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The night that Agatha met Rio it was unseasonably cold, and the wind whipped her hair across her face insistently. The circumstances were chaotic, unsettling, and devastating, and as much as she tried to focus on her newly born freedom, the darkness crept in.
Her coven, led by her mother, had attempted to burn her at the stake. The history books may tell of puritan towns murdering witches, but they don’t recount the tales of witches killing their own. Perhaps it is because such happenings go against any intuitive understanding of what it means to be a witch, which is true and why such events are so rare. It takes a truly evil witch at the helm, such as Evanora Harkness.
After freeing herself by killing her mother and her coven in an instinctive flash of violent self-protection, a figure appeared before Agatha among the trees. The bodies were like a moat between her and it. Agatha felt sure she wasn’t meant to see the figure. It was otherworldly in a way that seemed to forbid perception, but there it was, and Agatha watched, happy to have her attention captured by something other than the bodies she had put to the ground.
The figure wore a long dark cloak, and moved towards the corpses with a fluidity that suggested floating more than walking. Agatha stood still below the stake from which she had freed herself, watching, and the figure seemed to take no interest in her at all. As the creature reached a patch of ground without any trees blocking the moonlight, Agatha caught sight of a face unlike any she had seen. It was half human, and half skull.
Agatha was not afraid. She had seen the darkest sides of humanity far too many times, brutalized by those meant to love her most. Other witches may tremble, but Agatha knew how to find beauty among the complex. She had to in order to survive.
She knew this face was beautiful. It was unlike anything she had ever seen.
She was snatched from her reverie by the eyes of the skull-clad being meeting her own. She had been noticed.
Agatha didn’t move. She held the gaze as if to say, “I am not afraid of you.” Perhaps the creature understood because it only grew nearer. Agatha was too intrigued to look away.
Before it reached the bodies or Agatha, the figure stopped moving, holding Agatha’s gaze without any detectable expression. Maybe she was waiting, patient but insistent.
For the first minute, Agatha didn’t back down. She watched the figure’s eyes, so dark, but with an undeniable spark burning inside of them. She found herself more calm than she had been in days, lulled by the creature’s presence.
Had it been conjured by the bodies? Was it even real, or just a figment of Agatha’s own mind?
After minutes passed, Agatha began to reach the understanding that the figure may truly be waiting for her, and needed Agatha to leave. Perhaps it couldn’t speak. Was whatever had called it to the bodies not meant for Agatha’s eyes?
Agatha began to back away, slowly and facing forward. She wasn’t usually one to obey, but this creature had compelled an exception. The figure stood still, but after Agatha got far enough that she was back among the trees, it began to move. Its attention turned to one of the members of her mother’s coven. It hovered in front of her, and since Agatha’s theories seemed to be proving true, she continued to distance herself.
Perhaps this was the chaos of the last few hours leading her to hallucination.
She turned, walking into the woods with her back to the figure and its shadows. She was headed nowhere, but she was free.
Over the years to follow, Agatha remained a creature of the woods. The woods were her coven, they were her home, physically and spiritually. The forest brought her what she needed - food, shelter, wood to burn, and beds of leaves. She didn’t dare trust other witches, their mere presence raising her heart rate. Instead, she found that she could use them to take what she needed. She would steal. She would kill when she needed to. She would entice them to anger and then feed from their magic using her succubus powers. They gave her anything that the woods couldn't provide.
The first time she killed another witch after her mother’s coven, she waited a ways away in the woods, peaking out from behind a tree, waiting and watching for a dark hood. She had half a mind to think herself foolish, having come to believe much of what she had seen the night she had killed her mother to be her own imagination in a state of desperation, but then, she saw a familiar dark cloak among the trees.
Agatha felt her breath grow shallow, obscuring herself like a prey animal, determined not to be found.
The figure reached the body of the witch Agatha had killed where it lay on the ground. It stood at the foot of her body, looking down over her. From Agatha’s vantage point, it looked like nothing was happening, the figure merely hovered for a minute or so, then began to walk away again, this time more slowly, as if showing someone the way over the terrain.
Agatha decided the figure was a woman, while her cloaks were long and obscuring, there was something in the way she moved and the features amidst the skull of her face were decidedly feminine. Whatever she was, she was clearly an immensely powerful being, so it made sense that she would be female.
This happened a few more times. Agatha would kill - curiosity beginning to mingle with necessity as her motivation, and the hooded woman would appear again.
One day, Agatha’s intrigue overcame her. She had killed a witch on the side of a small stream to which she had lured her. Agatha didn’t step away this time. She waited with the corpse. When the figure appeared, she walked to the body as always, undeterred by Agatha’s presence. When she stopped moving at the foot of the slain witch, Agatha crossed a line over which she would never return.
