So Say The Seasons – Chapter 2

            At their arrival at the Bronze Maiden, the two women and habitual customers are led past the main hall, where most of the guests are sitting, enjoying their evening meal, towards the stairs to the second floor, where there was a mezzanine with more tables. But the young woman on the Maiden’s staff, someone they know well – as they do most of the staff members at this point – doesn’t guide them all the way up, instead, a doorless passageway on the first flight of stairs leads to one of the more reserved rooms in the whole establishment, which had become the habitual place for the two women to eat whenever they visited the Maiden. While it is deprived of the heat from the main fireplace, a small iron stove is present and not long after they are seated, the same girl comes back with a bucket of round coal embers to pour into it, which instantly helps push out the cold of the season. A light drizzle falls outside, and they can hear distant thunder on the horizon, so the shelter and fire are deeply appreciated. No menu charts are requested or necessary, as both Elwen and Maronette know exactly what they want.

            “The usual,” they both say in turn.

            This means different things for each of them, but there’s no confusion. Maronette receives her duck, roasted crispy and with a side of berry sauce and a dark squash purée, a hearty meal that no house in the realm can prepare better than the Maiden’s cook. Elwen’s usual is the stuffed quail, and there is just something about the breading with which they pad the stuffing that makes that her favourite dish. She openly admits to any who’d ask that she enjoys the filling more than the bird meat itself. The two women and their friends had rescued the owner’s daughter from a dangerous situation a few years ago. Ever since, they could expect to be treated as if they were royalty whenever they visited the Maiden. While comped meals were offered, they never agreed to eat without paying, which had nourished an even better relationship over the years between them and everyone involved in the operation.

            Once their meals are in front of them and their drinks served, Elwen catches Maronette smiling across the table at her, and she thinks she spots something rather unusual for her usually no-nonsense bodyguard; mischief. Surely, she has to be wrong, she tells herself, as they discuss the terrible weather and the approaching cold. But whenever her lover seems distracted, Elwen can see that curl on the edge of her lips, and the sensation that she’s planning something only grows in the singer’s heart, but she keeps that conviction to herself. Whatever surprise her bodyguard has arranged for her, she is entitled to deliver it on her own terms, Elwen reckons. The staff doesn’t show up again after the initial delivery, and Elwen always suspected that they knew about her and Maronette, on some level, because they seemed to go to great lengths to give them space and privacy without it ever being requested. And while it would be taboo to acknowledge any of it out loud, she appreciated that tacit facilitation of their relationship. Just one more reason to love the Maiden, she reckons, though the stuffing in their quail is still number one.

            “So, what’s Crimson Charlotte up to now?” Elwen asks towards the end of the meal as she sips her wine and uses the fork to push a single pea around her plate before stabbing it and studying it by the light of the lanterns.

            “Pardon?” Maronette asks distractedly, which seems to be happening often this night.

            “Crimson Charlotte? Your book.”

            “Oh, well, you borrowed it, you ought to know…”

            “I only read the first two, and I noticed you’ve acquired a new one recently. What’s that one about?”

            “If you read the first two, this might spoil some of the stories for you,” Maronette warns her, but as Elwen only leans forward and rests her chin in both her hands, as if ready to hear a fascinating tale, the bodyguard dips her head and continues, “very well then. Lady Giovanna is back on the fifth volume, and she seems to want revenge…”

            “Revenge?”

            “Yes, she thinks Charlotte abandoned her in favour of Juliette, calling her the ‘new favourite plaything’.”

            “Wasn’t Giovanna the one that made her a vampire and then discarded Charlotte?” Elwen asks, tilting her head in curiosity.

            “Yes, exactly!” Maronette says emphatically, and Elwen can’t help but smile; her lover broke from her stern personality for only a select number of things, and these books, apparently, were one of them. “That’s why we don’t like Giovanna.”

            “Oh, we don’t?”

            “No, she’s a manipulative who-…” Maronette clears her throat. “She’s a manipulative shrew who is only mad Charlotte is no longer wrapped around her finger.”

            “Then, why doesn’t Charlotte tell her to get lost?”

            “Well…” Maronette blushes slightly, taking a sip of her wine. “You’ll probably realise it by book three but Charlotte craves Giovanna’s approval, even if she doesn’t admit it to herself.”

