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The first candle lights with a hiss and a spark.
“Please tell me you’re not going to light all of them,” Kurt says from where he reclines in their bed amid down-stuffed pillows and shimmering drapes, scantily clad in just a pair of black boxers. His eyes travel from Wanda to the countless candles arrayed around the room, dark honey-scented wax dribbled down Gothic candlesticks. She uses them mostly for meditation, but they also make fantastic mood lighting. “At best it will take forever…and at worst it’s a fire hazard.”
“I think we can handle a little fire.” Wanda snaps her fingers and every candle comes to life. “And I want to actually be able to see you.”
Their bedroom is usually a mess (ordered chaos) but she’s put away the superhero costumes, dangerous magical artifacts, and free weights. That leaves a rack of swords on the wall, unruly bookshelves, and an enormous record player spinning a sultry old seventies record that’s a favorite of them both.
Kurt asks, innocently, “Are you going to tell me the occasion, or are you all dressed up like that for no reason?”
Wanda purses her lips to hide her smile, though she shifts a little to give him a better view. She knows he likes to see her in anything; the soft voluminous red of her cape, old faded T-shirts, costumes that have nothing to do with superheroing - and, of course, nothing at all. But tonight she’s dressed up for the occasion, in a loosely tied pink satin robe open just enough to give him a peek of lacy black lingerie.
“The occasion is ‘I have to make up an occasion to get out of Avenging for the night and I want to make the most of it.’”
“Schiesse, why didn’t I remember that one?” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to become one of those guys who can’t remember birthdays or anniversaries.”
“I’m not worried. And anyways, you’ll always be able to make it up to me.”
“Why do you always make me want to do something bad just to be punished?” He grins and she laughs, though she isn’t laughing when his three-fingered hand slides down the flat, muscular plane of his stomach to the waistband of his boxers and she follows the movement with her eyes. The back of her mouth goes dry with desire. Heat floods through her.
Two steps and Wanda is on the bed, half on Kurt’s lap as he pulls her in for a kiss that turns into his hands in her hair and their bodies flush. He opens his mouth to her and she deepens the kiss...
They have to break for breath but she hasn’t had nearly enough, drawing him back in for another kiss and getting a whiff of that sandalwood-scented soap she likes so much. She has to admit that she loves that he’s so good at grooming himself, and it’s always nice to bury her nose in the soft velvet of his neck and smell spices instead of sulphur. She does just that, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and inhaling him, rubbing her skin against the peachy-soft fuzz of his.
Nothing is as good as this.
Kurt strokes her hair. “You never told me what occasion you made up.”
She pulls back to look at him. “Only the anniversary of the first time we got caught kissing in public. Which is, of course, a very important milestone in any relationship. Not just when you happen to be superheroes and it makes front page news.”
“Oh, ja, I remember it well.” His expression turns playful. “How long has it been, a year and a half? It feels like a lifetime.”
"Hey." She smacks his arm. “Watch yourself.”
“I mean it.” His yellow eyes sparkle but he’s slightly more serious than a moment before. “It’s difficult to imagine my life before Wanda Maximoff. I don’t know what I ever did without you.”
“I love you, too,” she smiles, kisses him, “you ridiculous blue romantic.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
She kisses his neck, runs her hands down the muscles of his chest and follows them with her mouth; he slips the tie of her robe free and pulls it off her shoulders, casting it aside. His skin and fur are both velvety under her hands, textured and salty where her open mouth grazes his nipples, collarbone, and neck, her chest pressing against his as she moves up to bite one of his elf-tipped ears; he’s so soft, so warm and close, she could rub herself all over him like a cat. Get him all over herself. Sometimes she’s working or standing in a meeting and suddenly she smells him on her skin, the particular blend of his spicy soap and sulphur smoke.
Kurt makes a pleasurable noise, hands trailing down her spine to her backside.
Sinking her hands into his curls, Wanda kisses him on the mouth again. Luxuriates in the way he kisses her back, her heart ticking up several notches.
She nips at his lower lip and he growls, a sound she can feel tremor through her whole body. Flipping her over onto her back, he pins her to the bed. She might be more powerful overall but he’s physically stronger, bound in lean muscle honed for action. No one is sexier.
He asks, playfully, “Is this where you want me?”
“Come a little closer.”
That pleases him, and he’s happy to oblige, brushing feathery kisses along her neck and shoulder, pausing to suck the tender place right below her ear.
Once she has her hands on him she never wants to let go; she strokes down his bare back to his tail, which is, admittedly, one of her favorite parts of him. It’s so reactive because it’s very sensitive, almost too sensitive to touch at the tip, which seems to surprise people - it’s all nerve endings and overstimulation if someone isn’t careful with it, which is how he manages the most delicate of tasks without fingers or opposable thumbs - but there’s also a number of pressure points along its length and at the base of his spine, the latter being a center of pleasure.