“Who are you?” She asked the hooded woman, her voice quiet but steady.
The woman met her eyes like she had on that first night, lifting her head slowly, her face obscured by the shadows of her hood. Upon meeting her eyes, Agatha felt a shiver down her spine, of what kind she wasn’t sure.
“I am Death,” the woman answered in the simplest of tones, as if it was apparent.
“I…” Agatha searched for her words. What did that really mean? How was it possible? And…why did it not feel important to truly understand? “I’ve seen you before.”
“I know,” the woman, Death, replied.
“Why can I see you?”
People were around dead bodies all of the time. Why hadn’t she heard of this figure before?
“Because I’ve let you, every time.”
Agatha wanted to ask why, but she feared asking too much would deter Death from appearing before her again, or make her question her choices. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she couldn’t indulge that possibility.
She simply nodded.
Death focused on the body before her again, doing whatever it was she did that Agatha could never detect, and then, as always, she left. Agatha didn’t stop her or interrupt. It felt sacrilegious - a thought Agatha had never had before about anything. As Death turned to walk away, she nodded to Agatha - a goodbye, or perhaps an “until next time.”
Agatha kept killing and kept meeting Death in the woods. It was something she could count on in a way that made her feel safe. She didn’t ask her more questions, but once she did approach her again, standing at the foot of the body as Death neared. The skull-faced woman didn’t shy away, her footsteps fell to a halt in front of Agatha, too close for human politeness, and Agatha studied her.
“You’re beautiful,” Agatha muttered, the thought slipping between her lips unintentionally.
“Why don’t you fear me?” Death questioned after a beat, her eyes reaching deep inside Agatha.
“What is there to fear?”
That day, she didn’t try to touch Death, but the next time, she did, reaching out a hand slowly towards her face that amalgamated life and death. It was alluring in a way that she didn’t understand.
“You can’t.” Death took a step back. “It’s not safe.”
Agatha dropped her hand, embarrassed to have tried but not willing to show it.
Death began to turn away from Agatha and she panicked that she had ruined something. She always did. She didn’t like people and people didn’t like her. Perhaps that was why she felt comfort with Death. She wasn’t a person. She wouldn’t hurt Agatha.
Agatha didn’t try to stop her, though. She couldn’t rely on the presence of this figure, couldn’t chase her.
“Here,” Death stopped walking and laid on the forest floor in a movement too fluid to be human.
Agatha walked to meet her, her fears eased, and lowered herself down to the ground. She remembered what she had been told, and left a few inches between them.
They stayed for nearly an hour, silent, Agatha would have never moved. It was Death who stood. Before leaving, she turned her head to face Agatha’s, and they watched each other for minutes that felt like days. Her eyes were like magnets, amber pools that pulled Agatha into their depths.
Rio had left Agatha on the forest floor and she didn’t leave for hours, feeling like a spell had been cast over her. If she stood, she accepted Death was gone again.
The next time, Agatha waited by her slain witch after gathering the herbs she had stolen from her. Then she heard a stick crack behind a tree and a startled gasp that wasn’t her own. Suddenly, she was on high alert, a cat with its ears perked. The edge of a dress began to appear from behind the tree.
No. Agatha could not be found by a dead body. They would pursue her. She didn’t want to take this witch too, not right now, it would be too conspicuous so close to a village, and that would be her only option. There could also be others behind her. Agatha’s self preservation instinct overpowered her desire to see Death and she began to run, darting between trees.
“Wait!” The witch shouted.
Agatha did not wait. The witch must have seen the body and nothing she could say would stop Agatha.
“I am who you know me to be,” the witch yelled from far behind her.
Agatha stopped so suddenly she nearly fell forward.
Who you know me to be.
She turned. The witch had walked to catch up with her, and was close enough to study. Agatha’s inspection stopped after a single feature though - amber eyes that she would know anywhere, Death’s.
It didn’t make sense. How was she human? This witch was clearly as mortal as Agatha, beautiful, with long dark hair, olive skin, and the eyes Agatha had come to associate with peace.
“How are you…?”
“I can be if I choose.”
Death’s voice was somehow the same. How hadn’t Agatha noticed immediately when she had shouted?
Death had caught up with her completely now, and Agatha did what she couldn’t before. She stood before Death, eye to eye, and let her hand rise to her cheek. Death didn’t stop her this time.
She was warm, as alive as Agatha, blood in her veins. Her skin was soft and Agatha felt her relax into her palm. Agatha was holding her breath. They both were.
“My true name is Rio.”
