poisonous (agatha all along | agatha/rio)
May. 3rd, 2025 07:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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poisonous. agatha all along, agatha/rio. agatha tries her hand at potions. 430w, rated m. for the
femslashfete challenge 'alchemy'.
"It's more than a little cruel, not letting me have a taste."
Under Agatha's hand the wooden spoon spins anticlockwise; at her back the chill of Rio's half-human body keeps her shivering despite the fire's heat.
It would kill you, Rio's voice echoes in her head, speech not a strong enough motivator for her to stop sucking bruises into Agatha's shoulder. Maybe before I could stop it.
"Hmm, maybe." Agatha leaves the spoon to its own devices, dips her fingers into the alchemical mixture. Potions will never be her strength, but it would be a shame not to experiment with the abundance of raw materials left by the cottage's former occupant. "Maybe doesn't mean will."
She spins in Rio's arms, and Death's inhuman wail of complaint as her teeth are dislodged is cut short by Agatha sliding her dripping fingers into Rio's mouth. Rio's tongue flickers over them with surprising gentleness for the briefest moment before she bites down hard enough to draw blood.
Agatha moans, head falling back as Rio begins to suckle in earnest, surely drawing more blood than potion from Agatha's fingers but sending pleasure coursing through her all the same.
"I see," she manages as Rio finally releases her fingers. "Death by your distraction, is that it?"
Rio's eyes are entirely black, skin seeping towards transparency, and Agatha can't help the brief flash of disappointment that this is simply Rio, aroused, and not Rio, visibly affected by the false hellebore and yew and New Moon river water. And then Rio's mouth is on hers, and Agatha tastes the potion's bitterness under the sweetness of rot that always clings to Rio's lips.
Power, or something like it, trickles through her, the potion's magic mediated through Rio's insistent kiss. Agatha opens for it instinctively, channeling her magic's desire to go delving under Rio's skin for the rest of it into shoving her hand under Rio's waistband instead, smearing blood and spit across the mess of arousal she finds between Rio's legs.
Sorry I've never tasted you and hellebore at the same time before. Rio's mental voice sounds breathless, the way it only ever gets when she wants Agatha to know just how much of an effect she's had on her. Sorry I never want to taste you any other way again.
Agatha maneuvers them to the side, until her back hits the wall, reaches for the cauldron again with the hand not busy working inside Rio.
I think that can be arranged.
She grasps Rio's throat with alchemy-slick fingers, chases another kiss, and lets her eyes fall shut.
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"It's more than a little cruel, not letting me have a taste."
Under Agatha's hand the wooden spoon spins anticlockwise; at her back the chill of Rio's half-human body keeps her shivering despite the fire's heat.
It would kill you, Rio's voice echoes in her head, speech not a strong enough motivator for her to stop sucking bruises into Agatha's shoulder. Maybe before I could stop it.
"Hmm, maybe." Agatha leaves the spoon to its own devices, dips her fingers into the alchemical mixture. Potions will never be her strength, but it would be a shame not to experiment with the abundance of raw materials left by the cottage's former occupant. "Maybe doesn't mean will."
She spins in Rio's arms, and Death's inhuman wail of complaint as her teeth are dislodged is cut short by Agatha sliding her dripping fingers into Rio's mouth. Rio's tongue flickers over them with surprising gentleness for the briefest moment before she bites down hard enough to draw blood.
Agatha moans, head falling back as Rio begins to suckle in earnest, surely drawing more blood than potion from Agatha's fingers but sending pleasure coursing through her all the same.
"I see," she manages as Rio finally releases her fingers. "Death by your distraction, is that it?"
Rio's eyes are entirely black, skin seeping towards transparency, and Agatha can't help the brief flash of disappointment that this is simply Rio, aroused, and not Rio, visibly affected by the false hellebore and yew and New Moon river water. And then Rio's mouth is on hers, and Agatha tastes the potion's bitterness under the sweetness of rot that always clings to Rio's lips.
Power, or something like it, trickles through her, the potion's magic mediated through Rio's insistent kiss. Agatha opens for it instinctively, channeling her magic's desire to go delving under Rio's skin for the rest of it into shoving her hand under Rio's waistband instead, smearing blood and spit across the mess of arousal she finds between Rio's legs.
Sorry I've never tasted you and hellebore at the same time before. Rio's mental voice sounds breathless, the way it only ever gets when she wants Agatha to know just how much of an effect she's had on her. Sorry I never want to taste you any other way again.
Agatha maneuvers them to the side, until her back hits the wall, reaches for the cauldron again with the hand not busy working inside Rio.
I think that can be arranged.
She grasps Rio's throat with alchemy-slick fingers, chases another kiss, and lets her eyes fall shut.