every way, at every moment. I will never stop wanting, never stop taking, never stop devouring you.
At one time, I thought I was addicted to magic, to the painful shrieks of my enemies, or to the feeling of someone breaking in my grasp. Yet, her taste elicits something deeper than addiction in me, her cries and shouts for more embedding themselves in my skin. No, I’m lost in the need of her to continue living.
Spicy and sweet mingle in my mouth, and I find myself in a race to taste her cum. Hope writhes on the island, her hands gripping the edges with whitened knuckles, and I watch with predatory intensity as I drive her closer and closer to the edge. Two fingers spear through her, and I growl as her back arches, her hips pushing further into my face.
Wetness drips down my chin, and I want to bath in her scent. If her taste didn’t insist on my tongue consuming every drop possible, I’d rub her arousal all over myself. Likely, that’s the werewolf in me, however I’m far from caring. When she climaxes, I shove my tongue into her channel, lapping up her juices as if she is the air I need to breath. Thighs clamp around my head, her internal muscles gripping me with a strength that drives me wild.
I just want her to squeeze me tighter, tighter, tighter. Everywhere. If my head explodes between her powerful legs, I’d cease to exist in a state of pure bliss. My motions don’t halt, my thirst only compounding as my mouth fills with her arousal. Eventually, I feel her tugging at my hair, her breathing as erratic as I feel. With a snarl, I briefly lift myself enough to bare my glistening teeth at my wife, and I feel pressure in my eyes. Another gasp leaves my witch as she looks at my golden gaze, but I feel and smell her desire spiking.
“You should become used to my head between your thighs,” I demand, my voice gruff with need. “I will be tasting you for the rest of eternity.”
With that, I descend again, shivering in delight when Hope screams in pleasure. Her hands end up in my hair again, pulling almost painfully, but I cannot tell where she’s directing me, “Yes, yes, Tom! Oh my, please more!”
Rocking her hips to meet my ministrations, she rides my face with a vigor that matches mine. For as obsessed with her reactions and arousal as I am, she’s just as passionately addicted to my actions. Which is made evident by her shouting, by the distractingly delicious tugs on my scalp, and the small pool of her arousal slowly gathering before my knees.
Sucking on her clit like a clogged straw, I flick my wrist, calling on my magic. Green vines quickly grow around the island, traveling everywhere, and tickling my arms. Soon, they snake their way around her wrists, snatching them apart and above her head.
Don’t run from it, witch. Drown in pleasure. Drown in me, as I drown in you, I send into her mind while she instinctually fights the restraints.
While I feel in control, I also feel Hope slipping into a state of unthinking bliss. Heat and pleasure explode within both our bodies, only coaxing the other’s flames higher. A phantom breeze swirls around the large space, and a part of me attempts to reign in the magic. Only, I cannot tell who has summoned the wind. Another climax explodes around me, and I lick, suck, and tongue every inch of her beautiful folds as I can.
Only, the beast inside isn’t satisfied quite yet. My cock aches, and there’s only an intense need to ensure my witch is mine, all mine. Standing quickly, my strength allows me to flip Hope onto her stomach, her legs hanging off the edge of the island. Now, the vines restraining her arms have crossed, bringing her wrists together above her head. Running my hands along the smooth expanse of her bare back, I enjoy the curve of her spine as she trembles beneath me.
Arching her back, Hope pushes her plump arse against my hardness, and I groan at the contact. My slacks are more than uncomfortable, and I release myself from the cotton twill confining my hard length. There’s no time to relieve myself of my clothes— in the next moment, I’m surging into her warmth. All the air leaves my lungs, and I grip her hips like she might float away, despite the vines restraining her to the table.
Sex has always been akin to magic, the sensations just as overwhelming as the first time I used a wand. With Hope, as a mortal, my experience was made even better, my enjoyment intensifying with her beneath or on top of me. Yet, to compare this to the past would be blasphemy. The wind picks up, the pots and pans clanging against each other loudly. More vines grow, wrapping around her arms, her legs, hugging her stomach, and crisscrossing over her back. My magic yearns to feel my witch, to touch her, to make her experience a pleasure no one else could possible give her. Just as she’s done for me.
“You’ll give me everything, won’t you? I’ll take it regardless, but I want to hear you say it— tell me you’re mine,” I command, sounding as feral as I feel.
First, she moans at my voice, but quickly shouts in a heated voice, “I’m yours!”
“Again!” I bellow, rejoicing in the sparks of electricity that fizzle down my spine at the sound of her words.
By now, both our shouting echoes through the house, making the windows vibrate, “I’m yours! Please more take me, yes, yes, yes!”
With a strong part of my mind ensuring no more power escapes, I pause to place one hand on her hip while grabbing the tangle of vines resting on the small of her back. Then, I begin moving again. Slow and sensual at first, rolling my hips as I pull moans from my Hope.
As much as she’s able, she meets my thrusts, and her participation makes me dizzy. Gaining momentum, I begin moving faster, harder. Her wet heat hugs my cock fiercely, tighter than a vise ever could, and it takes everything within me to not empty within her. No, I must make this last— the coupling that officially designates us as a married couple.
Which only becomes more difficult as Hope begins chanting, “Yes, yes! Harder, yes, harder!”
Needing to taste her skin, and with the help of the vines, I pull my witch against my chest. Kissing and licking her neck, I love the way she rests her head against my shoulder. The plants begin tying us together, wrapping around our arms, hugging her chest to mine, and holding her legs both open and above the floor. Between my arms and magic, there’s no need for her weight to rest against the floor. With this new position, I roll my hips into her as fast as I can, enjoying the way her restrained wrists rest behind my head.
The pans clattering together, the wind rustling everything in the room, the wet sound of our skin slapping together, and both of our pleasure saturated shouts create a symphony that I wish could last forever. However, once Hope reaches an explosive climax, I am forced to follow her over the edge. With a roar that sounds far too close to a beast, I feel our souls mingling as I empty within her depths. My eyes close as my knees shake, colors swirling behind my lids an I brace myself and Hope against the island. Both completely lost beyond the clouds.
Just as everything else has intensified, so has this experience. Feeling my cock spurt for nearly a full minute, if not longer, every cell tingles with the most euphoric sensation. Everything within me mingles with everything in her, a complete merging of pleasure. This is something I’ll have to remember, someone could walk up and slit my throat right now, and I would be utterly helpless to stop them.
Was it any different for you? Hope asks within our minds after some moments, both our breathing too labored to attempt to speak.
Inhaling the scent of our efforts, I can’t help the quiet chuckle that rumbles through my chest as I run my nose along the curve of her neck. If I hadn’t been already, you’ve completely ruined me, my Darling. No one can separate us now, and if anyone tries, I’ll gladly burn them alive before fucking you in their ashes.