Rio. Rio. Rio.
“Agatha.”
At that, Rio smiled. She was as captivating to Agatha as a human as she was as Death - a beauty that made Agatha’s usually racing mind go still. Perhaps there was an exception to her dislike of her own kind.
Rio reached out her own hand, lifting it incredibly slowly, and then traced Agatha’s cheekbone with her thumb, her mouth falling slightly open. It was a look of near awe. How could Death be rendered amazed in the presence of a mere mortal witch?
That day, Agatha didn’t ask questions, she only stood before Death - before Rio, and let them study each other. What would usually feel strange felt entirely natural, to simply exist before her. Rio was perhaps the first force on earth to consistently render Agatha Harkness silent.
The effect was not permanent, though. Rio appeared to her as a human witch a few times again over Agatha’s bodies, and Agatha began to ask. She learned that Rio had never been human before, even though she could have been. She had never felt the world tangibly, never felt life on her own skin. Agatha decided to show her. She gave her blackberries and watched Rio’s mouth twist at their sourness. She lit her a fire and they warmed their hands together. She guided her into the river to feel the water over her feet.
Rio was wise and endlessly knowledgeable, and she taught Agatha too - showing her herbs she had never gathered before and bark to shave.
Watching her take in the world, Agatha found that all of her favorite moments were becoming those spent with Rio. When she was gone, Agatha’s primary preoccupation was wondering when she would return.
Once, Rio appeared holding a small iris between her fingers.
“M’lady,” she gave it to Agatha by way of greeting, and Agatha couldn’t help the blush that crept over her cheeks. She felt like she was falling into Rio’s eyes looking back at her. They were all she wanted to see.
She was the one to leave Rio that day, her own affection making her feel skittish. She couldn’t be this vulnerable.
Another day, Agatha asked Rio a question she had been sitting on for a while - why she had been compelled to take on a human form if she never had before, and Rio hesitated.
“I…thought it would let me be around you.”
Agatha’s heart skipped a beat at that. She was surprised and flattered, unsure of what to say, so instead nodding and saying nothing at all.
Rio began to appear not over bodies at all, meeting Agatha on mundane days in the woods.
She asked why Agatha killed, and Agatha told her the truth, that she killed for resources, magical and otherwise, and because she didn’t trust other witches.
“Because of what they did to you,” Rio finished.
Agatha didn’t want to talk about that.
“Why did you show yourself to me that first time?”
Rio thought for a moment, staring past Agatha. As much as she was growing used to her presence, Rio’s beauty would still strike her at random moments when the filtered light from above the trees lit her eyes, or when the breeze lifted her hair.
“You were so alone…so scared, but so powerful. I was amazed. You were intriguing and…beautiful.” She thought for a moment again. “I wanted you to see that not every creature would hurt you.”
Sometimes Agatha would forget that Rio had seen her at that the most vulnerable moment of her life. The intimacy between them simply due to that moment was substantial. She had truly seen Agatha, her power, but also her weakness.
“Thank you.” It was the only thing to say.
Rio would come and go, she had duties to attend to after all. The first couple of times she left, Agatha feared she might never return. At least not as Rio. Perhaps she had satiated her curiosity about Agatha and the need for a human form had passed. But as Rio returned, and returned, she came to trust that she wasn’t going anywhere. Secretly, Agatha was grateful.
Since the first time Rio had appeared, they rarely touched. They had held hands twice, who initiated it unclear. Once at the fire, wordlessly, and once walking next to a stream looking for fish to spear. Once Rio stayed with her as she fell asleep, lying next to her, and Agatha found herself wanting desperately to curl their bodies together, but she didn’t know how Rio would react.
Agatha found herself watching Rio’s lips when she talked, the curve of her waist, the way she said Agatha’s name. She wanted her in a way that was so human it was probably unfit for a cosmic being like Death, but her mind didn’t know better.
Once Rio slipped on a wet rock and Agatha caught her, hands wrapping around her body. At first, she didn’t let her go - the feeling of Rio being so close was intoxicating. She let the warmth of Rio’s body reach her, the smell of her hair - so distinct yet so indescribable. Closing her eyes, she released her. She had to.
Agatha sat by the fire, braiding her hair, Rio roasted nuts next to her. She had appeared maybe an hour ago, stepping out from the woods and saying Agatha’s name so as to not startle her. While Agatha hadn’t been startled, she did feel her heart race in greeting.
As she braided her hair, Rio began to watch her hands instead of the fire.
“Your fingers are so…precise. How do you do that?”
She was transfixed, studying Agatha, her eyes moving from her hands to her face. It made Agatha feel all too aware of herself.
