Chapter Text
Westlie was the most unsociable person Morgan knew, so she never pictured her married or pregnant but she’d never pictured her adopting an orphan from Port Prosper either. So she probably had a bad imagination.
At any rate, Westlie wasn’t married. Yet.
But she was, very clearly, very undeniably, pregnant.
Morgan had known a week after Elijah left London. Westlie bumped into her and two golden ties flashed before Morgan’s eyes instead of one. She’d panicked, fled the second they dropped Lizzie off at school, and spent the afternoon hauling carts on the docks until she couldn’t feel her feet. Westlie learned a few days later when she offhandedly said she felt ‘off’ and her younger sister almost choked to death on breakfast. The changes were usually faint: Westlie was good at hiding when she was tired, grumpy, or hungry. But the predominant one was impossible at five months in.
Westlie had always had more curves than Morgan, but in between the baby and shoveling food into her mouth, she was getting curves. She spent her evenings taking out hems and quietly panicking when another skirt didn’t fit. And every morning when she got up, it was harder for Morgan to ignore the curve of her belly extending a little further against her nightgown.
Her breasts were filling out too. Morgan tried not to notice, because she didn’t like noticing, but they’d started bulging over the top of her corset and it made her stomach ache in an unfamiliar, bittersweet way.
She tried not to think about it. Morgan was busy, and so was Lizzie – and Westlie too really; she still worked at Jamison’s – so ‘not thinking’ about Elijah and Westlie and Change was easy. It was only at night, when Morgan turned her back to undress, she felt like there were words to say, even if she couldn’t fathom what they were.
Whatever they were, Westlie’s happiness was more important; and Westlie was happy. Morgan had always dismissed ‘pregnancy glow’ as a load of poppycock, but there was no other way to describe Westlie’s face when she smiled, and impossible to notice anything else in her presence. Morgan couldn’t even be grumpy that Westlie was still happy despite ‘side effects’ since the mood swings that plagued her first months had stopped. So she was more annoyed (worried) than sympathetic (irritated) when Westlie’s attitude soured throughout the week.
Morgan jumped as Westlie’s vest hit the wall behind her.
“Fucking-”
She snuck a peek. Westlie furiously struggled to loosen her corset strings. “What was that?”
“Nothing!”
Morgan closed her eyes and centered her patience. “Strings?”
“I’m fine. Shirtstupidthing-”
Morgan scowled and watched Westlie’s clearly not-fine back as she unlatched her corset and groaned in frustration like she’d already forgotten Morgan was there. She hurled it in the direction of the vest.
“What’s wrong?”
“I am so done-” Westlie snapped, whirling around with a furious throttling motion; furnishing Morgan with a salacious view of her breasts. Her camisole was wet and they were- Yes, they were definitely larger.
Morgan blushed and glued her eyes to Westlie’s face. Not that Westlie noticed or cared mid-rant. “Wes!”
“It doesn’t matter! Stop asking!”
“Do you- I mean- is there any way I can help? I can get-”
Westlie pretended to throttle her again. “Now?! Oh, you don’t have to pretend to care-”
“I said if you want!”
“You haven’t looked me in the eye in a month!”
“What are you talking about?!”
“We haven’t talked since last Tuesday!”
Morgan stared at her. “What-”
“You think you can just waltz around ignoring me when I’m trying to work through it- I’m trying to do a good fucking job- It’s been like this for over a month and I certainly haven’t gotten a break the last two weeks, so why care now?!”
Westlie pretended to throttle her one more time and dropped heavily on the mattress. She pulled her knee up to take off her stockings, struggling to maneuver around her middle. She finally hurled the stockings after the vest and camisole. She caught Morgan staring. “Ugh! Turn around!”
Morgan blinked and whirled around. Sure, she gave Westlie space, but they slept in the same room. Not talking was impossible; they’d talked about mending the night before last. Maybe they talked less, but they certainly talked.
She heard rustling for another minute as Westlie pulled on her nightgown. Eventually the bedframe creaked and Westlie pulled up the covers. Morgan glanced over out of the corner of her eye: Westlie was curled up on her side of the bed with only her hair visible from under the quilt.
Oh perfect. Now she felt guilty. Morgan rolled her eyes and sighed before remembering Westlie could hear her exasperation.
Silence.
Morgan pursed her lips. “… Wes.”
“What.”
“… I do want to help.”
“You can’t help. Just go to sleep. I’m sorry I yelled.”
“… Wes.”
Silence.
Morgan wordlessly centered herself. “… I’m not going anywhere.”
“Stop being stubborn.”
“I’m not being stubborn. You’re being stubborn. And sulking.”
Westlie sniffed.
Morgan barely refrained from sororicide. “Tell me what’s wrong. I want to help. Even if I can’t do anything-”
“I just have to deal with it.”
“Fine, Madame ‘I-have-to-deal-with-it’. I’m not stopping you. But maybe you shouldn’t deal with it alone.”
Westlie figure curled up tighter under the covers, then after a long minute, unfurled a little. “… Fine.”
Morgan sighed. “… You’re so fucking stubborn.”
“I’m so fucking tired,” Westlie said. She sulked.
“Why?”
Silence.
“Westlie, I’ve spent years in Leadbeater. I guarantee whatever part of biology you’re obsessing over, I already know it.”
Westlie paused mid-retort. “That’s… true…”
“Why do you think I reminded you?”
Westlie sighed and mumbled something unintelligible under the covers.
Normally, Morgan would’ve taken the hint and offered Westlie a string of Law to convey her emotions. It was an easy thing to do as a demi-Judgement, and Westlie’s emotions were usually more coherent when she could speak faster than sound. Alternatively, Westlie just wanted an easy out so she didn’t have to communicate like a normal human being. Morgan decided it was worth the practice.
Westlie stared at her under the covers, waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak mumble.”
“What now?! Why are you making this so embarrassing!”
“If Elijah was here, he wouldn’t understand.”
“Elijah’s not here. You’re here!”
“Westlie Faire, I am not using my Law to make up your shortcomings.”
Westlie glared at her for a full ten seconds before her shoulders straight up deflated and she slouched under the quilt in defeat. “… ‘m breasts hurt,” she mumbled again. Intelligibly though. “… Milk’s coming in. It hurts like hell.”
She looked so petulant Morgan almost felt sympathetic. “… Did you ask the midwife?”
“She said to massage them.”
“Did you?”
Westlie slid under the covers until they covered most of her face.
Morgan puffed out a breath. “Well, maybe you should try.”
“That’s weird though.”
“It can’t be worse than milking a goat.”
“I’m not a goat, and I have never milked a goat.”
“It’s easy.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the fucking goat. The goat says it hurts.”
“Well, you obviously need to try something.”
Westlie wrinkled her nose, cogs visibly turning. Red flags suddenly sprouted in Morgan’s gut. “… so you’ve milked a goat?”
“No.” Morgan lied.
“… if you did it, it might hurt less.”
“No.”
Westlie shoved herself upright and Morgan glued her eyes back to her face. “You said you’d help.”
Fuck.
The odd, queasy feeling she’d felt for weeks bubbled in her stomach as Morgan tried to weigh priorities. On one hand: of course she’d help. She could never refuse Westlie anything. On the other hand: did Westlie fucking hear herself?! Did a single fucking brain cell contemplate ‘have my sister massage my fucking tits?!’ No! No- no- no- no- no- no- no- no-?!
“… Please?”
… Stars, Westlie sounded exhausted.
Morgan sighed and refrained from kneading her eyeballs. “… Fine… How do you want to do this?”
Westlie blinked, like she hadn’t actually expected Morgan to agree. Which was stupid because of course she would help. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid pregnant woman. “R-right. I gues-” Westlie glanced around the bed, cheeks flushing.
Yeah, that’s right. Didn’t think about the consequences of your actions, did you.
“Actually-” Westlie mumbled. “-It’s not that bad-”
Morgan resisted another urge to drag her hands down her face. If the pregnant woman weren’t Westlie and Westlie weren’t her sister- “Scoot up,” she snapped.
Westlie meekly obeyed.
Morgan flopped on the bed and slid behind her until Westlie was effectively in her lap. Then she adjusted a pillow to lean on, officially putting them in the most awkward position two sisters had ever had. Morgan steadied herself with another deep breath. Nope. No matter how bad, Westlie on all fours like a real goat would always be substantially worse.
Substantially, substantially worse. Morgan blushed, boxed the thought into the garbage, and cursed her wandering mind.
Westlie neck was red in embarrassment. “Are you sure?” she croaked. “We don’t actually-”
“You said they hurt, didn’t you?”
“They do, but-”
“Well, let’s get it over with. Ms. Goat.”
Westlie turned redder, if that was even possible.
She edged back a little but stayed tense, hesitating for another minute until apparently she was too tired to fight it and Morgan felt the extra weight of Westlie’s middle settle against her. She sighed instinctively, too soft for Westlie to hear. She’d always thought of herself as ‘the smaller one’, but there was something fragile about the slump of Westlie’s shoulders that shifted the dynamic between them. Vulnerability, maybe. Morgan bit her tongue so she didn’t wrap her arms around Westlie’s waist.
Her sister sighed, weight sinking against Morgan just a little more, warm and comfo- Morgan blinked. Get a grip!
Regardless of comfort, Westlie’s neck was still red with embarrassment. Morgan would have to be the one to start this dumbassery, because gods knew Westlie was useless when embarrassed.
She took a breath, swallowed, (Fuck.), and slid the nightgown over Westlie’s shoulders.
Westlie froze like a brick. Of course. And her breasts were large enough to obstruct the neckline, forcing Morgan to tug. Westlie flinched.
“Does that hurt?”
“I- sort of.”
“… and you were walking around in a corset all day?”
She shrugged.
“… idiot,” Morgan muttered. Westlie sulked in pain.
Before… Elijah, if Morgan had been hanging off the edge of London at gunpoint, she would’ve described Westlie’s breasts as ‘small but supple’; enough to fill out a corset and no more. Now, up close, they were round and swollen; her nipples were the width of Morgan’s pinky, and Morgan had difficulty imagining them restrained at all.
She bit her lip. Most of her brain was still occupied screaming about how this was wrong, but the other half was… awe-struck? Curious? And as much as she wanted to reign it in, she was curious.
Morgan pushed a nipple to the side with a finger. It sprung back into place when she let it free and Westlie sucked in a breath. “… Ow.”
“Sorry,” Morgan said. “… they look longer.”
Westlie’s neck reddened again.
Fuck. Back to business. “I- Shit. What did the midwife say?”
“Massaging helps.”
“Right.” Morgan puffed out a breath. Summoning every ounce of courage, she wrapped her arms around Westlie’s chest and cupped her boobs with both hands. Her sister tensed like a board, in too much pain for it to be awkward. Morgan bit her lip and lightly brushed both nipples. “This alright?”
“Do- do whatever. It hurts.” Westlie squeezed her eyes tight.
Right. Morgan refocused on the problem. It wasn’t a terrible problem to have, all things considered. Westlie’s breasts were deliciously large; soft and swollen in her hands. Far more pleasant than goat udders. Morgan blushed and erased the thought.
“… This might hurt at first…” She swallowed and squeezed both breasts, pressing with her thumb until she reached the nipple in a long, painful milking motion.
Westlie yelped and shrank away from the touch.
“S-sorry. Starting is hard.” Morgan did the motion again, feeling the flesh shift under her thumbs.
Westlie let out a choked gasp.
“Relax,” Morgan whispered.
“I- I can’t-”
She did it again before Westlie could flee, cutting off her words with another yelp.
Come on, Morgan squeezed again. Leak you milky bitch!
It took two more tries before a tiny white bead formed on the tip of each nipple. Westlie held her breath. Morgan held it, distracted as the milk welled up.
“Morgan, stop!”
Morgan instinctively dropped her hands and Westlie dropped back, breathing hard. Fuck. She hurt her. Morgan tentatively wrapped her arms around Westlie’s shoulders, careful not to reach too low, and pulled her closer. She leaned her head against her in apology and Westlie leaned back. Morgan’s sighed gratefully. I’m sorry. I love you.
After several minutes, they’d fully sunk against each other. Morgan rested her chin on Westlie’s shoulder, sleep slowly creeping up on her despite the circumstances. She absentmindedly stroked Westlie’s arm with her thumb.
“You alright?”
“Mmhm. Just hurt for a minute.”
Morgan was in the perfect position to turn her head and kiss Westlie’s neck. Maybe Elijah had been in this exact position. She considered it.
“… they leaked all day,” Westlie finally said. “They just won’t leak now.”
Why the hell had she been staring at her sister’s neck for a full minute?
“Well, I guess the pressure is different…. And you were more relaxed.”
Westlie sighed. Her hands shifted to her belly and she caressed it softly through the fabric. Her belly had definitely passed the point of obfuscation, even with her corset, but it was… larger than Morgan realized up close. “Can you try again? I’ll be ready this time.”
Right. She had a job to do. Maybe stimulation would help. Morgan rolled her sister’s nipples gently between her thumb and forefinger.
Westlie flinched back into Morgan’s lap at the waves of pain, biting her lip. Her face was blush-red, belly just starting to bulge over her thighs and Morgan felt a sudden itch of desire to run her hands over Westlie’s belly. She blinked herself back to reality and massaged until milk budded on Westlie’s nipples again when she cupped them. It felt easier. And several drops of milk leaked out in quick succession.
“F-fuck.” Westlie’s breath hitched.
Morgan grinned into Westlie’s hair and squeezed again. “That feel better?’
“Well, it hur-” The dribble turned into a weak stream and Westlie sank against her with a whine of relief. “Ow.”
Morgan continued guiding the milk to Westlie’s teats. Despite the obscenity, it was similar to milking a goat, and Morgan flushed. Gods, she was milking her pregnant sister’s tits. Morgan bit her lip as a shudder of awe and horror ran down her spine. Was this even real?
The hard part was done, anyway. The room was quiet and Westlie was… was just lying in her arms, warm and tender and precious. Morgan squeezed again and Westlie’s breath hitched, spurring a protective instinct so strong Morgan nuzzled her hair. Westlie smelled like tea. Lady grey, and old books, and pregnancy.
Oh stars, she’d just nuzzled her sister’s hair. What the f-
Westlie sank against her and sighed, breaking Morgan’s train of thought. Then she sighed one more time, letting out the rest of the tension she’d been carrying. Morgan continued milking. “Thank you,” Westlie murmured. “I… I didn’t know it was that bad. … ‘s feels good.”
There was something Morgan found soothing about the repetitive motion too. Probably her protective streak that kept wanting to curl around Westlie and keep her close. I’d milk you all day. Morgan blinked and threw the thought violently in the waste bin.
“Oh good. They look like they hurt.”
“They do.” Westlie grinned sheepishly, her eyes still shut. “They’ve ached for a while now, but this week was so awful-”
Morgan switched to massaging rather than squeezing, rolling the fatty mounds of flesh in her hands and circling up to the base with her thumb. Steady streams of milk soaked into the nightgown. Westlie groaned and sank against her further. “’s like a popped cork.”
“Maybe you’ll listen to the midwife next time.”
“I told you, I tried. Nothing came out; they just hurt.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. Still, if Westlie had been as tense as when they started, no wonder lactating seemed hard and painful.
After several minutes, Westlie’s breasts were no longer swollen; and after a few more, the milk slowed to the occasional drip- and Morgan’s thumbs were sore. She wrapped her arms under Westlie’s wet chest, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Better?”
“So much.” Her sister sounded half asleep.
Morgan shifted away to climb into her hammock, but Westlie caught her arm. “Stay? Please?”
Morgan screamed internally, but her arm instinctively wrapped over her sister, tucking underneath her empty boobs. God, she couldn’t refuse her anything. “Are you alright?”
“Tired,” Westlie murmured. “’s feels nice.”
Her boobs did feel nice like this. She’d just… extract herself later. Morgan smiled into Westlie’s hair. “Yeah,” she murmured softly. “It does.”
Notes:
90% of my ships are "These two characters should never be shipped. But if....?"
Chapters will be titled roughly by chronological order. I wrote 90% of these at 3am so the continuity is pretty off, especially because I was fucking around with the beginning wondering HOW it would happen if it ever would, and I might add those later. But it was so much fun to play in this stupid fluffy chaotic sandbox. Also, Lizzie essentially doesn't exist in this fic for obvious reasons lol.
If I were smarter I'd make a 'lady of the garden'-'trimming bushes’ joke here but I’m not so you’ll have to come up with it yourself.
Chapter 2: 2.0
Chapter Text
They didn’t talk about it, of course.
Probably a good thing. Morgan had no idea what she would or should say about the interaction. The whole thing still felt surreal. The only tangible evidence was Westlie’s noticeable lack of grumpiness, which Lizzie decided to abuse to its full potential.
Otherwise, the memory only existed when she saw her sister and Morgan was forced to remember she’d milked her?! Westlie’s breasts had been cupped in her hands and felt so heavy until she’d squeezed and tugged and Westlie just fell asleep in her lap-
Well. Nothing to it. She’d been happy to help.
Morgan decided to throw the whole memory in the garbage, for peace of mind.
The next few days passed smoothly. Westlie even joked about letting out the sides of her corset every morning, and the linen she stuffed in the top to soak up milk. But over the next few days, to Morgan’s mild annoyance, her expression shifted into the same pained tightness as before.
After a full week of nothing but irritated quips, Morgan set an ambush in their bedroom and pounced on Westlie the second she shut the bedroom door. “… You haven’t been doing it.”
“Doing what?”
Morgan glared at her.
Westlie thought about it for more than half a second.
“Oh.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t-” Westlie puffed out her cheeks. “It’s not that bad.”
Morgan poked her chest and Westlie flinched.
“… Fine. We can do it tonight.”
“We?”
“You and I.” Westlie blushed crimson as it sank in what she said. “Well, I thought you’d help.”
“Once!”
“Oh.”
Westlie blinked and her eyes slowly began to panic, like she was trying to imagine the pain, process, cleanup, and solutions to the universe.
It wasn’t that complicated. Then again, Morgan hadn’t been specific about when and conditions to her assistance, so some confusion was probably valid and she felt a bit guilty. She tapped Westlie’s nose gently and her sister blinked. “Wes?”
“I’m fine. I’m just… thinking.”
“Stop thinking. You’re giving me a complex.”
Westlie shot her a non-threatening glare and turned around to undo her vest. Her shoulders were stiff, fingers a little rushed, which meant her mind was stewing on rejection and embarrassment. Morgan watched, wondering if she should intervene; half-annoyed, half-concerned. Westlie managed to undress though; she almost seemed fine until she reached her corset and pulled the wrong string; the laces congealed in two knots at her back. She sniffled.
Morgan reached for her back. “I’ve got it.”
“No, it’s fine! I have it-” Westlie fumbled with the knot, clawing at it with nails too short to catch. “-I think.”
You don’t have to have it. Stop trying to do everything.
It took two minutes for Westlie to give up, and she stood quietly in defeat while Morgan untied the knots and loosened the corset; Westlie winced. Then she sniffed again, grinning. “Thanks.”
“’course.”
She edged out of it, careful to keep her back to Morgan. Her lip was probably quivering.
She set the corset down on the chair and suddenly broke in a choked half-laugh. “Oh- I hate this-”
“What?”
“I’m so stupid.” Westlie managed to laugh and sniff at the same time. “Oh- this is so dumb.” Her voice sounded upbeat, but Morgan was intimately familiar with that sound of determined longsuffering, and the headstrong set of her shoulders Arthur and Fairweather had cultivated. Goddamn it.
“You’re not stupid, Wes.”
“It’s- No- ugh-” Westlie laughed awkwardly as she wiped her eyes. “Oh, that’s so stupid- I’m not sad. I don’t know why-”
Every bone in Morgan’s body ached to do something instead of just watching awkwardly across the room. Her older sister cried so rarely; the urge to make it better stung. Morgan swallowed. “Wes, it’s fine.”
“Fuck- ‘m sorry. It’s not fine-”
“Westlie-”
“It’s not fine. You’re right. I should be doing this myself-” Morgan could almost hear her lip quivering.
“No, stop it. Stop- You know this isn’t you.”
“I know.” Westlie threw up her hands at Morgan. “Stars- I know it’s not me. That’s why it’s worse. ‘s stupid! I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t be-”
She squeezed her eyes shut, breath quivering as she tried not to burst into tears.
Morgan swallowed. “… You can sit down.”
“I don’t-!” Westlie bit her tongue for five long seconds, still trembling. Then her shoulders slowly, softly deflated. “Y-yeah. Sure.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and hugged her belly.
Morgan stood to the side, quietly cursing herself for being so awkward and not knowing what to do. After a moment, Westlie held her hand out in a quiet plea. That was easy. Morgan sat next to her and took it. Their fingers wove together instinctively, less learned and more desperate, and Westlie squeezed until Morgan's palm ached.
The moment felt like hours. Eventually Westlie's grip relaxed and her shoulders slowly softened, the arm around the baby loosening into a caress. Her face was still knit with worry though. Morgan felt the question coming before Westlie said it. "... Is- are they alright?"
Morgan still felt shock whenever she brushed against her sister and there were two strings instead of one. Not that it felt wrong, just- just strange, and she tried to avoid it. The baby could feel her, and if Morgan tugged too hard on Westlie's string, both would respond. She swallowed and closed her eyes as she squeezed Westlie's hand.
The baby felt startled, but not alarmed. Both golden strings were solid and tight. “Yes.”
“Oh good, I didn’t feel them move; I-”
“Wes.”
Westlie opened her eyes and Morgan instinctively squeezed her hand back.
“It’s okay. Nothing’s wrong.”
“You wou-”
“Of course. Everything’s okay.”
Westlie sighed softly and squeezed her hand again. After another minute she hesitated and leaned their shoulders together. “… Sorry.”
Don’t be.
“Are you okay?”
“Just-” Westlie sighed. The baby stretched inside her and Morgan noticed Westlie’s thumb make unconscious circles. “Too much. To think about.”
“… It’s been a while.”
“Since it was that bad?” Westlie smiled.
“Mmm.”
“True.” Westlie hesitated. “… I hate it. Feels like my whole body loses control-”
Morgan spoke before Westlie could lose herself in the memory. “I should’ve been more clear.”
“About…? Oh. Oh- that’s-” her cheeks grew pink. “-No, you were reasonable. I don’t know why I thought…”
“I don’t mind though.” Morgan suddenly heard her mouth say, even though she’d known what she was going to say, and that had been it. “If it hurts that much, it makes no sense to do it alone.”
Westlie blinked and glanced at her. “You… you don’t have to.”
“’s alright.” Morgan’s brain scrambled to catch up with her emotions. Any resistance crumbled like soft butter. “I want to help. I just- I mean- It didn’t- I don’t think it felt weird. Did it… feel weird to you?”
Westlie bit her lip. “… I feel guilty. You shouldn’t have to-”
Don’t. She squeezed Westlie’s hand. “I want you safe; and not in pain.”
Westlie snorted softly. “... Well... thanks. It'd... it'd help.” Her blush darkened and she glanced away. “... and help now, I guess.”
“Like before?”
Westlie nodded. She awkwardly let go of Morgan’s hand and Morgan finished taking off her boots before sitting up in bed. Westlie leaned back, almost making Morgan laugh how relaxed she felt compared to before. The trust warmed her chest though. Maybe this agreement was stupid, or weird, but Westlie trusted her to do it. Morgan smiled into her sister’s hair at the thought.
She looked down and felt the blood rushing to her cheeks though. Somehow Westlie had grown larger in a week and her swollen breasts looked like they’d barely fit in her hands. Her nipples were definitely longer too, and Morgan couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to press her lips against smooth skin and run her tongue-
No! Morgan scrubbed her mind and started kneading with her thumbs, pressing harder bit by bit and relaxing whenever Westlie tensed. The moments of pain grew less frequent though, and eventually Westlie sighed, full weight sinking back into Morgan and scandalously showing off her chest. Morgan tried not to look, but the scene felt magnetic, and it was right there. The generous curve of Westlie’s belly from the nightgown slipping lower. Her teats, bright red from the- was it massaging? fondling, really; with milk streaming down her breasts. And Westlie’s face, sweet and calm with her eyes closed, and lips so flush they probably felt like satin.
No, she could not touch Westlie’s lips. Burrower Above-
Morgan struggled against the blush and forced herself not to break rhythm. Skin didn’t have that much of an effect on her before, even though she swung both ways well enough. People had always just been… people to her; and there were more interesting things to do with her time than deal with niceties and social constructs and ensuring satisfactory conclusions for both parties. Not that she hadn’t fooled around in the Leadbeater dormitories, she’d just never accepted an offer without being friends and knowing them first. And skin definitely hadn’t had this effect when the huntresses walked in from showering with their tops off.
Morgan’s brain helpfully merged thoughts into a Huntress-Westlie drying her hair as she stepped out of the shower, completely bare, with nothing left to the imagination- sporting the sweet curve of her belly that was getting bigger by the day-
NOPE.
Morgan blinked wildly and burned the image. Oh god, her face was red. She mentally swore and hoped Westlie wouldn’t open her eyes. Stars, what the hell was wrong with her today?
Westlie’s breath caught and it jerked Morgan back to reality.
“-Sorry. Did that hurt?’
“N-no. You’re fine. S- They got me in the ribs. The kicks are worse than the milking.” She grinned.
Morgan couldn’t tell if it was the quirk of Westlie’s mouth or the way she leaned, or the simple fact she was half-naked in her lap; but the maternal smile of happy longsuffering was with her, not at her, like there was a future after this and she wouldn’t disappear. And for twenty full seconds, Morgan’s head spun too hard to breathe.
Westlie was too busy wincing to notice. Thank fuck. She pushed herself upright at another kick, groaning. “… I know. I’m here.”
“Do you…?”
“No, they’ll stop in a minute.” Westlie puffed out a breath. “They just- mm- decided to pick now to exercise.”
Morgan leaned back, missing Westlie’s warmth. “Do you think they’ll sleep soon?”
“Mm. Maybe.” Westlie puffed out a breath and slid her nightgown back over her shoulders. “I won’t be able to- sleep though. Might as well read something, I think.” She shot Morgan a sheepish smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Morgan finished undressing, rolled herself in her hammock, and covered her head with the quilt. The second there were no actions to think about, her heart pumped faster and faster, like she was running across London. Except the only place the blood could go was her face.
The sensation of losing Westlie’s weight against her chest replayed over and over in her mind, echoed by that odd, uncontrollable ache. The frightened, reasonable, logical half of Morgan’s brain suspected one emotion in particular. But it wasn’t that because Morgan had never felt that before. And besides, that would be unreasonable, and very, very bad.
So it definitely wasn’t that.
Chapter 3: 3.0
Notes:
This chapter is lightly edited for continuity but still has a pretty big time skip and emotional skip that should've been overhauled imo. But this scene had some of my favorite lines that I refuse to cut so Morgan is just a horny simpleton. :P
Chapter Text
They settled on every three days.
Every three days, Morgan plastered on a helpful smile that didn’t reach her eyes and pretended the ache in her stomach wasn’t growing larger by the day in a surprising parallel to Westlie’s curves. Morgan still tried to look away when Westlie pulled off her camisole, but her sister had gotten rather shameless about it and sometimes Morgan couldn’t fight the urge. Like now. When she was still leaking milk from wearing her corset and pulling her nightgown over her head.
Morgan swallowed before she realized she was staring.
God, they were getting more and more swollen. Westlie’s nipples had definitely grown in preparation for the baby too. Now they stuck out half an inch at least, begging for someone to suck on them.
“I can.”
Morgan blinked at her own voice.
“Hm?”
She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I thought you were asking for help.” Good save, Lady of the fucking Garden.
Westlie blushed. “… that obvious?”
Morgan fought her blush. “Sure. I mean. You’re leaking. Everywhere, actually.”
Westlie blushed and looked away, and Morgan nearly shoved her face between her sister’s legs and started licking.
GOD.
What was she turning into? When did this start? Why-?
Westlie sat down on the bed and groaned. It took willpower of steel to drag herself behind Westlie and not sigh in pleasure as her sister nestled between Morgan’s legs.
Westlie leaned back in total innocence, sighing as her head hit Morgan’s chest. “It gets worse every three days you know.”
“Mm.” Morgan almost choked at the thought of Westlie’s face asking her for every other day. She swallowed, trailing her fingers over Westlie’s arms. It felt like sin as her fingers started to trace Westlie’s already leaking breasts. Sin. But so delicious.
She’d tried to yank herself out of the slow, downward spiral, but her gut was beginning to win more and more, especially when Westlie was sitting in her lap. Now she could only be guilty that she wanted her own damn sister so badly.
Morgan pressed one of Westlie’s nipples and milk spilled down her belly. Fuck it. She couldn’t stand it.
“Wes?”
“Hm?”
“Can I-” Morgan’s throat was bone dry. “It’s a pity we’re just- wasting it, really.”
Westlie turned a little to look at her and her weight rubbed uncomfortably against Morgan’s thighs. They were both a little flushed. “You’d… do that? I thought- Well, I… wanted to, kind of, so I’d know how it feels. But it felt demeaning.”
Demeaning if Westlie was God and she was the worm allowed to suck on her tits. Morgan snorted. “Sure.”
They switched positions. Westlie stole another pillow to lean against, and Morgan eyed her belly cautiously. “Should I lean…? I don’t want it to hurt-”
“Oh, it won’t.” Westlie was so sure of it, Morgan blushed. “Just lay against it.”
Morgan lay against her belly and a wet nipple immediately pressed itself against her lips. N-None of this could be real, could it? Had she died? Morgan glanced up. Westlie was blushing, but waiting expectantly. Another drop of milk hit her lip.
Morgan tentatively licked her lips. The milk was… warm, but there wasn’t enough to taste. Which was a shame, the urge in her chest said. Morgan wanted to taste her. Instinctively Morgan’s lips wrapped around Westlie’s teat and she swirled her tongue in the stream of warm milk. Sweet. Thick. Creamy.
Westlie gasped and Morgan opened her eyes as a wave of red spread across her sister’s face.
She couldn’t resist a shit-eating grin. Morgan opened her mouth a little more to fit more inside before curling her tongue over Westlie’s nipple and sucking.
Westlie moaned and Morgan forced herself not to look up as she slowly turned beet red too. Before she could process, she had to swallow again, and Morgan realized Westlie’s body was responding instinctively to the demand for milk. A little dribbled out her mouth when she didn’t swallow fast enough, and she shuddered when Westlie softly wiped it away with her thumb.
After a minute, Morgan’s stomach felt a bit heavy, like she’d shotgunned a glass of water, but she’d be damned if that was all she was going to drink.
Morgan nosed into Westlie’s breast, not missing the soft moan as she sucked harder. You like it, don’t you? Morgan couldn’t even blush. You like your sister milking and nursing your teats. Good. Because- fuck- you taste amazing. I’m never drinking anything else again.
Drinking was faster than milking though. Morgan resisted a groan of disappointment when no matter how hard she sucked, she only yielded a few drops. Westlie smiled a little, flushed, as she pulled up her empty breast. “You’re… efficient.”
Morgan moved to her other side, crossing her fingers she hid how badly she wanted to keep sucking, even at empty tits. “Well… you- taste good.”
Westlie snorted. “You’re just saying that.”
I’m not, actually. Morgan rolled her eyes and licked her second swollen breast.
