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At first, it’s a headpatting session like any other. While ten minutes had turned to 15, turning to 20, the contents themselves remained relatively constant, Methode’s technique not changing much in the past two years. The same stroking and petting had grown familiar and eventually, Serie got used to it.
What would take more time to get used to would be what came after.
At first it’s just the forehead, light dustings of her lips going as soon as they came. Then, she moved down, to Serie’s cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin, her eyelids…
Of course, Serie’s ears are still off-limits, blocked by that same glowing barrier she conjured whenever Methode took things a little too far, but that didn’t stop her from trying to plant a kiss there exactly once per session. Previously inaccessible areas like Serie’s neck had become available just last month.
After all, from the very beginning, she’d always said ‘not now’ rather than an outright refusal.
Methode’s inhibitions had grown weaker with time, leading her to her present state, nipping at Serie’s neck, then back to her cheeks, stealing a quick peck from her lips‒
Wait, her lips?
Serie’s eyes would normally be closed, but they were wide open now, staring into Methode’s as the human pulled back, her face beginning to darken.
“Ah, um…”
Thinking quickly to cover her blunder, Methode decided that an apology was in order. After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d pushed the envelope a little too much and Serie, contrary to her appearance was actually quite the forgiving type, at least in Methode’s experience.
“I’m sorry, Se‒”
But before she could get the words out, her words were cut off by a far quicker set of elven lips.
The plush feeling of Serie’s lips against hers was unlike anything Methode had experienced up until now; she’d usually been on the giving side, but now, with the soft pressure against her mouth and Serie’s hands pulling her in by the shoulders, she decided the other way wasn’t so bad either.
It didn’t stop there; when Serie’s tongue pressed against her lips, Methode saw no reason to refuse her and before long, her hands were wrapped around the back of Serie’s waist, lifting her as they sloppily made out, tongues rubbing against one another until…
It ended as soon as it began, Serie quickly freeing herself from Methode’s grasp, gliding back to her chair.
“Hm.”
Serie wasn’t exactly one for these sorts of things, never feeling particularly excited by or interested in any of the acts Flamme had described to her as she’d grown. She’d only begun testing that aversion about a millennium ago, reaffirming her distaste for it every century or so just to make sure.
It varied from time to time, but this was certainly one of the better ones; Method’s mouth tasted rather nice and the feeling of rubbing tongues against her combined with the little twitches she did in response, it wasn’t all bad.
“Alright. Your time’s up, so I’ll see you after you complete your next mission.”
A shame it would end so soon. Serie never did something along those lines with the same person twice lest she return a century or two later to find them gone. This little encounter would likely be a one-time thing to be put to rest as they both moved on with their lives…
“Methode? Was I unclear?”
Rather than turning, Methode seemed bolted to the spot until she took a step towards Serie, then another, then before either of them stopped it, she was grasping Serie’s shoulders, then her chin, asking:
“May I?”
“…I suppose there’s a reason why humans multiply so quickly.”
Of course, this was never a one-time thing. Closing her eyes, Serie gave a sigh, muttering something about treating her with the proper reverence.
Methode doesn’t catch a word of it, her lips cradling Serie’s the moment she tilts her chin up.
She was annoyingly gentle, caressing Serie as if she were a doll, though Serie took some small amount of pride in the decidedly adult way Methode’s mouth moves against hers.
It continues for some time, the suckling, grabbing, twirling of tongues starting to make Methode’s head spin, the heat starting to build in her core until Serie lightly pushes her back once more, wiping her mouth before saying:
“That’s enough for today. We can continue next time.”
Methode wants to protest, slam her lips right back into Serie’s and continue right where they’d left off, but something about the way Serie smiles as she says that implies that there isn’t any room for arguing.
“…I’ll be back as soon as possible, then.”
Methode turns to leave, unable to suppress the urge to shuffle her thighs together in anticipation and as she does, she swears she sees the slightest of smirks on Serie’s face.
“Could you not have waited the hour it would have taken me to properly dress myself?”
Serie was the first to admit she wasn’t exactly an early riser, but compared to elves, she at least chose a fairly reasonable time to wake herself. At the very least, it was certainly reasonable to still be asleep before the sun had even risen, no?
“I have waited a week already.”
“A mere week?”
“What would the point of dressing yourself have been?”