“I’ll show you.”
She swung her hair to the side closer to Rio and braided more slowly as she finished, Rio looking on intently.
“Here.” As she finished the braid, she moved to sit behind Rio instead.
Slowly, she took Rio’s hair from the front of her shoulder and slid it back towards her to cascade down her back.
She waited to see if Rio would stop her - she had never tried this before. Every time she touched Rio, she felt like she was pushing a branch she feared would break. She held her breath. Rio did nothing to move away, only tilting her head to help Agatha, so she proceeded, feeling like she was holding a secret.
Rio’s hair was warm from where it had been resting on her body as Agatha carded her fingers through it. It was soft, and smooth. Perhaps its smell was that of the earth, like pine and drying oak leaves. Agatha took her time, relishing in the feeling of a piece of Rio in her hands.
She combed through it, and Rio scooted backwards, her lower back resting on Agatha’s shins. Agatha could hear her breathe, steady and deep, and as she moved, Rio tilted her head back into her touch. Agatha relaxed.
She began to braid and every time her nails would scratch Rio’s scalp in the process, she would hear her sigh. Agatha was trying to deny the effect it had on her, but she was failing as she fantasized about letting her hands run further down Rio’s back, or kissing the skin of her neck, now perfectly exposed to Agatha.
Half way through, Rio took one of her arms and braced her elbow over Agatha’s knee, leaning into her further. Agatha was distracted by the pressure of Rio’s body.
How human did this cosmic being want to be? How human with Agatha? Agatha couldn’t help wondering - her own humanity a liability around a creature so perfect.
As she neared the end of the braid, she wished Rio had miles of hair so she could continue for hours. She didn’t want to stop touching her. She felt warm. She felt safe. She felt needy in a way that compelled her to both action and fear.
Rio must have been able to tell that the braid was done because she began to lift herself from Agatha’s legs, sitting up and away from her.
Agatha wanted to grab her, wanted to pull her back, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t scare her off, she was too important to her whether she meant her to be or not.
Just as Agatha was trying to shake it all off, Rio surprised her. Instead of moving back towards the fire, she turned completely, now facing Agatha on the forest floor. Lit from behind, she was cast in shadow - the outline of the first witch who had made Agatha feel seen.
Like the very first time, Rio reached out. She cupped Agatha’s cheek in her hand.
“I’ve never felt this before, Agatha - of course,” she spoke quietly between them. “But I know what it is.”
Agatha’s heart rate took off like a stallion.
“I’ve always been…intrigued by you,” Rio continued, “and I knew what that might become when I had a body.”
Agatha reached her hand out to Rio’s legs crossed before her, resting her palm over her calf.
Before she could decide how she wanted to reply though, Rio continued, removing her hand from Agatha’s cheek and growing more confident in her tone.
“I see humans at the end of their lives, but I witness all of the life I pass by on the way to them like art, from a distance. I know everything - anything found in humanity, but not how any of it feels.” She took a breath. “And…you make me want to. You make me want to be all too human.”
The way Rio spoke could be overwhelming sometimes. She was direct, unashamed, and open. It was a clarity Agatha could hardly find within her own mind, let alone aloud.
If Agatha would have had any uncertainty at Rio’s intentions, the hand now tracing over her leg left no room for doubt.
“I…I didn’t know,” Agatha let her own hand move to Rio’s thigh just above her knee, trying to communicate her desire. “I want to show you. God, I -” she chucked at herself. “I didn’t know if you could…want like that.”
“Me neither.” Agatha caught Rio’s eyes wandering from her eyes all the way down her body. It made her feel warm. “But apparently I can.”
Now that the blockade she had constructed in her mind was being torn down by Rio’s words, her thoughts raced. Rio’s lips so close to hers, her hands in her hair, her waist, her skin, her hands, Agatha’s desire swimming through them all.
She cautiously took Rio’s ankles in her hands and awkwardly uncrossed her legs, encouraging her to put one on either side of her. Then she moved closer, uncrossing her own legs and mirroring Rio with her legs on top.
They were face to face as she looked up to meet Rio’s gaze. Her eyes were as intoxicating as always, pulling Agatha. God, those eyes. The only thing better than staring into them would be being so close she wouldn’t be able to.
“Do you want…to try?”
Something about Rio always made Agatha nervous in a way no one had ever elicited from her. It was maddening.
“Please,” Rio affirmed.
“We can take it slow. We don’t have to do anything.”
Rio nodded as she lifted a hand again. The hunger in her eyes now nearly made Agatha gasp. Rio cupped her palm over Agatha’s jaw and then ran her thumb over her bottom lip, inevitably pulling it slightly. She looked entranced, her eyes dark as she watched.
