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“Know this:
I live beast days. I am a water hour.
At night my eyelids droop like forest and sky.
My love knows few words:
I like it in your blood.”
— Gottfried Benn, ‘Threat’ tr. Michael Hofmann
It all started when she came blasting through the door. If there’s one thing Rio always knew, it was how to make an entrance. Playing with Agatha had always been fun, and she wasn’t lying when she said she’d missed her. After all, fighting had always been their way of flirting.
In one swift motion, Rio slammed Agatha against the wall, pressing the cold blade of the knife against delicate skin, watching as the blood trailed down the other woman’s body, disappearing beneath the robe that barely concealed her. This wasn’t just an attack—it was a test, it was a challenge, testing how far she could push this vulnerable, powerless version of her former lover before she snapped.
And snap she did.
Soon enough they were slamming each other against the different surfaces, swing after swing until they tumbled to the floor, both reaching desperately for the knife. Agatha's fingers closed around the blade, her blood smearing across it. Rio watched, captivated, enjoying the sight of it a little too much. Agatha knew how to use it to her advantage, and with a sharp twist, she threw Rio to the ground, straddling her and pinning her by the throat.
Rio could have easily overpowered her—especially now, with Agatha stripped of her magic, vulnerable. But she didn’t. Instead, she stayed there, savoring the moment, reminiscing of times when they had been in this position for far more pleasurable reasons than simply trying to tear each other apart.
But this wasn’t about pleasure—not tonight.
With a sudden burst of strength, Rio shoved Agatha against the wall again, lunging for the knife. That’s when Agatha’s tone shifted—softened into a plea, her lips pouting just enough. She knew exactly how to make Rio fold.
Agatha started moving toward her with that deliberate, seductive grace. "Come on, you love it. The anticipation," she murmured in a sultry, sexy tone.
Rio’s breath caught in her throat. Damn, this woman knew how to play.
“Okay, Agatha,” Rio said, her tone filled with a weight she’d carried for centuries. “But I’ll be sure to tell them where to find you.” She reached out, brushing a tear from Agatha’s cheek, her touch almost tender.
“Who? Specifically,” Agatha asked, trying to feign indifference, even though they both knew better.
“The worst of them. The Salem Seven,” Rio replied, dropping her gaze. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown.” She gripped Agatha’s hand tightly, a wicked smile forming. “After all these centuries… Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh, it really warms the heart.”
“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha spat, her voice sharp, though beneath it lingered the pain of believing the woman she once loved was truly heartless.
Rio, unfazed, let a slow smirk tug at her lips. “Yes, I do,” she murmured, her voice low. “It’s black, and it beats for you.”
Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed Agatha’s wrist, bringing the bleeding hand to her mouth. Before Agatha could react, Rio's tongue grazed the blood, licking it clean, her gaze never wavering from the other woman’s eyes.
She stepped closer, tightening her hold on Agatha’s arm. Slowly, she leaned in, dragging her tongue along the blood tracing Agatha's chest, from the valley between her breasts to the base of her throat, savoring each drop until she had licked her clean.
Agatha closed her eyes, struggling to keep her body from betraying her, from trembling under Rio’s intoxicating touch. She fought against it, willing herself not to react, not to give in to the burning sensations Rio’s lips and tongue ignited on her skin. The warmth of Rio’s breath on her throat, the deliberate, teasing flicks of her tongue—it was all too much.
Rio smirked, fully aware of the effect she was having. She could feel Agatha’s pulse racing beneath her lips. Slowly, deliberately, she continued her path, licking and nibbling along Agatha’s throat, each bite gentle but charged, sending shivers down the other woman’s spine. Agatha's breath hitched as Rio reached her ear, lingering there, her lips brushing the sensitive skin.
“Does this remind you of old times?" Rio whispered, her voice dangerous and seductive. "All those nights… The way you could never resist me." Her words hung heavy in the air, weighted with memories neither of them could escape.
Rio pulled back just enough to meet Agatha’s gaze, her lips inches from the other woman’s. “Tell me… does it still feel the same?”
In that moment, Agatha snapped, her eyes blazing with fury and something else—something raw. Her hand shot to Rio’s throat, fingers tightening around the soft skin. For a second, she hesitated, torn between the urge to make Rio stop and the darker need to push her even further.
As Agatha’s grip tightened, Rio's smirk only widened. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, but the gleam in her eyes was unmistakable—she was enjoying it. The challenge in her gaze, the way her lips barely parted—it drove Agatha over the edge.
Without another thought, Agatha surged forward, crashing her lips against Rio’s in a fierce, hungry kiss. The kiss was anything but gentle; it was fueled by frustration, anger, and desire, every emotion she had tried to suppress flooding to the surface. She gripped Rio’s throat firmly, her fingers pressing just enough to feel the quickened pulse beneath, matching the frantic rhythm of their kiss. Both women willing to be consumed by their hunger for one another.