The implications of the statement were clear and the moment she closed her eyes, she once more found Methode’s lips pressing into her neck, hands sliding down, past her hips to grope at her thighs through her nightgown before sliding up again, hoisting it over Serie’s shoulders and tossing it aside as‒
“You walk here in the middle of the night and you don’t even ask permission to start? I’d warn you that you can end this whenever you’d like…”
In a flash of light, their positions were reversed, Serie returning to her usual state of dress as Methode’s clothes were left in a neat pile on a desk off to the side as Serie climbed atop her, drawing a long trail up her side, cupping the underside of her chest before tracing the outline of it, her fingers barely grazing her slowly hardening nipple.
“And I’ve just given away my fabric cleaning spell…”
She was certainly regretting that decision now, that small action already causing a little wet spot to form under Methode as a quiet moan escaped her, her face having reddened at the fact.
“…You stopped.”
“It wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you enjoyed it too much, would it?”
“S- Serie…”
There was desperation in her voice that was entirely foreign to Serie; she’d heard it before, but only a few times, but it had been at least a few centuries since the last time.
Naturally, Serie doesn’t let her off that easily. Slipping her hands between her and the bedsheets, she reaches around Methode’s ample chest to find her upturned peaks, rubbing at them a little, smiling at the moan she lets out, audible even through the pillow.
“Lady Serie. Again, decorum, Methode.”
“Miss Serie, please‒”
This time, already on top of her, Serie uses her legs to spread Methode’s, eliciting yet another stifled sound of embarrassment.
“Lady.”
“L-Lady Serie, please‒ mmn .”
Serie had always found it a little vexing, the way Methode never failed to try to touch her ears one way or another. In fact, out of the humans she’d shared dalliances with, almost all of them had had that same fixation on that specific body part.
It’s curiosity, then, that prompts her to nibble at Methode’s ear, but besides some minor squirming, some of which Serie was pretty sure came from her continued ministrations on Methode’s chest, there isn’t much of a reaction.
Now, that wouldn’t do, would it?
“Erregen.”
Although she’d initially brushed ’the localised sensitization spell’ off as yet another useless spell, a mind-control spell with so little impact on a battle that it wasn’t even worth the amount of mana it took to cast, let alone the time, but having lived plenty awhile, she’d eventually found herself with nothing better to do than to learn it on a whim.
It seemed to be paying off now; when Serie tried again, nibbling, licking, and kissing at her earlobe, she stiffened up considerably, nearly managing to close her legs before a quick muttering of ‘Fesseln’ bound them to the sides of the bed.
She was actively whimpering now, her attempts to turn and try to grab at Serie quickly thwarted by another cast of the binding spell, trapping Methode’s arms together in a mostly comfortable, yet completely impenetrable rope.
“Hm… What to do now?”
Now that magic was on the table, Serie found herself with too many options to choose from. Even if it wasn’t exactly the type she actively seeked out, thousands upon thousands of years had given Serie just about anything one could imagine. She’d certainly earned the title of the living grimoire.
“Entblößen.”
In the end, she’d settled on a simple revealing spell. Waving her hand, she was unsurprised to see that her nethers, chest, and mouth all glowed a bright pink, indicating their existence as erogenous regions, but what surprised her, or rather, didn’t really, was…
“So, you’d like it for me to do this, then?”
“I’d l-love that.”
Tugging at her hair, Serie almost scoffed at how quickly Methode agreed, though the noises, the unadulterated moans of pleasure sneaking past the pillow’s confines along with the now ruined bedsheet, it tempers Serie’s irritation, even if just a little bit.
“Serie, t-touch, tou‒”
“Decorum. Erregen.”
This time, when Serie lets go of her, she doesn’t just whimper, she whines, but when she tries to grind against the bedsheets for some form of stimulation, but her attempt to take advantage of the spell Serie’s just cast on her pussy is for naught as Serie floats her off the bed’s surface, still chained to it but how too far to rub against it, unable to so much as rub her thighs together as her legs are still chained apart.
“Lady… Lady Serie, please.”
“That’s better.”
There’s another whimper as Serie pats her head, flying up so that she’s above her before rubbing at her crotch with the bony top of her foot.
Just like with her ears, these humans’ obsession with her feet was perplexing, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take advantage of it. Drinking the now unfiltered moans and whines flowing from Methode’s lips, feeling the arousal dripping from her core, leaking past Serie’s foot and down onto the bed sheets, she keeps rubbing against her, one hand tugging at Methode’s hair while the other alternates between her breasts, a sound of disappointment escaping Methode in the brief pauses between switches.
For Methode, it’s all just right and far too much at the same time. While Serie keeps her touches feather-light, especially with her foot, the heightened sensitivity from the spell combined with the mere thought that Serie’s the one doing all of this to her, it’s too much for her to handle, and, and oh gods, she’s wants to come, she needs to cum, she’s about to cum‒
“Ah, ah, ah. Not yet. Kommenhalten.”
