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If Helen of Troy had the beauty that men went to war for, then Death had the beauty that people would die for. Agatha disagreed.
“Get back here, Rio!” Agatha chased after Rio in the damn woods. She’s had enough of her bullshit, especially today. Now she had the audacity to run away from her after trying to slit her throat? Again?
Finally, she stumbled into the house.
“Come on,” Agatha growled. “This is not funny!”
“It kind of is.”
Next to her, Rio stood, and Agatha watched as Rio let the black robe drop onto the ground.
Her hair was loose and a diadem decorated her hairline. Red lipstick adorned her smile. And gold, nothing but gems and gold, draped all over her body. A body chain of chunky gold was draped over her chest and reached down her waist. Thick gold draped around her thighs. A corset of a choker body chain over her neck and chest, thick and heavy. A layered bracelet over her hands, with thin rings all over her fingers.
Fuck.
Agatha did not know what to say. Did not know what to do.
Rio Vidal stood draped in gold.
All of her thoughts were consumed by her and it was not even funny.
It’s been a game of obsession between them for generations and they were never going to end it. Thanks to Rio, Agatha was immortal whether she liked it or not. It was the greatest punishment to be immortal and almost powerless.
This meant that she could be tortured by this for however long she wanted to.
Agatha was breathless.
Rio walked towards her and tucked her hair behind her ear. She let her thumb brush against her lips. Then she let go.
“Do you want this, Agatha?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Agatha said. “Please.”
“Okay.” Cold hands are a welcome touch when it comes to Rio, sending chills along Agatha’s skin. Even colder with the metal adorning her skin. “Take off your clothes.”
Agatha whispered Rio’s name, softly and shakily, as much as her own voice could muster. Sweat glistened off her forehead, down her temple, down her back.
Rio held her closely, sweaty under the body jewelry, each grind between them pushing Agatha closer to the edge. Diadem almost fell more than once, but Agatha fixed it each time. Insisted she kept it on.
“Rio,” Agatha whispered her name again, hair caught between her fingers. But this time, it was different, with the voice shaking. This had an underlayer to it that was not there before. It wasn’t just the passion, or the pleasure. Or the hatred. The hatred that Rio deserved—
It was love.
It was nothing but love.
And Rio almost jolted, nearly losing her pace.
“My love,” Agatha breathed out. “Please…Please…”
At that, Rio let out a whine, her own climax closer than ever. Only the sound of their passion and the soft chimes of the gold jewelry against each other rang in the air with every move.
Her lover was debauched, sweaty, hanging on as tight as she could.
“Please what, Agatha?”
“Kiss me,” Agatha breathed.
And she did. Rio tasted like her, tongue just as slippery as it had been between her legs. Rio swallowed her moans, one free hand that was used for holding on to the headboard going to the spot between Agatha’s thighs.
She knew how Agatha liked her pleasure. She liked it all, to the maximum. One climax in, bringing the next two out. Waves and waves, she loved it.
Agatha finally came with a choked off moan against Rio’s throat. Nails digging between the body chains into her skin. Rio kept going, letting Agatha rest against her shoulder, her own finish on its way.
“Do you want more?” Agatha asked softly.
“Yes,” Rio whined. “Gods—Your stamina—”
“Is damn good. Lay down.”
Rio nodded. But moved too slow for her liking, so Agatha pushed her down on the bed. Agatha kissed her inner thighs, everywhere but the spot Death needed her tongue the most.
Rio was pleased out, soft look in her eyes. Kohl smudged with sweat. And she still kept going, still kept seeking out her tongue.
“ Oh ,” Rio breathed softly, hand going to the head board.
Agatha smiled and Rio felt it against her skin.
She felt Agatha purse her lips and begin kissing her, everywhere but her clit. The kiss turned deeper, and when Death parted her legs more, Agatha parted her own lips and let her tongue respond in enthusiasm to the new position.
She licked and kissed. Her own arousal shone on Agatha’s chin and lips.
Fuck. The sight was godly.
Agatha’s fingers reached the spots her tongue would eventually get to. A prelude, almost.
Rio’s hand, with gold rings and with bracelets that tinked softly, went down to stroke Agatha’s hair. A way to keep herself sane due to her. This woman—this fucking witch —drove her insane. Broke the rules for her. Ruined her reputation for her. All she did was her job and there came Agatha, the one who made her question everything and defy everything.
A particular lick led to a smudged tear to drip past the temple of her eyeliner, staining the already stained sheets. But she didn’t want to stop. It felt so good . She didn’t deserve to feel this good—
“Don’t stop,” Rio begged softly, but she did not know if it was towards the self-hatred echoing in her mind or to the pleasure that came from Agatha’s tongue. “Please.”
Agatha laughed softly, and Rio felt it.
“Worried I’ll leave you hanging?”
“You’ve—” Rio moaned. “You’ve done it before. So, I wouldn’t put it past you to do it again.”
In retaliation, Agatha bit at her thigh, then soothed it with a kiss.
“You’re funny.”
“Shut up.”
“Careful.” Agatha warned. “I just might leave.”
“Please don’t.” The desperation escaped her words.
Agatha looked up at Rio. Earnest.
“Hey, I won’t.” She pressed a kiss to her thigh. “I won’t. Okay?”
Rio nodded. “Okay.”
She feared the mood was ruined, but instead, Agatha kissed her thigh one more time and returned to bringing her over the edge.