It had streamed milk the whole time Morgan drank from the first, so there was less milk, but it was just as delicious. Morgan groaned in pleasure as it filled her mouth. She cheekily nuzzled into Westlie, looking up in surprise when a hand stroked her hair. Oh god, Morgan’s chest squeezed and she almost forgot to swallow. Don’t do that. I’m going to like this more than I already- Westlie’s hand undid her braid and began to untangle it with her fingers. -do.
Fuck it.
Fuck it.
Morgan closed her eyes and tongued Westlie’s nipple, mouthing her breast and drinking every creamy, sinful drop. Mine. She thought instinctively. And she couldn’t bring herself to smack the growl of possession down. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Morgan drank carelessly, licking instead of swallowing right away, rolling her tongue around her nipple, milk trailing from the corner of her mouth. Which she could afford because there was just so much-
“S-stop! M-Morgan, stop.”
Westlie’s voice knocked her out of it like an egg on sidewalk. Morgan froze.
She glanced up, fear gripping her heart. Westlie’s hands were still clenched in Morgan’s hair, but her face was screwed up- in pleasure or pain Morgan couldn’t tell. And Westlie was panting, thighs twitching. Morgan immediately shoved herself up. “I’m- I’m sorry I- didn’t-”
Westlie clenched the sheets in her fist, gasping softly. She was flushed even more than usual, Morgan realized, and her eyes widened. “Did you-? … did I-?”
Westlie let go of the sheets and held her belly with both hands, panting like it would soften each aftershock. She nodded.
Morgan felt a guilty rush of pride and an equally cheeky rush of guilt. She leaned beside her sister and wrapped her arms around her as she trembled, resting her forehead softly against her cheek. It took a few more seconds for the shaking to stop and Westlie to collapse back on the pillows with a sigh.
“Sorry,” Morgan murmured.
“Ms. Magic Tongue.”
Morgan snorted. “Maybe you shouldn’t taste so good.”
Westlie raised an eyebrow and Morgan flushed when she realized what she said. Are we going to ignore that?
Her eyebrow fell and Morgan sighed internally in relief. Good. Good. We’re going to ignore that.
“Well, I clearly have enough milk. You don’t need to wait for me to ask.” Westlie’s face was dead serious. “Maybe just a little less… vigorous.” Then she cracked a smile.
Morgan’s body betrayed her with a wave of heat creeping up her neck. She buried her face in Westlie’s curls. “I… just got carried away.”
Westlie turned a little. When Morgan opened her eyes, she was an inch away. Her brown eyes were so soft, and if they leaned forward even half an inch, she’d be kissing those pale pink lips. Right there.
Westlie cupped her face. Morgan turned into it and kissed her hand instead. Which was pretty gay, in and of itself. On the list of things that were gay, kissing someone’s hand after they came because you nursed too hard was pretty far up on the list. Morgan decided her brain could stop talking.
“You are incorrigible,” Westlie whispered tenderly.
“Habit.”
Quarter of an inch.
Morgan didn’t even know if Westlie’s hand was drawing her closer or keeping her away. But she wanted to close her eyes, and if she closed her eyes, she was definitely going to lean forward-
Westlie kissed her cheek reverently.
Oh.
Morgan couldn’t shake the violent stab of disappointment.
Westlie leaned against her cheek softly though, smiling, completely unaware. “You’re a goofball,” she murmured.
Heh. Morgan couldn’t even think of anything saucy to retort. She leaned softly against Westlie in return though, her pregnant belly pressed between them. And it did help a little. “I know.”
Chapter Text
Morgan opened her eyes, smiling sleepily in contentment when she realized Westlie was nestled beside her. Several auburn curls had fallen over Westlie’s face as she slept, and her arm was snugly cradling her belly. There was a little flush in Westlie’s cheeks from the night before, and she looked so beautiful- unsure, but present and thoughtful. And naked.
Her udders – Morgan knew she should chide herself at the derogatory term, but she couldn’t help grinning at the use of ‘Westlie’ and ‘udders’ in the same sentence – were huge. She hadn’t been able to appreciate them in the glimpses she got from undressing, or- or fingering, or – ironically – nursing. But now they pressed over her arm with bright pink nipples and saucer-like areolae. A few faint veins were visible along the sides, and Morgan could almost see them inflating with milk.
She was suddenly parched. Morgan glanced up at Westlie’s face, then back at her chest.
Her sister did say she could drink whenever she liked.
Morgan inched down, careful not to shift the mattress, and pressed close, letting her breath warm Westlie’s nipples – but not enough Westlie stirred.
She carefully stuck out her tongue and held it there, waiting for the warmth to bring the two together. After a moment, Westlie sighed, and like a dream, she shifted forward, pressing her teat into Morgan’s mouth.
Dear God, this was heaven.
Morgan rubbed her tongue softly against Westlie’s nipple. Not enough to draw milk, but enough for Westlie to sigh in her sleep. She circles her nipple for a minute, hoping the motion would trigger all the unconscious spots in Westlie’s chest. And then she softly sucked. Creamy droplets dripped into her mouth and Morgan resisted the urge to moan and suck harder. She swirled Westlie nipple with her tongue, pulling it further into her warm mouth and she was generously rewarded.
After a few minutes, both breasts had let down and Morgan was barely sucking at all. She’d swallowed several mouthfuls when she heard soft panting. Fuck! She looked up. Westlie wasn’t awake thankfully, but her cheeks were flushed and she looked ready to stir. Morgan cautiously continued sucking.
A few moments later, Westlie lifted her arm from around her belly and, still very much asleep, ran her fingers through Morgan’s hair and pressed her closer.
That was not part of the plan, but Morgan wasn’t going to be the one to complain.
She sucked just a little harder, savoring the rush of sweet milk that flooded her mouth each time. Stars, she almost wished Elijah had knocked Westlie up earlier because god she’d been missing out. She could’ve been waking up every morning to her sister’s tits swollen with milk so badly she’d beg for them to be emptied.
Morgan’s hand snuck between her legs before she realized it and toyed with her clit. Should she? Absolutely not. But mmph, her mouth was instinctively sucking, and Westlie was sighing softly in her sleep, shifting her legs just enough she was definitely, definitely feeling it too. Morgan nuzzled into her breast. Westlie might even cum again from her nursing. Hot.
All reservations vanished at the thought and Morgan sank her fingers into her cunt. She’d never needed deep, just the right spot half-in, half-out; especially when she was so horny and her muscles were already clenched around her fingers. All she had to do was fuck herself faster.
Morgan moaned as her fingers flexed in and out. Her sister unconsciously pressed into the sensation and milk spurted into Morgan’s mouth. She instinctively sucked; burying her face in Westlie’s breasts and swallowing. Morgan’s hand rubbed violently between her legs. Hopefully not enough Westlie woke up, but fuck she couldn’t care less if she did now. It felt so good she was seeing stars. Her sister dragging her closer to drink, whimpering her name into her hair, louder and louder until she was pleading and shaking and whimpering her name even though her tit wasn’t empty and Morgan hadn’t come yet.
Morgan’s wrist began to rub against something very wet besides her own pussy, but she couldn’t care enough to open her eyes because fuck- she was so close. Westlie tasted so good and she was so close. She was so close. She was so close. She was so close-
Morgan moaned and buried her fingers as deep as she could in her cunt, muscles spasming around them until the pleasure hit its kaleidoscopic peak and she groaned against Westlie’s nipple. Fuck! She swirled her tongue around, letting her hips hump her fingers until the dizzying deliciousness wore off and her head slowly stopped spinning.
When her hip thrusts finally grew more erratic, Morgan cracked open her eyes and reality began to filter back. Westlie was trembling, making cute little uncontrollable whimpers, her belly shoved against Morgan’s stomach. At some point, Morgan had thrown her leg over her sister and the wetness she’d felt was Westlie’s slit, pressed right against Morgan’s wrist. She was still grinding Morgan’s hand as each aftershock hit her, and both of them were soaked with cum.
Fuck it.
Morgan removed her fingers from her own pussy and slid them over her sister’s dripping slit. Westlie let out a low gasp, instinctively bucking her hips. So needy. So desperate. Morgan’s fingers found her hole without any additional prompting. Westlie was so goddamn wet. She wasn’t just horny, Morgan realized as her sister whimpered her name; she was horny for her, and Morgan’s years of suppressing her possessive nature snapped. If Westlie wanted to cum again, she would make her cum.
Morgan pressed her fingers two knuckles deep and Westlie moaned like a puppet.
“Roll over.”
Morgan rubbed her clit and Westlie arched up. She whined, trying to support her belly with one hand.
“Scoot up. On the pillows.”
Her feet scrambled, halfassedly shoving her back against the bedframe.
“Good.”
Morgan shoved three fingers in Westlie’s cunt as deep as they could go and her sister buckled, clapping her hands over her mouth to muffle the cry.
Morgan sat to her right, getting her wrist comfortable and doing her best to ignore the way Westlie’s hips twitched when she so much as breathed. A husky growl lodged in her throat and she swirled her thumb around Westlie’s clit. “Did you already cum?”
Westlie nodded frantically.
“But you want to come again”
“Please-”
Morgan squeezed the breast she hadn’t sucked on for the last fifteen minutes and milk sprayed over them. Westlie arched into the touch, keening.
“Look at you,” Morgan murmured. She moved her fingers in and out, dragging her palm over Westlie’s clit. “You’re so wet. I don’t even need to do anything.”
“M-Mor-”
Morgan leaned in and kissed her neck, grinning when Westlie gasped. Her fingers moved faster. “Tell me, do you act this way for Elijah?”
“N- N- N-Oh!”
“His cock doesn’t make you scream?”
Westlie gasped, looking like she was trying to answer, but another wave of pleasure hit her and she crumbled into an unintelligible whine.
She deserved to be a little evil, Morgan figured, if she was going to start the morning with her sister squirting all over the bed and smelling so deliciously like sex. She increased the speed of her fingers until Westlie was whimpering, choking, begging, just the way she wanted her. Morgan leaned in close and bit softly on her ear. “Good. I want you this way. Now cum.”
She clapped her other hand over Westlie’s mouth to muffle her ear-piercing screech and kept fucking her, even as cum spurted over her arm and Westlie’s legs scrabbled against the bed. She dug her fingers in and followed her arch, rubbing her clit fiercely, making her clench again and again until Westlie finally, finally collapsed back against the pillows, too exhausted to shake anymore.
After a few moments, the baby kicked the side of her stomach.
Westlie groaned weakly and rolled to her side to curl around her belly, sighing softly in pain and exasperation every few seconds as the kicks continued.
They did deserve that for waking the baby up so rudely. Morgan chuckled. “Let me.”
Westlie rolled back over, wincing as the baby kicked her ribs.
Morgan laid a hand on either side and closed her eyes. She summoned Law gently, and then pressed it inside even softer.
Soothed.
There was a final annoyed kick, and then the baby sank back to sleep. Westlie sighed in relief and dropped against the bed. Wordlessly, she held out a hand to Morgan, and Morgan cuddled beside her, making sure every inch of skin that could be touching, was. She nuzzled sweetly against her neck. “I love you,” she murmured.
Westlie gazed at her with half-open eyes, smiling tenderly like she was the only person in the world she cared about. And kissed her.
All the exhaustion in the pit of Morgan’s stomach evaporated. She moaned, trembling as her pregnant sister pressed against her and thoughts flooded her brain so quick she couldn’t sort them into ‘right’, ‘wrong’, or ‘erotic’. Westlie pulled back a little and sucked on her bottom lip so sweetly Morgan thought she was going to die. “Wes-”
Westlie kissed her again. Harder. Forcing open her mouth and tenderly sucking on her tongue. Her hand settled on Morgan’s hip too, making Morgan melt against her. “We-Wes-”
Westlie bit her bottom lip, dragged her teeth over it, then her tongue, softer, apologizing, kissing to make it better. Then she sank into the pillows. Morgan caught her breath and realized she was supposed to lie close and kiss Westlie’s hair and shiver helplessly as everything sank in.
Should- should she regret it?
Was it wrong?
Morgan didn’t think so. Speechless, sleeping Westlie didn’t regret it anyway. Morgan curled her own arm around Westlie’s belly and kissed the back of her neck. Talk later. More sleep now. Well-deserved after fucking Westlie speechless anyway. Morgan nuzzled softly into Westlie’s hair and kissed her neck three more times before she fell asleep.
Notes:
hot. fluffy.
Chapter Text
Sunlight shone gentle and yellow through the curtains when she woke up. Morgan was still holding Westlie, except now her sister's ass was pressed firmly against her clit and her legs were pinning Morgan’s thigh. Somehow Westlie was cuddling Morgan’s arm buried between Westlie’s tits too. Heaven. Morgan almost moaned in her sister’s ear.
Her pussy throbbed despite herself and Morgan tried to bury her whole brain in sand so she could just… savor it. She nuzzled the back of Westlie’s neck instead.
Westlie hummed softly and her thumb trailed over Morgan’s hand. Ah, already awake.
Morgan groaned and kissed the back of Westlie’s neck again, trailing a hand down her chest, over her massive, distended belly. God, she was beautiful. Her skin was so soft. And there was the sweet curve between her chest and the baby.
Morgan pushed herself up – thigh rubbing against her sister’s slit – so she could reach farther. It felt so deliciously possessive wrapping around her, fingers caressing her belly as the baby began to squirm inside her. A happy hum sounded from Westlie’s throat and Morgan basked in it. Morgan loved them. Loved them beyond words, beyond description.
Her fingers trailed over a bump and Morgan sat up, breath in her throat.
“What?”
Morgan laughed in more breathless admiration than intended. She ran her hand over her sister’s belly again. “Your belly button popped.”
Westlie sucked in a breath and leaned forward, then she dropped back against Morgan, grinning. “I can’t see it. I trust you.”
Morgan’s heart fluttered all over again and she couldn’t think of anything to say. Westlie’s eyes were soft and warm, still a little sleepy, but her lips were pink and a flush was starting to creep into her cheeks. A gentle, ever-so-slight smile pulled at the corners of her mouth too. Something secret. And Morgan found herself drawn closer like a magnet, desperately wanting to know what it was. Wanting her secrets, wanting her pink lips, wanting to close her eyes and-
Fuck. Fuck, she wanted to kiss her sister so bad it tore at her heart.
Westlie’s eyes sparkled and her lips turned up. Teasing.
A groan lodged in Morgan’s throat. God, she knew what she was doing; she knew her younger sister wanted her so badly- wanted to do incredibly lewd things to her and her pregnant belly if given permission and she was trying so hard to be good.
“Morgan.”
Morgan blinked.
Westlie sat up, breathing a little harder at the effort. Fingertips trailed over Morgan’s jaw and Morgan melted into Westlie’s touch like the night before. Westlie added her other hand, cradling her cheek, every breath heavy, rippling down Morgan’s spine and between her legs. Morgan closed her eyes to savor every sinful second.
Westlie kissed her like a cloud. Gentle, ephemeral, lips twisting to the other side, kissing her, to her lower lip, upper lip, both; reverent enough Morgan’s stomach ached for more.
“I love you.” Westlie’s fingertips trailed over her jaw again and Morgan felt a smile of pure delight settle on her face. She kept her eyes shut. Westlie kissed her again. “... I love you.”
“Tell me again.”
Westlie’s hand slipped to her hair and Morgan felt herself pulled into the kiss, crushed against Westlie’s soft lips. Morgan moaned instinctively, leaning forward and bumping against the baby. They only separated to catch their breath. “I love you.”
“Again?”
Westlie’s eyes shone and she looped her arms around Morgan’s neck. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I want you.”
“You’re beautiful,” Morgan felt herself whisper.
Westlie blushed at that, glancing down like she was shy. Morgan resisted the urge to press her sister down on the bed, shove her nose between her legs, and worship her clit.
“I- I feel like I should be ashamed, but I don’t care.”
Even when Westlie spoke, her voice did something to Morgan’s insides that burned with possession. Morgan shifted her weight so she could run her thumb over Westlie’s lower lip. Westlie blushed harder, and her lips seemed pinker under Morgan’s thumb. “I don’t care,” Morgan finally choked out. “I don’t care. I promised I’d take care of you, no matter how; but now I want you- so fucking bad-”
Westlie kissed her thumb, lips parted just enough Morgan could see how swollen they were. She squeezed her eyes shut before she exploded.
Westlie laughed; she nestled closer and kissed her cheek. “Alright, I won’t tease you.”
“How-” Morgan had to swallow to get the words out. She kept her eyes shut. “I- I thought you’d find it disgusting, or gross-”
“Morgan, I trust you.”
The words felt like a balm despite the shiver they sent down her spine. Morgan swallowed. “But-”
Westlie’s thumb gently caressed her cheek and Morgan pressed into it, an unspoken desperate request. Westlie immediately wrapped her arms around her, enveloping Morgan in soothing assuages. I’m here. I care. I love you. I want you by my side.
“You’re so sweet, and good,” she finally whispered. “I was starting to- to feel things when you were helping; I didn’t want to show it.”
“I tried so hard-”
“… I know.” Westlie kissed her softly.
It still felt like some cruel joke. Morgan caught Westlie’s arm. “We shouldn’t though.”
“Why not?”
Morgan opened her eyes to Westlie’s deep brown irises and her tongue immediately tied itself in knots. Be- because we’re sisters. Because if Elijah comes back and you disappear, I’ll throw myself off of London.
Westlie caressed her cheek again. Morgan’s brain emptied on the spot and she gave herself up. Westlie loved her now; wanted to touch her now. And when it ended, that… well, that was future Morgan’s problem. She closed her eyes again.
“Can I touch you outside the bed then?”
She felt Westlie blink. “What do you mean?”
Oh, come on, woman. “If- if I can, how much?”
Westlie kissed her lightly, more in surprise than anything. “I… suppose touching is fine.”
Morgan imagined pressing into Westlie from behind while she did the dishes; burying her teeth in her shoulder and making her moan. She nearly licked her lips. Westlie absolutely did not mean that. She swallowed and cautiously opened her eyes. “Alright.”
Westlie grinned sheepishly. “Better?”
Absolutely not. Westlie was naked, empty breasts drooping against her belly, grinning, cheeks still flushed. Morgan wanted to dig her fingers in her pussy and make her scream. She managed a little grin. “Mmhm.”
“Good. Because I need to get ready.”
From the sun against the curtains, Westlie was already approaching late. Fuck Jamison for wresting Westlie away from her. Morgan grinned sheepishly back. “Can I entice you to stay?”
“No.”
“I’ll kiss you.”
“No.” Westlie gave her a disgruntled smile. “I kiss you twice and you think you get to hold a kiss over me?”
Morgan grinned. “I’ll make you cum.”
“No.”
“I’ll stop time.”
Westlie blinked. “You can- do that?”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never tried.”
Westlie rolled her eyes and began to extract her legs. “Good. Don’t try.”
“Aw. You’re no fun.”
“I’m no fun?”
“Never.”
Westlie groaned, stretching as she stood. Morgan cheerfully realized her eyes now had permission to follow her growing curves. Westlie’s belly button was even more pronounced while standing. She was delicious. She was gorgeous. Morgan grinned without an ounce of shame that she was the one sitting here instead of Elijah.
Westlie noticed and blushed. “The hell are you looking at?”
“You. Obviously.”
“You didn’t get a good enough look earlier?”
“I closed my eyes. Making up for lost time.”
Westlie’s blush deepened and she turned her back to put stockings on, providing Morgan with a glimpse of her pussy as she bent over. Burrower Above, only a few more weeks until Westlie would be confined, and she would appreciate every instant of it.
Morgan grinned and flopped back into bed as Westlie continued to dress. When she was ready to leave, Westlie sidled over and leaned against the mattress, smiling. She gently poked her nose. “Love you, silly.”
“Love you too-” Morgan sat up, brain half-functioning, and caught Westlie's hand as she pulled away. She met her sister's eyes, grinned, and kissed each knuckle. Westlie’s face flushed a brilliant, bashful red. Morgan kissed the back of her hand for good measure. “… see you tonight.”
Westlie was red enough to set fire to the apartment building. She jerked her hand away, trying to control her blushing smile. “You incorrigible-”
Morgan winked. “You love me.”
“Oh- Oh, goddamn it. Of course I do.”
Notes:
I have roughly 5 more scenes sort of but I need to rewrite them for actual posting. Will post another batch of chapters by the end of the week.
Chapter 6: 6.0
Chapter Text
Westlie got home from work and sank into her arms. Morgan’s heart sang. It seemed surreal after imagining the scene all day; although kissing Westlie right as she entered felt too soon and her courage faltered. Westlie nuzzled her cheek like she was making up for it though, all the tension leaking out of her shoulders. Morgan grinned, unable to dim it. Her older sister. Precious Westlie. Precious tether.
“Food first,” Westlie murmured.
They made dinner, the whole farce feeling deceptively innocuous. Their hands lingered each time Morgan passed Westlie a bowl. They were too quiet, smiling; Morgan couldn’t even look her sister in the eyes because she knew all her self-control would crumble the minute she knew Westlie was equally desperate to crush her lips against hers.
Morgan nearly cut herself instead of the potato.
“Careful,” Westlie murmured.
God. Westlie’s low voice was going to drive her insane. Morgan nearly forgot she was holding a knife as she rubbed her forehead.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Morgan stared at the potatoes.
Why the fuck were they even cutting them? Soup? Stew? She stared for five more seconds and then dropped the knife in the basin.
“Mor?”
“Stand back.”
Westlie scrambled away. Morgan closed her eyes, let her Law compose something that felt right enough, and forcefully swept her hands over the pot. It bubbled appropriately.
Westlie’s jaw dropped. “… Are you fucking joking?”
“Why?”
“Morgan Faire, you can conjure soup?”
Morgan blinked. That. That was a good point. She shook her head and dragged herself out of the horny cobwebs. Westlie stared at her. “Sorry. I didn’t even realize-”
“You horny little shit.”
Morgan had the grace to blush a brilliant red. “No-”
“You absolutely did!”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Morgan, you can’t say you didn’t mean to when you look more embarrassed than I’ve ever seen you in your life.”
“It is not.”
Westlie threw up her hands. “Oh?! When?”
Morgan’s brain scrambled. “When- when you asked me to help.”
Westlie flushed a delightful beet-red and waved the spoon at Morgan’s face. “That is not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I saw your face!”
“It’s my face!”
“Fine!” Westlie threw up her hands again. “Fine. Fine. Fine.” She tossed Morgan the spoon. “I’m going to get out of this damn vest then and you’re going to serve.” She stalked away to the bedroom, looking as affronted as possible with a seven-month baby inside her. “… fucking conjure a stew, my ass.”
That got rid of most of the inappropriate thoughts at least. Morgan meekly served and they ate without talking. When they finished, Westlie took her bowl, brushing her hand and sending a delighted shiver down Morgan’s spine. She blushed again. The need was so- so inexplicable, but Morgan wanted her. Wanted her like a starving man wanted bread; like a drowning woman needed air. Wanted every curve, every swell, every drop-
“Morgan?”
She blinked to see Westlie’s hand extended, smiling a little sheepishly. “… Bedroom?”
Morgan grabbed it so fast Westlie laughed. “God, yes.”
Westlie was still laughing when they shut the door and Morgan blushed at the final click, too delighted to feel ashamed. The moment felt too tense to kiss Westlie though, even though her lips were tantalizing close; a half-inch away, so sweetly pink Morgan thought her heart would seize with joy, and she’d been dreaming of them every second of the day.
Westlie’s eyes sparkled. “I…thought maybe… I don’t need help, today.”
A stab of betrayal!
“… What?”
Westlie snorted, eyes still bright, even though she seemed a little embarrassed. “I thought I’d help you. I- I realized you’ve helped-” she cleared her throat “-me so many times and…” the flush crept up her cheeks. “I never really… returned the favor. I thought maybe- if you wanted-”
Morgan crushed their lips together.
The kiss was absurdly forceful and tasted like stew, but after all day Morgan was finally, finally there. She grabbed two fistfuls of nightgown and dragged Westlie closer, almost blinking in surprise at her sister’s husky growl. “I want you.”
“What-?”
For the first time, Westlie’s fingers trailed down Morgan’s side. There was something about the motion that felt commanding. Possessive. And the emptiness between her legs throbbed. Morgan moaned.
Westlie kissed her again, soft that time, fully aware Morgan was frozen to the spot. Then her other hand slid down, fingers caressing Morgan’s sides. Her lips stayed so close Morgan didn’t know how they weren’t kissing. Slowly, Westlie’s fingers slid over her hips; trailed between them, and began to undo her trouser buttons. Morgan was still frozen in place, even with arousal churning in her stomach. “Wes?”
Westlie grinned and trailed her lips down her neck until she kissed her collarbone. “Morgan.”
Her own name sent a shiver down Morgan’s spine and she nearly crumpled into Westlie’s arms. She was- God, she was so weak. God, she’d- she’d do anything to keep Westlie’s hands on her waist, feel her slide the fabric down and- and she was so wet. God, she was so wet and it was so cold, and Westlie was kneeling and she almost cried when Westlie’s warm lips kissed her mound. Morgan’s knees trembled.
“Wes- I can’t- I can’t stand.”
Westlie shifted between her legs. Morgan felt her breathing; she was almost kissing her other pair of lips. “There’s a bed right there.”
“Wes-” Morgan’s brain was too fuzzy. The slit between her legs was soaked and Westlie trailing her fingers over her thighs made her whole body quiver. “Wes, I can’t-”
“You’re so wet.” Westlie murmured reverently.
She still hadn’t touched her and Morgan felt desperation and tears welling in her chest. She felt a drop of cum run down her leg. “Wes, I’m going to fall.”
“Good.”
No! Not good! Bad!
Westlie slid her hands over her ass and Morgan moaned like a bitch in heat. Her knees trembled again and she swayed forward. She caught herself on the wall and realized she was closer to the wall than the bed. “Westlie!”
Just soft breathing on her clit. Westlie’s fingers trailing tantalizing over her thighs. Morgan choked. “Please-”
“Come a little lower then,” Westlie purred. “Lady of the Garden.”
Morgan’s knees buckled and Westlie’s tongue caught her. And vines. And the wall. Sort of. How the fuck-
Westlie’s tongue dove between her lips, swirling around her clit and Morgan’s mind went blank. Hands spread her hips wide; Westlie kissing over her clit with warm lips, groaning. A shiver swept through Morgan’s body. She moaned Westlie’s name and her sister rewarded her with a generous lick. Two fingers rubbed her clit, then slid lower, teasing her, and Morgan sobbed at how empty her pussy was.
“… I can’t believe you’re this wet.”
“I need you,” Morgan gasped. Her hips bucked and Westlie’s fingers slid a little lower. “Please. Please put them in. Please. I want you.”
Westlie hummed, and Morgan could almost see her smile. “Maybe a little wetter?”
“Westlie, please!”
Westlie smiled against her clit and Morgan’s hips instinctively humped her tongue. A moan escaped her at the sheer need- God- Westlie pulled her tongue back and Morgan sobbed. “Fuck!”
“Say my name.”
“Westlie!” Morgan shouted and her whole body clenched with need. “Please- Please, Westlie. Please, Wes- Please- Please, please, please, Westlie, please-”
Three fingers sank inside her and Morgan screamed her name again. Her hip jerked against the vines that held her, body begging for more, and this time blessedly- so blessedly- Westlie’s fingers fucked in and out, stretching her, rubbing her g-spot. Morgan’s legs gave out and she drooped into the vines.
It was enchanting to feel quiet, patient Westlie grow rough. Her tongue swirled Morgan’s clit, nails digging into her ass, fingers fucking her with surprising authority. Possession. Morgan’s brain stumbled over the word, sending an unintelligible pleasurable expletive from her lips and the ecstasy in her stomach doubled. Oh, for all Westlie’s softness and all Westlie’s reserve, she was her younger sister. Hers. And Westlie demanded her to cum.
Oh god. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. A hundred times over, yes.
Morgan screamed Westlie’s name, body clenching as she came, but Westlie’s fingers and tongue didn’t stop. They gently pistoned in and out of her, wet and dripping. Possession. Morgan came again, whimpering. And again. And again, until her lower half grew number and she was blubbering incoherently against the wall, names, begging, whining, cursing-
“One more time,” Westlie purred. She kissed Morgan’s clit.
“Can’t. Can’t- please- Westlie- god- please- yes- can’t-” Westlie wiggled her fingers in Morgan’s entrance and her sister’s whole body arched against the vines. “Westlie!”
“One more time.”
Westlie sucked her clit and Morgan howled, pain and pleasure exploding in her brain. “West-lie!”
Westlie’s tongue licked up Morgan’s slit and circled her hood, driving her fingers in her pussy again as she fucked her steadily, forcefully. Morgan gasped, dragging breath back into her lungs. It was just steady enough to enjoy it despite the lack of bloodflow to everywhere except her middle, and Morgan whimpered, helpless as Westlie fucked her. The motions grew faster and Morgan moaned. Too much. It was all- all too much; it felt too good- And the realization Westlie had made her little sister her fucked, moaning whore shoved Morgan over the edge once more. Cum squirted over Westlie’s tongue, dripping down her chin, and Morgan collapsed against the vines, quivering, muscles spent.
She was barely cognizant as Westlie lapped at her clit, cum still dripping from her chin, down her tits, over her belly; Westlie swallowing, sucking her lips, licking between them and tasting more cum, humming with pleasure as Morgan’s body instinctively clenched around her tongue. Licking her thighs. Sucking her clit again, receiving another trembling squirt and drinking the last drops. Licking her slit tenderly, long and warm, over and over until she was clean.
Morgan wasn’t sure how long it took before her body stopped quivering, but Westlie’s tongue was still at work between her legs. She whimpered after a minute, barely able to squeeze the sound out of her throat.
Westlie straightened, and then Morgan felt an apologetic caress on her cheek. Westlie kissed her, and oh god, oh god- her sister tasted salty and floral and Westlie tasted like her. Morgan moaned and Westlie kissed her again; sucking on her lower lip.
After another moment, Morgan felt her sister’s fingers caress the vines above her. “I need you to move,” she murmured tenderly. The vines perked up with a sudden attentiveness Morgan had never felt before; almost… purring. The Law inside her trembled. Of course it knew Westlie’s touch, Westlie’s whisper; it worshipped her too.
“Not far,” Westlie kissed another vine and it shifted toward her. “Just to the bed.” Her fingers trailed, and the vines grew, reaching for her. “Will you do that? Please?” She kissed them once more. “Follow me.”
Morgan trembled as the vines deposited her on the bed and retracted from her limbs. And then Westlie was beside her, nuzzling her cheek, belly pressed into her side, kissing her. Oh, kissing her sweetly, tasting like cum, hands caressing her face; and Morgan couldn’t even open her eyes.
Westlie kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Morgan’s tongue wouldn’t form words. Her lower half ached and felt numb at the same time, and every muscle felt weak.
“I guess four times might’ve been a little much.”
Ugh. She had to say something. Do something.
With supreme effort, Morgan shifted her leg to the side. She rolled to face Westlie and buried her face against her neck.
Westlie immediately curled around her, hands buried in her hair, gently kissing her forehead, nose, locks, as Morgan fazed in and out of drowsiness. Westlie nuzzled against her hair. Kissed her.