That was it. Agatha let her pent up desire run free, her heart rate with it.
Despite wanting to dive on top of Rio, she forced herself to move slowly. First, taking the back of Rio’s head in her hand, feeling the braid she had made there, and then starting to pull her close.
She closed her eyes, and then their lips met.
It was like the fire next to them had moved inside of her. Rio’s lips were so soft and warm and curious, moving over Agatha’s in a way that made her woozy.
Rio’s breath started to come heavier from her nose onto Agatha’s cheek, and Agatha’s hands took on a mind of their own as they began to slide over Rio’s back, pulling her closer, searching for more of her.
Rio broke away, mouth open, breathing hard.
“Okay?” Agatha asked.
The question was immediately proven unnecessary as Rio nodded quickly and lurched her face back to Agatha’s.
More than okay it seemed.
The kiss grew heavier, needier. Rio put her hands into Agatha’s hair, her braid already starting to come undone, and pulled her tighter against her.
Half by conscious choice and half by instinct, Agatha slipped her tongue over Rio’s lip and Rio mewled underneath her. It was a delicious sound. She had clearly surprised herself and pulled away.
She stared at Agatha from a couple of inches away, her eyes wide.
“I didn’t know it would feel…”
She didn’t finish her thought, instead changing her mind and crashing her lips back into Agatha’s again.
Agatha was thrilled.
It was messy and desperate. Agatha raking her tongue over the inside of Rio’s lip, spurring Rio to try the same. The taste of her felt like it was made for Agatha, going straight to her head like a balm.
She was beginning to forget her promise to take things slow and let her hands take what they wanted in handfuls.
She did, however, force herself to move slowly as she slid her hand to Rio’s chest. She cupped her breast hesitantly, her lips still glued to Death’s. At the contact, Rio gasped, breaking the kiss with Agatha in the process.
Agatha didn’t move her hand away, but watched Rio’s eyes. Her brows were knitted and her mouth slightly open in an expression that could only be pleasure.
“Are you…?” Agatha trailed off.
“Yes, yes,” Rio rushed out.
What she meant was more than clear.
“Good, I have a lot more to show you than that,” Agatha smirked.
Rio looked at her with an expression she had never seen from her before - lust. Now that she knew what it looked like painted over Rio’s face, there was no going back.
This time it was her who crashed their lips back together. She also pushed Rio forward in the process, scrambling her own legs out of the way to lay on top of her. Rio should know the simple pleasure of kissing someone with every inch of their bodies pressed together.
They made out on the ground. Rio slipped her hand between them to explore Agatha’s body. As she traced her thumb over the fabric that covered her nipple, Agatha moaned, much to Rio’s clear delight.
Agatha pulled away from Rio’s lips to start kissing over her jaw and down to her neck. She bit the skin just below Rio’s ear, pulling a gargled sound from her mouth, and then started to suck it better.
As she did so, Rio’s hips rolled up into her own. Rio froze. Clearly she hadn’t intended to do that.
“That’s okay, beautiful,” Agatha whispered in her ear. Her nervousness was long gone, and if Rio wanted to be human, she would teach her to the best of her ability. “I want you to follow your instincts. Your body knows what it wants even if you don’t.”
She returned to her preoccupation with Rio’s skin, now biting her earlobe and pulling. When Rio remained still, the only sound being her heavy breathing, Agatha stepped in again.
“Please?” she muttered into the ear already under her teeth. Then, she tried a new angle. “When you move, it makes me feel good too.”
That was the ticket. Rio’s breath caught and she rolled her hips again, moaning at the pressure. Agatha kissed her in reward, and let herself squirm too, finding friction of her own against Rio’s body.
She rolled the two of them over so Rio was above her. She took Rio’s hips in her hands and encouraged her movement, helping her find a rhythm while also feeling herself grow unbearably aroused as Rio took what she needed. It was beyond alluring watching her let herself go, hair falling over Agatha’s face and cheeks flushed.
Agatha had other things she wanted to do though.
She broke their kiss.
“Kneel over me.”
Rio did as she was told.
“I had no idea how…how-”
Agatha cut her off.
“How strong it is?”
“Exactly,” Rio looked dumbfounded.
“Welcome to being human,” Agatha quipped.
She reached up and started to pull at Rio’s dress. It was many layers and ties, but she worked it down at least, leaving Rio’s chest exposed. God, she was beautiful.
Agatha studied her. The way that her dark hair brushed over her skin, the flush of her chest as it moved with her breathing, the perfect swells of her breasts. Even if she hadn’t known, she would have believed it was a body created for some sort of divine being.