            Elwen chuckles, and Maronette studies her with a puzzled look before the singer simply shakes her head as if to dismiss any concerns that she might be laughing at her lover. Instead, she reaches across the table, extending her hand, and Maronette reaches back to put her own on top of her paramour’s.

            “It’s endlessly enchanting to me how invested you are in characters in a penny dreadful,” Elwen says, delivering a squeeze to the hand she holds. “It’s cute and just a little dorky. But dorky looks good on you.”

            Maronette’s expression is still puzzled, and perhaps even more so for a moment before, slowly, a deep pinkness begins to creep around her cheeks and her ears, and she sheepishly looks away towards the brazier. The display of vulnerability from the usually serious and tough woman is enough to make Elwen’s heart ache with love for her. And then Maronette surprises her by getting up from the table and taking a step towards the door. Suddenly, panic fills Elwen’s chest as she believes she has offended the proud warrior with her remark, and she is about to storm off, but that only lasts for about a second, as Maronette doesn’t move towards the door but merely around the small table, to stand next to Elwen’s seat and then she dives down to one knee.

            Elwen is stunned. She thinks she knows what’s about to happen, but she doesn’t allow herself to dare hope that she’s right. She bites her lower lip as an inexplicable, irrational flutter rises in her stomach like a kaleidoscope of butterflies has taken flight inside her and her heart speeds. There’s a tingling of pure nervous anticipation on the tip of her fingers that only grows with each word Maronette says next:

            “Elwen, we’ve been together for a long time, and every day with you has been a wonder in the truest sense of the word. I’d trade all the melodies in the world for the sound of your laughter, and I… Er…” Maronette clears her throat, and, for a second, Elwen thinks she forgot her prepared speech before she notices the glimmering of tears welling in the corner of her lover’s eyes, a sight which brings tears to her own. “…and I would trade all days of sunshine for the glitter of joy I see in your eyes whenever you talk about what you love. Elwen, would you marry me, be my wife, and let me fill your days with laughter and your eyes with joy for as long as I breathe?”

            Elwen’s vision blurs with the welling tears, so she only sees the glint of something shiny in a black velvet box in the centre of Maronette’s hand. She can guess what it is. She briefly uses a napkin to dab the tears out, trying to do minimal damage to her makeup, and with her sight restored, she reaches for the ring box, taking it to see the beautiful silver ring. A heart adorning the centre of it, made from two perfectly cut gems. Half of it is amethyst, and half of it is blue sapphire. The cut is well done, and while the ring is simple, it’s finely crafted and smooth. She takes it immediately and puts it on her finger as she gets up from the chair, urging her partner to rise from her knees.

            “Yes, of course, yes! A thousand times for you, Maron!”

            And as Maronette rises to her feet, she reaches out and pulls Elwen close to seal lips into a slow, soft, and tender kiss that quickly grows just a bit too passionate and hungry for the venue. But Elwen allows it, even against her better sense, because her own heart and body crave that proximity for a moment longer. Finally, Maronette seems to come to her senses and stops them. She pulls back and, holding Elwen’s face with both hands, says in a tone meant to leave no room for question:

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too.”

            They just stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before the sound of footsteps quickly rushes them to take their seats as an employee passes by them carrying logs for the fireplace. He doesn’t even peer inside, but the moment is gone, and as they sit down, they look at each other from across the table and then share a long laugh. The silliness of the risk they took is compounded by the silliness of their fear of being caught. A moment is spent in that joy before Elwen raises her newly adorned hand and admires the two-coloured heart ring.

            “So… How’s this going to work, my love?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean… Two women cannot be married by law, I’m pretty certain.”

            Maronette waves her concern away with a gesture of her hand as if it were just a fly.

            “The law doesn’t know its mouth from its ass. I think we shall be fine ignoring it.”

            “Well… For certain, but then… How?”

            “Well, that’s for us to decide together,” Maronette says, but the slight blush on her face hints at Elwen that it isn’t the whole story.

            “But… You do have something in mind, don’t you?”

            “You read me too well.”

            “Yes, like one of those awful books of yours,” Elwen taunts. “Come, spill the tea while it’s hot.”

            “Fine, fine… If you want to know so badly, I did consider maybe we find a nice cottage in the countryside, invite only our closest friends and have a private ceremony at sunset. And I thought maybe we could pick two flowers to represent each of us and only use them, or their colours, as decor.”