Agatha tightened her grip, fingers digging into Rio’s throat just hard enough to try and establish dominance. Rio’s response was immediate— her teeth biting down on Agatha’s lower lip with enough force to make her hiss, more in surprise than pain.
“Still trying to fight me?” Agatha growled, her voice low and dangerous, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eye. She thrived on Rio’s resistance, on the games they always played, on their constant push and pull and the way Rio always tested her, daring her to snap.
Rio’s lips curled into a smirk, a breathless chuckle escaping her. “I thought you liked it when I put up a fight?” she teased, batting her lashes in a mockingly innocent manner.
With a sudden shove, Agatha pinned Rio against the wall, her back colliding with a sharp thud. Agatha’s full weight pressed into her, their bodies flush, in a deliberate reminder of who had the upper hand—at least for now.
Agatha’s lips brushed against Rio’s ear, her breath hot and teasing as she whispered, “Oh, I do.”
Her free hand drifted down Rio’s body, fingers mapping every curve with deliberate slowness. When she reached the hem of Rio’s top, she paused, just long enough to let the tension simmer for a heartbeat. Then, with a smooth motion, her hand slipped beneath the fabric, fingertips grazing the warm, bare skin of Rio’s waist.
Rio’s breath hitched, but she kept her cocky facade, staring Agatha down, daring her to take it further. “Is that the best you’ve got?” she taunted, her voice dripping with playful malice, even as her chest rose and fell faster.
A dark glint flashed in Agatha’s gaze, and she knew exactly what Rio was doing—but that didn’t stop her. It never did. Games like these were what kept them coming back for more, no matter how messy things got between them.
Rio’s hand slid along Agatha’s thigh, lifting the edge of the robe just enough for her nails to scrape against naked skin. The sharp sting dragged a groan from Agatha’s throat, a sound she hadn’t meant to make—but judging by Rio’s breathless gasp, she wasn’t unaffected either.
God, they had missed this.
Their mouths crashed together again, but this time the kiss was slower, shifting from desperate to deliberate, savoring each moment as if making up for lost time. And in a way they were. Every brush of their lips tasted like memory and regret, like love and fury, all at once. They weren’t just kissing now, they were reclaiming pieces of each other, staking their claim in the only way they knew how.
Rio kissed Agatha like she was taking back something that had always belonged to her, and Agatha responded with equal force—not to resist, but to match her, challenge for challenge. They were both fighting, not to push each other away, but to pull closer, until no space—physical or emotional—remained between them.
Their hands roamed with a kind of frantic precision, every touch laced with the familiarity that only came from knowing someone inside out. They teased and pulled at each other’s skin like it was some secret language only they understood, only spoken through touch, through each drag of fingers and press of lips. Every caress, every rough squeeze felt like both a demand and a promise. This wasn’t about discovery; it was about proving that no matter the time apart, no one else had touched them like this. No one else ever could.
Agatha’s fingers tangled in Rio’s hair, tugging just hard enough to force a gasp from her lips. Rio’s head tipped back, exposing her throat and her mouth parted slightly. Agatha took the opportunity to slip two fingers past her lips, watching as she took them in, her tongue swirling over the digits in slow, deliberate strokes. But there was no submission in the gesture. The way Rio sucked on her fingers was pure provocation, each movement a dare for Agatha to lose control, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief.
Rio never played fair—she never had.
Agatha grinned, knowing Rio’s provocations all too well. But she wasn’t about to let her win this round. Not yet.
With a low hum, Rio’s nails trailed down the front of Agatha’s body, parting the robe as it slipped halfway open. The sharp rake of her nails against bare skin left stinging trails in their wake, but the bite of it only fueled Agatha, her teeth catching on Rio’s lower lip in a playful warning—she was in control here.
Rio’s cocky smirk faltered when Agatha’s robe slipped off, baring her completely. And as her gaze dropped to Agatha’s now-exposed body, her smirk softened into something more intimate. She reached for the sash of Agatha’s robe and untied it, letting the fabric slip away completely. Agatha stood before her, bared and unguarded, and Rio took in the sight with a reverence that almost hurt.
“Just like I remembered,” Rio murmured, her voice low but filled with something softer, something that didn’t quite fit with the sharp edges of their usual games. She met Agatha’s gaze, the weight of her words settling between them like an unspoken confession.