Sliding her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers she lightly scrapes her fingers through the grain of his fur. He makes a low groan in the back of his throat.
If she crooks her legs around his thighs and arches against him his erection presses just where she wants it, though two layers of clothing between them are two too many.
She already has her hands down his boxers, it would take much to get them off, but when she starts to push them off he draws away just enough to make her stop.
“Relax,” he says, brushing his cheek against hers, “don’t rush it.”
His mouth moves lower, to collarbones and breastbone, his thumbs brushing up her bare stomach to slip beneath the band of her bra, tracing it around her rib cage. Gentle teasing touches that are at once delectable and torturous.
His tongue flicks her nipple through the lace of her bra.
She bites back a curse as his mouth closes over her with more teeth than lips, the silky fabric between them adding more friction. She shivers and goes wetter.
Releasing her, Kurt blows lightly on the damp patch before finding the fastening of her bra and taking it off her.
Then his mouth is on her again, hot and wet and deeply arousing as he begins to work his way down her body, kissing her stomach, sliding his hands between her loosely parted thighs, stroking down to her knees and back up, gripping them as he kisses the inside of her leg on each side, then bites right at the top of her thigh, slowly increasing the pressure of his teeth on her skin until she gasps, sharply, clutching at his hair.
He pauses to murmur something in German; low, sweet nothings that sound sensual in any language.
A shiver passes through her whole body when he hooks one finger through her lacy underwear and removes them. Something inside her twinges, almost painfully, desire so sharp it cuts.
Then his mouth is on her and she’s lost, all conscious thought drowned in sensation. His mouth. His tongue. The scorching pleasure that tears up her spine and leaves her powerless and breathless, the line between not enough and too much blurred to nonexistence. Even when her climax begins to abate he's still there, pushing her towards a new edge, not letting up until she comes again and then curses him and his unrelenting ability to make her lose her mind in only the best ways.
He rumbles against her skin, almost growling playfully in the back of his throat. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“You’re never going to be done with me,” her voice is just a little ragged, “but at least come up here and let me kiss you.”
“Since you’ve bewitched me.”
Kurt sheds his boxers and moves back up her body, kissing her on the mouth, tongues sliding together, one of his hands slipping under the curved nape of her neck as she wraps herself around him. She doesn’t want anything between them. His full weight presses her down into the bed as she clutches him closer with her nails digging into his shoulders and her legs around his hips; their kiss breaking as he gasps and shifts, readjusting to push slowly inside her.
Wanda’s head falls back as she savors the feeling of him buried to the hilt.
Her nails drag down his back to his tail.
He thrusts slow but hard, eliciting a sharp pang of aching pleasure with every stroke, each building on the next until she’s writhing, hips rising up off the bed, burning so hot that her hands start to glow scarlet. She sometimes climaxes…explosively, so they change positions - she rolls over onto her elbows, hands now fisted in the sheets and knees spread as he takes her from behind, one arm hooked around her waist. He kisses the curve of her spine, fucking her no harder than before but at a deeper angle, groaning when she grinds back into his hips. She’s so close she can’t think, can barely breathe, can’t get the air to cry out as the exquisite force of her climax takes her; Kurt follows her over, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he comes so hard she can feel it in her bones.
They catch their breath, then rearrange themselves into more comfortable positions; Wanda shivers, the heat of sex turning to a chill as the sweat on her skin dries.
“I love your glow,” Kurt says, taking her hand and turning it over in his, tracing the lines of her palm with one finger, “it’s very satisfying.”
“I need to work on a less dramatic release,” she sighs, brushing her hair off her forehead, “or maybe just less…volatile.”
“But it’s so sexy,” he kisses her hand, the inside of her wrist, slowly working his way up her arm, “and tingly.”
He’s at her neck again, feathering her with kisses that go right to her head; they tickle but she doesn’t want him to stop, she arches into his touch, running her hands up his shoulders and through his hair, over the sensitive tips of his ears.
He’s talking in German again, he’s always more amorous in German, “Du bist alles, meine Liebe, mein Liebchen...”
“Mein fuzzy blau Schnucki,” she replies, adding, “I haven’t even gotten you drunk yet.”
“I can’t promise that I’m perfectly sober…I didn’t realize you were planning a picnic,” he indicates a selection of beer and wine and sweets on the bedside table, “though I have worked up an appetite.”
“You could work up an appetite watching TV.” Wanda disentangles herself and hands him his beer, cracking open a box of chocolates. “I’m not really sure how well chocolate and beer go together. I got some of those cookies you like, too.”
Kurt plucks a chocolate out of the box and pops it in his mouth, making a face at what must be a bitter, cocoa-dusted truffle.
“Too dark? The striped ones are sweeter.”
He lets her put one in his mouth, contemplating it for a minute. “Much better.”
She shakes her head. “There’s no accounting for your sweet tooth.”