“I love you.” Westlie murmured to herself, so quiet Morgan could barely make it out. “I love your hips. I love your vines. I love how you taste- God, Morgan, I love you how you taste.” There was a pause, and Morgan was half-aware of her sister savoring the taste of cum and licking her lips. “You’re better than I imagined. God, I’m a slut for you.” She softly kissed Morgan’s lips. “I want to make you cum. I want to be yours. I love you. I love you. I love-”
Morgan fell asleep.
Chapter 7: 7.0
Summary:
This is one of my favorite chapters. Soo saccharine.
Chapter Text
She was resting on something warm, but not the bed. Morgan groaned and shifted her cheek. Something hard underneath… she nuzzled against the warmth and was rewarded with the faint scent of tea. Westlie.
Why…?
Oh.
Morgan blushed. She almost jerked upright, but caught herself and opened her eyes instead. She was nestled into Westlie’s shoulder, nose against her neck, pressed against her sister’s front with one arm thrown over her waist. And they were both naked.
Her memory of the night before trickled back and Morgan felt her face grow redder. She’d been so excited the day before that she didn’t think about… after, that there might be an ‘after’, and now after was here and she was pressed against Westlie’s very swollen, very naked breasts.
Morgan closed her eyes and swallowed. God, if she looked too much she might explode.
There was a gentle stir from Westlie’s belly, like the baby had noticed her aunt awake, and stretched sideways. Westlie groaned in sleepy discomfort and shifted towards Morgan.
Let her sleep, Morgan thought.
Funny how sensitive the baby was to her Law. Morgan was just giving a murmured suggestion, but the golden string rippled back. Westlie’s belly shifted a little more, then the baby must’ve gotten comfortable, because she stilled.
Westlie sighed into the pillow, a little smile on her lips. They were slightly parted, pink, and turned up in a contented maternal smile. She was so kissable. Morgan tried to rein herself in and the want ached between her legs instead. After a few minutes she gave in and leaned in closer, just an inch to imagine it, and the faintly floral scent of her own cum hit her. Morgan almost came on the spot.
Fuck. She had to look away or she was going to wake Westlie up. Morgan decided to glance at her sister’s breasts instead.
Apparently Westlie hadn’t made any attempt to milk herself last night. Her tits were swollen, clearly heavy, and her nipples poked into Morgan’s arm, begging to be sucked. Maybe the baby hadn’t been born yet, but there was need with Morgan drinking, and her breasts were growing bigger by the day. Maybe they’d milk her every day soon. God, it was perfect torture.
And then Westlie nuzzled Morgan’s neck in her sleep.
Morgan couldn’t hold back a blissful sigh. She’d never desired romantic attachment. A few boys – and one girl – had propositioned, and she wasn’t, proper virginal. But she’d told them upfront they were flings. Morgan had never wanted something like this either. It felt like a lump of crushing tenderness was stuck in her throat permanently, and she just- wanted Westlie. Not even sex, just this moment. Just to know she and the baby were safe. As if the golden line as sisters between her and Westlie had morphed from gold to platinum.
“… Mmmm. Mor.”
Oh, thank fuck. Wes was awake.
Morgan pressed their lips together. Westlie still tasted like cum, and her lips felt like satin; stars, it was so hot. And she smelled like cum and tea-
Westlie giggled when they broke apart. “Good mor- mmmph!”
If Westlie’s pregnant belly weren’t in the way, Morgan would’ve thrown a leg over her sister, pinned her down, and kissed her senseless. She settled for pushing her onto her back and leaning across her chest.
“-mmh! I didn’t-” Morgan nibbled halfway down her neck and Westlie gasped in pleasure. “-Mor- Ah!- it’s good- you’re awake!”
“Waited for you.”
“-mph! P-patiently. I can tell-”
Morgan kissed her again, fiercely, and that time Westlie’s hand caressed her hair, tangling into her and softly pulling her closer. The butterflies in Morgan’s stomach swirled with joy.
“I love you,” Westlie murmured when they finally separated.
Her lips were plump from kisses, pairing nicely with her brown eyes that peered into Morgan’s soul. Morgan’s face had the audacity to blush. I love you.
“No words, Lady of the Garden?”
“… I… I’d have to make a Law.”
Westlie’s eyes sparkled. “You’d need a Law?” Oh, Westlie was teasing now. She leaned closer until all Morgan could see were her lips moving in that soft, elegant manner. Fuck. She’d made those lips scream. “All those books and the Lady of the Garden can’t find the right words?”
“-hnmgp-”
Westlie had mercy and kissed her. Sweet and teasing, sucking on her lower lip and making Morgan’s stomach melt like warm chocolate. The hand that wasn’t propping her up found Morgan’s hip and slid agonizingly over it, luring her closer. Morgan heard Westlie’s voice in her head, just as clear as if she was speaking. I love you. I love you. I love you- Oh god, Westlie was like quicksand; innocent until she was dragging Morgan in, dragging her down, dragging her back to the bed with that soft, confident gaze Morgan had never seen on her; and she was moth to a flame.
“Mor.”
Morgan blinked.
Westlie laughed and kissed her jaw. “You didn’t hear me, did you.”
“… distracted.”
A little flush crept over Westlie’s face. She grinned sheepishly. “It feels so strange to be distracting.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You were undistracted well enough for five months.”
“You weren’t kissing me, naked.”
“Touché.” Westlie hesitated and the flush deepened. “I… didn’t think you’d like it so much when I asked for help.”
Westlie’s belly button was pressing into her, and it made Morgan’s voice want to hold her. Something about the arch of Westlie’s collarbone. Those soft pink lips. She swallowed. “Well, I’m not a fool.”
“Hm?”
It came out like a confession. Morgan’s voice almost cracked. “You’re so pretty, Wes.”
Westlie’s face turned beet red. She swallowed. “… You’re beautiful.”
Beautiful. Morgan wanted to bury herself in Westlie’s arms again as she hummed the word, but her sister looked like she was dying from embarrassment. Morgan couldn’t resist kissing her cheek. “… What did I miss?”
It was a credit to their habit Westlie’s blush didn’t deep; a little smile even inched on her face. “Help? Please? I’m sure you noticed-” she gestured to her swollen breasts.
“Oh. ‘course.”
Morgan kissed her again, softer that time, and Westlie mirrored it, running her tongue over her lips. Morgan shifted down to nurse but Westlie brushed her arm. “I think- maybe from behind? I don’t want the baby awake yet.”
Morgan pouted. “It’s messier.”
“Not when you clean up.”
“Maybe not. But I’m not the only one who’s delicious.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Westlie turned red again and shot Morgan a reproachful look at that held no threat at all.
Oh, what was she doing? Arguing with the beautiful pregnant woman in their bed. Morgan kissed her cheek. “Alright, alright.”
She settled behind Westlie and wrapped her arms around her belly. Westlie leaned back and sighed. The position felt delicious on Morgan’s clit; her thighs pressed again Westlie’s ass – which felt like it’d grown, along with every other part of her the last few weeks. Morgan couldn’t resist running her hands over Westlie’s sides, caressing her curves and rolls and sliding under her belly.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Savoring you.”
Morgan could hear her blushing. Westlie decided to be saucy anyway. “I don’t need to be savored; I need to be fucking emptied.
“I’m excellent at multitasking.”
“Morgan,” she groaned. “It hurts.”
Her sister had handlebar rolls, Morgan realized with delight. And when her sister leaned back, the baby protruded even further. Morgan kissed Westlie’s shoulder and caressed the sides of her belly.
Westlie groaned in pleasure despite herself. “Am I going to burst before you decide to milk me-?”
It was delicious watching her squirm. Morgan held herself back. It was fun to tease her. Besides, the longer Morgan waited, the more her breasts would grow. “That’s an idea…”
“Please don’t.”
Morgan pressed her hands into her inner thighs below the baby and nuzzled into her neck. “No?”
“I won’t leak, Mor; there’s no pressure. It just hurts unless you do something. And even if I did leak, it’d only be a few drops.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a milk production expert.”
Morgan bit lightly on Westlie’s shoulder, swirling her tongue over the spot. She sucked on it for a moment. “Mmm. Think about it. Me drinking your milk.”
“I could have you drinking-”
Morgan slid her hands back over her sister’s belly and Westlie groaned. “… Let down. I know you want to.”
“I can’t just imagine letting down and it’ll happen.”
“It’ll feel so good.”
“Morgan…”
“Once you let down, I’ll lick you clean. I want to taste you.”
Westlie growled, frustrated, but she softened her lean against Morgan, her ass coincidentally rubbing Morgan’s clit.
Morgan kissed her ear. “I love you.”
“I want you.”
Morgan’s breath caught and she almost lost control and groped her sister’s chest. She tightened her arms instead and kissed down Westlie’s neck.
“Ff- Do you want me to beg?”
No, she wanted to milk her so bad her thumbs kept rubbing circles into Westlie’s sides. Morgan bit her ear and Westlie’s breath caught. “Leak for me.”
“… Morgan. I can’t-”
“Just imagine I’m milking you,” Morgan purred. “Squeezing your breasts together; tweaking your nipples. A big spurt comes out and it feels so good letting loose. And once you do, I’ll lean down and take one teat in my mouth and I’ll drink you all up.”
Westlie’s breath came faster and Morgan realized her face was tight, just like their first few milkings. She rubbed Westlie’s belly, nuzzling against her neck. “… Look at you. So pregnant you can’t help yourself.”
“Morgan-” it was almost a whimper.
“You know exactly how it feels when I nurse.”
“I- I know.”
Morgan kissed her neck, deepening the kiss and sucking softly.
There was a soft whine, then a gasp, and Westlie trembled. Morgan opened her eyes for a moment. Westlie’s face was still screwed up, breathing heavily, but there was a glimpse of relief. A trickle of milk hit her arm and Morgan burst with pride. She kissed Westlie’s jaw. “You’re leaking!”
“I- I need you to milk me,” she moaned. The trickle of milk widened from one droplet to two. “Please-”
She was a goddess like this. Morgan softly caressed her belly instead, shifting a little to trace her belly button. Westlie moaned again. Oh, her body knew what to do. The trickle of drops was already turning into a steady stream, running down each side of her belly. It was a shame to ruin it by milking her, even if Morgan desperately wanted to feel how heavy her sister’s breasts felt in her hands and hear her moan as she guided milk to her teats.
Hmm. Decisions.
Westlie whimpered again and Morgan trailed her lips over her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Mor-”
“Mm?”
Westlie’s breath caught and Morgan realized the arm curled about her waist was getting quite wet. “I- I want to cum.”
Oh, that would be harder. Morgan blinked. Cradling her belly from below was the farthest her fingers could reach, even if Westlie shifted positions.
Barely thinking, Morgan extended a hand and curled her fingers, summoning half a dozen vines from the floor. The thickest leaned against the bed, curling upwards while the others climbed it. Westlie noticed and her breath caught.
“Mor, you can’t be ser-” a smaller vine wound up Westlie’s calf and her breath caught as it edged her legs further apart.
Morgan kissed her neck. “I can’t reach.”
Westlie shivered as two more vines started up her other leg. Now, Morgan realized, was the perfect time for a distraction. She reached up and squeezed Westlie’s breasts. Eight streams of milk arced in front of them, and instead of whimpering in pain, Westlie sank into her with a helpless groan.
“Mor…”
Her nickname sent a shiver down her spine. Morgan smiled into Westlie’s neck and squeezed again.
“Mor…”
Oh, she’d never get tired of hearing it. Especially in that rough, helpless tone. Morgan focused on milking her sister, nuzzling her softly while absentmindedly directing the vines tangled around their legs. She could feel Westlie through them and it sent little shivers up her spine. The smoothness of her skin; how wet Westlie was already. Her thighs making weak little thrusts against bed, trying to find friction.
Morgan bit her lip as the tendrils unfolded against Westlie’s slit. No… her sister’s sweet spread cunt didn’t need a dozen vines. One would do. Something thick perhaps. Gourd-like. A bud bulged from the vine, sliding right into Westlie’s dripping entrance.
Westlie sighed against her, sinking into the friction, even if she didn’t recognize it, and Morgan smiled. The tiny gourd widened inside her, then stretched lengthwise, expanding into Westlie’s cunt.
After a moment Westlie gasped and stiffened as the gourd pressed fully inside her. “Morgan-!”
“It’s me.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Morgan squeezed her breasts for good measure and Westlie sank back again with a helpless whimper. The gourd grew until it hit resistance and Morgan felt the top of the vine bulge from Westlie’s cunt. Then she instructed it to grow wider until it was nearly the width of Morgan’s wrist. She grinned against Westlie’s shoulder, savoring the feel of her sister’s little wet hole leaking over it like a cock, muscles stretching, struggling to take it all.
Westlie groaned as she cradled her belly, hips bucking as much as they could at the new friction.
So delicious.
And hers.
A surge of possession rushed through her and Morgan pulled the vine back and in again, savoring the sound that escaped both pairs of Westlie’s lips. Fucking her was addicting. Morgan already craved more. To grab more. Hold more. That was the only problem with cuddling Westlie from behind: she couldn’t pleasure her like she deserved. Although at this point Westlie’s hips were grinding right against her clit and Morgan felt a selfish moan of her own slip out. Oh yes. Fuck, she needed more.
The vines followed Morgan’s unconscious thoughts, winding cheerfully over both their legs and binding their thighs together. Westlie continued to thrust steadily against the gourd, whimpering incoherently, and each jerk echoed against Morgan. After a few thrusts, Morgan abandoned Westlie’s tits for her waist, blushing as her breasts dribbled milk with each bounce.
Vines snaked up to fill in. The tendrils curled around Westlie’s breasts, milking her more forcefully than Morgan’s hands ever would. Other vines slid between Westlie’s belly and Morgan’s thighs, tying the two of them together, and still more looped under her breasts, over her belly until it bulged between silky green tendrils. Westlie spread her legs wider, gasping as the gourd thrummed her g-spot; moaning so intently it was almost a sob.
“I- I’m going to-to cum-”
Morgan’s breath caught as a particularly hard thrust made them both moan. She was too far gone to notice the whole weight of her and the baby against Morgan’s clit, and- and fuck yes. She was stuffing Westlie’s tight little hole. She was making those sounds come out of her sister’s throat. She was making her tits dribble milk with every thrust. Morgan’s hips jerked helplessly. “Ff- C-cum for me- You’re so fucking hot.”
The vines around Westlie’s teats squeezed and she cried out, arching into them, “Morgan! Morgan- Morgan. M-Morgan. Morgan Morgan. Morgan. Morgan-”
Morgan ground her clit against Westlie’s ass, making a slightly strangled moan as she came. Pleasure rippled through her brain and she clung to Westlie’s waist. They fit together so right. “Wes- Westlie, I love you-”
“Mor-”
“O-hhh.” Morgan’s hips jerked and she whimpered at the aftershock of pleasure. “You’re mine. Westlie, you’re mine- Say you’re mine. I love you- I want you-”
All Westlie’s weight dropped against her so she could press her head against Morgan’s cheek and whine softly, trembling. “I’m yours- I’m yours, Morgan. I’ve always- I’ve always been yours.”
Morgan managed to cup her cheek and Westlie nuzzled into it. Kissing her palm.
“I- I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
They collapsed into one another, vines curling about them. The tendrils accidentally squeezed Westlie’s teats again and she whined, breathless. “Mor-?”
“S-sorry. Should I- mmf- should I finish draining-?”
“No, no, no- I can’t-” A weak laugh as Westlie’s hips jerked on the gourd and a shudder ran through her. “Sensitive.”
Morgan waved her hand and the vines immediately fell away. The two of them slid together again and Westlie curled on her side, burying her head against Morgan’s shoulder.
They were silent for a long minute until Westlie sighed softly. “… mmm. Still feels good.”
“Hm?”
“’s ‘inside.”
“Shi-” Morgan blushed as she realized the gourd had felt so natural she’d forgotten it. It- it did feel good lodged in Westlie’s still-clenching cunt. … Morgan resisted the urge to fuck her again. “Sorry.”
She commanded it away with the others and Westlie sighed as her legs dropped closed. “… Plants?”
“… I needed extra hands.”
“Hmmhm. Well, was hot.”
Despite everything, Morgan blushed again. “You-”
“… love your vines,” Westlie muttered into her shoulder. “You know that.”
“Down there?!”
“… fuckin’ anywhere.” Westlie grinned without opening her eyes. “… Wish I could tie you up. … Won’t help with a simple request… Greedy whore.”
Morgan knew she was blushing a deep red now. “I did!”
“I didn’t ask to cum.”
“You begged me!”
“I begged you to milk me!”
“You were…”
“I was what?!”
Morgan groaned. She couldn’t look her in the eye. “… you were cute.”
Westlie laughed. Her belly shook, pressing into Morgan, and Morgan bit her lip, trying not to look down. Westlie tenderly kissed her neck. “… You’re brainless. I’ve never seen you smitten! I always thought you weren’t interested in… people, and I’ll admit I thought it was nice; one less thing I had to worry about-”
“I wasn’t. I’m not. Well- didn’t intend to be.”
Westlie cocked her head.
“You- you asked.”
Westlie frowned, puzzled. She ran her thumb over Morgan’s jaw and smiled when Morgan’s breath caught. “… I can’t even dress without you staring like I’m Aphrodite.”
“Maybe you are.”
Westlie gave her one of those soft, lingering kisses that made butterflies flutter in Morgan’s stomach. “Or… you’ve wanted this before it happened?”
Morgan groaned against her lips. “N- no.”
“Did you?” Westlie’s hand crept down her side, over Morgan’s hip. It was fucking ridiculous how Morgan’s brain emptied.
“I- I- Westlie, stop it. No. I- I never saw you like that.”
“You weren’t upset I started going out with Elijah?”
Morgan blinked, and Westlie traced circles into her hip with her thumb. Had she? She’d been… annoyed. But that was just because Elijah stole evenings out of the week. She was possessive, but she’d always had that possessive streak, partial courtesy of the Garden King. It wasn’t jealousy, because she didn’t care about Westlie dressing up for their dates, she just ignored it so she didn’t snip about how overdressed she was-
Oh god, that was jealousy, wasn’t it.
She was jealous of Elijah.
“Mor?” Westlie whispered, and Morgan jerked back to reality.
“I- I don’t think so.”
There was that little knowing smile. “Liar.”
The blush gave her away. “I- No. I was annoyed but I didn’t-” Morgan remembered furiously learning how to make croissants after Westlie put on lipstick before her date. “… Well, I didn’t know.”
“You looked so upset when you told me I was pregnant.”
“You shouldn’t be pregnant. You’re not married.”
Westlie waved a hand. “I’m sure Arthur will be so disappointed about the granddaughter he’ll never know. No, I was scared about how angry you looked.”
Morgan swallowed helplessly. “I- I was scared.”
“For what?”
“You’d leave.” Morgan whispered. “I wouldn’t see you again.”
Westlie softened and she trailed her thumb up Morgan’s neck, over her jaw, cupping her cheek. Morgan leaned into it, nuzzling the touch. “You thought I’d leave my sun?”
“I-” Morgan turned into Westlie’s hand, embarrassed. “’Course I do. You’re his.”
“Morgan…”
She kept her face turned. After a moment, Westlie’s other hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she softly kissed Morgan’s cheek.
“Morgan… he’s in the sky.”
“So?”
“She’ll be born before he’s home.”
Westlie’s eyes were soft and curious, and Morgan had to set her lips together to stay upset. “That- that doesn’t matter though. You’re loyal. I know you.”
“Why would I be more loyal to him than to you?”
Morgan blinked.
Westlie kissed up her jaw. “Elijah is… I… I love Elijah because he’s… like me.” She smiled faintly. “We’re quiet and thoughtful and gentle; we just… are. And I love him- I do. But it’s a- a different love.”
“That doesn’t clarify anything.”
“I… I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t… think about sex. Elijah and I had sex-”
“Obviously.”
“-And I get horny. But it’s not why I’d choose-” she hesitated. “I- I felt horrible asking you because it’s- taboo. But I trust you more than I’ll ever trust anyone.” Westlie kissed Morgan’s lips, trailing over her, breaths thickening. “You’re my safety- my sun- every happiness- and every time we touch, my mind dissolves. You’re so beautiful. You’re so gentle.” Westlie’s fingers traced over Morgan’s skin like silk. “I don’t- I don’t love you. I trust you. You’re my home. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.”
“More than Elijah?”
“More than Elijah.” Westlie smiled faintly and traced Morgan’s jaw. “He knows.”
“He knows?”
“What you mean to me. What he and I are. That I wouldn’t leave.”
Morgan snorted, just to be an ass, and side-eyed Westlie’s belly.
Westlie rolled her eyes. She took Morgan’s hand and pressed it against the baby. It kicked. “I assumed you’d agree, but even when Elijah comes back, I… wanted her to be ours. Like Lizzie.”
Morgan glanced back up and had to swallow the lump in her throat. “What?”
“Of course. I couldn’t do it without yo-”
Morgan kissed her, cutting her off.
Westlie blushed when they broke apart for air. “Is- is that a ‘yes’?”
“’course.”
“You didn’t say it though.”
“Wes, don’t be coy.”
“I like hearing it.”
“Yes.” The word did feel good. Oh, Westlie’s confinement was going to be wonderful. Morgan kissed her again. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes.”
“Mmm.”
Morgan nuzzled against her. After a moment, her hands sank to Westlie’s belly and she caressed it. When she was close, especially, it was awe-inspiring how big she was; incredible still the baby was growing bigger every day. Morgan hummed softly. “… Wes…”
Westlie laughed and leaned back so Morgan could caress her fully.
“… I love being pregnant,” she murmured after another minute.
“The feeling?”
“Mm, that, and I love… carrying her. I love Elijah and I made something. … I love her.”
Morgan hesitated. “It looks… uncomfortable.”
“Oh, it is.” Westlie grinned, shifting her legs in front of her to prove her point. “But I feel sexy. I always wanted-” she gestured to her several-inches-larger breasts, “-I like… the changes, even if it hurts a bit. And now I have you staring and getting me wet without saying a word.”
Morgan tried to imagine waking up in the morning and rolling herself out of bed, grumbling at how tight the maternity corset fit, and her own breasts refusing to be confined; leaking milk whenever something brushed her nipples. It seemed ludicrous, like her body had been infested and made home by another creature. She blinked, her thumbs still rubbing circles on Westlie’s belly. Technically true, anyway.
“I like being home, so I don’t mind.” Westlie murmured, like she could read Morgan’s thoughts.
I want to make you my home. Morgan thought, and she blinked again at how possessive the thought was in her head, like an echo of her normal greed, but more related to the curve of Westlie’s belly, rising and falling with each breath. She nuzzled into Westlie’s hair rather than dwell on it. “That makes sense.”
“Mmm, Lady of the Garden?”
Morgan felt her Law perk up. “Hm?”
“I love you.”
Warmth poured down Morgan’s core and her Law bubbled with joy until she barely kept her shape. She buried her face in Westlie’s shoulder and the Joy burst throughout the room instead. The wooden floor sprouted moss. A rose bush sprouted up the wall to the corner; vines wound up the bed frame. Grass, flowers, ferns-
Westlie laughed and awkwardly turned in her seat to kiss her. Morgan melted meekly. “You’re so sweet.”
“I- I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, I know. That’s what makes it cute.”
The rosebush burst into bloom unprompted.
Chapter Text
Morgan surreptitiously cracked one eye open. Several days into Westlie’s confinement and it was still delicious watching her older sister attempt to get out of bed; and it was twice as sweet knowing she wouldn’t leave the rest of the day.
Westlie scooted close to the edge first and rolled to her side, breathing hard as she swung her legs out of bed and sat upright. Morgan could only see her back, but from the soft murmur, she was stroking her belly as she caught her breath. Another minute and Westlie pulled herself to her feet.
She took her time pulling a new maternity gown over her head. The waist began just below her breasts, with two ribbons for extending at the side so she couldn’t grow out of it. Westlie cinched them, turning a bit as she did so, and giving Morgan a delicious view of her breasts. The front of the gown had crossed fabric over her chest – likely for easy exposure, which Morgan decided she appreciated – and Westlie’s breasts filled every inch. She fiddled with the folds to keep from spilling over.
Dressed, Westlie slipped on her robe and headed for the kitchen. Her hand touched the doorknob and instantly a stem sprouted from the floor, knocking it shut. Westlie stared at it.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Westlie turned around with annoyed accusation; fastest she’d moved all morning. “You weren’t asleep.”
“I woke up.”
She got a stern glance.
Silly woman. Morgan pouted. “You were just gonna leave?”
“Morgan, I’m hungry.”
“I know what you could eat.” Morgan wiggled her eyebrows.
Westlie’s glare could melt diamond.
“Fine. Alright, alright.” Morgan rolled out of bed. “I’m helping.” She pulled up her hand and the root swirled back into the floorboards.
“Thank you.”
“Never get between a pregnant woman and breakfast.”
Westlie wasn’t even gracious enough to be snippy; she just shuffled into the kitchen.
Morgan slumped over the kitchen table, watching Westlie prepare food with half-lidded eyes. She still liked making breakfast herself for some reason; something about agency and boredom being stuck in the house. Then again, Morgan got an absurd number of lewd glimpses when her sister leaned over in her maternity gown eight months pregnant, and she wasn’t sure if that was Westlie’s intent or her own vigilance during observation.
Either way, Westlie got the stove started. She sighed and rested her hands on top of her belly, looking like a poster of maternal bliss. Morgan smiled drowsily. She would’ve never imagined this scene. Not in a million years. Sleepily oogling her sister while said-sister stretched her arms, shamelessly showing off the cleavage of her swollen tits. They’d drained her the night before, but with how fast they were swelling, Morgan suspected the milkings were about to become nightly.
Mmm. And there was the now-familiar itch to draw Westlie close and kiss her.
Morgan managed to restrain herself until she pulled out Westlie’s chair. Westlie lowered herself carefully, and then Morgan brushed aside her red curls and kissed the back of her neck. Westlie blushed like she always did, but she was awake enough – with food in front of her – to enjoy it.
Morgan resisted the urge to fill her sister’s hair with flowers and distract her more-thoroughly from her food.
“I love you,” Westlie murmured.
Morgan’s heart sang. “I love you too.”
When they finished, Westlie leaned back in the chair, trading places with Morgan who took things to the sink. Cleaning was near instantaneous with a wave of Morgan’s hand, but if she finished quickly, she didn’t get to feel the tingle of Westlie’s eyes following her. … Morgan kept washing.
After a few minutes, Westlie’s gaze crept closer until she felt Westlie lean against her shoulder, eyeing the sink. Morgan smiled.
“Mm, no Law today?”
Westlie’s smile and tantalizing brown eyes lingered in Morgan’s memory; it took every ounce of Morgan’s willpower to not turn her head. “I thought by hand would be fun.”
“Mm- Definitely what Morgan Faire is thinking right now. How fun it is to clean that plate.”
“Tease.”
Westlie grinned and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s waist in a feat of perpendicular belly-angling engineering. “Psh.”
“That’s teasing,” Morgan informed her.
“You know what I think?”
“What do you think?”
Westlie rested her chin on Morgan’s shoulder. “I think you’re salty.”
Morgan struggled to hide her smile. “I’m not salty.”
Westlie looped her arms over Morgan’s shoulders and kissed her neck. Morgan blushed. “Fine. Got me there. But you know what else I think?”
God, Morgan could feel her nipples through two layers of fabric.
“… what do you think?”
Westlie paused, waiting; Morgan almost glanced over her shoulder.
“… Morgan.”
The word wasn’t a command, but her name in that soft, luscious whisper on Westlie’s lips was close enough. Morgan turned instinctively and trapped herself in Westlie’s pretty brown eyes.
Mm- and of course Westlie knew, from the little upturn of her lips.
Morgan’s breath caught as her sister trailed a finger over her jaw. Stars, it was so easy to turn her legs to rubber. Westlie’s lips were right there, pink and full, chin resting alluringly on her shoulder. Another shiver ran down Morgan’s spine.
“Morgan,” Westlie murmured. Softer, warmer that time; like chocolate between her lips.
Oh god, she was helplessly when Westlie looked at her that way. Morgan opened her mouth and no sound came out. She had to wet her lips and swallow, unable to tear her eyes away. “… What?”
Westlie’s fingers trailed over her jaw again, thumb brushing over Morgan’s bottom lip. The muscles between Morgan’s legs throbbed.
“… I think…” Westlie murmured. “You should put that dirty plate down. And kiss me.”
A delighted, helpless groan escaped Morgan’s lips before she could say or do anything intelligent as the ache of longing erupted into flaming, roaring need.
Shit- she dropped the dish in the sink.
Wait, of course she dropped the dish in the sink. Damn Westlie! She knew Morgan would happily kiss her and milk her and fuck her, no coercing required. To demand it- Westlie tenderly tucked another curl behind Morgan’s ear and her breath caught.
So lucky. So lucky. So lucky.
Morgan kissed her, groaning softly. God, Westlie was so soft; all of her curves accentuating the life growing inside her. Westlie’s hands slid down Morgan like a dream, fingers trailing over hip bones and curving behind until she was commanding Morgan closer, to kiss her harder.
Morgan had to break apart when she couldn’t breathe. “Wes-”
Westlie’s fingers toyed with the front of her pants and Morgan had to remember how lungs worked. “Westlie, I-”
“Bed.”
It wasn’t a question; it was a command. Morgan leaned down and picked Westlie up effortlessly- (she could do that?!) -eyes still glued to her face. Westlie kissed her, soft and ephemeral – Thank you – and Morgan heard a soft whine escape her when it ended. (God- when did she become-?) Westlie’s gaze didn’t change though; her eyes were bright and warm and Morgan never, ever wanted their spell to end.
“… I didn’t know you could lift me,” she murmured.
“Your wish is my command.” Morgan lifted her higher to kiss and nuzzle into it.
Westlie blushed. Her eyes still had that tender authority in them that turned Morgan’s stomach into a swirl of butterflies, so she kissed her again.
Westlie caressed Morgan’s cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear again and bending a little to kiss her jaw. Then she leaned back, eyes sparkling tenderly. “Bedroom, my Lady?”
“Whatever you desire.”
Morgan couldn’t see shit with Westlie in her arms, but she somehow carried her across the room and ever-so-carefully set her on her feet next to the bed.
Westlie laughed softly when she touched ground again, arms still looped around Morgan’s neck. Her belly still bulged between them, begging to be caressed- Oh God, Morgan was so smitten. She suddenly realized she was waiting for Westlie’s order so she could obey. The fact Westlie wanted her was overwhelming alone. The idea of Westlie’s attention being focused solely on her- and solely on her pleasure was even worse.
Morgan kissed her, brainless.
Without breaking the kiss, Westlie drew her closer to the bed, fingers toying with Morgan’s hips until they had to break apart, panting. Westlie sat down, giving Morgan another delectable view of her cleavage. It was enhanced by the maternity gown; honestly the only thing exposed in the shapeless white thing if Westlie wasn’t bending over or putting her hands on her hips. A crime against sex really. Morgan considered ripping it off her and trailing her hands over Westlie’s sides, burying her face between her legs, and licking until she couldn’t breathe.
Morgan blinked as Westlie laughed and softly tugged on her braid to bring her back to the real world. Instead of letting go though, Westlie reeled her down within inches of her lips.
Oh.
… Oh.
God, Morgan’s eyes felt like dinner plates. Westlie held her braid in one hand like a leash and tenderly trailed her finger over Morgan’s nose with the other. Over her lips. Morgan’s soul ached so badly it felt like death wanting Westlie this badly. Wanting to obey.