            Elwen leans again to rest her chin in her hands and listen, fascinated, to the sudden exposure of the soldier’s softer, romantic side. Maronette this time blushes but doesn’t let herself fumble at the sight of those bright doe eyes peeking at her adoringly with such intense interest. As she grows quiet, Elwen asks:

            “Come on now, tell me more! What about clothing? What shall we wear? Will you be wearing a dress or your parade uniform?”

            “I will wear whatever you want me to, love.”

            “What if I want you to be naked?”

            Maronette’s flush deepens from pink to a light red, and she shakes her head slowly.

            “Hopefully, you’re just being a brat, and that’s not what you actually want.”

            “Hopefully,” Elwen coos. “But if it was?”

            “If I have to be naked to marry you, Elwen, I will,” Maronette says without any hesitation.

            “Fuck, now that’s a good answer,” Elwen praises as her heart flutters. “You deserve a special treat for that one alone, but if I delivered it here, we might get kicked out of the Maiden for life.”

            “Oh, then please don’t… No other place makes the duck how I like it.”

            “I shall not. But count yourself lucky for now because as soon as we get home, you shall be receiving enthusiastic sexual favours from a very grateful and horny girlfriend.”

            “You mean fiancée?”

            “Stop, Maron, I can only get so wet.”

            The two chuckle for a moment, and Maronette finishes the glass of wine before reaching for the bottle to find it empty. This might explain a lot of why she was much looser than her usual self that night. The old liquid courage for the proposal means she had drunk more than usual.

            “If you’re alright with that,” Maronette begins, seemingly out of the blue, “I’d like to invite my family too, not just friends.”

            “Well, your parents always treated me well… If you think they’d want to be there, then that’s alright with me,” Elwen offers and sighs bittersweetly after.

            Maronette must’ve read what went on in her heart because she reaches across the table to take her hand again and say:

            “You know, we could invite your family as well. I’d like it if they were there too.”

            “You know they won’t. We haven’t been on best terms since they learned that I’m finding love on the side of the field I’ve blossomed myself,” Elwen laments, “I can’t imagine they’d be interested in attending a celebration of that.”

            “They might be interested in being there for you, regardless of the reason.”

            “I doubt it. We’ve cut each other out since, and they haven’t been there for me for anything else, Maron.”

            “I know, love. And that’s a tragedy if you ask me, but maybe it doesn’t have to be the whole story. Why don’t you ask them?”

            “What if they take offence?”

            “Well… What if they do? What’s the worst that can happen if you already cut them off your life? Give them a way back in, and if they can’t… See you for the amazing woman you are and take that chance, then they truly don’t deserve to be a part of your life, and you can go back to where you are right now, here, without them.”

            Elwen bites her lip and squeezes Maron’s hand in thought. Her lover is right, of course. She has little to lose but a bit of pride by reaching out to her parents. And pride is something that she has in spades, so losing a bit of it might not do her much harm. Perhaps they’d find it in their hearts to forgive her, perhaps they wouldn’t. But if they did not, things weren’t likely to be worse than they were right now. Perhaps they would even be better since she could shut the door in the hope of reconciliation, in that case, and finally begin to move on from her family.

            “Well… That’s something I’ll have to think about, I suppose. But I think yes, I do want to invite them,” Elwen finally admits. “I’d love it if they would be there with an open mind and open heart.”

            “Then give them that chance. And if they cannot do it, it’s their loss.”

            “You’re right.”

            “That tends to be the case,” Maron says with a defiant, cocky smirk that makes Elwen laugh.

            “So, when should we plan to have this ceremony?”

            “Well, I hate to admit how much thought I already put into this, but I was thinking spring,” Maronette reasons, tracing circles with her index finger on the inside of Elwen’s wrist. “Good weather, but not too hot outside, and it gives us a few months to plan it all during autumn and winter.”

            “It also gives me time to steel myself to face my parents… I should probably visit them personally if I want to invite them to this. Extend the proverbial olive branch myself, as they would say.”

            “Do you want me to go with you? I know it can be rough for you to visit your family.”

            “Want? Yes, I absolutely do. For one, I am always up to travel with you, and of course, I’d love to have you by my side for this…”

            “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

            “But…” Elwen says with a sheepish smile of conceding. “I feel like for this to have the slightest chance to work, you being there is counter-productive. In a way, they are like children, and I should soften the blow…”

            “And I have never been one to soften things much.”

