Touch me not

Morgan peeks behind the massive rock, hands firm on her staff. “... I don’t  think they followed us.”

Next to her, Sir Kyrielight, leaning on her shield. “That’s good…”

While it is, indeed, a good thing, the current situation is still rather inconvenient. They lost Master and the others in the fray. It would be best if they could meet up again soon. Perhaps Morgan can tinker with her servant contract to trace her way back to-

Suddenly, the knight’s legs buckle under her, and she falls on her knees.

“Sir Kyrielight?” Morgan kneels next to her. This isn’t normal. Sir Kyrielight is too sturdy to be taken out by a mere manticore, she ( knows ) knows it. “What’s the matter?”

The girl shakes her head. “Just feeling a bit dizzy, is all.” She responds with a smile.

She’s trembling.

Morgan’s hand darts forward, forcefully grabbing Mash’s chin. Something is wrong. Her gaze rakes the girl’s body, up, down, up, and she sees-

A hole in her armor. At the ankle. And just a hint of purple seeping over the iron.

“You were poisoned.” Morgan states matter-of-factly.

Sir Kyrielight winces. “Ah- yes. But I figured my natural poison resistance would take care of it.”

That might be true. Still, strangely, Morgan finds herself reluctant to leave things as is. The most rational reason she can find for that gut feeling is that manticore poison is especially potent, and taking any chance with it would be unwise.

“I apologize. This will not be pleasant.” She warns Sir Kyrielight. Then, Morgan leans forward, and presses her lips against the knight’s.

Mash makes a small surprised sound. She almost topples on her back, but Morgan grabs the back of her head with her other hand to keep her in place. Insistently, she presses her tongue against the girl’s lips. Sir Kyrielight’s mouth opens, ever so slightly, and Morgan uses the opportunity to push as much of her magical energy as she can through that crack. Her tongue brushes the knight’s in the process, startling the younger girl.

Then, Morgan lets go of the girl, and breaks the kiss. “I gave you some of my mana.” She explains. “This should help you combat the poison.”

The knight looks up at her, blinking rapidly. There’s a light flush to her cheeks. “... Oh. Th. Thank you…”

“Don’t mention it.” Morgan replies, getting back up. Then she extends a hand towards Sir Kyrielight. “Now get up. We need to get your blood flowing to counter the poison.”

Sir Kyrielight ignores her hand, instead opting to use her shield to prop herself up. Unsurprising; Morgan did just kiss her without her consent. She can hardly hold it against the knight.

What is surprising, however, is that the knight seems to have trouble getting back on her feet. Have her legs weakened? 

Mh. Change of plans. “Sit back down.” Morgan orders her, sitting by her side. “We’ll do arm stretches. That should do the trick.”

Sir Kyrielight falls back on her read gracelessly. It’s good to see that despite Morgan’s earlier deeds, she’s still willing to listen to her. She starts flexing her arms. “Will that… be enough?”

“It’s not ideal. ” But there’s not much one can do while sitting down. Sir Kyrielight is shivering all over. Morgan doubts she could even do push-ups right now. “The best would be for the two of us to have intercourse, but stretches should be enough.”

The knight suddenly freezes. “Intercourse?”

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “Are you unfamiliar with the term? I mean sex. Fornicating. Making love. Fu-”

“ I got the idea, thank you! ” Ah- she’s blushing. Perhaps embarrassing her could also work.

“It would get your blood flowing.” Morgan explains. “But as you said earlier, you have an innate resistance to poisons, so there’s no need to go that far. It will take longer for you to heal like this, but your life is not in danger.”

Strangely enough, the knight does not move. She stays like this for a few seconds, arms still outstretched, and then: “but it would be faster if we… slept together?”

“It would.” She confirms.

Sir Kyrielight lowers her arms. “Would you… mind? If we did?”

“Not particularly.” Morgan responds frankly. She’s stopped caring about the matters of the flesh centuries ago, but she has not become averse to them either. (There are a lot of things Morgan has stopped caring about after so long.)

Sir Kyrielight looks at her, pauses for a second, and then leans forward.

The kiss is warm, and wet. Centuries ago, this would have set fire to Morgan’s belly, would have sent her into a frenzied quest for touch and pleasure. As of right now though, the only thing Morgan feels is exactly this: warm and wet. Like the rain in summer. Not something she has any strong opinion over one way or another.

Mash seems to feel things differently, though. She makes a small noise as they kiss, barely the lightest of sighs, like the squeak of a mouse, and-

okay. That perks Morgan’s interests. It’s such a pleasant sound, pleasure without any ill-intention behind it, the simplest expression of contentment- Morgan kind of wants to hear it again. Louder this time. What would it take to make her do that noise again, Morgan wonders?