Westlie wouldn’t just speed the fuck up either! Her hands crept lower, painstakingly sliding over Morgan’s sides. To her hips. To her trouser buttons.
Maybe she noticed Morgan’s arms trembling at the effort of staying still because Westlie finally, finally kissed her. Morgan moaned in relief even though Westlie’s hand on her hips stopped them from pressing together. And then Westlie pulled back after another minute. Morgan stared at her in disappointment.
Westlie smiled and her lips pouted sympathetically; which somehow made Morgan’s stomach yearn even more. “Just a little longer.”
“Westlie-”
“What’d you say again? Whatever I desire?”
Morgan opened her mouth to protest, and then realized she didn’t really want to protest. She snapped it shut and tried to look pitiful.
Westlie laughed. Witch. “I know you can manage.”
Oh god, those eyes.
She caressed her cheek and Morgan crumbled like sand into the comfort of her palm and the soft scents of tea and breakfast, and the baby, and Westlie, and the love that tied them together- Agony ripped through Morgan when Westlie’s hand pulled away. “Wes-”
“I’ll be fast,” Westlie’s eyes were so soft it almost made up for the fact she hadn’t kissed Morgan in the last twenty seconds. “Be a good girl.”
…. Good girl.
Morgan’s ears rang like Westlie had struck her head with a gong. Fuck, she probably looked just as stunned too. She barely noticed when Westlie slid down her trousers and kicked them aside. Or when she started on her shirt buttons. It was just those words ringing in her ears; and something desperate and obedient inside her that wanted nothing more than Westlie to give her a hundred commands – a million commands – and to say ‘good girl’ after each one.
“Stay there,” Westlie murmured.
Morgan froze.
She almost stopped breathing as Westlie edged herself up on the bed before realizing she’d said, ‘stay there’, not ‘don’t move’. Morgan bit her lip and let her eyes wander as Westlie hefted herself onto the bed and gave Morgan a sheepish look when she had to catch her breath.
“Do you want me-”
“No, I’m fine. She’s just- fucking heavy now.”
Westlie edged herself back on the pillow, catching her breath again and wince-laughing as the baby decided to kick. She was still wearing that damn gown, otherwise Morgan would’ve gotten a delicious view of her inner thighs.
Westlie glanced at Morgan and laughed again. “You-” she shook her head and reached out a hand. “Silly goose.”
Morgan decided pouting would waste time. She hopped on the bed naked – oh, did Westlie take her things off? – and blushed. Westlie wasn’t naked too, strangely enough, but Morgan’s brain was working too slow to figure out why. And then Westlie teasingly grabbed her braid and absolutely nothing mattered.
“Up here,” Westlie murmured.
Morgan straddled Westlie chest, blushing in obedience as both of them were hit with the thick scent of wet. Westlie caressed her legs first, thumbs barely reaching her inner thigh and Morgan’s pussy throbbed. Then her sister caressed around back, taking eons before her fingers trailed over Morgan’s ass.
Morgan’s breath caught and she felt Westlie’s eyes sparkle.
Right on cue, Westlie’s fingers squeezed and Morgan gasped, catching herself against the wall. Oh god, Westlie knew how to drive her mad. You’d think she could make it easy and just fuck her.
Maybe Westlie heard, because instead of caressing her again she spread Morgan’s legs until Morgan felt every warm breath against her slit. She whimpered softly. She was so wet. Her pussy clenched and Morgan wondered how cum wasn’t sliding down her thigh.
“I want to try something,” Westlie murmured.
Yes, yes. Whatever you want. I want your tongue.
She kissed her thighs and Morgan let out a strangled moan. “Lady of the Garden,” Westlie’s lips felt like fire. “-tie your hands together.”
Vines sprouted from the wall, tangling about Morgan’s wrists and a thick stub of wood sprouted to hold her. Morgan almost didn’t notice since Westlie kissed her clit and she gasped, bracing herself against the headboard.
“You’re so pretty,” Westlie murmured.
Any other time Morgan would’ve loved the compliment, but her cunt wanted sex. Her hips jerked helplessly at the lack of friction. “Wes-”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you.”
Hands ran over her ass and Morgan whimpered into the vines. “Please-”
“I want to pleasure you,” Westlie growled quietly, just loud enough the teeth in the words made Morgan tremble; the dark-eyed lust.
The vines squeezed her wrists so tight they hurt, and a little whimper escaped her lips. “Yes-”
Westlie kissed her inner thigh. “Just ‘yes’?”
“Westlie, please.”
Westlie dragged her lower like she couldn’t wait any more and finally her tongue curled over Morgan’s clit. Oh god, she was rough and then she was fucking Morgan with her tongue, making obscene whimpers come out of her mouth while her hips begged for more. Morgan arched against the vines, writhing at the pressure in her stomach. She was already so close; being pinned and helpless made it feel inevitable and Morgan came as Westlie sucked on her clit, quivering, panting uncontrollably until she slumped against the wall.
She- she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think about moving until she caught her breath, actually. Her h-hips- fuck- Westlie’s grip tightened. She pulled Morgan back on her tongue like she’d read her mind and licked her, long and slow, circling Morgan’s clit until she was gasping.
There- there wasn’t a good enough sound for being pinned. It was delicious and Morgan’s Law loved it. The barely-coherent part of her brain felt each twist as vines sprouted from the wall, but Morgan couldn’t do anything about them because they were so thrilled at Westlie’s love. With each lick she was granting them freedom and Morgan just had to suffer how good it felt.
She came again, gasping Westlie’s name incoherently.
When her trembles died down, Westlie let up for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles on Morgan’s thighs. The whole room smelled like flowers and sex. Morgan’s wrists ached above her head, and Westlie- Stars Above, Westlie licked her fucking lips and she’d never felt more wanted.
“… I love you.” Westlie softly kissed her clit again and Morgan groaned.
“… You’re- you’re not done.” It came out more accusatory than Morgan intended. Although, to be fair, when she opened her eyes there was somehow two of everything. She decided she didn’t care about brain function and closed them again.
Westlie laughed, stroking Morgan’s thighs so possessively she shivered. “Mm- I can be.”
No. No, no, no. Never ever stop.
“Fuck me.” Was the only thing Morgan’s tongue managed.
She felt Westlie’s eyes sparkling again, and it- fuck, it undid Morgan; that yearning in her gut, that desire. She was just feeding it and it was overwhelming- she needed to cum. Westlie slid one finger down her slid. “… How many?”
“Westlie-”
“Just one?”
“Westlie, fuck me.”
“You do like two…”
Two fingers circled her clit and Morgan whimpered like a whore.
“… Well?”
“Please?!”
Oh thank god, there was Westlie’s tongue. Morgan arched into it, groaning as she ground her clit against Westlie’s warm, wet- Westlie softened her tongue, forcing Morgan to rut lower, and then it was the same friction with frustrating lack of width-
“Wes- Fingers-”
Westlie’s hands slid over her ass, fingers caressing Morgan’s inner thigh. Fuck. She heard, she just refused-
Westlie sucked on her clit again and Morgan collapsed against the wall with a helpless shudder. “Wes-s!”
Westlie whispered something against her lips and vines curled around Morgan’s thighs where Westlie’s hands had been. She gasped as they spread her even farther apart, propping her against the headboard. The Lady of the Garden was flexible, but she wasn’t that flexible. The shiver as she felt Westlie’s breath on her hole made up for it though.
“… Such a good girl.”
“I want you!”
Westlie kissed her clit again, tongue swirling around it. “… so patient.”
“Please stop teas-!”
Three fingers stretched her dripping pussy and Morgan let out a sound she’d only heard from red-lit windows. Morgan instinctively let out another helpless moan as Westlie sank her fingers in, and the vines supporting her drooped.
“So good she gets three fingers.”
Morgan yelped as the thick sprout above her head pulled up at her wrists and she was arched against the wall. Several dozen leaves and tendrils caressed her skin and she whimpered as they curled about her nipples. She- she could probably free herself somehow, but her brain was too fuzzy to form English and Westlie’s fingers were fucking her harder. Stars, she was going to cum-
“Wes-!”
Morgan’s hips bucked as Westlie’s fingers broke rhythm. Oh god, she was slowing down. No- noo- Westlie withdrew her hand and Morgan whined, spreading her legs farther like that would encourage her evil sister to keep going. At least she didn’t stop entirely, thank the Burrower; just circling her swollen clit and rubbing her lips. God Morgan couldn’t get enough. The plants against the wall squeezed her breasts like she usually squeezed Westlie’s. God, she needed to cum one more time-
Westlie licked from lips to clit, kissing her at the top. “… you alright?”
“Why- why’d you stop?”
“I love hearing you.”
“That’s not-” Westlie ran her hands over Morgan’s ass and she involuntarily groaned, legs already spread as far as she could stretch. “I was so close!”
“But you want to obey.”
Morgan choked on her own breath for a full second. Oh. Oh, she did. She did, she did, she did. If Westlie wanted her to wait, she would wait. Even if her clit was so sensitive the air made her pussy throb. She loved her.
Westlie laughed softly and kissed the back of Morgan’s thigh, fingers trailing down her leg as she admired her. “… you’re so beautiful.”
Morgan arched at the stem that held her wrists above her head and felt Westlie’s belly against her back as she caressed the foliage above her. Her sister whispered, “Stay there, please.” And the stem instantly thickened; the vines around her wrist squeezed.
Westlie’s hand dropped to her hips again and Morgan gasped at the feather-light touch. Her fingers trailed up her sides, ignoring her shivers, over her back, down her shoulder blades-
“I love you,” Westlie whispered.
“I- I love you too.”
Fingers caressed Morgan’s hair and she leaned into it, breathing heavy as they trailed down the loose braid she hadn’t re-tied yet. Westlie gently looped it around her hand until it was taunt. And God- Morgan had no brain cells left. Westlie kissed up her shoulder, pressing her lips against the base of Morgan’s neck as she wrapped her free arm around her waist. After another kiss, she scraped her teeth lovingly against Morgan’s skin, eliciting another gasp.
“… I love your sounds…”
Morgan whimpered and Westlie grip and teeth tightened. She choked again on air as her sister’s body pressed against her back; somehow Westlie’s breasts had slipped free of the gown. Morgan whimpered.
Westlie ignored her and pressed closer, kissing her neck. “Who are you?”
“God Westlie, I want to cum!”
Westlie pulled her braid, just enough to make Morgan’s breath catch, like a warning. Westlie kissed her throat. “And why should I let you cum?”
Morgan’s brain was so empty. The only thing she could think of was Westlie owned her, and she would do anything to hear ‘good girl’ again.
“Tell me your name.”
The words caught in Morgan’s throat. “… I- Lady- of the Garden.”
“Mm. Who are you, Lady of the Garden?”
“I’m the ties of life- Ah! The ties of humanity-” Westlie’s arm slid down to play with Morgan’s clit and Morgan made a strangled moan.
“What else?”
“Wes-”
She got a gentle jerk on her braid as reprimand. “What else, Lady?
“A- a naturalist? Queen of Albion where the light of the Clockwork Sun doesn’t touch? Wes-”
She bit her neck and Morgan whimpered. “Not quite.”
“Westlie.”
“My sister,” Westlie purred, so deep it was almost a growl. Morgan nearly came on the spot. “My Queen. My Lady. My naturalist.” Her fingers rubbed faster. “Say it.”
Morgan managed another strangled moan. Westlie jerked her braid.
“Who are you, Lady?”
Pleasure flooded over her at her name and Morgan gasped, dizzy. “-Yours!”
Westlie kissed her neck. “Again.”
“I- I’m your sister- your queen- yours-”
Westlie growled with a possessiveness that made Morgan’s stomach turn to butterflies and she bit Morgan’s shoulder, fingering her with three- no- four fingers. Morgan reeled again, writhing, whimpering, arching against the wall- Westlie loved her body, her Law, her sounds, her thoughts. So close-
Westlie dug her fingers in Morgan’s hair to turn her head and crush their lips together.
Pain. Pleasure. Morgan’s lungs screamed, and her clit-
“Cum for me.” Westlie growled in that delicious tone of lust and control that made Morgan ecstatic to be hers.
Morgan let out a mangled moan as the bubble of pleasure burst and the world turned white. Westlie slid her fingers into her pussy and Morgan writhed into the wall, making sounds that didn’t even register as hers as Westlie kept gently fucking her. Somehow. She was clenched so tight she’d probably broken Westlie’s fingers, but Westlie wasn’t stopping. Morgan felt her caress her side, groping her ass; it felt so good but it was so much there were spots in her vision-
Morgan slumped against the wall, half-laughing half-sobbing at the barrage of sensation. How the fuck did Westlie always get her in this position? Twitching helplessly and hanging from vines in a catatonic state.
After a minute, Westlie tenderly leaned her chin on her shoulder. “I love you.”
Horrible awful beautiful woman. Morgan sniffed.
Westlie kissed her. “… such a good girl.”
Morgan kissed her back wantonly anyway. There was a soft whisper and somehow her arms became looped around Westlie’s neck; the top half of her maternity gown had slid away, exposing everything above her belly. And Morgan found herself draped over her lap, very naked, too sensitive, and helplessly aware of her much smaller breasts rubbing against Westlie’s as she buried her head against her shoulder. “Wez-”
Westlie carded her hair, playing with it softly. After a moment she caressed Morgan’s back, kissing over her collarbone. “Such a good girl.”
“… ‘s too much-”
“… You’re amazing.”
There was another soft whisper and Morgan felt her Law disentangle itself from her wrists. It was like a knot undid in her stomach; she gasped and slumped against her sister again, whining in protest.
“So proud of you,” Westlie whispered. Morgan nuzzled into her neck. “… My Lady.”
Warmth echoed through Morgan’s body and she puffed out a breath, smiling.
“… my naturalist.” Westlie kissed her, and the rest of the tension in Morgan’s stomach melted. “… my Sun.”
She kissed Westlie’s cheek, nuzzling softly.
Westlie’s eyes were a tender, chocolate brown, and Morgan was suddenly reminded how easily her body was nudged into giving itself over. Westlie was rewarding her though, especially with that intoxicating smile. “… Love you.”
The closeness was too wonderful to resist. Morgan kissed her. Westlie sank into the kiss, opening her mouth for Morgan’s tongue. She pressed closer, savoring the floral saltiness of her own cum. On Westlie’s lips. On Westlie’s tongue. God- it drove her mad and Westlie knew it.
Morgan was forced to breathe and she pulled away, panting. “… I love you too.”
Notes:
Sometimes it's a bdsm-lite kind of day~
Edit: I have a few more scenes, (and new inspiration again haha). Not sure when I'll be able to post them though, but I'm going to try. Thank you to everyone who commented!!
This fic got WAY more attention than I bargained for, lmao. I hope everyone enjoyed and got some fulfilling fluff out of it. ♥
Chapter 9: 9.1
Summary:
There’s supposed to be a chapter that’s mega horror/hurt-comfort before this ‘cause I’m into h/c, but I’m apparently not into it enough to write it. Decided to give up pushing myself to write that because I’ve got many more things to work on. :P So congrats! You get all the chapters after that and you can have fun filling in the blanks with imagination. And if you do want a birth scene that’s completely out of left field and obnoxiously hurt-comfort, let me know ig. xD
Chapter Text
Things had settled down a few months after the baby was born. Maybe not entirely, since every day felt like a waking catastrophe with a newborn; but enough that Morgan wasn’t on pins and needles at work, and Westlie usually let out a breath of relief when she got home.
Westlie hadn’t wanted to be touched for several weeks after the birth, which seemed normal. Burrower knew Morgan wouldn’t want to have sex right after a newly spawned human being tore her open. But she couldn’t help fearing she wasn’t needed either. Physical restriction had been the whole reason behind Westlie's proposition. Westlie apparently held the same fears though, and their hesitation had led into a very awkward, fumbling, bashful conversation. It had a happy conclusion though, and they began slipping off when they could, despite desires allowing for far more.
Morgan’s desires allowed for far more anyway. Westlie risque dressing seemed worse each time she went home. She claimed it was for nursing, but nursing didn't require being petticoat-less. At this point, working at the bookstore was almost a relief.
Morgan blinked as the customer finished their lengthy explanation about why they needed the particular book in question. “A History of the Pianoforte for the Classically Inclined?”
“Only if it’s by Josephine Brach.”
“This shelf then. ... If it’s here.”
Halfway to the shelf, a faint itch spread through Morgan's body. It felt familiar, but faint; like Westlie’s fingers brushing over her arm. Morgan shook off the sensation and ran her fingers over the titles. She saw it after a minute since the book was fairly old and nondescript. Par for the course. Caesar’s bookstore did specialize in old, nondescript books, although Morgan was still surprised, occasionally, at the breadth of literature he’d crammed into the room.
She selected the book just as the whisper started up her arm again, and Morgan dismissed it before the customer could see the odd look on her face. They bought the book, left, and Morgan immediately shut her eyes to find the source, scowling.
It was… at home. She blinked. That was the familiarity. Westlie was whispering to the plants that surrounded their bed.
Morgan smiled and let the flora bloom in response: they hummed softly, twining gently up Westlie’s wrist just like she had requested. Morgan couldn’t quite feel her sister’s skin, but she knew what was being asked, and the friction as the plants obeyed. Westlie was probably just- Another vine wrapped around Westlie’s other wrist as she kneeled on the bed. The vine continued up her arm at her encouragement too, tendrils sprouting over her bare collarbone. What-
The shop bell rang again.
Morgan swallowed.
The new customer was a woman a few years older than Westlie. She looked tired; maybe anxious, with a thin film of soot covering her after a shift in the factories. She glanced around the shop first before her eyes timidly lit on Morgan. “Hallo. You got books on plants?”
“Sure. What kind?”
A vine curled around Westlie’s throat and Morgan felt her moan. A shiver ran down her spine. Was she- Morgan bit her tongue.
“Book for a bairn. He's about seven.”
Shit. Morgan bit her lip. She was selfish about the books the shop collected – which wasn’t just her fault since Caesar was entirely selfish too – but their books on plants would be far too advanced for a child.
She pursed her lips. “Maybe over here…?”
Her head fogged as she led the woman across the shop. Half Morgan’s brain was drawn intrinsically to Westlie’s commands with her Law feeding the plants, and she felt the faint sensations of arousal as more vines trailed over Westlie’s bare skin. Did- did Westlie think she couldn’t feel her?! Morgan blinked furiously at the books in front of her and tried to shove the sensations away. The vines curled around Westlie’s breasts.
“Hm… What kind of plants? From the Reach?”
The woman looked embarrassed. “I… don’t know if ‘e likes a place. He just likes the names of the plants.”
Maybe an older encyclopedia…? Morgan crouched down to fiddle through the books on the bottom shelf. They’d been long-abandoned as potential never-sellers and she sneezed. What had she liked when she was younger anyway…? She’d been more of a scrive-spinster kid. Not ferns anyway.
… Morgan… tighter…
Morgan almost swallowed her tongue as the vines tightened around Westlie’s throat. No! Focus!
Morgan pulled a fat encyclopedia from the shelf and quickly fanned the pages. She sneezed again, halting the arousal swirling in her stomach. This one only had a few pictures- lengthy descriptions- She shelved it and pulled out another.
“You- you think these’s’d be okay for a boy to read, Miss?” The woman suddenly asked. “I can’t read it to ‘em.”
“I’m thinking…” Morgan pulled out a thinner, fairly outdated copy. She’d read this particular version once, but it’d been so long ago she couldn’t place the publisher. The book had decent information though, if outdated, and maybe not a lot of pictures, but enough. The ones it had, had been lovingly engraved too. Morgan stomped twice on the floor and Caesar looked up from the counter.
“For her son. Encylopedia. 1858.”
Caesar’s eyes were infuriatingly sharp; there was no way he missed her distractedness from the signs. Morgan felt his gaze linger a split-second longer than usual, then he glanced at the woman behind her and smiled. “It’s an old copy. Set your own price.”
The woman was counting out pence in her palm when Morgan looked back. It looked like she almost had a shilling, but the sum must’ve taken her ages to earn.
The speculation broke her focus and Morgan suddenly felt Westlie’s hand trailing down her side, lower and lower- Morgan cleared her throat and the woman looked up, startled. “Two pence,” she whispered. The book was probably worth a half-shilling, but it was old, and Caesar had said she could set the price. If he protested, she’d pay for it herself.
The woman looked startled. “But-”
“I’m sure he’ll love it.”
The woman handed over two pence and took the book reverently. After a moment, she smiled, murmured ‘thank you’, and hurried out the door.
Grow.
Morgan’s cheeks flushed scarlet as a shrub sprouted between Westlie’s thighs. Incredulously it wasn’t a kind she knew, and Morgan half-wondered if it were out of Westlie’s imagination. She stood dumbstruck in the aisle until there was a thump on the floor. She jumped.
“Morgan?”
Morgan shot Caesar a very weak grin. “I-have-to-do-something.”
She bolted up the stairs and pulled herself into the attic with Correspondence, where she stumbled into her overstuffed chair. Fuck she was going to have some explaining to do later. Goddamn it, Westlie!
Morgan pressed her palms against her face to cool down. It helped, but didn’t stop the feeling of Westlie’s shrub bloom a- a stiff, elongated bud. Morgan’s breath caught as it pressed against something warm and wet- and then sank into something warm and wet-
Morgan clapped her hands over her mouth as Westlie started riding it. The vines tightened around her breasts and Morgan felt the give as milk began to leak. Westlie panted softly.
You- you horny slut! Morgan barely managed to think. You couldn’t wait?!
Morgan focused and the picture of the bedroom grew sharper until she felt each tendril caressing Westlie’s skin. Morgan didn't intend to look that close, but it was deliciously distracting, and since she was here already...
The pregnancy had left Westlie’s hips wide and curved, and the vines generously wound against her, curling up quite-sizeable thighs. Morgan groaned despite herself. She did miss Westlie’s bump, but the extra flexibility more than made up for it.
The vines around Westlie’s neck suddenly tightened and Morgan felt her and Westlie gasp in tandem. One in fear, one in… pleasure? Morgan’s eyes widened. Her fingers were already raised to free Westlie, but as she watched, Westlie… sank… into it? She was panting like a dog as she whispered for the bud in her cunt to fuck her harder.
A wave of arousal flooded Morgan’s senses. Westlie had said she loved her vines, but this went beyond her wildest imagination. It was all real though. Morgan pinched herself just to be sure. Westlie could free herself at any point. All the plants were at the whim of Morgan’s Law while Morgan ‘puppeted’ them - or just obliged Westlie’s requests really. But even unconsciously, her Law would never hurt her sister so there was no harm to any of it – Westlie’s requests were just… rough.
On cue, the bud fucked her even harder and the vines around Westlie’s arms and wrists tightened, pinning her to the bed with each thrust. At the same time, they tightened around her throat until Morgan was forced to imagine the sound of her sister’s gasps, face bright pink.
The vines squeezed her breasts, spraying milk and Westlie arched into it.
… Morgan…
Morgan’s right hand unconsciously slid inside her trousers and began to rub her clit.
I want you. Westlie breathed, sending a long, erotic shiver up Morgan’s spine. I want you to fuck me.
How was her sister so delicious? Morgan sank her fingers inside herself, moaning. Without thinking, she ordered the bud Westlie was riding to grow longer and fatter, which should’ve caught her sister’s attention, but Westlie was too far gone to do anything but whimper as it stretched her to her limit. Morgan's brain struggled to sort the sensations: vine against skin, bud against wet, fingers inside hole-
Gods yes- Westlie suddenly moaned. Breed me.
Morgan froze, startled enough her cunt clenched around her fingers and she came without intending to. Her hips instinctively continued humping until she was drowning in pleasure, although she was scrambling to listen elsewhere.
Breed me, Mor-
An electric shiver burned through Morgan’s body. She’d heard right. Breed her? Like- a baby? But-
Oh god. Oh god, it was so clear in her mind though. Forget biology. Morgan’s fingers sank deeper in her pussy and she whimpered. Westlie, pregnant again was already an absurdly tantalizing thought. She’d fantasized about it once or twice; just knowing Westlie was getting fucked again and again until her belly took on that gentle swell. But usually she was on the sidelines, waiting for Westlie to realize her sister’s kisses and her fingers were too satisfying to resist. Suddenly Westlie had jerked Morgan into the action, and it left her dizzyingly aroused.
She would fuck her. Maybe Westlie would suffer morning sickness again, but Morgan would help. She’d get to see her breasts grow even larger than they were now. She’d get to caress the subtle curve under her nightgown that would eventually press against her shift- Morgan’s baby.
Morgan clapped a hand over her mouth, cum squirting over her palm as she whimpered uncontrollably. She was going to soak right though the chair- An image of Westlie with her hands resting on a six-month belly popped into Morgan’s head and she ground her palm against her clit. She wanted. She wanted every second of it again- every second of the last few months again-
Mor-
The vines loosened around Westlie’s throat. She was nearly fucked on all fours, held back by the vines around her wrists, and she whimpered each time the bud thrust inside. It was hard to tell where the vines ended and Morgan's fantasies began really. Foliage curling about Westlie until she was pinned from the weight; tendrils caressing her breasts like a dozen greedy hands, and Westlie’s belly heavy like she’d been only a few months before. Morgan staggered through waves of pleasure.
Morgan- I’m- I’m yours- I’m cumming-
The words vibrated their golden tie like a plucked string and Morgan barely had brain left to laugh. Had Westlie really thought she wouldn’t notice any of this?!
The edge hit her like a train. She gasped, muscles clenching on her fingers as her palm kept rubbing her clit like it had a mind of its own and Morgan whimpered, arching as fantasy after fantasy flashed through her mind.
Breed me, Mor-
It took all Morgan’s strength to not coil the vines around Westlie and ravish her until she was ass-up on the bed and incoherent. The possessiveness burned. Elijah would probably love to knock her up again whenever he got back from Elutheria, but Westlie didn’t want just any baby. Morgan’s baby; her cum leaking from Westlie’s tight little hole.
Morgan came again; leg thrown over the arm rest, and cum soaking her fingers.
It took a full minute for her to catch her breath. Westlie was already detangling herself from the vines while Morgan panted, savoring the view. Westlie still hadn’t ordered away the dildo-esque bud inside her, and Morgan allowed herself a groan of pleasure as each movement rubbed against Westlie’s clit. Her breasts were leaking too. Oh, the second she got home Morgan was going to drag down Westlie’s corset and nurse like her life depended on it.
Silly woman, thinking Morgan just- wouldn’t notice her using Law.
Morgan curled up in the chair, laughing softly as she came down from the high. The more Westlie slipped out of the vines, the more braincells returned, and with them, blushing embarrassment.
Westlie had been masturbating, hadn’t she? So she’d just been toying with her own fantasy, hot as it was. Which didn’t mean she actually wanted it. That made sense, because there were physical limitations to procreation, silly as they felt. And they were sisters. Morgan blushed harder at the thought. Granted, sisters making each other cum almost nightly. But still sisters.
On the other hand… she could knock up her sister.
Morgan’s pussy clenched at the thought and she groaned into the chair. It wasn’t fair how much her possessive streak loved it. Westlie was home, and Morgan desperately wanted to kiss down her neck, bite her shoulder, and show everyone she was claimed.
Morgan closed her eyes letting the desire simmer as Westlie, blissfully ignorant, whispered ‘thank you’ to each of the vines. They retracted one by one, slowly fading from Morgan’s senses. Morgan was almost dozing when she bolted upright. Motherfucking gods, she was in the attic; she was supposed to be at work. Morgan scrambled back in her trousers, ordering several Correspondence sigils to remove all trace of her activities. One last check and she drew another sigil to take her from the attic to the shop.
Damn it all, her sister needed a talking to about this.
Chapter 10: 10.0
Chapter Text
Morgan didn’t confront Westlie because she was a blooming coward.
Unfortunately, not confronting Westlie led to discovering she was incredibly horny.
Morgan began to feel the telltale shiver up her spine every few days, and when she didn’t, she usually came home to a fussy baby. When Morgan could slip away, she did, and she got better at ignoring Westlie. But when they did have sex, it was harder and harder for Morgan to not tie her down and use her like she knew Westlie wanted. Not that their sex wasn’t satisfying and sweet, but it lacked risk.
Never in a million years would Morgan have guessed her quiet, refined sister wanted to be tied to the headboard by the neck and claw at the restraints while a cock explored her insides.
Which was very, very different from spooning her from behind while Westlie read.
Morgan softly kissed Westlie's shoulder blade, sliding her hands down her curves and over her thighs. If she hadn’t wanted wandering hands, she shouldn’t have sat her childbearing hips in Morgan’s lap.
“Mor…”
“Mmm?”
Morgan kissed the crook of her neck
“You didn’t get enough this morning?”
Rude. You got an extra time this afternoon. Morgan caressed her inner thighs. “No.”
Westlie smiled, humming quietly despite her professed reluctance.
“Can I drink?”
“From one.”
They switched positions. Morgan nosed into her breast, feeling shameless and horny enough to hump her clit against Westlie’s thigh. As soon as she began sucking, Westlie sighed and sank back, running her hands through her hair. Her milk let down so easily Morgan mostly used her tongue, swirling it over her nipple. The taste never changed. She was still warm and sweet, and Morgan felt herself growing more aroused with each mouthful.
Westlie was too, from her panting. Morgan smiled as her sister arched her hips against the leg between her thighs. Sex felt too easy without the baby pinning her down; Westlie loved to reciprocate- maybe too much. Maybe that was why telling her ‘no’ felt so delicious, and laying a claim on her drove Morgan's imagination wild.
“Mor-”
Brain activity was cut short as Westlie pulled her up and kissed her like she was drowning, milk dripping onto both of them. Morgan looped her arms around her neck and kissed her again. It still felt surreal. Westlie’s gentle touch, the way Morgan’s hips fit over her sister’s; their lips crushed together, their breasts warm and soft, rubbing skin against skin.
They broke apart to breathe and Morgan ran her thumb over Westlie’s swollen bottom lip. “... I love you.”
“I love you too.” Westlie kissed it, half-lidded eyes sparking a growl of desire in Morgan’s stomach.
She hesitated, just a second too long and the question stuck in her throat. Tell me- Tell me how you want it. Is that just your fantasy, or-?
Westlie’s hands slid over Morgan’s hips and the younger leaned back, groaning.
“… you’re beautiful.”
“Wes-”
Westlie trailed her fingers over her thighs and then she dipped lower, kissing Morgan’s neck. “… I want to finger you.”
“Wes…”
Fuck full sentences. Morgan settled for spreading her legs wider, face buried in the crook of Westlie’s neck.
“I love how wet you get,” Westlie murmured in her ear. “And when you cum on my hand.”
… She was going to cum in under a minute if her sister kept it up. Morgan blushed, hips jerking as Westlie palmed her clit. “’s your damn magic fingers.”
“You love it.”
Morgan hips bucked against Westlie’s hand and she gasped despite herself. “You feel- so good.”
Westlie kissed her again and Morgan moaned, shamelessly pressing her tongue into her mouth and arching against her. She was so close. God- it was so easy for Westlie to wind her up- She came quickly, gasping as Westlie ran her thumb over her clit.
They lay together, Westlie’s fingers still pressing gently in and out as Morgan came down from the high. She nuzzled into her neck after a moment. “… I want you so bad,” she murmured.