Agatha let that moment hang between them for only a heartbeat before leaning in, brushing her lips against Rio’s in a kiss that was barely a whisper, more air than touch. When Rio’s lips parted with a quiet plea, Agatha swallowed it whole, taking it as hers—because it was. Everything about Rio belonged to her. Every touch, every breath, every sound—they belonged to each other, whether they wanted to or not.
The kiss deepened, heat building as their bodies pressed together. Agatha’s bare skin seared against the fabric still clinging to Rio, and suddenly it was too much yet not nearly enough. Fingers grasped, pulled, and explored with a kind of desperation only found between lovers who had spent too long pretending to forget.
Agatha slipped a hand beneath Rio’s shirt, her palm pressing against the warmth of her bare waist. The shiver that rippled through Rio’s body was like a drug, and Agatha pressed harder, pulling her closer as if she could mold their bodies together.
With a sharp tug, Agatha yanked Rio’s top over her head, the sound of fabric ripping lost beneath the sound of their ragged breaths. Rio let out a half-laugh, half-gasp, her hands immediately tangling in Agatha’s hair, yanking hard enough to sting.
But Agatha only smirked, her fingers already tracing the curve of Rio’s breasts, nails dragging over sensitive skin. Rio’s breath hitched, her body arching into Agatha’s touch, but even then, there was still that edge of defiance. Agatha loved that about her—the way she never gave in fully, never surrendered. She was a challenge, and Agatha wanted to conquer every inch of her.
Their mouths collided again, fiercer now, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a heated, messy kiss. They had been apart too long, and it showed. Every kiss, every stroke of skin against skin was an apology and an accusation, an acknowledgment of everything they had broken and everything they still couldn’t let go. Longing and resentment intertwined until there was no separating one from the other. In this moment, all those emotions bled together until they were indistinguishable.
Agatha’s hands slid down Rio’s body, each touch deliberate, exploring, until her fingers hooked beneath the waistband of Rio’s pants. She met Rio’s gaze, watching her eyes darken in anticipation as she dragged the zipper down, slow and purposeful, until her hand slipped inside, reaching the place where Rio needed her most.
Rio’s breath stuttered, her cocky facade faltering for a brief second as Agatha’s fingers found her slick heat. For a moment, there was no more teasing, no more games, just the silent understanding that this was what they were: two people who could never truly walk away from each other, no matter how hard they tried, no matter how often they swore they’d never come back.
Rio’s hands gripped Agatha’s hips, nails digging in with enough force to bruise, as if daring her to take what she wanted. Agatha groaned, feeling the sting of those nails and smirked, “You like that, don’t you?” she whispered, her lips brushing against the shell of Rio’s ear.
She pressed her fingers deeper, her other hand braced against the wall behind Rio’s head, pinning her in place. Rio whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily against Agatha’s touch, and Agatha grinned, loving how easily she could push her over the edge.
Rio tried to speak, but Agatha silenced her with another thrust, curling her fingers just right. The noise that escaped Rio’s throat was almost a sob, her body trembling as she clung to Agatha, the defiance in her eyes finally giving way to something rawer, something desperate.
“Fuck, Agatha,” Rio gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts. Agatha responded by pressing her thumb against Rio’s clit and thrusting her fingers deeper, faster, combining her movements until Rio was panting, her whole body moving with the rhythm of Agatha’s hand. Every flick of Agatha’s wrist sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through Rio, her head falling back against the wall, exposing her neck once more.
Agatha took the opportunity, her lips latching onto Rio’s throat, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Rio’s nails scraped down her back, a wordless plea for more, and Agatha was happy to oblige. She pumped her fingers harder, her thumb brushing against Rio’s clit in perfect, torturous circles.
Rio’s moans grew louder, her body shaking as she neared the edge. Agatha could feel it—the way Rio’s muscles tensed, the way her breathing became erratic, her entire body clenching around Agatha’s fingers. Agatha leaned in, her lips brushing Rio’s ear as she whispered, “Come for me.”
That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, Rio shattered around her, her climax ripping through her like a wildfire, consuming every inch of her. Agatha held her, fingers still moving inside her as Rio trembled and gasped, riding out every last pulse of pleasure. Agatha didn’t stop until Rio had collapsed against her, boneless and spent, her chest heaving with the effort of catching her breath.
Slowly, Agatha withdrew her fingers, her touch gentle now as she caressed Rio’s trembling body. She brought her hand up, licking Rio’s taste from her fingers with a satisfied hum, savoring it like a victory. Rio, still breathless and flushed from the intensity of her climax, met Agatha's gaze with a lazy, satisfied smile, the spark of mischief already returning to her eyes.
But before Agatha could fully relish the moment, Rio shoved her backward with a playful force, the air between them charged with a new, teasing challenge.
Agatha blinked in surprise, and Rio’s smirk deepened. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Her voice was still husky from her own release, but the wicked glint in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t satisfied yet. “I’d never let you win that easily.”
