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It wasn’t always like this when they fucked.
Sometimes it’d be a fight, both clamoring and clawing their way on top. There’d be biting, scratching, bleeding. They’d hit the walls with a shaking ferocity, taking turns pinning the other there. Pictures would fall to the floor, the glass frames shattering upon impact. There would be no mention of the stinging pain shooting through their feet as little shards nicked and nipped the soles. They could just heal themselves later. Agatha’s head would hit the wall, Rio forcing her back with a hand on her throat and a mouth on her chest. Her fists would tangle in dark hair, the battle between pushing her away and pulling her closer raging within. But pull always won. Always.
Sometimes it’d be loving and slow and they couldn’t bear to be parted. Rio would hold Agatha close as if she were two seconds away from losing her. She would straddle her lap and ride her fingers, Agatha’s harsh breath panting in her ear as her hips twisted and jerked. The sweat made it difficult to keep a grip, but their arms remained like iron, locking tightly around one another and holding on until the end.
Sometimes there’d be laughter. Rio would say something so utterly charming and over the top, that Agatha would have to pause and laugh. She’d shake her head and tut, “You’re ridiculous” and put her tongue back to work. Oh and that one time, she’d discovered that Rio—yes Rio, of all people—had a ticklish spot. It wasn’t very big and she hardly showed that it affected her, but Agatha knew her all too well. As her fingertips danced along the skin of her hips, Rio had twitched ever so slightly. She had glared at her as Agatha chuckled to herself and said, “Oh, I’ll be sure to remember that one.”
Yes, the two of them had many different ways they fucked. But this was currently one of Rio’s favorites. Agatha laid out on the bed, halfway to losing her mind as she gave in and let Rio take her every which way. Total surrender.
She moved her hips an inch and a wanton moan ripped itself out of Agatha’s throat. She clutched the sheets beneath her, her fists bunching the fabric so tightly her knuckles were white.
"Please,” she gasped. “Rio.”
Rio grinned. “That’s it, sweetheart, beg for it.” She shifted again and the fake cock inside Agatha went even deeper.
Agatha whimpered. Her hips tilted up, craving both more and less at the same time.
They had been at this for over an hour now and Rio had brought her over the edge and back again no less than half a dozen times. She received no reprieve or break. It was just a constant stream of pleasure and her riding the waves as best as she could. She was spent, her body flushed and red yet calling still for more more more.
“Fuck!” The back of her hand rested against her forehead as she tried to gather herself. But Rio’s hips had started thrusting and her breath caught in her throat.
“Look at you,” Rio whispered, dragging her lips down Agatha’s neck. “All desperate and needy for me. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”
Agatha moaned in response.
“You’ll take it all, huh?” she continued. “First my fingers, then my tongue—fuck, you tasted so good. Maybe I should do that again.” She started to move back and was stopped by two hands digging into her waist, holding her still.
“No!”
Rio chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the hint of panic in her wife’s voice. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to taunt her over it. “But I thought you loved my mouth on you.”
Agatha’s eyes, hazy with desire, locked on hers and she smirked. “You know I do. But right now, I want your cock.” Her hands drifted to Rio’s ass, pulling her closer. “I want you hard and deep. I want you to fill me and fuck—” her own surprised gasp cut her off.
“I must not be doing my job properly if you can string together that many words right now.” She pulled out and flipped Agatha over onto her hands and knees. Lining up her cock, she easily slipped the entire length into Agatha’s pussy. Leaning forward, her breasts brushing over her back, Rio nipped at the shell of her ear. “Hold on.”
Before Agatha had time to prepare herself, Rio was already taking off like a shot, her hips ramming forward over and over again. She nearly fell forward at the intensity, but managed to grab ahold of the headboard in front of her. Rio was taking her so well, she could barely hang on. Her knees were aching and the bed shook. She couldn’t be sure, but she might have heard the sound of wood cracking as the frame buckled beneath them. That’d be the second bed this year, but honestly, who gave a fuck? Certainly not her. Not now when Rio was wrecking her inside and out like this.