“Mm. I can return the favor.”
“N-no. I mean- I- I want to be yours.” Westlie blushed, and the words felt uncharacteristically insistent for a routine statement.
“You are mine. And ’m yours. You know that.”
Westlie dragged her fingers over Morgan’s clit as she pulled out and Morgan groaned. “I- I know.”
After a minute, Morgan rolled over to softly nuzzle her cheek. Westlie blushed, still reserved, even in her desire. Her lips were so close they felt like warm, tantalizing lures, and Morgan decided to not kiss her until she spoke.
“What are you thinking?” Morgan murmured. “Tell me.”
“It’s… stupid.”
“… I love you.”
Westlie bit her tongue, blushing. “… Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Mm... Only if you put your fingers back inside me.”
Westlie slid her fingers back inside and Morgan blushed, squirming a little. “I was joking!”
“N-now?”
“Fuck- Mmhm. Straight face.”
Westlie still couldn’t get the words out.
After a moment, Morgan leaned forward and kissed her with lips and Law, pulling their golden string taunt until Westlie was flushed and panting.
“I- I’m embarrassed.”
Morgan ground on Westlie’s fingers, eliciting another blush somehow. “You just made me cum.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
Westlie sighed, looking so nervous Morgan felt worry stab her heart. Was there someone else…? Had something happened…? After a moment, Westlie kissed slowly down Morgan’s neck, over her collarbone, then up her shoulder, until she pressed her head into the crook of Morgan’s neck. “I… I miss… I miss being pregnant.”
… oh thank fuck. That was it? Morgan’s breath caught. Finally!
Westlie’s embarrassed blush doubled. “It’s- I just… wanted to say it.”
Morgan scrambled to comfort her. “No- No, I loved it too. I loved watching you grow, making sure she was safe; your milk coming in-”
Goddamn. How did Westlie keep getting redder? Morgan watched her wheels turning as she geared up the courage to speak. “I-” the words still stuck in Westlie’s throat. “-That’s- why I want you. I- I know it’s impossible, but I want you so badly. I want to carry your baby. I-”
Morgan crushed their lips together to shut her up, need already bubbling in her gut. But she was not going to rush this, damn it. If she was going to breed her sister, she was damn well going to savor the experience.
They broke apart, gasping.
Morgan grinned. “Who said impossible?”
“But-”
“I’m Law,” Morgan growled against Westlie’s ear, and her whole body shuddered. “… I say what’s possible.”
Not like she’d been daydreaming about possibilities for half a month.
Oh, it felt good to let loose. Westlie was still stunned, eyes wide, but flushed with arousal. Morgan kissed her again, dragging her teeth over Westlie’s bottom lip. Her sister shivered again. “Mmm. How long did you take to tell me?”
“I- I was still pregnant.”
“That lo- Wes!”
“… I started wondering how new stars are born.”
“That’s the stupidest-”
“You said you wouldn’t laugh! And… and I wondered if you ever-” Westlie looked down and Morgan could suddenly taste her trepidation. The hesitance Westlie had to overcome to even imagine. “… And if you ever did, I decided I wanted to.”
Morgan kissed her again. Slower. Deeper.
How… how did she even deserve- this? Westlie’s eyes welling up with comfort and relief? And so much gratitude just at not being denied that Morgan didn’t know how to tell her that she was the one who should be grateful. She was broken and flighty and unsure and if Westlie stopped being her Truth, she would shatter into a million pieces. But Westlie was still here- miraculously, incredulously, still here.
They kissed until Morgan’s lips felt raw.
“Not tonight,” she finally whispered when they broke apart.
Westlie had definitely expected something now; she looked disappointed. Morgan cupped her cheek and Westlie sank into the touch like butter. “Why not?”
“I want to savor it.”
Westlie hesitated. “Did… you ever…?”
“I… wanted you, but I never really… thought about it until-” it was Morgan’s turn to hesitate “-last month.”
Westlie blinked and her face slowly turned beet red again. “Did…”
“… Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?!”
“But you were gone!!”
Morgan rolled her eyes and sprouted roots to pin her wrists to the bed. Westlie's breath caught, eyes wide as Morgan kissed up her jaw to her ear. “… but you’re mine.”
Westlie’s quiver ran through her whole body; she gasped and closed her eyes, as if Morgan couldn’t feel the arousal radiating off her. It was deliciously fun to make her squirm. The vines twined around Westlie’s wrists and up her arms, just like Westlie had asked them half a dozen times before, ‘alone’.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
Morgan gave her a quick peck on the lips. “I wasn’t sure if it was just a fantasy.”
Westlie opened her eyes in surprise at that, laughing before her eyes softened. “Mor- you’re…”
“I know, I know. Incorrigible.” Morgan leaned in like she was going to kiss her, but left an inch between them. “I had to know you wanted it.”
“You are my fantasy, Mor.”
Morgan blushed, and for a good minute neither of them had anything else to say.
Chapter 11: 11.0
Summary:
This is my second favorite chapter. There's literally nothing important in this chapter it's just bdsm fluff porn. Y'all know the drill.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Westlie was even more handsy the next morning. She sent Morgan off with a kiss that made her head spin, and a surreptitious caress of the hips.
Thankfully the bookstore was nigh dead. It wasn’t very busy at the best of times, but it wasn’t uncommon for a few people to come in around lunch and several more to arrive in the evening. Even if customers were there, Caesar hadn't minded if she slipped away. Most of her job was to move the heavy things he could no longer lift; or bend, kneel, whatever other physical activity was necessary. Her presence as an interpreter was just a perk.
So the instant Morgan felt Westlie tug at her Law, she vanished to the attic.
Westlie had gotten brazen about twirling the vines around her fingers and requesting Morgan’s Law to do her bidding, but this time Westlie blushed as she asked the vines to cover the bed. Morgan grinned behind her hand. That’s right, sister-dear. I’ve been here the whole time.
It was easy to sense Westlie’s hesitance through the vines too; usually she settled right into pleasure, but this time she let the vines grow directionless over her hips. Westlie knelt there for another moment, then reached down and let a vine curl about her finger before she raised it to her lips and kissed it sweetly.
A delighted shiver ran down Morgan’s spine and she burrowed into the chair in happiness. Oh, she was so lucky. So, so lucky.
Westlie guided the vine to her shoulder and Morgan felt the familiar request for the flower bud Westlie liked. It bloomed, and Morgan sighed as the bud pressed against Westlie’s entrance. There was another pause, and then Westlie pressed it in, sliding down so easily Morgan felt her pussy throb.
Westlie began to ride it, moaning softly as vines curled up her arms. They refrained from her neck though, and as pleasurable as the bud seemed, Morgan knew her well enough she wasn’t any closer to cumming. Which was annoying, because the sensations were driving Morgan’s arousal wild. She was about to make the bud fuck Westlie harder when her sister made a shy request for a second bud.
Morgan’s Law responded. The flower bloomed in front of her, a tangle of green and vines. Westlie willed it taller, blushing. The heat and her desire filtered through the flora back to Morgan until she got so close to cumming she stopped rubbing her clit. When the bud was as high as her face, Westlie willed it toward her. Then with one smooth, soft movement, she licked it, swirling her tongue around the tip before she pressed the bud inside her mouth.
Morgan tried to remember how to breathe.
Westlie swallowed until the bud pressed against the back of her throat and she had to lean back a few inches, moaning as she was well-stuffed from both ends; then she ground her ass against the first bud, riding it while her tongue rubbed the underside of the second.
Morgan clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping as Westlie’s mouth drew sensations in her stomach she’d never felt. She needed friction, but every swirl of Westlie’s tongue felt like she was rubbing her g-spot in just the right way and making Morgan writhe for release. Only it never came. She- she was showing off! Morgan realized after a minute of squirming in her seat. Westlie knew what she was doing! The minx! Fuck!
Westlie’s breaths grew heavier and Morgan dug her fingers back in her pussy, whimpering as her sister’s tongue swirled around the bud again.
Morgan-
Oh god, her name sent lust spinning through Morgan’s head. Without thinking she ordered the bud to shove deeper into Westlie’s throat. Take it. Take my whole cock.
Westlie choked, leaning back as the first bud thrust into her and grinding helplessly as it continued to press inside. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to breathe. Morgan knew she should be worried, but each thrust felt deliciously solid, and Westlie’s body- Westlie’s body was ecstatic. Westlie choked again and Morgan forced the bud in farther, pinning her wrists down so she couldn’t pull away. Take it.
Westlie came, trembling uncontrollably, tears leaking from her eyes. She nearly collapsed as Morgan pulled back so she could breathe and Morgan desperately wished she were there to kiss her swollen lips. She fingered herself furiously to catch up since her sister was so damn distracting. It didn’t take long. The vines were still curling around Westlie as she recovered, caressing her breasts, sliding between her thighs and the bud. They even spread her wider until she was forced to sink deeper on the flower with a helpless little whine.
And somehow she was still pleasuring the bud in her mouth. Morgan moaned as Westlie caressed the stalk like it was Morgan herself. It- it was so easy to imagine- if she-
Morgan arched in the chair, cum squirting over her hand, the seat, the floorboards, filling the whole attic with the smell of sex. Westlie!
Westlie ran her tongue from the tip of the bud to the base, curling up the underside, dragging her silky lips over every length-
Morgan doubled up in the armchair, whimpering as her hips humped her fingers. God, Westlie knew she wanted her- Didn’t just want her. Needed her. Needed to take her from behind and fuck a baby into her- make her exclusively, undeniably hers. And Westlie wanted it too, or her tongue wouldn’t be- Fuck- swirling around the tip of the bud like that. The lust was making her dizzy.
Morgan closed her eyes and yanked the reigns of her Law from Westlie’s hands. The vines grew taunt. Westlie’s eyes widened, and then the vines flipped her from kneeling to lying her back. Westlie yelped. She didn’t resist, but resisting was useless anyway as new vines from the wall sprouted and curled about her wrists, trapping her arms above her head.
Morgan stretched a few tendrils against Westlie’s cheek, caressing her before they curled about her breasts and squeezed, making Westlie gasp at the sudden pressure. Morgan grinned and twitched the bud already in her cunt. A shiver ran through Westlie’s whole body, and Morgan could almost taste her arousal.
Please-
God, she wanted to be there.
Morgan allowed the bud to fuck her and Westlie came in seconds, writhing helplessly against the restraints. Morgan grinned again and spun the vines heavy about her throat until Westlie gasped, hips arching off the bed, even as the bud dove in and out of her hole. You’re mine. Morgan purred to her. And Westlie came again on the spot, whimpering unintelligibly.
Her emotions still came through though; thick, gasping, barely coherent. I’m yours. I will always be yours. Breed me. Mark me. Claim me. Fuck me. I never want you to leave.
Morgan whimpered and shoved her own finger back in her pussy without realizing it. Westlie’s bud sped up, so wet Morgan wasn’t sure if she was feeling her own fingers or the flower. Say it again. I want to hear it from your lips.
I’m yours. I will always be yours. I love you more than words. I will never leave you. I will always be by your side. I never want you to leave.
Vines pressed on Westlie’s lips like a kiss. I will always be yours. I will never leave you. I will destroy the world to keep us together. I will be by your side as long as you wish. Never leave me. Never think I don’t want to be by your side.
They came together, arching, twined around each other, whimpering in pleasurable delirium.
It was a few minutes later once the throbbing stopped that Morgan managed to open her eyes. Westlie had fallen asleep in the nest of vines, cheeks flushed, bud still deep between her legs.
Morgan took a minute to admire the rise and fall of her breathing; the warmth of her thighs, and the delicious way the vines curled about her breasts and curves. If she were there, Morgan would’ve kissed her despite the risk of her waking up. As it was, she softly whispered away the vines, nestling Westlie in the quilt until she sighed deeply and curled up with a smile on her face.
Stars, Morgan wanted to do the same thing.
She imagined gathering her sister in her arms, savoring the warmth, nuzzling into her hair and kissing whatever part of her face she could reach. And then Westlie falling asleep face-down, pressed into her side, leg thrown over Morgan’s waist and arm draped over her chest. It was a little heaven. Just theirs. Just them.
After a soft moment, Morgan drew a Correspondence sigil and pressed it to the ground. A rose sprouted on the headboard above Westlie; it was honey-colored, with pink on the inner petals. As soon as it bloomed, Morgan’s Law froze it, capturing the flower in stasis so Westlie could pluck it when she woke up.
Never think I don’t want to be by your side.
Notes:
hot. fluffy.
Chapter 12: 12.0
Summary:
I take it back. This chapter is possibly second or third favorite. It's a very close tie. I did consider not writing this, but if I'm writing pregnant tentacle porn I might as well write pregnant tentacle futa porn, lol.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Morgan couldn’t picture anything else the rest of the day. Her fingers itched from Law and her clit throbbed between her thighs; just walking felt unnecessarily erotic. She’d cleaned the attic, but the smell of sex lingered in her nose despite doing enough banishment sigils she knew it was in her head. It didn’t help she was so wet each stride felt frictionless either. And her cunt ached.
Almost home. Morgan chanted to herself. Almost home. Almost home. Almost home.
She made it back to the flat in record time. Westlie was just setting the baby down. She looked up when Morgan entered and blushed. She was wearing one of her maternity gowns despite (affrontedly) not being pregnant. It was selfish, but Morgan loved spotting her curves through the shapelessness, and how Westlie’s chest spilled out the top, no matter what she did. Nursing always left her leaking, like now; damp patches on the blue fabric that showed off her nipples.
Morgan kissed her like she was starving and Westlie hadn’t left her seeing stars three hours ago. She needed more. Morgan ran her hands over Westlie’s ass, groaning into the kiss when her hands discovered no fabric under the dress. She pulled back to suck on Westlie’s lower lip. “Bedroom.”
Westlie nodded.
In one smooth motion, Morgan grabbed her ass and hoisted her against her waist. Westlie yelped, muffling herself just in time the baby stayed asleep. Morgan grinned into her shoulder, holding in her own groan as Westlie’s cunt dampened her thigh.
She carried her inside the bedroom like a trophy. Westlie slid from her arms as Morgan shut the door, curves pressing deliciously against Morgan. And then they were kissing again; teeth dragging, breath gasping.
“-Wait-”
Westlie stepped back, struggling to pull the dress over her head and it took all Morgan’s restraint not to rip it down the middle.
It took another eon to hit the floor. Morgan crushed Westlie against the wall the instant it was off, latching onto the closest leaky teat. She sucked rough enough she thought Westlie might stop her, but instead she moaned. Shivers ran down Morgan’s spine as Westlie’s hand carded her hair, tenderly stroking her braid.
Ohh, she needed to claim her. Someone else might come along and get the wrong idea and- Morgan’s Law bubbled in distress. Hers. Hers, hers, hers, hers, hers-
Morgan pulled away to struggle out of her shirt and she hurled it blindly across the room away from them. “I need you.”
“I need you t-”
Morgan dropped to her knees, spread Westlie’s lips, and licked. Westlie staggered against the wall, gasping; vines curled under her arms to catch her, across her body, under her thighs, until she was lifted enough for Morgan to dig her tongue into.
“Mor-!”
Morgan ignored her gasps and kept licking. She kicked off her trousers somehow and fully edged under Westlie, giving into the remarkably frequent urge to worship between her sister’s legs. Morgan rubbed her own swollen clit between her fingers as she sucked. She was barely cognizant of the motion, but she’d imagined the sigil so many times over the past month Morgan’s Law itched against her current shape.
Morgan's hips bucked against her palm instinctively and her clit bulged. She whimpered, tonguing Westlie’s cunt sloppier until her sister arched against the vines. Her little hole was perfect and Morgan was going to fuck her until she came over and over and over again. She'd only stop when Westlie's belly started to grow and settle on her hips; then she'd get to watch her sister swell until she had to snuffle at the weight of their child. Their child.
Morgan’s clit stiffened and lengthened until her humping turned into thrusts and each stroke made a flurry of foreign sensations in her stomach. Her lips swelled below it, making Morgan whimper at the new weight and sensitivity and the top of her clit thickened, bulging. Morgan whimpered and stroked harder, digging her tongue into Westlie’s cunt and hoping Westlie wouldn’t notice she was too caught up to stop. After another second, Morgan’s clit folded back and she almost sobbed in pleasure as the head of a cock popped free.
Westlie came and Morgan barely noticed through the surreal haze of pleasure as she grew thicker, wider, longer. Especially wider. Morgan swirled her tongue in Westlie’s pussy, cock swelling in her hand until she knew she’d stretch her sister’s tight little cunt to the fullest. She could already imagine it: softer and warmer than her hand, inviting her to fill to the hilt. Morgan’s fingers grew sticky from precum and a foreign pressure built in her belly; not quite like cumming from her cunt- higher, and more like a balloon threatening to pop than she cared to admit. She was ridiculously close to the new pressure snapping when she remembered to stop.
Morgan jerked back to reality.
Westlie was panting in the vines, legs spread, whimpering from a second climax. Her breasts were still leaking somehow, drops sliding down her belly. Morgan swirled her clit one last time and raised her head to lick up her sister’s milk.
Westlie’s breath caught. “Mor- your fingers- I want-”
Morgan pulled the vines closer to kiss her. “Fingers?”
“I- I want to come again. Please.”
“Aw, begging!”
“Mor, don’t tease-”
Morgan slid her arms around Westlie’s waist again, keeping her above her twitching member. She carried her over to the bed. “Not teasing.”
“You are teasing.”
Morgan let her slide down to the bed. Westlie definitely felt her cock drag against her cunt first, but it didn’t seem to register until she was sitting on the bed and it twitched in her face. Westlie’s breath caught for several seconds.
“Just a taste,” Morgan purred. “And then I’m fucking you… elsewhere.”
Westlie’s mouth opened a little in shock. Closed. Then she wordlessly leaned in.
It took an eternal second for Morgan to feel her sister’s warm tongue swirl around her head. Stars spun in front of her eyes and she almost stopped breathing. Fuck, how was her mouth even better than this morning? Morgan dug her fingers in Westlie’s hair to hold herself steady.
Oh god, Westlie’s tongue was sliding down the underside of her cock. Morgan’s hips thrust deeper on instinct – fuck, her brain was completely gone – and shit, somehow her whole cock was in Westlie’s mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. Westlie’s tongue rubbed against it, sucking, pleasuring, and Morgan let out a moan she barely recognized as her own. “… Westlie.”
Westlie hands ran down her thighs and Morgan instinctively thrust against her mouth again. Westlie moaned and Morgan almost crumpled as the sensation filled her cock. Shit. She was going to cum. Barely cognizant, she caught Westlie’s hands and pulled away with every ounce of willpower in her body. Westlie’s mouth, of course, stroked the opposite direction and Morgan gasped, trying to remember words as her cock twitched greedily in the air.
Westlie tore her eyes away to look up.
“Other end.”
Without a word, Westlie pushed herself backward on the bed up to the pillows and Morgan crawled after her. She half-collapsed into Westlie’s kiss, leg splayed over Westlie’s hips, cock poking against wet lips as she kissed down Westlie’s throat. Her hips begged to fuck her; take what was already hers.
Morgan stopped, panting. “Wes?”
“Mm.”
“Do you-? I won’t- I won’t if it’s just a fantasy. We don’t have to. I won’t-”
Westlie kissed her; sweet and tender and fierce.
Morgan swallowed. She waited.
“I love you.”
Westlie’s eyes were an intoxicating shade of brown. Morgan could stare for hours, especially when Westlie had that tender look only for her. “That… Yes-? Wes-?”
Westlie blushed as she wrapped her arms around Morgan’s neck. “A dozen times yes.”
Morgan kissed her again. She couldn’t help nibbling her lip and Westlie caressed her shoulders.
Morgan nuzzled her, groaning into her shoulder as her cock twitched. “Oh Wes, I need you-”
“I’m yours, Morgan.”
Morgan’s cock twitched again, and all her willpower crumbled. She pressed inside.
Westlie was dripping cum. The walls of her pussy squeezed Morgan’s cock, stroking her head as she slid inside. Morgan gasped and her hips bucked instinctively at the pleasure. “S- sorry I-”
Westlie kissed her.
They sank against each other, Morgan gasping as she fully sheathed herself inside her sister. “… Wes.”
“Fuck me.” Westlie whispered.
“I- I’m going to cum-”
“Cum inside me.”
The words rattled deliciously in Morgan’s empty brain. Cum inside me. Her hips thrust a little instinctively and Westlie groaned in pleasure. She wiggled her hips a little, adjusting to the size of the cock inside her and Morgan blushed. She’d imagined the scene so many times, but now it felt surreal, as if she were an observer, not an active participant desperately trying not to let the bubble in her stomach burst.
Morgan pulled back slowly so she didn’t lose herself in the deliciousincrediblesexymarvelous way Westlie’s cunt made her feel, and Westlie gasped, her cheeks a little flushed; her muscles clenched around Morgan’s cock. “Mor- please.”
The knot in Morgan’s stomach tightened. Her breath caught and she lectured herself. ‘Not yet’.
“You’re- you’re so wet.”
“I can’t believe you’re inside me.”
Westlie lifted her hips without warning and Morgan whimpered like a dog. “You feel so good-”
“I’m yours.”
She was. Morgan gasped as her hips thrust again, sending a flurry of pleasurable sparks through her brain. God, she was. Westlie was- Westlie was hers. Her loving, sweet, thoughtful, older sister. Morgan couldn’t tear her eyes away as Westlie arched beneath her; her eyes were closed, bliss written all over her face. She panted in rhythm to Morgan’s thrusts, interspersed with whimpering and unintelligible encouragement. Each thrust made her chest bounce too, and Morgan felt her eyes keep drifting down to stare.
After a moment, Morgan moaned and shifted forward, her hips grinding into Westlie to press all the way in. “Wes- I wanted to do this for- for so long-”
“Oh yes.”
Morgan couldn’t tell if Westlie had wanted it too, or she was just commenting on the dick in her cunt, but the knot in her own stomach pulled tighter and her hips crashed against Westlie’s, grinding her into the bed. Westlie whined in pleasure and suddenly all Morgan’s attempts not to cum too early flew out the window. She thrust back, keeping the new angle, and Westlie whimpered again.
God damn she had it bad. Morgan’s possessiveness grew stronger with every thrust, and it bubbled over Morgan in waves of euphoria. Her weight pinning Westlie to the bed. Her cock thrusting in and out of Westlie’s sopping pussy. Her lips crushed against Westlie’s mouth, claiming all the sounds of pleasure that escaped. She was Morgan’s person; Morgan’s lover; Morgan’s idol; Morgan’s cockwarmer; Morgan’s bitch. Morgan bit Westlie’s shoulder and her sister gasped, arching into it.
Mine. The bubble in her stomach grew larger and the word pounded her head at every thrust. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Morgan’s face warmed. She was still thrusting- couldn’t stop thrusting; god, it felt so good- and the uncontrollable pressure built up quickly in her hips. She- she should- should probably warn Westlie. Should probably- No, sh-she wanted faster. Had to faster- Should probably- Should probably… Something….
Fingernails dug into Morgan’s back and she gasped as Westlie’s cunt contracted around her cock. Oh god, she was going to cum. Westlie was cumming and she was cumming with her. Morgan gasped helplessly as the pressure burst and she shoved her cock as deep as it’d go, moaning as her hips made uncontrollable, trembling thrusts. S-she was cumming; spurts of cum with each stroke, over and over and over right into Westlie’s throbbing little cunt-
O-oh god. She was breeding Westlie.
Breeding her big sister’s cunt and it felt so. damn. good.
Morgan’s legs suddenly felt like pudding. She dropped her shoulders, trembling as Westlie’s pussy clenched from her own high.
“Mor-”
“Westlie. Westlie, I-”
Westlie kissed her, dragging her down until Morgan’s full weight was on top of her. They broke apart after a minute, panting, and then she ran her hands down Morgan’s sides to squeeze her ass.
“I love you-”
“I didn’t know- God- I didn’t realize how badly I wanted you. Beautiful. Stupid-” Westlie kissed her again, burying a hand in Morgan’s loose hair to pull her closer.
A happy shiver ran up Morgan’s spine and she blushed.
Westlie kept kissing her, making Morgan intently aware of her weight against Westlie’s chest. It was tantalizing to imagine pinning her more. Morgan would press their palms together and raise Westlie’s arms above her head. Hold her there. Watch her blush as she realized Morgan had complete control; her chest rising and falling with anticipation as her nipples hardened.
Normally at that point, Morgan would slide down to stroke Westlie’s clit, but now, she could just press inside and keep her pinned. Lust swelled in Morgan’s throat at the thought. Westlie would gasp then and arch on her cock, unable to resist even if she wanted to. Of course, she wouldn’t want to. But the surrender; the invitation. Another shiver ran up Morgan’s spine and she groaned into Westlie’s kiss.
Westlie was in control for now though. Not even by choice; she was simply more experienced underneath. Morgan groaned again as Westlie ground their hips together.
“… horny slut,” Westlie murmured.
“I… What-?”
Westlie laughed and kissed her throat. “… You’re hard again.”
O-oh.
Morgan blushed again, immediately torn between a desire to repeat the last twenty minutes and Westlie currently sitting up and kissing her with tongue. Their breasts rubbed together; Westlie’s arms around her neck, clouding all Morgan’s senses except the greedy throbbing between her legs. H-how- how had she lived without this? Westlie’s hands squeezed her breasts, sliding down Morgan’s belly and caressing her hips, an open request to fuck her. Again.
Morgan groaned and kissed her, throwing restraint to the wind.
Her head felt more sensitive and the bubble of pleasure in her stomach was no longer there, but Westlie’s cunt was gloriously slick. Morgan instinctively thrust into her and Westlie groaned, spreading her legs wider for Morgan’s hips. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Morgan leaned her weight so she could caress Westlie’s cheek.
Westlie melted into her like butter. Her eyes closed, even though she was still panting softly at each thrust.
“I- I love you. So much.”
Those lovely brown eyes opened and Westlie caressed Morgan’s cheek back. She kissed her, still panting. “Morgan- Lady of the- Morgan- I love you too.”
The pressure built again in Morgan’s stomach and she whimpered, kissing Westlie until her muscles trembled from lack of air and she thrust more intently to keep rhythm. Westlie’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, crushing Morgan to her and gasping into her neck at the pleasure. Their fucking was still deliriously needy despite taking more time. Morgan knew she would’ve laughed at how awkward they looked if her singular brain cell weren’t stumbling and gasping over how close she was to climax while every muscle screamed in exhaustion and her arms ached.
Westlie bit her shoulder.
Morgan gasped. For an instant, sex was overtaken by the scent of Westlie under her, and the scrape of her nails digging into Morgan’s back, and the burn as teeth scraped skin. An unexpected reversal. Westlie claimed her.
Morgan kissed her so roughly she felt teeth through the lips. Ohhh, Morgan needed to breed her, and her seed better take quick or she was going to loose her fucking mind if Westlie kept leaving hickies like that. Claiming Morgan when she wasn’t pregnant- Westlie’s swollen little cunt throbbing for cum like the slut she was. Morgan could probably stuff her with a dozen Leadbeater vines and she’d beg for more until she was pinned down and fucked to delirium. Morgan's thoughts grew completely incoherent and she kissed Westlie again, thrusting hard enough to make her moan each time.
Good fucking hell.
The knot in Morgan’s stomach snapped and she collapsed onto Westlie, gasping, burying her cock as deep as she could while her hips rutted instinctively. Each pump sent a wave of catharsis rushing through her, stupid as the neediness was. F-fuck, she had to get a leash on her possessiveness. Later. All later. For now, euphoria. Morgan sank against her sister, panting.
After a minute, Westlie’s hand softly tucked Morgan’s loose hair behind her ear, kissing what face she could reach. Morgan kissed her jaw back. After another minute, all her blood began to return to its proper non-erogenous zones, including her brain. She groaned and slid off Westlie’s shoulders.
… Shit, she didn’t even know if Westlie came the second time.
Morgan propped herself with an elbow, blinking half a dozen times to clear the dizziness. “… Wes-?”
Westlie laughed softly beside her. “’m here.”
“Did you- Did I-? That second time-”
“Mmhm.”
“Oh good.” Morgan dropped against her and threw an arm over Westlie to cuddle-spoon-sloppy whatever. Westlie’s breaths were slower and even now. The method wasn’t quite the same, but Morgan had fucked her more than enough to know she was in the drowsy state of well-fucked after cumming multiple times.
The whole thing… actually felt kind of stupid with a clear head. Morgan grinned into Westlie’s shoulder. “… I love you.”
Westlie kept her eyes shut, trying not to smile. “As you showed me emphatically. Multiple times.”
“Not enough, apparently.”
That won her a grin. “Oh god.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not that mean. That’s for tomorrow.”
Westlie kept her eyes closed, but Morgan felt her laugh anyway.
“… Wes.”
“Mm.”
“I know it got- a little rough. I didn’t ask- I should’ve asked- if-”
Westlie rolled over, burying herself against Morgan’s chest. Morgan folded around her instinctively, nose in her curls, lips on her forehead.
“Wes?”
“… Stars- is it the cock that keeps their jaw open after sex?”
Morgan filed that comment away for later. “Westlie, I don’t want to be too rough.”
“You’re not.”
It felt silly asking with Westlie nestled in her arms. Which was probably why she’d cuddled there. But in the same breath it was why Morgan felt obligated to prod. Somewhere in the deep recess of her brain, she could still feel their father’s look of terror at the Law she wielded. Her sister was far past that, but Morgan never wanted to tread close. She pressed a sneaky kiss to Westlie’s lips. “… when should I stop?”
“Now.”
Morgan blinked.
“… Oh. You meant sex.” Westlie groaned and cuddled closer. “… I don’t know. If I start screaming bloody murder. Or if I scream ‘Ow!’.”
“What if you scream ‘Ow!’ but you like it?”
“Christ, Morgan. What is this, twenty questions? I’ll scream ‘Ow! I love it!’.”
Morgan sighed, annoyed at herself for being annoyed. “I love you. I don’t want it to hurt. Well, maybe a bit. But not hurt.”
“I’ll use your name,” Westlie murmured. “You’ll know.”
That… was a fair point. Morgan considered that.
“… Done now? My sister grew a cock and made me cum five times in a row, so I wanted to ride that high as long as possible.”
Morgan laughed despite herself and rested her chin on Westlie’s curls, as requested. “Mmm. Sounds erotic.”
“Oh, it is.” Westlie smiled. “… I love her to bits.”
“Funny that you love your sister- I have a sister and I love her too.”
“No…”
“… You think they’re the same sister?”
Westlie snorted. “-God you’re fucking insuffr-”
Morgan kissed her before they could say anything else stupid.
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed reading! I definitely enjoyed writing this~ Probably far more than necessary for characters that have no canonical need to have sex ever, lmao. Many thanks to Lapulta for creating these two and letting me play with them. Check out "I Have a Daughter Now, I Guess" if you like Morgan and Westlie's dynamic!
Like the first pause at Chapter 6(?) I have perhaps one or two ideas after this, but writing these snippets is definitely not my priority right now and it's all kinda when I get inspiration.
Many thanks to all commenters! You're very sweet and I hope all the scenes were fulfilling~
(I ended up copying this into the overall end notes because it really goes for every chapter haha. I just kind of write this when I'm horny or really hurtin' for some good fluff.)