She pushes the knight down, and she falls with a squeak. Not quite what Morgan was looking for, but this is nice as well. The witch straddles her laps, then leans down like a tiger on her prey.

“So,” she traces the outline of Mash’s lips. The girl gulps beneath her. “What do you like?”

“Uh,” The girl swallows hard. “Lots of things?”

“I mean your kinks. Your fetishes. What makes you tick. ” Her hand trails to the side of Mash’s face, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Where are you most sensitive? What words please you most? You need to tell me. I want to make this good for you.”

The girl flushes harder. This is pretty fun. “... Call me your knight. And- and praise me. Please.”

Huh. The praise kink is a classic, but knight? Morgan would have expected something like Mistress or puppy, but she can work with that.”Well then, my dearest knight, will you shed your armor for your liege?”

Mash nods frantically, switching back from servant to human. Briefly, Morgan thinks I didn’t know she wore glasses, followed by it has been so long since I last saw her wearing them. She doesn’t have time to swell on that though, on account of the much more interesting sight underneath her.

She leans forward to kiss the side of Mash’s neck, sneaking one hand up her shirt. Her skin is surprisingly smooth- Morgan figures she does not scar in servant form.

“Ah- let me also-” Mash’s hand raises to rest on Morgan’s exposed belly- but Morgan flinches away from her touch.

“There is no need. Just let me focus on you.”

The girl frowns. Weakly, she tries to rise on her elbows. “I don’t- I don’t want to do this if you don’t also enjoy yourself.”

She’s saying the truth, to Morgan’s surprise- her last few flings haven’t really been concerned about her. This is sweet of her.

Though, it’s also unnecessary. “Believe me. I am having my fun . ” Her hand creeps up to Mash’s breast, to pinch her nipple through her bra. The moan this earns her is like the finest of music. “You are quite interesting to toy with.”

She kisses Mash’s ear, watching it turn red under her touch. “So, won’t you be good and let me serve you, my knight? As a thanks for your loyalty?”

She meant to lean into the role Mash cast her as, be the liege of her fantasies- but she finds that the words stumble out of her mouth almost by themselves. She’s not sure who she is thanking, and what for, but- she means it. All of it.

She slides Mash’s shirt up, above her breasts, then pulls her bra down. Mash spends a sizeable amount of time here; touching, licking, sucking. Skin is skin, no more attractive here than on the thighs or the arms. But, most importantly, Mash reacts differently to Morgan’s various touches. Dragging the flat of her tongue across a nipple makes her hiss, while sucking on them makes her twitch. The underside of her breasts isn’t so sensitive, but her stomach is. She has a mole on her right hip, as she expected (as she expected?) but the one near the armpit is new.

“Morgan,” Mash pleads after a while, with a high-pitched voice that makes shivers run down the witch’s spine, “pl-please, stop teasing me, please, touch me,”

“Oh? Touch you where?” Perhaps it’s a bit cruel to force her to spell it out, but- she just makes it so much fun to tease her. “my beautiful, lovely knight, I can’t read your mind, you know that.”

Mash glares at her, though the impact is lessened by the red on her face. “Yes you can ! You have fairy eyes”

Morgan exhales loudly in a laugh. Fair enough. She slides a hand in Mash’s skirt, and the girl’s indignation immediately vanishes.

“Do not worry. I will treat you well, my knight.” She kisses the girl’s collarbone, and feels her breathing stutter when circles her clit. “Just keep your legs spread for me.”

Oh, this- these are things Morgan had forgotten. The joy of sex. The pleasure of breaking someone apart. But right now, watching Mash squirm and writhe underneath her, listening to her pant and moan and beg, Morgan thinks: I want. To hear more. To see more. To absolutely wreck this girl, to fuck her into ruins, to reduce her into an incoherent babbling mess who can’t do anything but scream her name. Morgan wants, and feels, more than she ever recall doing.

Mash spasms, cries out, and comes all over her fingers, and she’ll be damned if this isn’t the most satisfying thing Morgan has ever seen in the past decades. 

The girl throws an arm over her face, panting, her entire body limp. She looks so vulnerable. Defenseless. Morgan has never felt more like a witch.

“Do you want to go again?”

Weakly, Mash lifts her arm off her face. “Whuh?”

“The poison should be purged out of your body by now. There is no benefit to doing it again. You can refuse if you wish.” Morgan clarifies. Then she flexes her fingers, still knuckles-deep inside the knight, and oh, watching her shudder is positively delicious. “However. Do you want to go again?”

Mash looks at Morgan’s face, then at her hands between the knight’s legs. Then she looks away, shame clear on her face, but-

she nods.