            “No. Besides, if the reason they estranged their daughter is that she’s bedding women, I don’t imagine that bringing her lover to a family visit will be a grand way to thaw the ice that exists between us.”

            “Well, that’s a fair point. But be warned that if any of them try to kidnap you to prevent you from marrying me, I won’t stand for it.”

            “What will you do? Storm my father’s estate like a knight in shining armour breaching a dragon’s lair to save a captive princess?”

            “That is exactly what I would do.”

            “Fuck, I love you so much,” Elwen says genuinely.

            “I love you too, Elwen.”

            “If you are done with your meal, I’d want nothing more than take you home right now and show you with all my body just how much I appreciate every fibre of your being, Maron.”

            “I’d have to be insane to say no to that. I’m done, yes. And I suspect I shall be having dessert soon, so I’m more than alright with skipping it.”

            “Oh, look at you, trafficking in the double entendres. I must be a terrible influence, rubbing off on you.”

            “Oh, love, have you ever had any doubt of that?”

            The two share another laugh before they get up to leave a handful of coins that more than cover the value of their meal and, holding hands for a brief moment, they walk out of the private room in the Maiden and towards the streets and Elwen’s house in the rich side of town.

            The two arrive at Elwen’s home by carriage, which they rented right in front of the Bronze Maiden, and the driver had taken them right under the large protruding balcony that also serves as a porch to shelter visitors at the front door from the rain. With the driver sitting outside, they had some time to kiss, touch and tease each other in the privacy of the vehicle before they were dropped off by the successful actress’ townhouse. They climb the steps onto the door and hang their wet cloaks on the iron hooks on the walls of her mudroom, and their shoes – or boots, in Maronette’s case – are left there, too. But they spend precious little time downstairs beyond that strictly necessary to remove the wet or dirty parts of their clothes. Soon after that, Elwen is pulling on her lover’s hand to guide her up the stairs and towards the large bedroom where they spend most of their nights, at least those they have the privilege of being in the city.

            The door of the bedroom is left open as they walk in, and just as they cross the threshold, Maronette’s strong hands are grasping at her lover’s face and guiding her back against the large dark wood armoire that occupies most of one of the bedroom’s walls, and she seals her lips on Elwen’s in a passionate kiss. This one isn’t tender and loving like the one inside the Maiden’s private room. It’s passionate, hungry and deeply needful, and Elwen can feel all those emotions in the way Maronette moves her lips and pushes with her tongue as if in near desperation to consume her lover, to merge with her, and to become one. Or perhaps it is just the fanciful words used to describe Crimson Charlotte’s ‘kiss’ that has infected that actress’ mind, and she can’t help but read that ravenous need for consumption in her girlfriend’s – no, fiancée’s, she should remember – body language.

            Maronette, in turn, probably has little in her mind beyond her need to strip Elwen down from her clothes and see her naked body. The thespian and mage can guess from how quickly her fingers move to unbutton her dress and unlace her sleeves to tug them free. Soon, she’s down to her chemise and bloomers, and a few moments later, even that’s being pulled off her as Maronette now drives her lover onto the bed. She doesn’t shove Elwen onto it, but there’s a loving forcefulness in how she lays Elwen down on the sheets, and Elwen feels a tingle of arousal in how naked she is, entirely bare to Maronette’s eyes while her bodyguard is still fully clothed. A part of her can find some enjoyment in the fantasy of being pinned down and ravaged by a soldier as she is defenceless, though, in reality, she knows Maronette would never do a thing to hurt her. And perhaps that knowledge is the very thing that drives that fantasy. Who else to try such a thing with if not the one she trusts so deeply?

            But as she muses on her own desire, her lover is already crawling on her fours across the large bed, to sink between her legs and deliver a long, dragging lap of tongue against Elwen’s exposed folds, as Maronette’s hands wrap around her thighs to keep them apart. And with devotion and hunger both, she begins to feed on Elwen’s nectar, drinking from her sex with the need a starving person in the desert might have from a freshwater oasis. Her dark hair comes loose from the precarious bun and spreads over Elwen’s stomach and thighs, which would make her slightly ticklish if she wasn’t already enraptured in pleasure.