Chapter 13: 13.0
Summary:
For some reason I thought they needed a little drama? Which might be a little out of character for them, but it was hot too, so idk.
Chapter Text
Morgan woke up curled around Westlie, one arm around her waist, face buried in her hair. The position felt so familiar now. She shifted to pull Westlie closer, half-awake, and her sister sighed softly. At some point during the night, Morgan had thrown her leg over Westlie too, ending up with her limp cock pressed against Westlie’s ass.
Mmm. Morgan almost kissed the back of her neck before she remembered Westlie was still asleep. The warmth of them pressed together was tantalizing though. Her cock twitched in response to the lewd half-coherent musing, and Morgan blushed.
Westlie stirred in her sleep, shifting closer to her sister and coincidentally grinding a little. Morgan bit her lip to hold in the groan.
Fuck, if she weren’t fast asleep, Morgan would be running her hands all over her curves. The gentle pudge left over from the baby. The rolls above her hips; her swollen, supple chest.
Morgan held her breath and tried not to notice the warmth in her stomach steadily growing with her cock inconveniently nestled against Westlie’s rear. She wasn’t trying to think about how thick Westlie felt pressed against her anyway, or- or the extra pressure as her body kept noting it as enticing.
… holding her breath wasn’t working.
She let it out and tried to slow her breathing down. One after the other. Regular. Steady. The arousal was bound to go away if she didn’t think about it, right? Right.
She focused on Westlie’s hair in the early light: a mess of reddish brown curls splayed over the pillow. For some reason her nose always ended up buried against them when they slept like this. Probably because her arm was curled around Westlie’s waist. She’d never done that while Westlie was pregnant; her belly was much too big. Hm… which did beg the question; how big was she going to grow again?
Morgan’s cock stiffened against Westlie’s ass with a greedy throb.
Goddamn it. Morgan bit her tongue and breathed through the urge to move her hips. Westlie’s breaths were still steady. She even sighed a little.
Maybe if Morgan slid her leg off…?
She was weighing if that would wake up Westlie when her sister sighed again and nestled tighter into her arm, unintentionally sliding Morgan’s cock directly between her legs.
Breathe.
Oh gods, Morgan had to remember how to breathe. And if she didn’t breathe steady enough, Westlie was going to wake up.
Stars almighty, she couldn’t even think straight- Goddamn it.
Westlie’s thighs were just the right pressure to provide fiction too, begging Morgan to move her hips. She almost felt lightheaded as the throbbing between her legs grew, and Morgan bit her tongue to muzzle a groan. Her cock twitched anyway, pressing against Westlie’s lips. She was damp, but nowhere near wet enough for Morgan’s cock to enter easily.
She should roll over and let Westlie sleep. It wasn’t full morning yet.
God, the baby wasn’t awake either. Westlie needed sleep.
Morgan just lay there like a loon though, eyes boring into the back of Westlie’s head, praying for just a little shift.
Westlie sighed softly in her sleep and adjusted again, like she could feel Morgan stiffening. Her lips opened just enough for Morgan’s head, and like a dream, closed around her, engulfing Morgan in a haze of pleasure. She bit her tongue again. Steady breaths. Steady…
Her hips pressed in. She couldn’t help it. Not hard, but just enough some of her shaft-
Morgan whimpered before she could bit her tongue again and almost like instinct, Westlie groaned, weigh shifting, and her ass swallowed Morgan’s cock whole.
Fuck- and she was wet too! Morgan swallowed another whine. The last few months had been so easy! They woke up in the morning and sometimes they fiddled, sometimes they didn’t. But they were always so soft and sweet and she got to blush as she tucked Westlie’s curls behind her ear and Westlie said something tender, and then maybe she came on Morgan’s fingers and it was all very consensual and thoughtful, and not a cock firmly lodged between her sister’s thighs as Westlie sleepily ground back on her.
Morgan had to wake her up.
Fuck- she didn’t want to wake her up.
Westlie would wake up anyway though, and Morgan wouldn’t like if Westlie were the one humping her ass while she slept- Morgan’s brain bluescreened at the thought.
… Actually, she’d fucking love it.
Morgan blinked half a dozen times.
… That wasn’t the point! The point was she wasn’t awake!
Morgan kissed Westlie’s shoulder before she could ponder more, releasing her waist and pulling back a little- fuuuuccckkkk- her wet cock was only half-between Westlie’s cheeks. She kissed her softly again. “… Wes.”
“… Mmm.”
Westlie sighed and… proceeded to grind her goddamn ass back on Morgan’s fucking cock goddamn fucking shit fuckkk-
Minx. Morgan growled in frustration and wrapped herself around Westlie again. Which was apparently exactly what Westlie had in mind. She yawned and snuggled tight. Bitch.
Fine, Morgan snapped to herself. If she wouldn’t wake up normally-
She pressed her cock far more gently than it wanted between Westlie’s legs, allowing her hips to grind deliciously into her wetness. “… Wes.”
Still nothing. Even though Westlie’s breaths were ever-so-slightly heavier, and her cheeks had turned pink.
Morgan leaned up on an elbow to press a kiss to her cheek.
“… Mmm.” Westlie faced her sleepily, eyes still shut. The soft flush crept through her cheeks, filling her lips even though Morgan hadn’t kissed them yet. She was innocent and completely irresistible. Morgan pressed their lips together.
A shiver of delight ran through Morgan as Westlie groaned, nuzzling into the kiss. Her cock throbbed between Westlie’s thighs.
“… S-sorry- I wanted to let you sleep.”
“… ‘m. ‘s fine; was dreamin’ it anyway.”
Morgan’s hips humped instinctively. Fuck, Westlie couldn’t just say things like that. She was suddenly aware of herself pressed against Westlie’s back, hand caressing her hip.
Westlie smiled sleepily and kissed her again.
“Wes?”
… her sister rolled back over, closed her eyes again, and raised her leg a little. “… shut up ‘n put it in.”
Morgan suddenly wanted her all at once, accompanied with overwhelming affection, like a ferocious, starving monster cradling an egg. … Sororal dipshit.
She angled her cock and guided it in, groaning as she pressed against Westlie’s back and pulling them together with another arm wrapped around her waist. She was… so wet. Morgan thrust instinctively, panting against Westlie’s shoulders. She felt so dirty compared to their sex the night before; more animalistic. Rutting against Westlie as her own hands wandered around her thighs, holding her hips against her cock.
But Westlie was panting softly too. She faced the bed so it was easier to spread her legs, fingers kneading the sheets despite her closed eyes. Morgan thrust extra hard and was rewarded with a helpless whine.
Dear god, Westlie drove her mad.
Morgan grabbed her by the hips and spread her wider. The noises increased in volume, and she blushed as she fucked deeper. “God, you- you’re such a whore.”
Morgan shoved her weight onto Westlie’s shoulders until she was pressed into the bed with ass in the air; she grinned at Westlie’s mew of delight. “You dreamed about my cock, didn’t you?”
Westlie whimpered despite panting at each thrust and Morgan took that as a ‘yes’.
She squeezed Westlie’s ass, using her rolls to hold her on rhythm. “Maybe- maybe I won’t wake you up next time. What do you think about that, whore?”
Westlie came, dropping at the force and helplessly trembling against the bed. Morgan gasped and tried to give her a moment before wrapping around her and dragging her teeth over Westlie’s shoulder. Her sister arched, whimpering. “Mor-!”
“I haven’t cum.”
“Morgan.”
“Open your legs.”
Westlie shivered like her whole body heard the order, and her legs slid open.
Morgan thrust in slowly and her sister let out a muffled whine.
“I love you.”
“I- I love-”
“Tell me,” Morgan purred. “Tell me what you want, Wes.” She grinned after another second. “Tell me what my whore wants.”
Westlie’s pussy throbbed. “M-Morgan-!”
“I’ll keep calling you a whore until you say it.”
“You’re s-so big-” Westlie whimpered and Morgan gave her a little extra rut. “Mor, wait-”
She grinned and used Westlie’s hips to pin her against her dick. “Wait? To breed my whore?”
“P-pl-”
Morgan leaned in again to purr softly against her ear. “… you’d be more convincing if you weren’t enjoying it.”
Westlie’s pussy clenched and she gasped. “Mor, I just came-”
“Mm. Like a whore.”
“Mor. Stop.”
The tone was different somehow. Morgan suddenly caught an edge that hadn’t been there before, even with Westlie half-mumbling into the bed. And Westlie was leaning away.
Well, she did just wake up.
Morgan resisted laughing and wrapped her arms around her sister instead, rolling to cuddle her side-by-side instead of on top, keeping her cock inside. Morgan kissed Westlie’s shoulder.
“… I’m not a whore- you just feel good.”
“Is that why you came when I said it?”
“… Morgan.”
Fine. Apparently whore was one button too far. Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled Westlie tighter. She kissed her shoulder again though, nuzzling softly in apology. “… mkay, sorry.”
Westlie pressed closer, but she didn’t reply, and all Morgan’s arousal began to fade. After a moment, she slid up and wrapped herself around Westlie better, arm around her chest, kissing her hair. “… ‘m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to hurt.”
“Hold me?” Westlie murmured.
“’course.”
They lay there for several minutes, just listening to their breathing.
Morgan’s thumb gently caressed Westlie’s hips, rubbing circles into her side. The bad feelings crept up slowly in the silence; the thought she hadn’t wanted to hurt Westlie, but she had grew until the guilt was all-consuming and Morgan had half-buried herself against Westlie’s back.
At some point she managed to get words through the lump in her throat. “… Wes? Are you…? Say something.”
Westlie shifted under her, just enough Morgan noticed, and then she sighed. “… Sorry.”
“Don’t- don’t say sorry. I’m the one who’s sorry. I-”
Westlie grabbed a pillow and buried her face in the fabric. “Shut up.”
Morgan bit her tongue and curled around her.
After a long minute, Westlie relaxed and sighed again. “… You were right. Should’ve had a word.”
Oh.
“That’s easy. We’ll come up with one. I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped sooner-”
“Mor.”
Morgan pressed against her in guilty silence.
Westlie’s neck flushed a bit, like she was embarrassed at the words. “… I- I just don’t like ‘whore’.”
Oh.
Westlie continued before Morgan could say anything. “… I- I don’t mind when you’re rough; ‘whore’ just- it doesn’t feel… like I’m yours.” She swallowed. “I only- I only want to be used when I’m yours.”
Morgan buried her face in Westlie’s hair, too overwhelmed to respond for several seconds.
… Oh.
Stupid. She should’ve realized that. Morgan’s throat grew hot.
“… ‘m… I’m sorry.”
“I know you didn’t mean to- It was hot. I just-”
Morgan kissed her, a thousand apologies in the grief-filled twist of her lips.
Westlie was blushing when they broke apart and she caressed Morgan’s cheek; Morgan nuzzled into it. “… ‘m yours.”
The air felt lighter. “I- I know.”
Westlie kissed her apologetically too, fully aware the mood was broken. Despite it, her lips were sweet and tender and Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. “… I- I love you.”
Morgan hated the way her body perked up at Westlie’s gentle tone. Sometimes she felt like a puppet on strings; the emotions were too raw to return to sex. But… on the other hand… She kissed her again.
“… do you want to pick a word?”
“… to… to stop?”
“Mmhm.”
Westlie hesitated. “Cease?”
Morgan snorted despite herself. “Well, it’s supposed to be something you’d never say normally. But I guess ‘cease’ is archaic enough.”
Her sister cracked a little smile. “Cease your thrusting this instant!”
They giggled so long Morgan’s stomach hurt as she kissed over Westlie’s neck and shoulder. Her hands slipped down her side too, but out of affection rather than lust, simply being there.
After a minute, Westlie rolled to face her and kissed her again. Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. She tucked a curl behind Westlie’s ear, pretending to ignore the way Westlie leaned into the touch; their bodies still hungry for the other. She was so trusting. So strong, yet so fragile. Morgan felt a little guilty as her heart began to beat faster. Westlie kissed her again though, and the guilt disappeared, leaving her kissing down Westlie’s neck as she gasped and spread her legs in invitation.
Hmm. Not yet.
Morgan swirled her tongue over Westlie’s nipples. The red peaks had grown even longer from nursing daily- and sensitive. Morgan savored Westlie’s embarrassed, blushing panting. Her sister was so… thoughtful about every move she made. Each gesture felt calm and well-placed, even as she dug her hands in Morgan’s hair.
Morgan ached to copy her, even though she simply- wasn’t. She wasn’t cautious. She had to reign herself in, keep her desires in check; although that did mean she could kiss up Westlie’s chest with feral lust that made Westlie’s breath catch. She was Law, loosely bound and caressing Westlie’s shoulders, kissing, taking, pinning her down with just enough weight Westlie knew she was hers and it was no surprise when Morgan dragged her teeth over her neck.
“Mor.”
“Do you- do you want to try out a different word?”
“Yes.”
Morgan groaned and nuzzled against her neck, trying to ignore the way her cock throbbed.
“-I- I love you.”
Morgan picked a spot and bit down, letting loose a whine above her.
“… who do you belong to, Wes?”
The fingers in her hair tightened. “… you.”
Morgan kissed the reddened skin of her collarbone. “… this time, I want you to tell me if you like the word.”
“-o-okay-?”
Morgan ground their hips together and her cock dragged against Westlie’s wet entrance. “… good slut.”
She gasped. “Mor-”
Morgan ground their hips together again, and Westlie slid her legs wider in invitation.
… not yet. Morgan caught her arm and gently pinned it above Westlie’s head. “Ah-ah-ah. Obey me.”
Westlie turned some color deeper than scarlet and she stuttered wordlessly for a moment. “-N-no.”
“Good.” Morgan briefly remembered how good the full phrase felt and she kissed Westlie’s chin, one arms still pinning her down. “Good girl.”
Westlie whimpered.
“Hm…” Morgan’s stomach did a little flip as Westlie’s mouth opened for her tongue. She groaned into it. “How about… how about bitch…?”
She liked that word. Morgan’s cock throbbed and she had to resist thrusting into Westlie’s dripping pussy. She kissed down Westlie’s neck to distract herself.
“I- I like- I like bitch.”
Oh good.
Morgan grinned devilishly. “Show me then.”
“What-?”
“Beg for it.”
“Mor-”
She dragged her cock tantalizingly against her sister’s pussy. “Speak. Bitch.”
Westlie turned her face away, panting, face bright red from embarrassment. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to summon her courage. “I- I’m your bitch.”
“That’s begging?”
Westlie swallowed and the words were a little stronger. “I’m your bitch.”
Morgan crushed their lips together in prideful lust, letting Westlie’s arms go so she could press herself against Westlie- reward her for choosing and speaking and-
“Fuck me.” Westlie gasped. “Fucking hell- Please. I need you inside-”
“Turn around.”
Westlie scrambled to obey. Morgan grabbed her hips once she was on all fours and Westlie yelped as she was tugged on her sister’s cock.
Morgan groaned happily, thrusting once more until she was sheathed inside Westlie. Fuck, her pussy felt so good clenching around her. Even after a baby, Westlie was tight.
Morgan leaned forward and thrust in again, cock stiffening. F-fuck, she wanted to lose control so badly. Westlie face-down, ass-up on the bed was doing something to her brain. “I- I want to fuck you hard. F-fuck- it might hurt.”
She thrust deep in example and her sister whined into the bed. “Mor, breed me-”
… gods above.
Morgan thrust a few more times, letting Westlie adjust to the angle, which was cute to watch in its own right. “… You act so polite and proper, but you’re a little bitch, aren’t you?” There was a moan from the bed and Morgan grabbed her hips to hump deeper. “Mm. You don’t like saying you like this.”
Westlie whimpered and spread her legs wider until Morgan heard the wet slap of her cock at every thrust. Good god her cunt felt amazing.
“… Tell me how good my cock is, Wes.”
She gasped the words, interspersed between thrusts. “F-ff-f- ‘s… so- g-good.”
“And- and you like getting bred like a dog.” Morgan whimpered as her hips sped up. “You’re my little bitch. Fuck- You’re mine, Wes.”
“Mo- fff-” Westlie moaned, pussy clenching around Morgan as her fingers dug into the sheets.
“You love it, don’t you?”
“F- f- fuck- I d- I do. I do-”
Morgan groaned, half-aware she was rutting against Westlie rather than full thrusts, but she still felt amazing and she needed her cunt. Fucking her from behind felt powerful and so deliciously feral. Even bent over her rubbed her head against the walls of Westlie’s pussy until she was gasping. The heat in Morgan’s stomach pulled taunt for one desperate second, and then Morgan came.
She pressed on Westlie’s shoulders and thrust inside deep as her ass allowed, moaning as her cock spurted load after load of cum. She barely felt the pleasure, just relief and delirious satisfaction. The pulses finished after several seconds, but Morgan’s cock throbbed, and she instinctively thrust a few times to finish the last drops.
After another moment, she straightened up and without thinking, pulled her cock out. A stream of white cum slid from Westlie’s spread pussy and Morgan stared, blushing and unable to rip her eyes away. She did that? She… fuck.
Westlie shifted her hips to avoid dripping and winced into the bed, knocking Morgan out of the trance. Without thinking, again, Morgan wiped up the cum with her thumb and pressed it back in Westlie’s hole where it belonged.
Westlie gasped, comedically instantaneous. “Morgan!” She spun around and clenched her legs together.
“… What? Don’t you want it all inside?”
“Morgan!”
Would she even be saying this if Westlie came on her fingers? Probably not. Morgan grinned anyway. “I want to know it’s being put to good use.”
“Morgan!”
She kissed her.
Westlie rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her head when they finished. “You horny dipshit.”
“I love you!”
“I know.”
Morgan looped an arm around her waist and toppled her back on the bed, laughing at Westlie’s yelp. Instead of kissing her forcefully, she settled for soft, and tenderly kissed all the hickies on Westlie’s throat.
After several seconds, Westlie relaxed and she nuzzled into Morgan’s hair. “… I love you too.”
“Mmm… like kissing you.”
“… Silly.” Westlie blushed. “Should I come up with a word for you too?”
Morgan stopped kissing to grin at her. “You use so many already.”
“I do?”
“Silly, incorrigible, Lady, dipshit-” Morgan folded down fingers as she listed them off, teasing “-goofball, sweet, cocky-”
Westlie pushed her hand away, laughing. “Alright, alright, I get it.”
Their love felt so- so ridiculously simple, tangled together, dirty, and yet fully possessed by affection that overwhelmed all else. Morgan couldn’t help kissing her.
They kissed until Morgan was out of breath, and then Westlie took over, nuzzling with soft, short pecks.
Morgan murmured Westlie’s name with every ounce of love she could and Westlie blushed. “… I… love you so much it’s stupid. ‘m sorry if I’m ever too much-”
“Never.” Westlie said it so simply it was Morgan’s turn to blush, and she leaned over to kiss Morgan’s cheek.
Chapter 14: 14
Summary:
I have a whole bunch of snippets from the last few months but got kind of overwhelmed putting them in order. I think I have material for 4ish chapters...? But that doesn't include the 2? 3? 'totally-not-plot' chapters I'm hallucinating for this pwp that haven't been written.
Aaaanyway. I thought Westlie should ride for a while. Have fun!
Chapter Text
Morgan woke up curled around Westlie, one arm holding her waist, face buried in her hair. She instinctively pulled Westlie closer, half awake, and her sister’s breathing deepened. The position felt so familiar now it was difficult to imagine they'd ever slept alone.
Westlie was still sleeping, so Morgan couldn’t kiss the back of her neck. She was warm though; her breasts were heavy against Morgan’s arm. Morgan nuzzled Westlie’s hair and tried to ignore the twitch of her cock in response to her half-coherent, lewd musing.
Like clockwork, Westlie stirred and shifted closer to Morgan. Morgan bit her lip to hold in the groan.
If she weren’t fast asleep, Morgan would run her hands all over her curves. The gentle pudge left over from the baby. The rolls above her hips; her heavy, supple chest.
Morgan shifted her hand down until Westlie’s breast pressed into her palm instead. They were swollen and heavy. Her sister preferred nursing on her left, but now she was producing more than the baby drank, she'd left off draining the other. Morgan had pestered her about it for all of one week before rolling her eyes and accepting it was in her own best interest to let Westlie do whatever she wanted and manage the not-undesirable aftermath. The only downside was resisting the urge to thrust her hips. As good as the warmth of Westlie’s ass felt, Morgan could keep some semblance of self-control, and it was a little early to start humping her from behind.
She massaged softly with her thumb and Westlie's nipple stiffened against her hand. Westlie shifted, then she sighed into the pillow. Ah, she wasn’t anywhere close to awake.
Morgan smiled and rubbed again; not hard, but even a little pressure was enough for beads of warm milk to drip into her palm. Westlie had definitely forgotten to milk herself again; either intentionally or unintentionally. Morgan’s throat felt dry as a bone and she bit her tongue. A few more gentle ministrations and the drops became a milky stream. Westlie’s breathing thickened and a blush crept down her neck.
She wasn’t awake, but her body was responding anyway. On cue, Westlie rolled over and pushed herself up so when she curled back to sleep, Morgan’s face was blissfully buried in her chest.
Stars above, this was heaven. Westlie was vulnerable with her, even asleep, and that was priceless. Morgan held her breath so she wouldn't wake her up and let stupid delirious joy wash over her half-awake brain.
She eased open her mouth and Westlie instinctively guided her teat to Morgan’s tongue, sighing and pressing closer.
Morgan drank.
Westlie’s milk was always creamier in the morning. She was so swollen Morgan barely needed to suck, it just flooded her mouth, thick and sweet; every swallow pressing her tongue against Westlie’s teat. It was so peaceful nestled between her breasts. Morgan’s arm was still wrapped around Westlie’s back, and she had to keep telling herself not to trace circles with her thumb. Which was a losing battle. At least the motion was soft enough Westlie just sighed into the pillow.
Morgan closed her eyes and let the world fall away until there was only the gentle rhythmic motion of suck and swallow. Westlie’s breath steadied and deepened. Like a dream, she carded Morgan’s hair and Morgan moaned without thinking. There was a pause, then Westlie repeated the motion. Shit. Well, she was awake now. After several more times, Westlie's fingers stilled to an equally pleasant caress.
Morgan hummed as she drank, nuzzling deeper against Westlie's chest and swirling her tongue around her teat. She summoned a groan and Westlie’s fingers carded her hair one more time; then with an annoying amount of skill, her sister pulled away.
But then they were kissing. Westlie thrust her tongue in her mouth to taste herself, body pressed close, and the rush of arousal made Morgan’s head spin. Fuck- how had it gotten so hot in their bedroom? She could barely breathe, and Westlie was grinding against her now, her leaking breasts pressed against Morgan’s, and her wet pussy- Oh- oh god, Westlie was so wet.
Morgan’s cock twitched and she whined as a bead of precum slid down her head.
Westlie kissed her again and ground their hips together, exploring her mouth as she took charge. Her authority felt slightly unfamiliar, but so delicious Morgan whined as she was pressed on her back. Her hands instinctively found Westlie’s hips, clinging to her curves, and then in one smooth, wet motion her sister sank on top of her.
Morgan came.
She broke the kiss, gasping, Westlie’s full weight was on her hips and trapping her as her cock throbbed. Fuck- Fuck! Cumming felt so good! Westlie wasn’t clenching around her shaft, but she straightened and used her weight to let Morgan unload deeper- Fuck, she was so hot. Fuck, she felt so good.
She moaned at the final throb and Westlie covered her mouth. “Shh!”
“Wh-”
Westlie leaned forward, milking her cock and Morgan dug a hand in the sheets to stop seeing double. “Just let me.”
“Wes, I- I came-” Westlie kissed her again- that wet forceful kiss that made Morgan’s hips buck helplessly into her dripping pussy.
“… that’s right,” Westlie murmured. “Let me.”
“Let-”
Westlie straightened up, grinding her hips against Morgan’s half-chubby cock inside her. Morgan realized she was still holding Westlie’s hips, although she was mostly fondling the mound of baby weight. It was- it was so rare to see Westlie on top of her. Her auburn curls had grown out and they tumbled below Westlie’s shoulders, a few strands in her eyes from leaning forward, and her breasts were on full display, one fuller than the other.
Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. Her sister was the prettiest woman she’d ever seen. There wasn’t even a caveat. She was just… helplessly in love beneath her. Pinned in place with that soft smile and loving eyes.
How many times had Morgan cum inside her now anyway? Morgan felt her neck and face flush. It was so easy to imagine Westlie sitting on her just like this, but with the extra swell of a pregnant belly. In the beginning it would just be cute, especially as her bump developed. But she’d been so large those last few months- Morgan could easily imagine Westlie blushing, holding her belly as she struggled to ride up and down, or simply hump her cock. And before that, watching from below as she swelled till her button popped as both of them caressed the life inside her. Morgan blushed harder.
Had… had Elijah been underneath her before? He must’ve, right? Especially with Westlie knowing just how to grind her hips to get a gasp. Morgan hated herself for wondering; she hadn’t thought of Elijah in months.
Then Westlie caressed her cheek and all thought disappeared. Morgan nuzzled into it and her cock throbbed. They were here. Now. And she was running her hands over Westlie’s thighs, caressing her breasts, panting as Westlie began to hump her.
Morgan’s cock hardened eagerly at the friction and she flopped back against the pillows, groaning until Westlie leaned forward, raised her hips, and slid fully up her shaft.
Morgan gasped and let out a string of incoherent skyfarer expletives as Westlie sank back on her, breasts swaying. She giggled and Morgan’s cock fucking twitched. Traitor.
“You like that?”
“… f-fuck yes.”
Westlie raised her hips and sank down again, and Morgan saw stars.
“… Mm. But I don’t want you to cum again yet…”
… Bitch. Morgan closed her eyes and shifted her hips into Westlie’s weight. She couldn’t exactly thrust without leverage, but every instinct was screaming to pound her to reach that rush of pleasure.
Westlie leaned down and kissed her, pussy stroking every move she made. Morgan groaned into it. “Wes…”
“Hmm.”
“I- fuck- I’m so close-”
Westlie kissed down her chin and Morgan whimpered, giving herself up when her sister’s lips found her neck. God, she loved her. She’d do anything- even wait. Her cock twitched greedily.
Westlie’s teeth grazed her throat. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“Stars, yes-”
“And cum inside again?”
“Westlie.”
Westlie kissed her. Agonizingly slow for a woman who clearly also wanted to cum.
She straightened and grinned, rising on her knees before she leaned over Morgan again. “… breed me like you mean it this time.”
… f-fuck.
Permission flooded every coherent thought in Morgan’s brain. She braced herself, held Westlie’s hips, and thrust her cock exactly where it belonged.
Westlie whined and sank like butter to nuzzle into Morgan’s neck. And then she spread her legs. Bitch. Morgan squeezed her ass and thrust again. It was almost like those early days when her sister sat against her and Morgan got the echoes of pleasure while she milked. Westlie bounced at every thrust, breasts leaking, sucking Morgan’s neck – that would definitely leave a mark – and gasping at the slap of their hips.
Morgan grabbed Westlie’s ass again, pulling her deeper and forcing her to keep rhythm. Westlie whimpered, thighs tightening around Morgan’s hips as she grew closer too. Without thinking, Morgan wrapped several vines around Westlie’s thighs and spread her open again. Then they kept growing, swirling around Westlie’s body, her breasts, her neck-
Westlie cried out and pressed her mouth into Morgan’s shoulder as she came, her tight little cunt quivering as Morgan plowed ahead, too close to stop, even when Westlie gasped and whimpered that it felt too good. Her pussy was still dripping and Morgan could feel her cum from earlier too, especially with Westlie clenching down. Each stroke of her cock just made her want more until Morgan gasped and dragged Westlie’s hips down, vines lashing them together as Morgan thrust one last time.
Cumming didn’t feel as good as the first time- was that natural with a cock? But it felt much more purposeful. Possessive. Instinctive.
Morgan wrapped her arms tightly around her sister as she finished and they collapsed back to the bed in a panting, sweaty mess.
After a few seconds, Morgan gave a little thrust with her soft cock. “… did I mean it that time?”
Westlie mumbled something positive into her neck.
“Aw. Did I make my bitch cum too hard?”
Silence.
Morgan could be nice. She was also Lady-of-the-Garden and she deserved to be just a little evil. Sliding out from under Westlie, she rolled her incoherently responsive sister onto her back, legs closed to keep the cum in. Morgan kissed her, nuzzling her cheek. Westlie reached out and Morgan cuddled beside her, lips close to her ear.
“… you’re not off the hook for teasing.”
Westlie snorted, eyes still shut.
“Oh, you think I’m joking, Wes. I’ve got it all planned out. I’ll tie you down first, arms and legs. Then I’m going to tease your little cunt until you beg for my cock. And then – listen, Wes – I’m going to fuck so much cum in you you’ll look three months pregnant.”
Westlie’s eyes shot open as she blushed. In arousal. Oh, fucking hells, there’d never be another woman like her sister.
“… then I’m going to put a Law on your lips, so if anyone asks, even our father Arthur-fucking-Faire, you’re going to tell them the truth: you’re the breeding bitch of the Lady of the Garden, and you’re carrying my seed because you make me insatiably horny; and when you come home after that, Westlie Faire, I will fuck you so hard you’ll be carrying twins.”
Westlie’s face was the color of wet brick. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it.
Morgan kissed her bottom lip just to be a little more evil.
Westlie made another incomprehensible noise of confused, inarticulate arousal. She swallowed.
“… I- I’ll… I'll- find a wetnurse.”
Chapter 15: 15
Summary:
SORRY ABOUT LAST CHAPTER. HAVE YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED FLUFF.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Morgan still teased her about wanting the risk weeks later. It was too delicious to watch Westlie flush, stammer, and roll over in petrification.
When she stopped being too embarrassed to touch, Morgan cuddled against her with soothing nothings and kissed her neck until they were both drowsy.
It wasn’t really the thrill (or shame, or humiliation, or rush) of their relationship being known that kept her teasing; Morgan just loved Westlie’s face freezing as visceral, erotic emotions piled in on her in a way that clearly wasn’t all unpleasant. And after, she returned to a world where she wasn't embarrassed, she did have choices, she was safe, and Morgan certainly wouldn’t do anything her goddess disliked.
Their trust felt stronger for it too, and when the baby started sleeping through the night, the whole world grew rosy pink.
Morgan could think clearly, for one, and small inconveniences no longer felt like mountains. Her time at work passed in a delicious haze. When she was home, she was home, and she swept Lizzie up and changed the baby, and read, and teased, and helped (or hindered) Westlie’s work.
And when the day was done and they shut the door, Westlie’s lips were there to make her head spin. She didn’t even have to kiss her; it was enough for Westlie to smile as she hung her things.
Speaking of which.
Morgan blinked as Westlie said something that didn’t register.
“... What?”
“I ordered a suit at the modiste.”
“Oh.” She cocked her head. “Why?”
Westlie sheepishly rolled her eyes and outlined her curves.
“I thought you patched the old one.”
“Too many hems, not enough selvage. I'm going to pick it up tomorrow. Do you want to go? You don’t have to; I was just asking.”
“Sure. I like walking.”
Morgan was not the person to go to the modiste with. That was Charlotte, who showed up the next evening with embroidered diaper linen and a squeal that made the baby’s eyes fly open. Westlie sheepishly scooped her up and soothed her while Charlotte whispered apologies. When she'd fallen back asleep, Lizzie walked them very seriously to the door. “I’ll watch her,” she whispered. Meaning Charlotte. Obviously.