Wanda finds the darker chocolates perfect; most candy is too sugary for her, and she would take real food over snack food any day of the week, but she has a weakness for good, expensive dark chocolate, and it pairs nicely with a rich red wine.
“It’s why I can’t get enough of you,” Kurt says, and Wanda rolls her eyes even if she lets him kiss her, his tongue dipping into her mouth.
“Mmm I might have to reconsider; I think I like yours better.” He pulls away just enough to speak, one hand coming to rest lightly on her neck. “But I’m going to need another taste.”
They do as much kissing and canoodling as they do eating and drinking, the record winding down to nothing, the candles flickering in their dripping pools of wax. When the chocolates are gone and several bottles emptied, they are both tipsy, tangled up, and handsy, rapidly working each other up for another round.
“I was thinking we might try something different…” The dim glow of the candles brightens as scarlet light curls off Wanda’s bare skin like smoke, every candle flame flaring red at its heart. “If you want to.”
*
“Do you trust me?”
Kurt reclines on the pillows while Wanda reclines on him, leaning on his thighs as she lays perpendicular, her hands stroking from his navel down to his hips, then down along the inside of his legs and back up to tease him, mercilessly, in all the ways he most enjoys.
“You know I do.”
They’ve already talked about it, but still, he can see her hesitate. It’s normal to change things up a bit, explore, but it’s not like they need to. Their sex life is already fulfilling, though he knows she’s curious or else she never would have propositioned him this way.
Rubbing her hands together, Wanda gathers a softer, subtler glow of power, perfectly controlled as she curls her hands around his erection and he sucks in a hiss of air. Tingly, very very tingly.
She looks dubious. “Is it…good?”
“Ja.”
Watching her touch him is almost as arousing as the throbbing, tingling caress of her hands and magic on his most sensitive parts; the way her breathing goes uneven just when his does makes him wild with lust and desperate to break her intense focus even when her hands tighten and he swears, roughly, fisting both hands in the sheets.
His tail curls over her hips to touch her between the legs, the place where they meet like two live wires connecting, completing a circuit.
She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flashing up to his, her tone half playful, half chiding, “Are you trying to distract me?”
“I just want to reciprocate…it’s hard to resist…”
“You don’t want to find out what happens if I lose control,” she reminds him, but she shifts, folding one leg up to give him better access, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as he presses the tip of his tail just so.
With her hands still on his cock, she leans forward to put her mouth on him, run her tongue over the tip, teeth grazing the sensitive head and fuck if that doesn't feel so good. She increases the charge in her hands until his hips buck up off the bed and he swears -
“Schiesse, Wanda -”
He comes in a sharp, gasping release, overpowered by a rippling pleasure that leaves him dazed and breathless.
Wanda leans back, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Tell me you liked that.”
Kurt presses one hand below his navel, savoring every bit of lingering sensation. “Perhaps too much. I’d rather thought to make it last a while longer.”
“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.” Her smile is wicked, it cuts through him in a sharp stab of desire; she touches him everywhere the firelight touches him, and her hands glow without magic, and he feels every brush of her skin on his so acutely, sparking even before the intense pulse of her power ripples through him. This time it doesn’t tingle. This time it’s like being electrocuted, lit up with pleasure, a feeling like lust, or chaos, every touch makes him want more. He would let her do anything she wants to him. Anything.
She kisses him, in the center of his chest. The slope of his neck. Her smile teases him, so close he can feel it, her lips and nose almost aligned with his. He doesn’t lean into her, merely tilts his head slightly and holds his breath until she kisses him. Her lips taste like wine and salt. He is intoxicated in every sense of the word. One of her legs is thrown over his and he is hard again, very hard, wanting her again, always, always wanting her.
She leans back to straddle him properly, framing his body with hers, hands dragging up his chest to rest on his shoulders, she sheathes him her heat, drops her hips low to settle him so deep that his whole body becomes a fire of nerve endings, overstimulated and sensitive and oh so ready for more.
Tangling his hands in her hair he pulls her back into their kiss, that long needy kiss that gasps and stammers but doesn't break even when she moves against him, rolling her hips, grinding her pelvis down against his.
Her magic courses through him in electric waves of intense sensation and pleasure. This is a different kind of friction, literal sparks everywhere they touch.
She comes a fraction of a moment before he does - scarlet light filling the room as he feels her climax with a blistering intensity that jolts through him and sends him over the edge.
His climax is white hot and lingering, deliriously long, deliciously overpowering…and when he blinks the stars from his eyes Wanda is sprawled on top of him, relaxed and spent, both of them showered in red flowers that glow and slowly fade to glittering embers.
Kurt brushes petals from her hair. “Less dramatic, hm?”
She smiles. “Very satisfying.”
It’s far too hot to require covers of any kind so they simply lay spent and tangled on top of the sheets, falling deeply asleep as the candles slowly burn down to nothing.