She reached up and cupped a hand under one of Rio’s breasts, then ran her thumb over her nipple, causing Rio to gasp again. She wanted to elicit that beautiful sound as much as possible. She started to roll her nipple between her fingers and pushed herself up on her other hand. She kissed down Rio’s neck, and as she got lower, Rio took the hint and started to lean back to grant Agatha more access, putting her hands on the ground behind her to support her weight.
Agatha took her nipple in her mouth, rolling her tongue over it and was rewarded with the feeling of Rio’s hips pushing into her as she moaned. Agatha didn’t let up, taking the hardened flesh between her teeth now and pulling.
Oh, Rio liked that, very much. It was being bitten that she had responded to most before too, she noted. Agatha wanted to know everything. She wanted everything.
Agatha licked up Rio’s chest, and then Rio was leaning forwards in a way that forced her off. Then, things got fast.
Rio captured Agatha’s lips with her own again, kissing her hard, all tongue and teeth in an absolute mess of desire. The need pooling in Agatha’s stomach was becoming overwhelming. Rio pushed Agatha down to the ground, her hands raking over Agatha’s body, pulling at the fabric covering her like an animal.
“Agatha,” Rio spoke with their lips brushing. “I need –” she cut herself off to kiss Agatha again. “I want…more.”
With those words was the end of any dredges of Agatha’s instinct to withhold her own desire in the name of letting Rio make her discoveries slowly. If Rio wanted more, all Agatha had to do was let go.
Agatha began to pull the rest of Rio’s clothing off, making an absolute mess of it in her hurry. Rio began to work at Agatha’s, and they became a tangle of limbs and fabric. It was a miracle nothing got caught by the fire still burning next to them.
The discarded clothing formed something of a bed underneath them. It was what Agatha was used to laying on anyhow. The night wasn’t terribly cold to begin with, but between the fire and the increased heat of their bodies, the chill was the least of her concerns.
As much as what was on her mind was Rio touching her, Rio’s mouth everywhere, that wasn’t where they could start.
They had both been left kneeling in their hurried shedding of clothes, and Agatha pulled them together, finally skin to skin.
There was nothing more human than this.
Rio ran her hand through Agatha’s hair.
“I’ve seen so many people, more than anyone alive can imagine,” Rio mused, “and I’ve never seen a beauty like yours.”
Her eyes were wandering, stalling when they reached Agatha’s eyes, so painfully earnest.
Agatha felt herself blush. She didn’t know how to reply, she couldn’t.
Instead, Agatha kissed her to the ground, laying Rio on her back.
She kissed her collarbones, the side of her neck, biting it to elicit the reaction she’d learned it would.
“Remember when I told you to follow your instincts if you wanted to move?”
“Yes,” Rio whispered as Agatha's lips brushed her jaw.
“That’s your only job for now. That, and telling me if you want me to stop.”
Rio nodded quickly.
Agatha had slept with other witches before, but none more than a couple of times, and this felt different. It had more gravity. She wanted to get it right. Perhaps that was because she was showing a cosmic entity human pleasure, or perhaps just because the woman in front of her was starting to mean more to her than she cared to admit, those amber eyes becoming a north star of their own.
She moved down Rio’s body. Kissing her way, licking the space between her breasts, biting at her nipples. The uneven breathing and little sounds of Rio above her were like a symphony, adding to the growing wetness between her own thighs.
She kissed the line at the bottom of Rio’s stomach where skin became hair and the mewl that left Rio’s lips hit her ears hard.
Even with all of her power, Death was coming undone.
Agatha moved to nip at Rio’s inner thighs, settling herself between her legs. Rio was starting to squirm - good girl, doing her job.
Slowly, Agatha brought her thumb over Rio’s slit, then dragged it once through her folds.
Two things happened.
First, Rio moaned loudly, her back arching up off the ground and her fingers grabbed at the fabric under her.
Second, Agatha’s jaw fell open in awe. Rio was dripping, and Agatha’s focus moved from Rio’s experience to her own. She needed to taste her, she needed…so much.
With that, she replaced her hand with her tongue.
Rio moaned again, and squirmed, her breath ragged.
Perhaps this was a lot at once, but Rio wasn’t telling her stop, and Agatha trusted that she would if she needed her to.
She raked her tongue through Rio’s folds and reveled in her taste. It went straight to her head, and god, she was going to have to teach Rio how to help her with her own needs - they were screaming.
If knowing that Rio was feeling this for the first time made her feel dizzy, she couldn’t imagine how the other woman felt.
She let her tongue meander at first, giving Rio a bit of everything, then turned her attention to her clit directly for the first time, circling around it.