Morgan tapped her nose twice when Westlie looked away. “If she starts taking down the curtains, tell me.”
And then she and Westlie were strolling down the street.
The moment felt… freakishly normal.
People streamed around them, the ever-present chatter of London bouncing off cobblestones. They headed south to the docks, although most citizens were heading home, the opposite direction. So they weaved about, mostly side-by-side as Morgan tried to remember the last time she and Westlie had been out together in sunlight. Especially after… Them. Together. It hadn’t been many, because Morgan definitely would’ve remembered her current, obnoxious, incredibly pervasive need to hold Westlie’s hand.
There was no logic to it. Westlie wasn’t wearing anything scandalous. If anything, she was dressed more than she’d worn for months. She’d borrowed a skirt from her coworker and found a larger, second-hand top. Maybe Morgan liked her updo after months of loose curls over her shoulder. Or maybe it was just because Westlie was there, Morgan thought in annoyance. She was there and with people around; her own instinct was to make their bond louder; solidify what hovered in the air between them. It was all Morgan could picture as they kept walking, hands inches from each other.
Hell, it was almost an affront not to. She knew Westlie’s hands better than anyone. Morgan could almost feel the callus on her right pointer from the pen; the soft, ethereal brush of Westlie’s fingers as they moved around the kitchen. But, Morgan lectured herself, it was very, very unreasonable to consider such an open display of affection anyway and her desires could shut the fuck up.
They were almost to the modiste, rounding a corner, when Westlie’s fingers brushed Morgan’s arm to turn her. “… right here.”
They kept walking, only her fingertips trailed down to Morgan’s palm and lingered there.
Morgan blushed and bit her tongue to hold in the giddy, ‘you too?’ She hummed enthusiastically instead. I would burn the world for you-
Morgan reached the modiste’s door first and Westlie smiled at her for a sweet lingering second as she stepped inside.
Morgan had no experience with textiles or clothing, but the shop seemed nice. There was a lot of fabric and a lot of lace. She leaned on the counter. After a moment, the modiste fetched Westlie’s order from the back and held it up for inspection. It was a typical women’s plain-cut walking suit.
Morgan grinned. “… Brown?”
Westlie sighed and checked the pockets. “What other color would I pick?”
“And that’s why you didn’t bring Charlotte; you knew she’d give you shit.”
“Just like you’re criticizing right now?”
“Not criticizing. Curious.” (Teasing) “You have another brown suit.”
“No, had a brown suit. My brown suit is hemmed beyond hemming. And I- incredible I know- prefer waistcoats that fit.”
Morgan shrugged, still grinning. No, Westlie was just a creature of habit, and she would never, ever escape from brown wool tweed.
The modiste handed the suit over. “Try it on. Same room over there, in the corner.”
Morgan did not miss Westlie’s half-giddy jaunt as she disregarded the teasing and slid behind the curtain.
Morgan trailed her to the back and flopped on a bench next to a garish pile of linen. Funny as it was, she probably shouldn’t tease her. Everyone wanted Westlie to not wear brown because she deserved more than brown, but Westlie just liked brown. The bland, austere aura became her. Or Westlie became the bland, austere aura. Either one.
Morgan picked at a fraying selvage. A nick in the scissors had offset the cut line. It was a heavy weave with plenty of fabric left on the bolt; the cut piece was probably used for a skyfarer’s undershirts, unless there were colder regions of London she didn’t know about. Maybe the docks, or the city outskirts though. It could get colder if the winds picked up. Maybe the owner worked long shifts. There were many possibilities-
The curtain rattled and she glanced up.
… Ever since Morgan could remember, Westlie wore a brown waistcoat and walking skirt. Behind the counter of their father’s shipping company, when she worked on ledgers, on their precious-few nights out; the brown suit was ever-present. Same pattern. Same color.
But suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
Westlie twisted to look at the skirt. “… I like it.”
“… It… looks lovely.”
Westlie caught the shift in Morgan’s voice and looked up, but the modiste was walking over with the tape. She checked her handiwork, giving Morgan the chance to stare.
The suit lining was the same. The cut was the same – wasn’t it? It had to be. Had Westlie’s skirt always come above her heels like that? It had to; it was a walking skirt. Had her waistcoat always cinched to accentuate her hips like that? And the darts over her chest?
Maybe it was the same. Maybe Westlie was different. Maybe Morgan was different.
Morgan swallowed as the modiste checked the back of the waistcoat and she accidentally caught Westlie’s eyes. Westlie smiled; sheepish, but without shame.
… Oh.
She looked like a woman who had fought a dozen wars and won each one to wear her bland brown tweed.
She was proud of her suit. It was hers.
Morgan’s heart melted. She barely remembered standing as Westlie finished with the modiste. When the woman left to the back room, their eyes met again. It was like seeing a purposeful goddess with every victory worn her sleeve. Westlie commanded presence, and that was the delicious torture hindering Morgan’s lungs: because her sister hadn’t ordered it.
And Westlie knew. She stepped forward and ever so gently, trailed her fingertips along Morgan’s jaw. Then with a tender, salacious look, she nudged Morgan’s mouth shut.
Westlie almost said something but stopped. Instead, her thumb caressed Morgan’s cheek and softly cupped her chin.
I’m glad you’re here. I love every moment.
Morgan did not want her hand to drop.
… but they were not home; so away it went.
Westlie paid. She didn’t change, just tucked the borrowed skirt into the bag the suit was technically supposed to come in.
On the street, the world swirled with colors and light. Somehow there was too much, too little, and it was all incoherent. Morgan couldn’t even give two shits, because her world was wearing brown beside her. If she closed her eyes, she could feel her sister’s heartbeat through the tie between them; warm and precious. One, after the other. Just like fingers on her chin: traced and caressed.
Somehow her imagination rocketed past physicality and landed in truth without words. Law without phrase; Touch without fingers. She wanted Westlie's stare to last for hours, reading every movement and expression like they were one being instead of two. Like she’d reached in and caressed her soul.
Stars, Morgan loved her.
A hundred old maps and thousands of calculations and a million brown tweed suits, and the look in her sister’s eyes as she closed her slack jaw. There was no realm she wouldn’t cross-
Morgan blinked and stared at the hand holding her own, then Westlie.
Her sister was blushing. Her cheeks matched her hair.
They reached the apartment and paused on the landing, hands tightening instinctively. Morgan’s heart squeezed. She didn’t need to meet Westlie’s eyes; it made letting go harder, but she did anyway. That look again- of knowing before it was asked and action before it was said. She loved her, she loved her, she loved her, she loved her.
Temporary.
Letting go was temporary.
… but Morgan’s fingers still felt limp dropping back to her side.
Westlie knocked on the door, because she had always been the stronger one. There was a burst of noise and Lizzie threw it open, grinning, face painted like a tiger. It’d been… at most an hour?
Westlie wrapped her arms around Lizzie and dragged her in the door, laughing. Charlotte was gleefully unapologetic about the paint, and of course, lit into Westlie about brown, just like they expected. Westlie rejected several offers for trim. Lizzie clearly ate too much sugar before supper. Morgan noticed the new diapers tucked beside the crib. Charlotte was sweet and thoughtful, usually.
The baby fussed from the extra voices and Morgan rocked her, content to watch Westlie herd cats from the kitchen table.
It was a good evening. A sweet evening.
And at the end of it, Morgan shut the bedroom door to be alone with the queen in the brown suit.
Westlie began to undress, so Morgan copied her at the foot of the bed; half-forgetting if she was taking her shirt on or off since every cell of her body was watching Westlie remove her waistcoat. Her sister was careful to not stretch the fabric, fingers making motions with an expertise Morgan only had for boot laces. And after the last button, the waistcoat fell open like angel wings. Morgan suddenly felt so- so- human beside her.
She managed to kick off her own trousers.
Westlie hung her waistcoat on the wall. In one smooth motion, she unpinned her hair, letting it tumble loose, just over her shoulder. And she knew- She absolutely knew how beautiful she looked as she unhooked her skirt and stepped out of the brown shell, clothed in white. She had to know Morgan was going through the motions like a woman caught in a trance.
Morgan put her boots by the door – which was where they went, and also an excuse to step closer – when a hand brushed her hip. Westlie wasn’t even trying to be sexy, it was just a question that happened to take Morgan’s breath away. Again.
She straightened up to Westlie’s lingering gaze. Even in petticoats she looked regal. Her back was straight, chin poised. How… how had Morgan forgotten she’d fallen in love with a queen? Westlie had law of her own. She sent locomotives across the Reach; thwarted gravity with a wave of her pen. And yet somehow this look was for Morgan and Morgan only.
Their fingers twined together.
The memory of walking together, hands swaying between them, popped into Morgan’s mind with a rush of joy. She blushed, Law swirling through her as they leaned in.
Nothing needed to be said. Morgan was kissing sunshine, or stars, or life itself. She couldn’t feel her fingers as she undid Westlie’s petticoat, her undershirt, her chemise, everything. Couldn’t stop until her goddess was standing bare like Aphrodite in front of her. And her goddess was still a queen; still had that touch as Westlie kissed over Morgan’s jaw- Fingertips drew Morgan after them, guiding her onto the bed, caressing her hips like she was a god while an angel blessed her cock. She wasn’t a god; they should be switching places.
Morgan gasped and grabbed Westlie’s hair as she slid down. She choked on her tongue.
The golden tie carried Westlie’s response, even with a full mouth. You’re so lovely. Always. Even when you try not to be.
Stars- her sister-
I- I can’t be lovely all the time. Statistically.
Morgan throbbed against the back of Westlie’s throat and Westlie pressed deeper in defiance. You’re the expert in statistics?
Morgan whimpered.
Westlie stroked her tongue along her length, pulling back to swirl her head. She was slightly faster and more forceful than in the beginning, licking her lips and stroking Morgan’s shaft with her wet mouth. She wanted to pleasure her- wanted to worship her. The bubble in Morgan’s stomach ached and she gasped at the tension. Tighter and tighter until-
Westlie’s warmth retracted and Morgan dropped against the pillows, gasping. Westlie almost looked apologetic; this was not teasing, she just wasn’t supposed to come now.
Instead, Westlie straddled Morgan’s waist and kissed her; which was not the solution Morgan would have recommended, if she’d been consulted, because Westlie’s swollen breasts were in her face and stars- Westlie tasted like precum. Morgan’s cock throbbed.
Westlie kissed her and sucked softly on her bottom lip. “… pretty eyes, pretty lips…” she kissed down Morgan’s throat. “… I love you…”
It was like a spell broke and Morgan could speak. “Wes.”
Westlie kissed her again, smiling. “If you get to stare, it’s only fair I can tell you too.”
“Can you tell me faster?”
She kissed Morgan a third time, nuzzling into it and leaning back so her soaked cunt brushed Morgan’s cock. “… tell me first.”
“Tell- tell what?”
“How pretty you are.” Westlie kissed up her chin, up her temple. “… that I love you.”
Oh god, Morgan’s cock twitched. “… You love me. You- fuck- you think I’m pretty.”
“I do. You’re my star. Lady of the Garden, Judgement of Joy.”
“I am.”
“Full thing, silly star.”
“I’m Lady of the Garden. I’m your star.”
Westlie murmured to her ear. “… and so obedient. Such a good girl.”
All the blood rushed to Morgan’s cheeks.
“Say it, Mor.”
“I’m… I’m- Wes.”
Westlie kissed her cheek, nuzzling softly as she stroked her hair. “It’s true.”
The words choked in Morgan’s throat, but they still came out, because it was true, or her angel wouldn’t have said it. “… I’m a good girl.”
Westlie raised her ass a little to find Morgan’s cock, and spread for it; sighing in relief as their hips slid together. Morgan immediately grabbed for her hips, gasping as her cock twitched. She was so wet. It was almost a punishment to have Westlie on top so she couldn’t fuck her. To need and not-
Westlie caressed Morgan’s cheek and ground their hips together to grab her sister’s attention. “I’m yours, Morgan. Say it.”
“You’re mine.”
Westlie couldn’t resist a little hump and Morgan gasped. She caressed Westlie’s thighs and her sister moaned.
“… say it again.”
“You’re mine.” Westlie’s pussy clenched and Morgan tried desperately not to lose control.
“… Claim me.”
“I have. You’re mine. For my cock, my cum-”
“With Law.” Westlie murmured and Morgan noticed her flushed cheeks. Oh. This was a very, very different request. “… I’m yours. I want you to claim me.”
Fuck. That was- Morgan’s thoughts blurred with lust. That was a good idea. Sure. No, she wouldn’t normally do it, but her cock was twitching to put a baby in her already, and Westlie wanted both.
She blinked back to reality right as Westlie began to ride her cock. “It… f- might hurt. Ff- Can’t imagine it wouldn’t. It’s Law.”
“I don’t care. I want your Law.” Westlie gasped at an especially pleasurable grind. “I want your baby.”
Dear god.
Morgan was still trapped so she couldn’t grab and fuck the ever-living daylights out of her sister; just like Westlie intended. The rush of arousal burst in the room around them instead and roses bloomed up the walls in a wild, erotic mess. “Stars, Westlie-!”
“You said I’m yours,” Westlie gasped. “Write it in Law. Lady of the Garden- my star-”
She rode her again and Morgan’s uncertainty crumbled at the fresh throb of pleasure. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes- Stars, Westlie was hers anyway. Westlie was hers and who was she to question an angel? Goddess, mistress, sister, queen.
Westlie’s name as Law came to the tip of Morgan’s tongue, but it wasn’t enough. Was there even a Law for the ties of sister and lover intertwined? They were so desperate and sweet; panting, but joyful. Without an inhabitant, Westlie was a house that couldn’t be a home, and Morgan was a Judgement lost in a world without her. Needed and entangled- so very beautiful and so very grateful. And fuck- Westlie’s breasts were hot when she rode.
Law bloomed in Morgan’s palms as she guided Westlie’s hips. It was less words than the sound of Westlie riding her and the smell of blue roses and petrichor; the golden lines that had always bound them, and the knowledge when Westlie held Morgan’s face, she thought she was beautiful.
Fuck, she was going to cum. Morgan gasped as Westlie's pussy clenched in her own pleasure. “You’re mine-”
“I’m yours. I’m yours. Morgan-!”
Morgan held Westlie’s hips down, pump after pump of cum filling her womb. And then Westlie was cumming too, pussy clenching, milking her cock for every drop as she quivered uncontrollably. Westlie gasped and dropped against Morgan’s chest, trembling as she buried her face in her neck.
Morgan sank into the bed and held Westlie close as the glow faded. You’re mine.
She blushed. She’d made that thought real. … Westlie had wanted that to be real.
She peeked over her sister’s shoulder. There was a large, dark brown sigil inscribed on her hip; it looked like ink at first glance, but any closer and it was clearly skin turned dark. Anyone who knew Law would recognize a Judgement’s symbol of possession immediately. There was almost a threat to it. Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. Good. If anyone touched her star, they’d reckon with the Lady of the Garden and she’d eat them alive.
Morgan reached down a hand to trace the sigil on Westlie’s hip, blushing deeper. It rang with her Law, almost calling to her like her vines, or the fungi on the edge of London. And Westlie had wanted it. Oh- she loved her. Morgan traced the sigil fully, pressing her affection into it. How does it feel knowing no one else touches you for fear of me? That you are mine to love and admire?
Westlie gasped and came, knee jerking into Morgan's ribs as her pussy clenched. She trembled in the crook of Morgan’s neck, mumbling unintelligibly.
… Hot. Good to know.
Morgan grinned. “You alright?”
“… Kisme.”
Morgan laughed and kissed her, caressing just above her branded hip.
The motion still sent a full-body shiver through Westlie and she groaned into the kiss. “… mean...”
“… you were pretty mean earlier.”
“… good sex; not mean.”
Morgan laughed softly and buried her face in Westlie curls. The silence of the bedroom felt warm as they recovered. The roses had continued to crawl up the wall until they hung from the ceiling, dark blue and sparkling. Westlie’s breathing grew into a gentle, steady, rise and fall against her chest. Her weight felt warmer too; maybe the Law, maybe the sex.
Thankfully the roses avoided Westlie’s new suit. Morgan wasn’t sure she’d live if she fucked that up.
Westlie stirred after a few minutes, pressing sleepy kisses to Morgan’s neck.
“… Mm, what?”
“… You're pretty.”
Morgan blushed and rolled her eyes.
Notes:
Cranked this out in record time bc I had the vision and also felt so guilty, lol.
This is a scene I've had since forever and also written 3 different versions of with W and M in different moods/positions/s/d because 1) it's hot 2) dude it's so fucking hot Morgan can write Law on me any day. 2.5) M is too consensual and I literally lose my mind thinking of Westlie's desperation to be possessed 3) plot reasons except there's no plot.
I might post a few alt versions because they're too sexy to go to waste and I think the chapter this was intended to be has rocketed to last on the list even though the setting is cool. TLDR: This was supposed to happen in a cave.
Chapter 16: 15.1
Summary:
Not really a chapter 16 but an alt-15 to some degree; salvaged bits and pieces/mood, but I was rereading it and it's too hot to all go to the scrap bin. I hope it's spicy for y'all.
Chapter Text
Oh god, she was home.
They were pretending not to care as they undressed, but Morgan could feel Westlie just as tightly wound beside her. Boots, shirts, corsets, pants-
Morgan’s breath caught as Westlie gently brushed her hip. She wasn’t even trying to be sexy, it was just a sweet question, like ‘how was your day?’ or ‘what are you thinking?’ and Morgan’s heart sang in her chest. She took Westlie’s hand without looking and kicked her pants against the wall.
And just like always, the softness of Westlie’s face took her breath away. That soft warm look was for her and her only. Their fingers twined together, and Morgan blushed at how gentle it felt. Morgan closed her eyes and let Law swirl through her as they leaned together.
The moment felt like forever. Morgan wasn’t sure when she opened her eyes, but Westlie was kissing her; soft and warm and loving with every movement. Like kissing sunshine, or stars, or joy itself. Her arm had twisted as she’d turned and Morgan let go apologetically, only loosing her fingers enough to slide them back together at a more comfortable angle. Their free hands found each other, and then Westlie was pressed against her.
It was different from all the other times. Morgan didn’t need to speak; didn’t want to speak. The softness of Westlie’s hips pressed against her. She’d let her hair down and it tumbled over her breasts. They were swollen, even after feeding, and Morgan couldn’t help the silly spark of joy that she just knew. She and Westlie- simply were; neither pressing too hard against the other.
Morgan caressed Westlie’s hand with her thumb and they stepped back together, still tender, until Westlie’s back was against the wall. She blinked, but her tender, trusting gaze never broke for a second. Morgan wanted to kiss her so badly her heart ached; not just a kiss though- a kiss wasn’t good enough. A kiss to end all kisses. A gift of her body. An oath from her soul.
She lifted their hands ever so slightly – Westlie didn’t stop her – and then raised them to either side of her head. The motion pressed them together and Morgan’s cock twitched against Westlie’s thigh. She kissed her, Westlie’s lips parting for her tongue. Her nipples were hardening and growing sensitive from the pressure as Morgan rubbed against her, just like Morgan’s cock.
Vines sprouted around them, instinctively curling about their limbs like silk. Westlie’s breath quickened, arching her chest against Morgan’s and making the younger blush. She adjusted the vines a little, ordering them to serve a much different purpose. They swirled between their bodies, over Westlie’s breasts, around their hands, pinning both of them gently to the wall. After a moment, Morgan felt the ends of the vines unfurl against Westlie’s nipples and suction on.
Westlie blushed, her body melting so very willingly against Morgan’s, which made Morgan blush harder. It was like she was a little cow, tied up for milking, and the thought felt so sweet she couldn’t dismiss it. Westlie must’ve been thinking the exact same thought because her whimper as the vines began to suck was more animalistic than human. Morgan kissed her again, precum dripping as she pressed their hips together.
The vines thickened around Westlie’s nipples, unfurling tendrils that stuck firmly to her breasts as Morgan felt them sucking harder. Milk let down to feed them- feeding her by proxy. Morgan’s cock throbbed again, sliding against Westlie’s soaking slit. The tenderness made it instinctive; silent nuzzling; twin gasps as Morgan buried her cock inside.
She fucked gently, slowly, savoring each one of Westlie’s ragged breaths and little whines, letting them fill her with intoxicating love. She could do this all day; their limbs tangled together against the wall, in the bed, from behind, hips barely thrusting, just enough she hit those wet pleasurable spots and-
Westlie moaned, sounding so much like a moo Morgan missed a beat. Then she was cumming, squeezing Morgan’s cock as she trembled, arching against the wall. The vines sucked harder, trying to contain the extra sprays of milk and Morgan felt her vines instinctively pull their bodies tight together. Westlie was so effortlessly enticing and she wanted to be closer; needed to be closer, because Westlie was hers.
Morgan pressed deep as she could and came.
Nothing felt as good as their bodies pressed together, making love, kissing Westlie’s neck and down her collarbone, claiming her moans, her lips, her cum between their legs. Messy and wet and not caring as Westlie sank into her arms.
Morgan blushed as she pulled out, Westlie clenching against her still-hard cock. There still weren’t words as the vines slipped away and she carried Westlie to bed.
She wanted more. Her cock twitched. But just once had apparently been enough for Westlie, who curled up on her side with deep, sleepy breaths.
Well, today had been soft.
Morgan curled against her back, blushing deeper as her prick nestled between Westlie’s thighs.
Chapter 17: 17
Summary:
I just wanted to make the numbers go back to normal. Invisible 16.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The lights were glinting, the champagne was flowing, and Morgan had been mistaken for Westlie four times in the last thirty minutes.
“Just one evening,” her sister said.
“I’m still head of Fairweather,” her sister said.
“I don’t want to go alone,” her sister said.
Well, someday Westlie would be the plus-one on a Leadbeater excursion and get mistaken for the Lady of the Fucking Garden fifty times and then she’d think about the psychological ramifications of her actions. In the meantime, Morgan could refuse her nothing and she was stuck standing in a crowd of drunk pansies, admiring the copper tiling on the floor.
The couple next to Westlie talking about freight loading and docking times drifted away, and Westlie sidled beside her. None of her old gowns fit. She’d borrowed another from a coworker, which had turned into a recurring theme. It was a lovely green silk evening gown though, that draped off Westlie’s shoulders; her collarbone was deliciously exposed and it clung to Westlie’s hips like green clouds.
However, her coworker clearly had less… assets. Westlie’s bust strained at the seams and Morgan had to keep dragging her eyes away. Maybe it was just that noticeable, or maybe it was because Morgan had been the one to milk her dry and squeeze her into that abominably tight evening bodice. It did give Westlie’s cheeks a very pretty red though, and her lips were rose-pink. If they were alone, Morgan would’ve kissed her. She'd been doing her best all evening to stare a normal amount and limit the blush to her cheeks. It was working. Maybe.
Her sister frowned.
“… hm?”
“Are you alright?”
“’m fine.”
“You look like you’re choking on a dead mouse.”
“That’s… incredibly specific.”
Westlie pursed her lips with her perfected, ‘Don’t Avoid The Question’ Look. “We can leave.”
“We got here an hour ago.”
“Yes, but you’re clearly not enjoying it.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“You keep staring at the ground. You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’re a terrible liar. I’m not trying very hard.”
“Morgan, we can go home.”
“No, it’s fine. I can suffer the dress shoes for at least another hour.”
“Another hour of staring at the floor? What’s so interesting about it anyw-”
Westlie cut herself short as a chipper young man sidled in front of them. “Mr. Eldsbetter!” She smiled sweetly and offered him a hand with a perfect curtsy.
“Ms. Faire!” He bowed. “What did you think of last night’s auction?”
“I didn’t have the pleasure of attending, but I heard from Pratter it was delightful. I’ve always admired the Brockbuster engines-”
Morgan’s ears glazed over.
One of the servers passed with a tray of roasted eel and she took three pieces, chewing them slowly in far-too-small, polite, ‘genteel’ bites. She eyed Eldsbetter.
He had an odd way of moving; a little like molasses left in the heat too long. His mouth was always a half-syllable behind his words, and his eyes never left Westlie’s face.
Westlie had her best work expression on. The muscles in her jaw were clenched to keep up an interested half-smile, her head cocked, eyes focused on Eldsbetter’s right eyelid. If Morgan didn’t know to look at Westlie’s thumbnail digging into her hand, she would’ve guessed the interest was real.
Eldsbetter lapped it up. He grew more animated, pulling out a business card, which Westlie politely inspected, and motioned her toward a middle-aged man with blonde mustache too large for his face. Eldsbetter at least had the grace to let Westlie turn and give Morgan a sheepish (real) smile. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Hmkay.”
The server passed with the eel again. Morgan grabbed three more.
This was her… 11th? Fuck it. Westlie probably paid taxes or dues or something. She’d been invited. Morgan snagged one more when the server turned their back.
She couldn’t spot Westlie when she finished the eel, which… wasn’t surprising. The room was a sea of gowns and suits. Every other woman had decided to wear green and a good half of them had ruddy-blonde or redder hair.
Morgan sighed and felt for their golden tie. Westlie was still in the room, just near the far wall now. Probably by the business displays. Morgan began to weave through the crowd in her general direction, taking the opportunity to examine the flowers frescoed on the ceiling. They were all tree varieties: peach, plum, nectarine. Most of them didn’t grow in the sky’s realms and the artist had clearly copied them from descriptions and sketchbooks: wrong colors and poor scaling. Baseless renders of inaccurate beauty the average Londoner would never think to question.
An odd warmth tickled under Morgan’s skin and she blinked back to the gala. Westlie had stiffened. Something had turned uncomfortable.
Morgan slid between chattering business owners, muttering apologies she didn’t mean. The sensation intensified as she got closer to the wall, until Morgan finally shouldered aside a woman in pink lace and saw Westlie.
She was still talking to Eldsbetter. They were standing by one of the engines on display. Only Eldsbetter was far too close and familiar for comfort. As Morgan watched, he gently rested his hand on Westlie’s glove and the tingling under Morgan’s skin exploded into pinpricks. Westlie pulled back a socially acceptable distance, but all her cues were ignored as Eldsbetter touched her again to point out something else on the train.
Curses exploded on Morgan’s tongue and she bit them back to a snarl. He didn’t know. It wouldn’t be fair to punish his ignorance. But trespassing on a Judgment’s realm was unforgivable, and Westlie was hers. Wore her Law, slept in her bed, ate her breakfast, wore her Law. Hers.
Fuck. Although the woman who was hers wouldn’t appreciate that thing dropping dead at her feet.
Morgan swallowed the boiling Law in her throat and stalked forward until she was inches from Eldsbetter’s face. He staggered back and Morgan did enjoy the look of shit-himself fear.
“I need to speak with my sister. Alone. Now.”
His jaw flopped. He stammered two non-words and fled.
Good.
Westlie’s fingertips brushed her arm after a moment, and Morgan turned around.
She got a Look. Which. Fair. Fine. She didn’t need to be that mean to him.
Morgan shrugged.
Westlie rolled her eyes and her face shifted into that sweet, wordless look that was for Morgan and Morgan alone. “Well, thank you.”
Morgan imagined cupping her cheek; caressing Westlie with her thumb and watching her nuzzle into her hand. Kiss those warm lips slow and soft. It was her right, really. Westlie undeniably felt the sigil on her hip burn with Morgan’s affection.
Although speaking of that. Morgan suddenly found herself annoyed. “You could’ve told him off, you know.”
“He doesn’t listen. This is a problem every time I attend.”
“Every time? The hell are you telling him?”
“Fairweather has no interest in merging. Personal space, please. That sort of thing.”
“Well, he’s clearly tone deaf as hell. Tell him louder.”
Westlie scowled. “I have told him louder. It doesn't work.”
“Louder than that, then.”
“There is no louder, Morgan.”
Morgan scowled and increased the burn of her Law. Westlie flushed pink. Any onlooker would’ve mistaken it for anger.
“You don’t have to be polite to him.”
“I want to be polite. It’s not my problem if he has no manners.”
“It is absolutely your problem! You don’t want him there!”
“I don’t want to draw attention.”
“Oh, and I’m not drawing attention rushing to your aid like a jealous hen?”
Westlie flushed and Morgan let her sigil in every world- in every time- in every place- in every story- burn between them. Her sister grit her teeth and glared back with pure stubbornness.
Fine.
Morgan would show her polite.
“We’re going to talk. Meet me in the dressing rooms. Five minutes.”
Morgan stalked off before Westlie could protest. Hopefully they both looked angry enough people assumed a sisterly spat. Which it was, but the sigil was definitely burning un-sisterly-like in her mind, trying to pull them together across the distance.
Morgan decided to savor it. Let it feel like a leash. Westlie should remember what she asked for.
She slipped into the back hall without any questions and knocked on the farthest dressing room door. A pointless gesture. The room was vacant except for a spider in the corner of the oversized, gilded mirror. There was a stool next to the vanity, an unlit lamp, and several dusty chests that seemed to be storage for a guest not in attendance.
Excellent.
Morgan lit the lamp with a wave of her hand. It flickered and cast the room in a muted, yearning glow.
Well. She was yearning anyway.
She focused on Westlie’s presence, tugging at her claim. Her sister was close; forced to stop and chat with each acquaintance as she made her way through the gala. Morgan grinned at her waves of annoyance, each one stronger than the last.
It felt like an eternity before Westlie reached the back hall. Morgan’s body flushed as she waited, feeling each of Westlie’s steps down the hallway as the leash dragged her to Morgan’s door.
Then she was there, opening the door, inside, turning- Morgan grabbed her waist and the door slammed shut.
Westlie’s lips were soft. They were always soft. Their hips ground together and Morgan bit into the kiss, dragging her teeth, sucking on Westlie’s bottom lip until they broke apart, panting.
“Mor-”
Morgan considered not biting her property’s neck at a business event for a whole quarter-second before starting a hicky. Award-winning wife behavior.
Westlie whined, chest heaving in that smooth green silk. “You said talk-”
“Changed my mind.”
“You can’t- FuckingstarsMorgan- ohh-”
“Can’t what?”
“-you’re not mad, so why are you mad?!”
It was easy to grope Westlie’s thighs- grab her through the fabric and feel her flesh give. Morgan swirled her tongue over the red spot she left on her sister’s neck. “You’re mine.”
“Of course I’m yours-”
“He doesn’t control you then,” she growled. “I control you. Stop letting him.”
“I’m not.”
Morgan hiked up Westlie’s skirt, dragging her thighs against her. Stars, Westlie smelled wet. And the instant Morgan’s fingers touched the Law on her hip, comfort poured in like a balm. Yes, yes, this was correct. In every world- in every time- in every place- in every story-
Westlie gasped above her. “Ineedyou.”
Morgan slid her fingers inside in one wet motion. There was absolutely no resistance. Westlie arched back and whimpered, bottom lip swollen from her sister’s teeth. Morgan pulled out an inch, sliding her palm over Westlie’s clit; she jerked helplessly.
“F-fuck, Morgan-”
Morgan slid her fingers back in. “I know, I am. Nothing else to add?”
“… can’t think now.”
Stars, Westlie was delicious when she was helpless. Morgan ground against her thigh, pinning Westlie to the door and increasing the speed between her legs. “Good. You think too much.”
