Without warning, I pull out and slam into her again, and this time every thrust inside her is euphoric. Her body shakes with need, incoherent screams and moans coming from her now. Pressure builds in my spine as a thick mist gathers around us, my magic completely uncontainable. The room flashes again with lightning. It feels like we’re fucking in a thunderstorm. I know I’m close, so I remove my hand from her head and bring my fingers to her clit, no magic, gently stroking while I continue my demanding rhythm. There’s nothing between us now, no magic aiding our pleasure, no smirks or winks hiding what we truly feel. Just our naked, glistening bodies pressed to one another, open and raw in our need.

The thread of light I feel inside my aether-heart pulls taut between us, telling me she’s close to her peak. With another roar, I push as deep as I can, my release erupting out of me at the same time Laurel squeezes with her own orgasm. The room flashes blindingly bright, and there’s a cracking noise behind me I ignore. We slowly grind against one another, wringing out our pleasure.

When we’re fully spent, I gently turn her around to face me, my hands rubbing up and down her arms to warm her pebbled skin. “Laurel.” I say her name like a prayer, going to my knees in front of her. She shudders. Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I bring my lips to rest just above her heart, swirling my tongue across the swell of her breast. I gently caress the curve of her body, resting my hand on her full hip. “Mine,” I whisper softly. Then I bring my mouth down and bite her, firmly, drawing blood. She moans. When the scent hits me, I instantly harden, wanting to fuck her all over again, but I stop myself. I want to savor this moment with her, want to take in every detail of our joining and what feels like the cresting of the mating bond.

Slowly, I will aether to lap against the wound with light, healing the cut but leaving the scar. I do the same to my own wound. Then I place her hand over my scar and put my hand over hers.

“Mates,” I whisper, and joyful tears build in her eyes.

“Mates,” she sobs, and the word obliterates my control. I crowd her body with mine, and we’re frantic for one another once again, skin and magic clashing in a heated fury.

Hawthorne

In the quiet after they accepted the mating bond, the witch and the fae fell even deeper into their magical connection. But it was a momentary respite, their fate marching ever closer.

Unknown Story, Unknown Origin