This time, there’s a loud keening that prompts Serie to make sure her soundproofing of her room is still intact, recasting several silencing spells just in case before letting Methode collapse back onto the bed.
“L-lady Serie, why, or what…?”
Looking down at her stomach, there’s a fairly suggestive crest that Methode recalls from various pieces of her private literature, though rather than the center of it being empty, it instead displays the number ‘1’.
“You were having trouble holding yourself together, so I lent some aid. Of course the effects are only temporary, so once I end the spell, you’ll be in for a treat, but let’s say that’s your reward. As for now…”
She wonders if she’s bitten off more than she can chew, but even as pathetic whimpers stream out of her, one after the other, she finds herself bucking her hips hard into Serie’s waiting limbs.
And it’s the most pleasant torture Methode can imagine, starting with Serie rubbing, grinding the sole of her foot into her before changing her movements, sliding it left and right to a much greater reaction, then switching to her ankle, rubbing the bone on the side of it right up and down her opening, and Methode swears she’s forgetting how to breath, except it’s not that, and Serie just has her in the most mind-numbing kiss she’s ever experienced, and‒did she just cast ‘ Erregen’ on her mouth? Methode doesn’t really care. She’s only vaguely aware of the number in the crest growing larger and larger until it’s well into the double digits.
Sweet, sweet agony is all Methode feels, unable to find even an ounce of release as Serie casts another spell she doesn’t hear, switching to her mouth, casting a quick sanitation spell between Methode’s legs before licking and lapping at her juices, using another spell Methode doesn't recognize to conjure a quartet of spectral hands that continue to grope at her chest, tug at her hair, finger her mouth, all while Serie takes long, dragging licks up and into Methode, making sure to stimulate all the right parts as she does so, every little motion sending pleasure coursing up her spine and loud, desperate mewls from her mouth, and she needs a release, she’s begging for a release, and she wants to touch herself but her hands are still bound and even if she could, it would just be denied anyway‒
“Hm. The spell should run out at any time now, so I’d brace myself if I were you‒”
And then it hits her all at once, the overwhelming pleasure almost knocking her unconscious as she nearly rips the sheets she’s grasping apart, her thighs clamping down on Serie’s head so hard she has to use escape magic to free herself.
In about ten minutes, it’s finally over and now, she simply lies there, almost gasping for air as Serie looms over her.
“If that’s all, I’ll be cleaning this, then‒”
“What about you?”
What about her indeed? Serie had been content with ending this night here and now, finally getting some much needed rest, but with Methode having grabbed her, flipped her on her back and restrained her…
“Ten minutes. And one spell.”
It would be a waste to let it go now.
“Aufwachen.”
Having heard of that spell before, Serie reflexively tensed before stopping herself from throwing up a barrier as she let Methode tuck Serie’s head into her chest, their shared breaths ringing in Serie’s ears as a faint glow spread across her. At first, she wasn’t sure of what exactly Methode was playing at, but as seconds passed, she felt the texture of her scant clothing beginning to change, becoming heavier and smooth, almost like skin before little bumps started forming. These newly awakened cilia got to work without pause, rubbing against Serie’s skin, a million tiny appendages teasing the outside of her entrance, her chest, every part of her covered by cloth was fair game as Methode merely sat back and watched.
For her part, while the spell was certainly impressive, the actual effect wasn’t necessarily something Serie would have used the one and only spell she’d been permitted for. The only part of it that couldn’t be replicated through non-magical means was its simultaneous nature‒her dress grinding against her nipples, clit, and skin all at the same time, squeezing, tweaking, and rubbing with an amount of pressure just too strong to ignore, too light to be pleasurable, and, and…
“You’re patting my head?”
“Is there a problem with that?”
“Not per say…”
It was a rather odd combination, the warm, wholesome familiarity of Methode’s hands running through Serie’s hair, head laid comfortably in her chest juxtaposed against the decidedly less wholesome way her now living clothes were playing with her‒and had Methode altered the intensity? She might have picked out a few moments of muttering from behind her, but they’d mostly been quiet whispers of ‘you’re so adorable’ and the like that Serie was already quite used to.
“You’re a little tense, Lady Serie.”
“What… could have given that impression?”
The fondling was starting to veer into pleasurable territory, Serie having found herself cut off by a particularly strong tug at her mound and while she kept her expression mostly passive, she could feel her legs starting to shake a little, her breaths growing shallower as Methode pressed her lips against Serie’s neck, suckling gently.