            Maronette knows her lover’s body well enough to bring Elwen to climax without much delay, but she chooses to take her time between Elwen’s legs before finally coming into the pace she knows will help her soon-to-be-wife finish. Elwen comes, hard and loud, and as she lays there naked and panting, Maronette finally begins to undress, giving her paramour time to recover from the first round.

            “Well… I thought I was the one… Who was… Supposed to give you a treat…” Elwen speaks in a panting voice.

            “I just had my favourite treat…”

            Maron’s response is categorical as she tosses her jacket and pants off the bed and slowly begins to undo the bindings around her chest before discarding them along with her undergarments and laying, also naked, next to her lover.

            “Well… If you say so.” Elwen bites her lips mischievously. “But I was still hoping we could play a little bit with that spell, you know?”

            Maronette nods and turns from her side to lie on her back, while Elwen does the opposite and turns from her back to her side. She has the words memorised by now, and she hovers her hand over the tuff of dark hair between Maronette’s thighs to whisper and cast the wisp of pink and purple energy that flows from her fingertips into the bodyguard’s sex. And as she squirms and moans, Elwen watches with ever amazement how her lover’s clit engorges and transforms, pulsing and growing in stages until it turns into a twitching and very erect and eager cock.

            She is still unsure if its relatively small size is a function of the way she casts the spell or if it is determined by who the target is. She has not yet tried to cast it on herself, but after being with her lover quite a few times, she is more than happy about its dimensions. For obvious reasons, she is mostly used to fingers, and Maronette could get a little, or very, rough when excited, and that makes it a manageable and non-intimidating prospect to take her inside.

            “This… Always feels good when it grows.”

            “Perhaps one day we should try it on me,” Elwen coos playfully.

            “I’d be alright with that.”

            “Me too… But that shall not be today. Today, I want you inside me. Maybe we shall finally conceive and wouldn’t it be just so romantic if it happened on the night we got engaged? I think…”

            Elwen stops herself talking as she notices a vague hint of, well, something unclear running over Maronette’s features. Whatever it is, it is not the exciting prospect of pumping her full of seed and whispering in her ear how she loves breeding her, which is an unusual reaction for Maronette just after receiving the spell. Elwen senses something in the air and doubts Maronette will get the courage to blurt it out unprompted.

            “What?”

            “What, what?”

            “Oh, come on, Maron. I can smell when you have a thought from a mile away,” Elwen teases, as her finger runs by the very hard cock, pulling it against her stomach and releasing it to watch it bounce back up and wobble in its hardness.

            The little touch causes Maron to squirm and moan softly, but she bites her lips, pursing them and frowning for a moment before turning on her side so she and Elwen are facing each other:

            “Fine, I actually… Wanted to try something. But we won’t be making a baby that way.”

            “Oh?” Elwen shoots her eyebrows up.

            “No judgement?”

            “No judgement.”

            “Well, I would love to – and only if you are willing – to try and do it... You know, on the other side.”

            “From behind?”

            “Not just from behind… Doing it on… The other entrance.”

            Normally, Elwen would find this doubly amusing. First for Maronette being the one proposing something new to try in bed, which is often Elwen’s role in their relationship as the resident ‘deviant’; and second, because despite wanting to fuck Elwen up the ass, Maronette is barely able to say the words properly. But she finds herself a little too nervous to be properly amused by the request and the format it is presented in, as she ought to be. She bites her lower lip and drags it by her teeth hesitantly. Maronette immediately picks up on her hesitation.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry, I should not have proposed that, it was…”

            “No, no…” Elwen rushes in to interrupt her. “It’s alright, Maron. I want to do it.”

            “Are you sure? You don’t seem like you want to,” Maronette cautiously asks.

            “I am… Sure, I mean. I am sure.”

            Maronette lifts a sceptical eyebrow at that statement, and Elwen reassures her again:

            “I mean it, I am sure… I was just a bit shocked and… I’ll admit, a little nervous.”

            “We can just do it the other way or just forget about it and…”

            “No, you’re not listening. I said I want to do this.”

            Maronette takes a deep breath and locks eyes with her lover, reaching out to grab her hands.

            “Are you absolutely sure then?”

            “Yes. We shall have to take it slow…”

            “Of course.”