Step by step, Rio pushed Agatha backward, until her back met the cold surface of the opposite wall. The impact sent a shiver up her spine, but Agatha’s smirk never faltered, her eyes darkening with anticipation.
Before she could utter a word, Rio dropped to her knees in front of her, her hands gripping Agatha’s hips with a possessiveness that made Agatha’s pulse quicken. The touch alone was enough to steal her breath. Rio’s fingers trailed up the inside of her thighs, parting them with agonizing slowness.
Rio’s gaze roamed over Agatha’s body, lingering on the glistening heat between her legs. She pressed her lips to the inside of Agatha’s thigh, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin, teasing her, drawing out her need. Agatha’s breath hitched, her fingers threading through Rio’s hair, tugging just enough to signal her impatience, silently urging her to go further.
But just as Agatha thought she was about to get what she craved, Rio gave a sharp, teasing bite to the inside of her thigh, making her hiss in both pain and pleasure.
Agatha tugged harder on Rio’s hair, her voice sharp with impatience. “Stop. Teasing.”
Rio only laughed, the sound low and knowing. She could feel the way Agatha’s control was slipping, how her body betrayed just how much she needed this. It was a game Rio loved to play, and she was winning.
Finally, Rio’s tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate path along Agatha’s folds. A low groan escaped Agatha’s lips, her head falling back against the wall as pleasure shot through her. Rio wasted no time, her mouth working expertly, licking and sucking with just the right amount of pressure. Agatha’s hips bucked involuntarily, her fingers tightening in Rio’s hair as if trying to hold on to any shred of control. But Rio wasn’t about to make it easy.
Rio’s tongue circled Agatha’s clit, slow at first, then faster as she felt Agatha’s body start to tremble above her. Each stroke was precise, deliberate, designed to drive Agatha wild. And it was working—Agatha’s breathing grew ragged, her moans spilling freely, filling the room.
Agatha could feel the heat tightening low in her belly, each flick of Rio’s tongue sending uncontrollable tremors through her body. The soft hums vibrating against her skin were maddening, pushing her closer to the edge.
"Fuck..." Agatha gasped, her voice breaking as Rio’s tongue moved faster, harder, pulling her toward a release she could barely hold off.
“Say my name, Agatha,” Rio growled, her voice sultry and demanding, her breath hot against Agatha’s skin. She needed to hear it—needed those lips to utter her name, to know this still meant something.
But Agatha held back, her lips pressed together in defiance. She knew that uttering Rio’s name would be her undoing. It would mean surrendering the last bit of control she clung to—the control that kept her from admitting the truth—that this woman, her former lover, was still the one she needed. The one she had loved. The one she never truly stopped loving.
Rio’s hands gripped her thighs tighter, holding Agatha steady as her mouth worked with relentless precision, licking and sucking with a hunger that made Agatha’s entire body quiver. Agatha could barely stand, her legs shaking, breath coming in short, desperate gasps. The pleasure was cresting, like a wave ready to crash down and drown her.
“Say it,” Rio insisted again, her voice thick with both command and desire—before pulling away entirely.
Agatha’s eyes flew open in shock. “Don’t you dare stop,” she growled, her hand fisting in Rio’s hair, yanking hard enough to make Rio gasp, her head tilting back in delicious pain.
Rio moaned at the sensation but refused to relent, instead kissing teasingly along Agatha’s inner thighs, so close, so torturously close. The brush of her lips wasn’t enough to bring her over the edge, but just enough to drive her insane.
Agatha’s breath hitched, her pride wavering under the unbearable tension. “Please...” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.
“Say it,” Rio whispered, her breath hot against Agatha's skin, her lips hovering just above where Agatha ached for her.
Agatha hesitated, her pride fighting with her need—until it broke. “Rio...” she finally moaned, her voice soft, vulnerable, the sound laced with both surrender and longing.
And that was all it took.
Rio let out a deep, satisfied moan, the vibration sending a jolt straight through Agatha. The moment Rio’s mouth was back on her, Agatha shattered, her body seizing as her orgasm hit. Pleasure crashed through her in waves so intense she could barely breathe. Her grip on Rio’s hair tightened, holding her in place as Rio continued to lick her through her climax, her tongue gentle now, guiding her through each shudder from her trembling body.
Agatha’s head fell back against the wall, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. Rio finally pulled back, her lips glistening, looking up at Agatha with a satisfied, almost smug smile.
Agatha looked down at her, still panting, and let out an amused chuckle. "You're insufferable," she muttered, her voice rough with exhaustion but tinged with affection.
Rio grinned wider, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "And you’ve always loved me for it."