Rio gasped, spurring Agatha on. She started to flick her tongue over the small bundle of nerves, and Rio began to subtly rock her hips into Agatha’s mouth. She let Rio’s moans guide her as she went, grateful Rio was letting herself go.
What did Rio like? Rio probably didn’t even know herself.
Only one way to find out.
Agatha took her clit between her lips and sucked, first gently, then hard.
Rio’s hand flew to Agatha’s head, clearly not sure why it was there, but compelled nonetheless.
“Agatha! Oh god..”
Well, she certainly liked that.
Agatha started playing with more pressure, and as Rio pushed herself harder onto Agatha’s tongue, it was clear that it was the right call.
With time, Rio’s movements became erratic, her breath coming in short spurts, and Agatha knew where Rio was headed even if she herself didn’t.
Agatha kept doing exactly what she already was - rolling her tongue over Rio’s clit with a healthy dose of force, and then Rio froze.
Time stood still as Agatha watched Death come. It was stunning. After a peak of tension in her body, Rio’s back arched and a moan broke the sound of the crackling fire. Agatha was helping her through it, her tongue sliding over the renewed wetness of Rio’s folds, but she snuck a glance up at the woman above her. She was a perfect depiction of the word ecstasy - her skin flushed crimson in patches, hair falling everywhere, her mouth open in a gasp, eyes tightly shut. Her panting was finally broken with a breathier version of her voice.
“I - god, that feels…oh god, Agatha.”
“Understanding why people like this now?”
Agatha smirked as she made her way back to Rio’s face.
She kissed her and Rio hesitated for a moment, probably surprised to taste herself on Agatha’s lips, but then she melted into it. Kissing her slowly, affectionately, her hand on her cheek, Agatha’s weight back on her body.
“I want to make you feel that way,” Rio muttered against Agatha’s lips.
Her words tightened something in Agatha’s stomach.
“Please,” Agatha replied, sounding as desperate as she felt.
“Show me how.”
Rio pulled away just enough to look Agatha in the eye.
Agatha nodded, running her hands through Rio’s hair. She would have shown her whether Rio had asked or not. She needed what only Rio could bring her.
After kissing her again, she rolled onto her back, taking Rio with her so that the other woman was laying half on top of her. She knew if she was on top instead, she might just get impatient and start riding Rio’s hand. As much as that idea was immensely appealing, it wasn’t what Rio wanted right now, and in a way that was unfamiliar to her, she cared about Rio’s needs as much as her own.
Much to Agatha’s satisfaction, Rio was getting distracted, palming Agatha’s breast, watching with heavy eyelids.
“Give me your hand,” Agatha instructed, redirecting, as she was already taking Rio’s palm with her fingers.
Rio let her guide her hand.
Agatha wasn’t going to tease herself and she didn’t need it. She brought Rio’s hand straight to her cunt. It was a bit of an awkward maneuver with two hands, but she placed her hand on the back of Rio’s, guiding her while not totally in charge.
With her encouragement, Rio slid her hands between Agatha’s folds, and it was almost embarrassing how much noise it elicited from Agatha considering that it was ultimately the work of her own hand.
Rio’s mouth was slightly open, in what seemed to be some combination of concentration and arousal, and her eyebrows knitted together from the latter.
“Do you feel how wet I am?” Agatha whispered.
Rio nodded, only inches from her face.
“That’s from being around you.”
Rio’s eyes were so dark that the color had almost left them. She didn’t reply, instead simply tracing her fingers through Agatha again.
“That’s it…” Agatha encouraged, her eyes starting to close.
Rio clearly didn't need much from Agatha’s hand. She explored on her own, her fingers wandering, and Agatha could have been content to indulge this scientific endeavor if she wasn’t so desperate to come.
“Here…” she took control of Rio’s hand again instead of just following along, and guided her middle finger using her own.
She slid Rio’s hand so the fingertip was over her entrance. She pressed with her own hand and Rio’s finger began to slip inside. Rio’s breath caught as Agatha sighed.
“Keep going,” Agatha encouraged, and Rio sunk in to her knuckle, but Agatha needed more. “Add another finger,” she instructed while encouraging Rio’s hand back out.
Rio did as she was told, and now they were getting somewhere.
“Curl your fingers a little…”
Rio did - Agatha could feel it, and knew because Rio would likely do anything she told her to.
“And move them,” she sighed, getting distracted.
Rio understood and began to move in and out slightly, her fingers pressed on Agatha’s walls. She was exploring like before - god bless this woman and her curiosity - and then Agatha moaned. Rio had happened upon what she hoped she would.