            “…But I want to try it at least once in my life. And I know that there’s no one I’d rather try this with than you. So yes, this night is perfect for it.”

            “Alright, so, we are doing this?”

            Elwen thinks it’s cute how Maronette is trying not to show her eagerness for it but can barely conceal her enthusiasm. She just nods slowly, and for a second, they continue to hold each other’s gaze before Elwen breaks from the hand and gaze holding and shifts on the bed, to lie on her front, prone. Maronette knows that’s her cue to move behind her.

            “So… Do you know what you’re doing?” Elwen asks, a little unsure, but slowly, she lifts her hips to present her bottom to her lover and parts her legs slightly.

            “A vague idea… Just keep talking to me. Tell me if it hurts and how slow to go… Yes?”

            “…Yes. I can do that.”

            Then Elwen feels Maronette shift on the mattress to pick something from her own night table on the left side of the bed. The small glass vial she pulls from it is one that Elwen has seen before among her cosmetics and sundries, but she had never paid attention to the unlabelled substance itself until that moment. Never long enough to wonder what it could be. Maronette uncorks it and drips a bit of the gel-like clear fluid on her finger, gently bringing it to graze around the tight ring of muscles on Elwen’s rear passage. She feels herself twitching in response to the strange stimulus of the cold gel and warm, soft finger. The gentle massage feels strangely good, as Elwen expected it to feel like nothing at all, maybe, and she’s surprised with how sensitive her skin is in that area. Does that bode well for what they are about to do?

            Elwen sighs softly, and Maronette seems to take it as a good sign as she slowly increases the intensity and pace, not entering her lover yet with a digit but delivering teasing prodding pushes. At each of them, Elwen tightens involuntarily and then relaxes. She closes her eyes and tries to forget about her nervousness and fear of pain and instead focuses on Maronette’s finger and the mental image of her lover as she goes down on one knee.

            “You can… Go deeper…” Elwen proposes timidly.

            “You mean, go in?” Maronette says, considering she has not even tried to enter the woman yet with her digit.

            Elwen simply nods and then bites the mattress. The massage ceases for a moment, and she feels another cold drop of the lubricant gel before Maron’s finger returns, this time circling her only a few times before she pushes it in. Just the first section of her finger, but enough to break ground. At first, those muscles clench tightly around it as if grasping at the bodyguard’s finger to pin it in place, but in a matter of seconds, they relax, and Maronette slowly allows herself to inch deeper. Elwen moans and tightens again, and the process repeats. It takes several iterations for her to feel the knuckles brushing against her rear, and the next time she relaxes, Maronette is pulling out instead of deeper inside and then repeating. With time, and she wouldn’t know how long it was, they find a pace that works, and she is able not to tighten herself much. Maronette’s digit moves a couple of inches back and forth inside her. And then Maronette’s other hand moves down to begin slowly and gently stroking Elwen’s soft, dripping wet sex. The additional stimulus is more powerful than the singer could’ve anticipated, and she finds herself mewling in enjoyment in a way she didn’t do from being caressed softly over her wet petals alone.

            “This… Feels good…” Elwen coos between moans.

            “Good. I want you to feel good,” Maronette says, resolute. “May I… Try something more?”

            Elwen pauses, but just for a second before she nods, openly. Yes, she feels ready for more.

            “Here goes…”

            The second finger forces her passage to stretch slightly, and there is some pain that comes with it, but it is bearable. More than bearable, it is very dull compared to the surges of pleasure that come from being touched on her sex while the two digits try to enter her. Again, gradually and deliberately, they negotiate without words how deep Maronette can go and how fast. Whenever Elwen clenches, she stops and then moves again, slow and careful, when she relaxes. By the time they reach that stage where she can comfortably slowly move in and out of her in a constant, if very gentle, pace, Elwen’s sex is already burning with desire, and she feels a growing, almost painful need to have herself stuffed. Much like the quail she loves so much from the Maiden.

            She chuckles to herself at the unexpected comparison with food, and the chuckle gets a little lost in her mewling moans of pleasure. But not lost enough that Maronette doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t ask what is so funny but giggles slightly along with her lover.

            “I think…” Elwen begins and pauses for a long time so she would be absolutely sure when she says, “that I’m ready.”

            “Ready?”

            “You know… Ready. For you.”

            “Oh… Are you sure?”