One of Rio’s hands remained firm on Agatha’s hips while the other danced its way up the length of her back. She wrapped her fingers in dark, wavy hair and yanked back, forcing Agatha’s body to sit up and press back against her. The change in angle ripped a keening moan out of her wife and she knew her cock was pressing firmly on that very sensitive spot inside her. She brought her hand down and around to cup her left breast, tugging not-so-gently on her hardened nipple.
“Rio.” It came out practically as a whine. “Fuck, please.”
“I’ll take care of you, baby. I always do.” She thrust up, her cock hitting that spot again, and she had to hold tight so Agatha wouldn’t fall forward. She brushed aside hair which allowed her to attack Agatha’s neck with her lips and teeth. Almost instantly, dark purple marks began to form and Rio nearly came at the knowledge that they’d be there for several days. Agatha would wear them with pride and every time she tied her hair up or flipped it to the side, the evidence of Rio’s claim on her would be present for everyone and anyone to see.
Her hand drifted lower, spreading across her wife’s stomach and, not for the first time in recent years, the image of her pregnant and swollen with her child came to mind. But how could that ever happen? First of all, they were two women. Two magical women, but still two women. Secondly, she was Death. Quite literally so. She was meant to take life, not create it.
Agatha’s hand suddenly fell upon hers and she glanced over her shoulder at her. “One day?”
It was a discussion they’d had a handful of times already and Rio could do nothing but nod at her, giving her hope that maybe one day…
And then Agatha was guiding her hand lower until she met damp curls and then lower still until her fingers found her clit. She circled the little bud, knowing Agatha’s orgasm was close. Her chest heaved and she writhed in her arms.
“Yes, yes! Almost there, Rio. Fuck, right there!”
Rio doubled her efforts, her hips snapping harder and faster. Agatha’s legs were shaking as she chased the pleasure that was so near her grasp. Rio could feel it coiling in her belly as well, but this wasn’t about her. All she cared about was getting her wife to come.
"Let go,” she commanded, her fingers rubbing Agatha’s clit in time with her thrusts. “Come for me.”
Agatha’s mouth dropped open and for a moment nothing came out. Then a throaty, feral groan wrenched itself from her and she gasped. Her fingers clawed at her own thighs, having nothing to grab on to, nothing to brace herself against. She felt the gush between her legs, her pussy greedily clamping down on the cock inside her. Rio’s hot breath was on her shoulder, her teeth in her skin.
Rio held her steady, allowing the waves of ecstasy to pass through her body before she eased them both down so they were lying on the bed. On their sides, she traced shapes on Agatha’s skin, dancing over her waist, her ribs, up her arm while Agatha recuperated and tried to regain her ability to speak.
“Fuck, that was good,” she finally said, her voice muffled by a pillow.
Rio smirked, laughing to herself. “Did you really expect any different?”
“No, it’s always good. But that was—” she bit her lip, trying not to get aroused again as Rio pulled back just enough to remove the cock from her. “That was fucking amazing.”
"Hmm, glad I could be of service, my lady.” She undid the straps around her hips and tossed the whole thing onto the floor behind her.
“Rio—”
“I’ll clean it later. But right now, I wanna be near you.”
Agatha playfully rolled her eyes and turned around to look at her. She brought her hand up to trace the lines of her face: down her nose, over her lips, across her cheekbones. “You’re such a sap.”
"Right back atcha,” she said, winking at her.
“C’mere,” Agatha laid on her back and dragged Rio to her, letting her rest her cheek where her heart beat within her chest. They were quiet for several long minutes, both content to simply bask in the afterglow of their pleasure. Rio slung her arm over her, her hand lingering on her stomach for a hair too long.
“One day, huh?” she murmured, not really expecting an answer back. She glanced up and noted the brief but intense longing in Agatha’s eyes. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, hidden behind the mask of indifference her wife had perfected. But Rio knew what she had seen. When they had talked about it before, Agatha always skirted around it, never letting it show how much she truly wanted it.
Rio knew, though. She knew Agatha wanted to be a mother. To have a child of her own to love. Rio would give her the world if she could. Hell, she’d burn the world for her if she only asked.
She nuzzled closer, her mind made up. She didn’t care that they were two women. She didn’t care that she was Death. She would find a way to give Agatha what she craved so badly. She would do anything for her—give her anything she wanted.
And what Agatha wanted, Agatha would get.