“Yes, oh yes - right there.”
The only thing better than the feeling of Rio touching her was the arousal in Rio’s face. Rio was discovering many things tonight, but perhaps one of them was how good she felt making Agatha feel good. Her expression was glassy, brows raised, and eyes raking over Agatha’s body. Her breath was coming as hard as Agatha’s own.
Rio was responsive and stayed where she was, working Agatha up better than Agatha could have imagined. So well in fact that somewhere in there Agatha’s hand had slipped from Rio’s, no longer needed, to instead start grabbing at any piece of the other woman she could.
The allure of this woman and her pent up desire stirred below her skin as much as Rio’s touch. What had she been doing before Death was in her life?
Rio’s hands were perfect. She needed one more thing though.
“Rio…” she refocused and took control of Rio’s hand again, sliding her fingers out of her - an unfortunate loss. “Let me show you something else.”
Rio nodded, taking the opportunity to kiss just below Agatha’s ear. What a good student.
Agatha slid Rio’s hand upwards, until the tip of Rio’s middle finger found her clit. In spite of herself, she gasped at the sensation. That got Rio intrigued.
“That’s what I was doing to you.” Agatha tried to focus on her words and not the sensation of Rio’s finger on her clit. “It feels, well…you already know.”
Rio needed no more encouragement, seeming to have gone nonverbal in her focus on Agatha’s body.
She began to swipe her finger back and forth over Agatha’s clit, and now Agatha really couldn’t focus on being a teacher in any capacity. Now, it was just the most beautiful woman she had ever met making her come at an unbridled pace.
She wrapped her hand into Rio’s hair, keeping her close, letting their breathing intermingle as hers became more disjointed.
Rio began to circle her clit instead, rolling her finger over it, and Agatha moaned.
“Yes! Rio, god - like that.”
Rio’s head dipped as she focused, kissing Agatha’s neck again. She was perfect.
Absent-mindedly, Agatha’s hand had migrated from Rio’s head to her own chest, playing with her nipple.
Agatha noticed Rio noticing that, and then Rio’s fingers started to lift.
“No! No,” Agatha’s hand clumsily flew to push Rio’s back down.
Such a good student, so eager to help.
“Stay where you are,” Agatha muttered.
She could feel herself so close. Her hips were rolling up into Rio’s hand and god, was she good at what she was doing having never done it before.
“Rio, it’s so…so,” she felt a familiar tightening of her muscles, “so good.”
With that, she was over the edge, her orgasm hitting her in a series of waves. Moaning as she grasped at Rio’s body, wanting her as close as she could be. Rio’s hair was all over her face and she’d have it no other way. She was panting, her hearing fuzzy.
“You’re perfect,” Rio said so quietly it wasn’t even clear if Agatha was meant to hear.
Agatha was too busy catching her breath to respond, which was fortunate, because she wouldn’t know how to anyway. She had never learned how to let her feelings leave her mouth. The more she cared, the quieter she became, and when it came to Rio, she did care - a lot.
She busied herself kissing Rio’s neck, her cheek, biting at her cheekbone, and finding her way to her lips again.
“How do you like being human?” Agatha asked instead, smirking.
“I…so much,” Rio punctuated her answer by kissing Agatha again. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Good, we weren’t going to,” Agatha playfully bit Rio’s lip. “There’s so much more to teach you.”
Agatha was about to end their conversation, but a small part of her was protesting. Rio was so open. Why couldn’t she be? Even if just for a moment, she wanted to speak like Rio.
“I’m glad you're here,” she whispered.
It was so simple, but for her, it was as vulnerable as taking on a new form. Her heart pounded like she was being chased.
Perhaps Rio understood that.
She smiled with so much affection it made Agatha blush.
“There’s nowhere else I want to be.”
And Agatha believed her.
Enough of that - she was done forcing herself open. It was time to play.
“Good thing I can’t kill you, because I think you’d be at risk.”
She swung herself on top of Rio, sitting up and straddling her. She pushed Rio down into the ground with a hand on her sternum, fingers pressing into her collarbones.
“Even if I could die, I don’t think this could kill me despite your violent tendencies,” Rio smiled through her words, her eyes bright.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t try…”
That night, Rio didn’t leave after Agatha fell asleep. When she woke to the birdcall and dew weighing down her makeshift blankets, Rio was still wrapped tightly around her. Her human form was as vulnerable to the cold as Agatha was, and for that, Agatha was grateful. She would be the one to keep Death warm even on the coldest days. If Rio had made herself vulnerable by taking on humanity for Agatha, she would make herself vulnerable too, by letting herself count on someone as she never had before.
Death had a new home in life.