“Mmm. Salty.”
“It’s sweat. You’re gross.”
“You’re beautiful.”
She really was an idiot, how she said the most inane things at the most inane times, and used such roundabout methods of touching her, though even as Serie thought this, a renewed surge of caresses sent more spasms down her spine as an almost imperceptible whimper escaped her lips‒
“That was a very cute sound you just made, Serie.”
Almost, of course, wasn’t good enough, and now, Serie wondered who the real idiot was. Was it the one who regularly treated one of the greatest mages of all time with such irreverence, merely someone cute to be embraced? Or was it the person who passed them, fully knowing about this, later allowing that same individual into her bed and clothes?
“You’re getting rather wet down there.”
“That’s… the goal.”
“And your face is red.”
“In… indeed.”
“Your ears too.”
“Don’t.”
“I won’t. Would you allow me to touch you more thoroughly?”
At first, Serie seems as though she’s going to refuse, rebuke Methode with that same stoic expression she usually wears, but with a few moments where Methode stimulates the speed at which the nubs stimulate Serie’s before cutting it off almost altogether save for slow, teasing movements, Serie gives a sound somewhere between a sigh of exasperation and a moan of desperation before freeing herself from Methode’s grasp, laying flat on her back as she pulled her nightgown up and off, her panties to the side, and…
“Eat.”
Methode doesn’t have to be told twice, lapping, licking at the juices still trickling out of Serie, fingering at her nub while her tongue explores Serie’s insides, and she feels all the clenching, the twitching and the feeling of Serie’s thighs squeezing against her head just feels so fucking good that she can’t help but stop, taking a moment fo kiss them, taking long, dragging licks at them before Serie digs her heel into Methode’s shoulder, redirecting her back to her pussy, both of them giving a low moan as they do.
A minute passes, then two, then ten, and Methode starts to get a little confused; Serie’s still pushing as hard as ever, whines and little grunts of desperation escaping her, but nothing major and now, Methode pulls back for a moment.
“Something wrong?”
Having noticed the slight look of worry on Methode’s face, Serie decides against commanding her to return to her original position.
“…Resting my jaw for a moment, Lady Serie.”
“Would healing magic speed that process?”
Raising an eyebrow, Methode briefly steps off of the bed, digging around for a bit before pulling out her scripture, inquiring:
“I thought I was only allowed one spell?”
“…Elves take their time. I figured I should respect yours.”
“You’ll cum faster with the help of magic?”
“If you say something like that ever again, I’m going… I’m going to… silence you…”
Even as her irritation surges at that comment, her thoughts and words trail off as renewed arousal flows into her, the upper living underwear she has still stimulating her as Methode fingers her, and the sounds of pleasure escaping her are still restrained for now, but they’re growing louder by the second, and any moment, the dam’s going to burst, and Serie’s going to make full use of those silencing charms…
“Hinzufügen.”
And then, Methode picks her up into a full princess carry, and Serie shouldn’t be surprised at how easily she does, given her background, but in the name of the Goddess, if that doesn’t send a full flush down her face, then the third arm Methode’s conjured that’s now inside her certainly does.
“Mmmn…”
It’s a little unclear which of Methode or Serie makes that sound, Methode having lifted her high enough to reach up for a kiss, but the new position is undeniably effective as rivulets flow from Serie onto the bed, pooling with Methode’s earlier mess until Serie can no longer kiss back, moans spilling into open air as Methode continues, squeezing Serie tight as she keeps going, never losing her technique as she tweaks at Serie’s clit, licks at her shoulders, her neck, her ears…
It’s no small affair when Serie finally cums, squirting out onto the bed alongside a keening that tapers off as Methode guides her down, bit by bit until they’re both left there, Methode standing and Serie in her arms, both breathing heavily before they go in for another kiss.
Except this time, even as Methode thinks the whole affair to be over, Serie retakes the lead, once again binding Methode to the bed, taking off the last piece of living clothing as her still slick chest gleams in the moonlight before pulling Methode into yet another mind-melting kiss, groping at her butt, and Methode realizes that she’s going to have to be the one to break this off if she wants any amount of sleep tonight.
“S-L-Lady Serie, p-please, give me a moment.”
“A moment? Of course.”
But even as Serie backs off, even as Methode gets a chance to recover, catch her breath, that hunger in Serie’s eyes never goes away, staring right through Methode and igniting a heat in her she didn’t know she still had as she simply states:
“After all, we have all the time in the world.”