Westlie made a sound and arced against the door.
Morgan kept up the pressure, palming her clit with each stroke and savoring her sister’s whines. She might not be choking her, but reminding Westlie how much she loved being overpowered- loved being brought to her knees- loved surrendering to skilled fingers in her cunt. Well. There was no better stick than a carrot.
“Fuck- I’m- I’m going to cum-”
Morgan grinned and slowed her fingers to nothing.
Westlie whined and bit her swollen lip. “Why- why’d you stop?”
“I say when you get to cum.”
“Morgan-”
Morgan growled as she kissed up her chin. “Morgan, what? I don’t get to tell you when to cum?”
“N-no.”
Morgan sucked on her sister’s bottom lip. “… I want to make you cum like this morning.” A whimper. “… dress wet, floor wet. I want you to shake for a full minute.”
Westlie’s cheeks were beet red, pussy throbbing on her fingers.
“… Are you going to do that for me?”
“Y-yes.”
Morgan grinned and dragged her teeth over her neck, caressing Westlie’s marked hip with her unoccupied fingers. Westlie choked on her moan.
“… you belong to me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Wanted my Law on your skin.”
“Yes.”
She leaned against her breasts, Westlie’s chest heaving. “… want me to fuck a baby in you.”
“Stars, yes.”
“Then I want to attend next year too so all these rich cunts can see how big your belly’s gotten.”
Westlie blushed even redder, but her pussy throbbed. “Mor-”
Fuck she was inescapably delicious. Morgan pressed her fingers in as far as they’d go. “They deserve to know you’re taken, don’t they?”
“The- the dress won’t fit. It barely fits now.”
“Good.”
Westlie whined and squirmed for friction on Morgan’s fingers.
Morgan leaned harder against her and denied her. “I think you’d look lovely.”
“I’ll be too big!”
“You were never too big to talk about work last time.” Morgan grazed her ear with her teeth. “Imagine coming just before confinement. The dress won’t hide a thing. And you get to explain to all of them how badly you wanted your little sister’s cock.”
“Morgan-”
“… breasts spilling out. Belly so big I can’t get my arms around you. Could you even last the whole evening without leaking?”
“No! Morgan, let me cum!”
Morgan kissed her. Her bottom lip was soft and swollen and Morgan couldn’t help biting it and tasting the rush of copper. She only stopped when they were both out of breath. “No.”
“I need to cum. I need you so bad it hurts- Your hand’s still on my fucking hip- I want you so bad I'm dizzy- I can’t breathe- you’re being mean-!”
Morgan thumbed her clit to cut her off and dragged her teeth up Westlie’s throat. “Fuck their feelings then.”
“W-what are you talking-”
“They don’t deserve you.” Morgan kissed Westlie’s jaw below her ear. Her fingers beckoned ever so gently in her cunt. “I don’t deserve you, but I want you- more than anything.”
Westlie’s voice melted into a whine as the speed increased. “Mor-”
“I want you not to be polite about it- Fuck him. Fuck their feelings. Fuck anyone watching us. Stop holding back. Stop worrying.”
Her pussy throbbed and Morgan kissed the corner of Westlie’s lips as she whimpered again, breaths coming faster. “I’m- I’m scared for after that, Mor-”
Oh.
There it was. Morgan melted against her. She kept rhythm, just softing her palm and rewarding Westlie with a tender kiss for telling the truth and for being hers. “… they’ll pay for every second they disobey you.”
Westlie made a sound too aroused to be a gasp of relief.
Morgan nuzzled her neck. “Never be frightened.” Westlie sank into the kiss, quivering. “Be impatient- Be impolite- I’ll burn them to the ground if they breathe wrong. I'll defend you. I will always be there.”
“-I love you.”
in every world- in every time- in every place- in every story-
Morgan nuzzled her again, lips soft against Westlie’s skin. “Cum for me.”
Her legs buckled. Cum squirted in Morgan’s hand and she thrust her weight against Westlie to hold her, cum dripping over her trousers, the dress, the floor. Westlie arched back, gasping to the sound of Morgan’s fingers sluck-ing slower in and out of her pussy.
Morgan had mercy and kept her fingers inside, letting Westlie ride and adjust the pressure as wave after wave of pleasure swept through her. It was the hottest thing she’d ever seen, and yet Morgan had no trouble limiting herself, sucking softly on the curve of Westlie’s neck she’d already reddened. Tonight she was a comfort and protector, not a participant; and the joy felt just as sweet.
It felt like minutes before Westlie stopped quivering and Morgan extracted her soaked fingers, letting the skirt fall. They were both damp and stained.
Westlie jerked at the motion and gave a little awkward laugh. “Mor… can’t stand-”
Morgan cradled her to her chest and slid carefully to the floor. Westlie didn’t even open her eyes. Apparently cumming hard vertically had the same effect as cumming horizontally. Morgan kissed her hair.
“… Mm… You didn’t cum…”
“I’ll breed you later.”
Westlie shivered, and somehow a blush still crawled up her neck. “… ‘s not fair. You’re hard; I feel it.”
Morgan kissed her. “You make me hard.”
“… mmhm, you make me hard too.”
Morgan bit back a laugh and pulled Westlie farther on her lap instead. Her sister nuzzled into the crook of her neck.
Oh, there’d never be anything sweeter than Westlie in green silk, asleep in a puddle of her own cum.
Morgan savored the moment for five minutes before tracing the cleansing Correspondence tenderly in the air. The scent and stickiness evaporated, leaving Westlie in deep green sans stains. Morgan tucked Westlie’s hair behind her ear and softly kissed her forehead.
“Wes.”
Nothing.
“Westlie.”
“… mm.”
“Do you want to go back out?”
“Where?”
Morgan grinned. “The gala, remember.”
“… oh, right.”
Morgan couldn’t resist a kiss and she savored each second. When she lifted, she ran her thumb softly over Westlie’s bottom lip to heal it.
“… mm, feels better.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be gentler next time.”
“… don’t.”
Morgan held her close.
“… I don’t want to go out yet.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Do you think they’ll miss me?”
“Eldsbetter will. Wait- what was all this about anyway?”
Westlie scootched tighter against her chest and Morgan nuzzled her hair. “… mmm, right. Fuck ‘m.”
Notes:
:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
my life is kind of on fire so more chapters might take a while, but in the meantime <3
... Realizing true wish fulfillment is the magic cleaning sigils we found along the way....
Chapter 18: 18
Notes:
westlie pov and denial kink. Bless you geniuses. I was struggling to write this chapter until I realized I’d been going about it the wrong way and this is not only much hotter but kills two birds with one stone. So here’s westlie pov and denial kink.
sorrryyyy it took so long. turns out writing a 10k academic document is much harder than writing 40k of fluff porn I hope this makes up for itttt
Chapter Text
Westlie was the most unsociable person she knew, so she'd never pictured herself married, just like she'd never pictured herself pregnant. But as she cast small glances at her sister – reading, legs draped over the armrest of the patchwork loveseat she’d dragged in from stars-knew-where, rocking the cradle absentmindedly with her foot – Westlie had no other word to describe the goofy devotion that bloomed in her chest. So she probably just had a bad imagination.
She was also indisputably, undeniably pregnant.
Westlie had noticed something a few mornings ago- an odd pressure that hadn’t been there the night before- accompanied by an unfamiliar lack of chill as she dressed. She’d dismissed it, because Burrower knew she’d felt plenty of odd sensations the past year. But the warmth had grown into an omnipresent radiance from her core, and she couldn’t ignore the unconscious lean back as weight began returning to her hips. Her breasts were aching more too, although that could be her first chewing harder.
It felt surreal. She’d spent months daydreaming and imagining; only now the moment was here and she couldn’t say it out loud or it’d disappear.
Morgan hadn’t noticed. She was unobservant as hell sometimes. The impertinence of not telling shivered up Westlie’s spine every evening when she kissed her softly; as Morgan’s fingers undressed her, trialing down her sides with reverent, ignorant affection; falling into bed like a dream and her sister kissing down her neck, body yearning for hers- always eager and so, so gentle.
She’d notice eventually. Westlie hadn’t told her the first time, and the first time Westlie hadn’t noticed. So she had a few weeks left to savor it.
In the meantime, the warmth in her belly grew from a gentle radiance to a constant heat that made Westlie thank the Burrower it was fall, going into winter. Westlie let her arm curl around her waist in secret, quiet moments, wrapping the warmth with all the affection in her heart. Sometimes – probably her imagination – the warmth seemed to echo back. If it wasn’t her imagination, Westlie found herself too happy to care. It made sense anyway- Morgan was Law, and Law burned like the stars that wrote it. Of course their child would be Law- or part-Law, or Law-esque. Morgan commented, wryly, that Westlie’s freezing legs weren’t tangling against hers in the night. Semantics.
Westlie buried herself in domesticity and the work that Lizzie ferried from Jamison’s. She was alone most of the time, other than the baby. Lizzie had developed a horrible habit of stopping by in the afternoon and then bolting out to play until late in the evening. However, she hadn’t encountered anything too illegal, or that Morgan couldn’t solve. But it did mean she was usually alone when Morgan came home from the bookstore.
The exact time varied, but the occasion was unmistakable after Morgan took up whistling. Badly. All her tunes were on-beat, off-key, and too sweet to chide; so every day, Westlie said a quiet prayer their neighbors and the baby would ignore it. This time at least, both stayed quiet.
The footsteps ended with the key in the lock. Morgan cracked open the door and glanced at the cradle. Still sleeping. She grinned, waltzing inside.
It was still funny to see Morgan so cheerful. Her green eyes sparkled, braid draped over her shoulder; white travel shirt – a clean dusty-grey at this point – unbuttoned just enough to show her collarbone. Westlie barely put down the knife before Morgan kissed her for ten breathless seconds. “-home!”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“What are you making?”
“Stew.”
“Boring.” Morgan wiggled her eyebrows. “You know what I’d rather have for dinner?”
Westlie giggled despite herself as Morgan lightly bit her neck. “I’m not a full meal.”
“I know. You’re a snack.”
Westlie yelped as Morgan scooped her up, sliding her on the counter. She muffled her laughter and leaned in for a kiss, wrapping her ankles around Morgan’s back. “… I love you.”
“Mm, I love you too.”
Westlie buried her hands in Morgan's hair. It was fine and soft, a ruddy orange two shades lighter than Westlie's own. She nuzzled into it, wrapping her arms around Morgan's neck as her sister fiddled with the strings of her wrap and kissed down her shoulder. It was so routine that even the motions felt comforting; a tender dance away from prying eyes before the world leaped back into focus for the evening.
Westlie expected Morgan to slide the rest of her robe off, and she opened one eye when Morgan fumbled around the counter near the cutting board, face still buried in Westlie’s chest. “… what?”
“-shuddup it’s too close.”
Morgan fwapped the counter a few more times until she found the cutting board and slid it away from them. There was a split second, and Westlie felt more than heard, the skp- silence- of the knife skittering off the board and the counter towards the floor. She couldn’t catch it-
Absolutely not.
Westlie blinked. The thought was loud and firm. Even though the knife… hadn’t… hit the floor.
She glanced down at Morgan.
Morgan pushed back slightly and glanced up. And then down. “What-?”
Westlie blinked again. Her hand was outstretched to the side. And there’d been no noise because the knife was floating in midair.
Oh.
They stared at it in stunned silence until Morgan looked back at her. “That’s. Not me.”
“… what do you mean that’s not you?”
“That’s not me. You’re not channeling me.” Morgan cupped her chin in probing inquisition while she was undressed on the goddamn counter with her tits hanging out; Westlie nearly recoiled. “And you don’t have a soul to do Law yourse-”
She took a step back to inspect her like a bug.
Westlie's shoulder ached a little from being outstretched, but it felt wrong to lower it.
Morgan stared at her. The knife. Back to her.
“Are you-” she choked a bit on the word. “-baby?”
Oh god. Oh shit. Oh fuck. There wasn’t a way these conversations were supposed to go, but statistically speaking, the probability of a floating knife was low.
Huh.
“I- I don’t know-”
“Well it’s inside. How can you not know?”
“It’s early! Do you think babies just start kicking at conception? And I’m not the size I used to be so I don’t show-”
Morgan rolled her eyes and pressed her hands to Westlie’s belly. Westlie almost shivered. The motion felt so determinant; her emotions unceremoniously ripped from whatever liminal space she’d stored them and placed in the very real reality that she was with child, again. She suddenly wanted to curl into her sister for comfort; bury her face in her neck and ask how the hell they were doing this again- how she needed her- how scared-
Oh. Pregnant. Unreasonable emotions.
Westlie sighed, dismissing her thoughts best she could. She glanced at Morgan’s frown of concentration. “Well?”
“I can’t… tell. I can feel something but there’s no second tie.”
Westlie slid her fingers gently under Morgan’s, hesitating. “… I am.”
“What happened to ‘I don’t know’?”
“The Law is there.” The knife was still floating in the air. Westlie could… almost remember the gesture she made, but it’d been her will more than coherent Law. Still. “I can feel it. And it’s warm. I just- don’t have anything else to go on.” Westlie slid off the counter and Morgan caught her, fingers lingering on her hips.
“Are you alright?”
The knife might cut her if she reached for it. Westlie gingerly gripped it by the handle and put it back on the counter. It… was a knife.
“… Wes?”
“I’m fine.”
Morgan’s lips pursed. “… you’re not fine.”
“I’m scared.”
Whenever Westlie admitted her faults, a sweet, puppy-dog look came over Morgan’s face. Westlie had to admit, it made vulnerability more appealing. She loved her. She loved Westlie sinking against her shoulder so she could play valiant knight.
Morgan’s arms curled around her, and Westlie let herself sink into them. “… Why?”
“… it… feels different… from last time.”
“Oh, I can’t imagine why.”
“Don’t be facetious.”
“I’m being sarcastic.”
Westlie huffed against her shoulder. “… Should we be scared?”
Morgan kissed up her cheek, fingers trailing down Westlie’s hips. There was a sudden warmth from her sigil-scar and Westlie’s breath caught. “Sure. I don’t know if anyone’s ever grown a star.”
“Exactly. You know what I mean.”
Morgan nuzzled her cheek. “I’m Law, Wes… There’s nothing to worry about.”
Westlie felt herself lean into the words despite all the reasons to continue worrying. “… Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I love you.”
“I’d hope so.”
Westlie snorted.
The kitchen shifted slowly back into focus one sense at a time. Her dress-wrap was about her elbows and skin that wasn’t pressed against Morgan goosebumped from the chill. Her chest was heavy since she hadn’t fully drained herself earlier too. Westlie sighed and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s neck. “… Carry me?”
Morgan blushed.
She scooped her up in one movement and ferried her off to the bed with a proud saunter. Westlie rested her head on Morgan’s shoulder, admiring the sweet blush until she was tenderly deposited on the bed.
Morgan kicked off her boots and crawled on top. Her hands immediately went to Westlie’s belly again; she almost looked like a giddy terrier, and Westlie held in her smile as she tucked a strand of hair behind Morgan’s ear. “I can’t believe it.”
“You can’t?”
“She’s ours.” Morgan’s blush deepened. “… Well- he. It. I’m so used to saying she- Do you know? I can’t tell.”
It felt silly rubbing her middle that was still flat – other than the weight on her hips – but Westlie made the motion instinctively. “No, not yet.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Mmhm.”
“How are you so calm?! You were a nervous wreck a minute ago!”
A good question. Westlie leaned up and kissed her. Morgan was on all fours still; she decided to use it to her full advantage- caressing Morgan’s face with both hands and holding her until they were both panting. Westlie leaned forward again to kiss her bottom lip. “… you’re Law, aren’t you?”
Morgan blushed harder, if that was possible.
Well, she might as well enjoy the ability to bend over while she still had it. Westlie sat up to trace Morgan’s forearms and feel her melt under the touch. It was fun to flaunt herself as Morgan’s weakness; maybe it was using her, because she knew her so well, but on the rare occasion…. She leaned in so her lips brushed Morgan’s cheek. “… I figured your cock would get me there one way or the other, Lady.”
Morgan made a sound like a dying cat and kissed her so hard Westlie braced herself. Instead of breaking away to undress, Morgan fumbled with her shirt, missing one button, accidentally doing up another. Westlie bit her lip and held it between her teeth, making her sister freeze in obedience. It did feel delicious as she methodically undid each button and Morgan shivered, breath catching at each touch.
Westlie smiled and ran her tongue over Morgan’s lip as she unbuttoned the bulging front of her trousers. “… hard already?”
“Since I walked in the door. You didn’t notice?”
There was a wave of irritation at her sister’s snark. Westlie could ignore it and indulge her. Or remind her how obedience worked, which sounded much more delicious. “… I noticed.”
“Then-”
Westlie kissed her again, running her teeth over her lip and slipping a hand down to caress the tenting fabric. It twitched. “You did your job; … extremely well, even.”
Morgan grew red again, almost a continuation from the last blush. “Wes?”
“… lay down.”
Westlie dragged off Morgan’s shirt as she scurried to flop against the pillows – trousers shuffled off with one hand. It was still exquisite to see her cock spring free, head shiny with precum. Westlie resisted the urge to lick it and straddled Morgan’s hips instead. Morgan sank against the bed, almost purring. She closed her eyes, waiting for Westlie to sink down on her cock; Westlie spread her lips instead, and settled on it lengthwise, running her pussy over her sister’s shaft.
Her cock twitched and Morgan’s gasp turned into a whine. Westlie grinned and kissed Morgan’s cheek, sliding her wet lips the opposite direction over Morgan’s head. “… Feel good?”
“Ahh- mmhm-”
“Good.” Westlie sank into the kiss, savoring the throb of Morgan’s cock against her clit. It was tempting to ride her, but… Westlie hesitated. Her sister was vocally enjoying being on the bottom, and… and she had her own Law now, apparently.
Morgan bucked her hips, greedy for more friction and Westlie bit her lip to hold in the gasp. Sure, it was one thing for Morgan to acquiese Law for her, but now she could- mmm- actually tie her. Pin her down and-
Westlie pressed her lips to Morgan and held it until her head spun. Then she dragged her teeth over Morgan’s bottom lip. Her sister mewed in delight, because of course she did. Minx. She nuzzled into the kiss, sucking on Morgan’s lip while her hands found Morgan’s and she knit their fingers together. The moment was still soft and distracted as she drew Morgan’s arms over her head- playful, even. Both of them giggled as Morgan’s cock throbbed again.
Stay
Warmth rushed through her fingertips and Morgan’s hands froze against the pillow above her head so Westlie was free to caress her face instead. Morgan nuzzled into it, only half-caring as she realized she was trapped. “Wes-”
A little thrill bubbled in Westlie’s chest. Usually Morgan was fondling all over her body by now- kneading her breasts or hips. She slid down, swollen nipples leaking as they grazed Morgan’s chest. “Thirsty?”
Morgan’s cock slick against her cunt and she groaned. “… I need you.”
“I need you-”
“I’m leaking.”
“Well, I’m leaking too.”
Westlie softly bit Morgan’s lip, just enough to make her whimper. “I think you’ll keep leaking until I’m drained.”
Morgan turned her head, blushing with arousal she couldn’t hide. Westlie took the opportunity to kiss – bite – her neck. “… don’t- ah- you get tired of hearing me beg?”
No. Of course not.
Westlie kissed up her jaw and cheek, considering the answer, breasts leaking over Morgan's bare shoulders. Begging was tied up in complicated emotions that were more than lust- something of needing to be needed- being the bringer of release, not just the delayer of pleasure. Then again, Westlie looked down and lost her train of thought because Morgan helpless beneath her did something.
“… maybe- maybe someday. Not today.”
Fucking goddess knew what she was doing with that smouldering sly smile. “I’ll beg extra hard.”
It took every muscle in Westlie’s body to not ride her until they were an incoherent mess. “Lady of the Garden, suck my tits.”
Morgan grinned as she latched on and Westlie moaned at the immediately warmth in her chest. The pressure built in her teats- on the brink of pleasure until it burst in that achingly familiar, arousing way and she felt milk stream into Morgan's mouth. She dropped her hips as a reward, grinding until she had to drag herself back in charge. "I'm- I'm going to produce so much more now, you know."
The thought alone was intoxicating. Her breasts were already heavy enough to make her back ache on days the baby didn't drink much, and now her body would be screaming for her to produce more- Morgan's tongue swirled around her nipple in response and Westlie moaned as her right breast let down, no suckling required. She shouldn't get so aroused at sprays of milk leaving her teats, but Morgan's lips were rose-colored on her breast- eyes closed as she drank. Her sister (sister!) shouldn't be the one draining her- but oh- all the tinges of protest faded in a haze of pleasure every time Morgan swallowed.
Stars, she was wet. Westlie arched, parting her lips for Morgan's cock. But Instead of guiding it inside, she slid farther down until the whole length was engulfed by her lips, and Morgan's head brushed her clit. Sliding up and back, she coated Morgan's shaft with cum until her clit throbbed and she paused to savor it with a pleasurable little jerk.
Morgan’s cock twitched and she dropped her sister’s teat. “Why’d you stop?”
“I wasn’t done-” Westlie snorted and pressed her breast to Morgan’s lips, forcing her to swallow as the milky stream filled her mouth. Morgan bucked her hips anyway, and Westlie blushed as her cock almost slid inside. Rude. There was a rush of vindictiveness and she felt the warmth pool in her hands as she commanded Morgan’s legs to pin themselves to the bed. Morgan’s hips dropped flat, helpless.
Morgan’s eyes widened. Butterflies filled Westlie’s stomach and she kissed the corner of Morgan’s mouth with a little smile, trailing a hand down her chest. Her sister’s nipples were as hard as her cock; so aroused and helpless to do anything but wait. Westlie squeezed her breast, flooding Morgan’s mouth until she latched and swallowed again. “… good girl,” she murmured.
Morgan blushed, her cock throbbing between Westlie's legs, like watching a kettle boil in real time. She was so obedient; Westlie stroked Morgan's shaft with her lips. Like a loyal dog that lived for praise. Her sister was drinking steadily, the pleasure in Westlie's chest building with each swallow. Especially as she rubbed her clit against Morgan's head, slick with precum. Westlie caught her breath. Oh, she was going to cum. Her first orgasm pregnant with her sister's star- with Law itself- as she used the Lady of the Garden underneath her-
Her hips humped faster in needy desire right as Morgan swallowed, her tongue swirling about her teat- Westlie squirted as she came, cum dripping down her thighs as she bucked on Morgan's hips. Stars- she needed Morgan to cum too- see her face screwed up in pleasure as her seed marked her inside and out.
Fuck… she was in charge. Westlie blinked, gasping through the haze of pleasure. She- she should order her sister to cum. Morgan liked that. And- and she should reward her too. As encouragement.
She felt supple leather between her fingers before her brain settled. God- Law made no sense. But it felt fitting too, like the sigil burning on her hip, or the warmth of Law in her belly.
Westlie slid the collar around Morgan’s neck, breath catching as her sister moaned against her breast. So long as she was able to slide two fingers under- Westlie buckled it, blushing as she leaned back to admire. It was thin and black, a stark contrast against Morgan’s neck; a half-brace for her hips to smear cum over Morgan’s cock, and half-reminder that Morgan was her star to use. And she was so lovely.
Westlie ached for Morgan's length and she resisted by humping her shamelessly, lips slick and needy. Morgan's cock throbbed with every stoke, although she could only get a moan out when she drained Westlie's breast and lifted her head, panting, flushed. Westlie kissed her, teeth grazing her bottom lip, and then gently tugged the collar toward her other breast.
Even though she'd been leaking for several minutes, there was still milk. Westlie almost crumpled at the rush of pleasure as Morgan latched on. The friction between her thighs felt euphoric; her cunt ached to be filled, but it would be sacrilegious to ride Morgan's cock now. At least once her sister should cum while Westlie teased her. Riding her cock for nearly a year- begging Morgan to fill her against the wall, on the bed, on the floor- getting fucked to sleepy delirium more times than she could count- breeding her until it took. And Westlie wanted it, wanted more- she was a happy slave to it; so just once- just once- just once-
Westlie gasped and came again, cum squirting down her thighs as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Stars… she didn’t even need her cock inside her- just Morgan underneath. … Fuck. Westlie propped herself on her elbow for a few seconds, and then fully crumbled against Morgan.
Which was… oddly uncomfortable with her wiggling against the restraints. Her cock throbbed. “Wes- please- I’m so close- I have to cum.”
Too much pleasure. Westlie blinked. Her hips ached. She groaned and nuzzled into Morgan's neck.
“Fuck, Westlie- Please- I’m so close- Stars, I’m so close! Fucking- please don’t stop- please- please- please- Westlie-”
Fuck, she did deserve release. Westlie dragged herself up on all-fours to kiss her. Morgan whined into it, greedy and desperate. “I'm so close-”
Westlie's hips sank down, lips parting over Morgan's cock again. She winced at the sensitivity. After a moment, the pinpricks settled, and Morgan's cock throbbed.
“Please- please fuck me- Stars, Westlie. I’m begging- I’ll beg however you want- I want to cum.”
Her hips bucked and Westlie sleepily pulled the collar taunt. “Mine.”
Morgan fell back with a whine and her obedience was rewarded with Westlie’s cunt stroking up her shaft.
“… mm- why do you want to be inside so badly?”
“W-? You feel so good-”
“You don’t need to come inside anymore, Lady.”
“I want to-”
Westlie grinned and kissed Morgan’s neck, releasing a desperate whine. She held in a yawn. “One isn’t enough? How many do you want me to carry?”
“I- I- any- I don’t care- I just need you- I always need you- I need you to cum- Fuck- Please-”
Her eyes were so big and desperate Westlie had to remember to keep stroking. “You like me using you?”
“Yes- yes- yes- yes- yes- God- I love it so much- Please keep rubbing-”
“… Silly.” Westlie kissed her softly. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted me to fuck you.”
“Always.” Morgan choked on the word. “Always. S-stars- I’ve always wanted-”
Always wasn’t true, just like Westlie knew she’d never, ever imagined her sister’s naked body against hers until it happened. But it sent a little thrill down her spine to imagine- that there had been clandestine kisses before Morgan left for the Reach- fingerings in the back office closet- muffled sex in surreptitiously-locked bedrooms- that somehow they figured things out before it was too late.
Westlie trailed her hands over Morgan's shoulders. Her muscles were toned and lithe, breasts small, nipples pink and hard- chest heaving. Westlie hips continued stroking, Morgan's head appearing and disappearing between her lips. Morgan was so elegant under her fingers- arms tied above her head, abs tensing and arching as she grew closer, chest rising with every stroke.
“I love how you move.”
“Just like that- I’m going to cum- please- please- just like that, Wes- Oh-”
Westlie looped her fingers in the collar, just enough for Morgan to notice. “Cum for me.”
Morgan throbbed between Westlie’s lips and cum splattered her chest. She gasped, quivering against the restraints as she arched and another two loads splattered over her belly. The peak only subsided three pumps later, cum drooling from her head. Westlie watched, transfixed, if a little disappointed at the lack of pressure on her clit. After the final involuntary thrusts, Morgan collapsed against the bed, chest heaving.
She was… almost too beautiful to set free. Black leather wrapped around her neck, arms above her head, and cum splattered over her tits. Maybe this was the same sensation Morgan felt when she was the one on top, although Westlie couldn’t imagine it for herself at all. She slid down gingerly and kissed her, nuzzling softly. “I love you.”
“… I- I love you more.”
“… not a competition.”
Morgan snorted. “Not a competition- I…”
She trailed off and Westlie glanced up. Morgan’s cheeks flushed, somehow distinct from the flush of cumming a minute before. Her eyes flickered away. Westlie kissed her collarbone.
“I- I love being your dog.”
They both blushed that time.
“I mean, I love serving.”Morgan blushed redder. “I- I know you don’t feel like being on top often, but I want to take care of you, do exactly what you say- I need you, but I love you- I’ve never wanted to cum so hard.”
Westlie kissed her.
A quiver swept through Morgan’s body and her cock twitched.
Westlie caught herself before grinding her hips and cuddled against Morgan instead, cum sticky between them. “… I love when you can’t help but cum. Needing me-”
“I always need you.” If her limbs had been free, Westlie knew her sister would’ve curled around her. As was, she pressed her cheek against Westlie’s whine in her throat. “Ever since I knew-”
“… I almost came a third time when you said you’d always wanted to fuck.”
Morgan kissed her and suddenly they were back to the beginning; messy, sloppy, desperate. They broke apart panting. Westlie caressed her sister’s cheek. She laughed softly after a moment. “… Always need me- Even though you already knocked me up?”
“Wh- Especially because of that.”
Westlie smiled and nuzzled into her shoulder.
“That’s not funny. Did you think I was going to stop?” There was a wiggle against the restraints. “I’m offended!”
Westlie curled around her tighter, smiling. “… not really.”
“Oh. Well- well good. Because I’d have to fuck some sense back into you otherwise.”
“Strong words from someone who can’t move.”
Morgan shifted and Westlie blinked as arms wrapped around her. “… we’re going to need to work on your binds.”
“… the whole time?!”
Morgan had the grace to appear guilty. “N- Well- no, I was too distracted. It’s like- tying real knots, you know- technically you have to be stronger than someone else, but you’re new, so-”
Westlie dropped against Morgan’s lungs, forcing out all the air with an- oof. She settled against her neck. “… stop talking.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine-”
“Well, I feel bad now!”
“Morgan, I swear to the Burrower-”
“Fine! Fine, fine, fine, fine.”
Westlie sighed and closed her eyes. She was halfway to dozing when Morgan twisted aside and kissed her. Twice. Three times. “Mm, what?”
“I’m going to keep wearing it, you know.”
“Wear what?” Westlie cracked open an eye to Morgan grinning very intently at her with one finger under the collar to show it off. “-oh god-” She buried her head back in Morgan’s shoulder.
“Woof.”
The quiet kid (The_quiet_boy) on Chapter 1 Wed 22 May 2024 09:01PM UTC
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anemone_your_enemy on Chapter 3 Sun 26 May 2024 08:57PM UTC
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anemone_your_enemy on Chapter 4 Sun 26 May 2024 09:12PM UTC
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anemone_your_enemy on Chapter 9 Fri 28 Jun 2024 06:24PM UTC
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prawn_of_ur_oseas on Chapter 9 Sat 29 Jun 2024 01:10PM UTC
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anemone_your_enemy on Chapter 9 Sat 29 Jun 2024 09:22PM UTC
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prawn_of_ur_oseas on Chapter 9 Mon 01 Jul 2024 07:33PM UTC
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anemone_your_enemy on Chapter 9 Mon 08 Jul 2024 05:10AM UTC
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Daleksoup on Chapter 10 Tue 02 Sep 2025 08:35AM UTC
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prawn_of_ur_oseas on Chapter 10 Tue 02 Sep 2025 09:01AM UTC
Last Edited Tue 02 Sep 2025 09:03AM UTC
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Kryptiao on Chapter 12 Fri 19 Jul 2024 03:56AM UTC
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prawn_of_ur_oseas on Chapter 12 Sat 20 Jul 2024 02:48AM UTC
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prawn_of_ur_oseas on Chapter 13 Sat 14 Sep 2024 03:42AM UTC
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prawn_of_ur_oseas on Chapter 13 Mon 21 Oct 2024 03:07PM UTC
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