            Elwen nods again, and slowly, Maronette pulls back. She pours the cold gel on her very hard, very eager, and so far neglected dick, and Elwen mentally can’t help but praise her patience to go through all this without pushing her when she is dealing with such a persistent erection. The cold gel causes Maronette to moan at the strange sensation before she rubs it all over her member that rests on the smaller size of the spectrum, and never in her life has Elwen been more grateful for that than when she feels the twitching glans push against her rear passage.

            “D-do it,” Elwen asks and bites down on the sheets.

            “I will… But… Let me know if you want to stop, alright? Any time.”

            Elwen just nods again, teeth still grabbing the sheets, and Maronette lets her weight slowly push against the ring of muscles, winning over their resistance, and the tip of her cock makes it through. She is bigger than two fingers, Elwen realises, and there is a shot of pain running up her spine. But it isn’t terrible, off-putting pain. She can endure it. She has endured worse. Instead of requesting her lover to stop, she merely takes a deep breath and Maronette sinks deeper inside her. Another inch, and then another.

            At some point, she seems to finally hilt, and they remain like that, deeply connected, for a few seconds. Elwen’s ass twitching and griping against that cock, before Maronette pulls just an inch or two back and pushes inside again. As slow as she did with her fingers, or maybe even slower. But this time, she grunts and moans and noticeably shudders. Elwen realises that the tightness is likely nothing like her sex, and she quietly wonders how it would feel. Maybe if she ever tries the spell on herself, she’d need to talk Maronette into letting her experience both of her entrances as well.

            The thought arouses her and helps her brace through the pain. So much so that she feels brave enough to push her ass against Maronette as she pushes inside, encouraging her to go faster. And she does, but not by much. Her pace increases just a notch, and she once again continues to be as consistent and constant as she can. And when Elwen feels once again that she can take it, she pushes her hips against her lover once more. And that is their language from then on out. Their mouths are too taken by moaning and breathy sighs to talk properly, but Maronette would always wait for that pushing of hips to match Elwen’s intended pace. In doing so, she soon finds herself pumping in a rhythm that isn’t her usual, frenetic, and rough way, but it is still pleasurable for both.

            Elwen is surprised herself when they achieve that rhythm, but even more so with how good it starts to feel to be fucked in the ass, especially when her lover leans over her to reach around her stomach and stroke her clit with nimble fingers while she gently rocks back and forth from behind. The orgasm that builds inside of her feels different as it grows, as if it comes from another place. That pressure expands and takes over every inch of her loins and stomach until she can’t hold it anymore.

            She comes. Hard. Her cunt squeezing at the emptiness and trying to milk at nothing as her ass clenches and relaxes and her body kicks. Her hips buck back and forth, and her hands grab onto the sheets and pull them, breaking the perfect setting of the bedding. She cries out loud at the surprisingly intense orgasm, and her cry of utter pleasure seems to be the thing that sends her lover over the edge. Before she can do anything else, while she is still in the thick of it, Maronette sinks deep inside her, twitches, engorges and then releases a surprising amount of seed inside of her in a warm gush that washes over her insides. And that sensation only makes her orgasm shift as if starting all over again. Her legs lose strength, and her hips drop onto the bed. So Maronette, leaning on them, falls chest first over her lover, who spasms nearly violently under her.

            By the time Elwen’s final writhes of climax are gone, she feels her thighs shaking violently and her chest tremble, and she quietly wonders if she ever came that hard before. It isn’t just the ass-play or the fingers on her sensitive button. It is all of it together and the fact that she trusts Maronette to do it. How can she not marry this woman? She’d have to be insane not to do it.

            “Fuck… Me…” Maronette mutters. “That was… Intense.”

            “For me, too…” Elwen agrees.

            And they lie there naked, on top of each other, hearing the rain and thunder outside their window. Elwen lets out a pleasured sigh. And then she chuckles to herself again.

            “Alright… What is it now?” Maronette asks.

            She had refrained from asking when they were in the middle of their preparation and foreplay, but now she won’t let it go. Elwen impishly turns her head to look at her lover from over her shoulder:

            “So, how long has that flask been in your drawer, hm?”

            Maronette’s face goes stone cold, and then she bites her lips and doesn’t reply. Elwen chuckles. She is so full of surprises. At least their marriage would never be dull. Of that, she could be sure.