April 13th, 2021

Hope you enjoy!

:)

Anne Finnelan was and will forever be a witch dead-set on whatever purpose she decided for herself that day. And what was there to argue against? Anyone would be able to tell that much from the way she put herself together. Everything cleaned of dust every morning. Everything ironed nightly. Back in the day, when there wasn't a streak of grey in her hair, Anne wore a crisp, white swan-neck collar. The students…may have been intimidated, in hindsight. Nevertheless, now she wore a simple collar with the most immaculate bolo tie that pinched it together. Long tan cords. An impressive, turquoise stone wrapped in gold finishings.

An immaculate piece indeed.

Except, well, she should've been wearing it that morning, though come to find many discrepancies: her collar was slacked with only a measly button left to hold it together, her neck felt very naked without the thing, and—of course—the damn bolo wasn't in its box.

She growled to herself, shuffling through all of her drawers a fifth time within those several minutes. Anne would most certainly pull out that old swan-neck collar if need be; she just didn't know if it would fit since, last time she wore it, the peice had been somewhat tight around her shoulders and chest. "Where on earth…?" she breathed, setting either hand on her hips, thumbs snagged on her belt.

Even if it was a Saturday, and that she really didn't have anything to do on schedule, there was a stack of lovely plans on her desk that Anne wanted to get to. There wasn't any way that she'd leave the exams to be left unplanned for another day, nor an hour… Still a month early, sure, but again, Anne Finnelan decided that was what she'd do today, and that's what she was going to do.

And, well, she supposed it meant waking sleeping beauty in the other room: "Chariot…?" she asked, voice raised. "Do you know what happened to my tie?" When there wasn't an answer, Anne arched a brow and turned to look over her shoulder, towards the d-d-dwhatthefuck?

She lurched at the spot and did a double-take.

In the doorway, Chariot rested against its frame, her smile only that of gentle mischief. Anne's teal eyes traced the outline of her body from underneath her white button-up, where the buttons didn't reach the cusp of Chariot's choker, and… And the bolo—her bolo—rested along the woman's neck, coy and playful. With a hilted smile, Chariot slinked across the room, her hands dancing across the shelves of furniture. The volume of her red hair fell down her shoulders in mesmerizing waves, and Anne couldn't get enough of it. "Hmm?" she cooed from the depths of her throat. The light morning sun highlighted her figure as she made her last few strides, and Anne was short-circuiting.

Never mind the dark areola she could see through (her) shirt, Anne sputtered her only cognitive-functioning thoughts: "W-Where are your pants?!"

"Is there a problem?" Chariot hummed. The young witch's arms enveloped Anne around the her waist, and she sandwiched her body against the ironed and dusted uniform—which promptly ruffled Anne's collar, and lopsided her belt. Chariot purred against Anne's chest as tentative hands grasped her back through the fabric of the shirt, and they followed the familiar trails that they would trace during their lovemaking. "I thought you wanted to get around…?"

Anne coughed through her blush and murmured, "Ch-Chariot, how long were you there for?"

"Only, about, ten minutes… Why, didn't you notice me?"

"Obviously not."

Chariot sighed into Anne's shoulder. "That's a shame."

With most of her composure collected (not all since, well, who could be completely put-together with a naked womanpractically grappled to them?), Anne could only scan the room in search for her words as they pieced themselves together (her thoughts were the 10% not collected at that point). She frowned. How many times was this now? How many mornings that semester? Where Chariot would just walk out of bed buck-ass naked, climb her like a tree, and try to reel Anne back to bed? …with a reliable success rate, though that was besides the point.

But then again…her colleague wasn't completely nude. She was wearing— Anne sighed, then said, "Chariot. My tie."

"Oh, yeah. I'm keeping it safe," Chariot murmured, playing with the hood of Anne's uniform. "Why? Do you want it back?"

"…honey, I have exams to write up."

There was a false pity in Chariot's voice as she replied, "Oh, I'm sorry. That doesn't sound fun at all." Her fingers grazed the back of Anne's neck before lacing within the fringe of curled, almond hair. Lips burned the curve of Anne's throat, and she murmured, "You smell nice…"

"I should. I took a quick bath," Anne retorted. "Now Chariot, my tie—"

"Oh, I'll give it back." Chariot broke away with only her hands linked to Anne's. Her eyes were dark with lust, and she said, "You'll just have to find a way—" Anne reached forward— "without your hands."

Anne paused, and her one free hand hung in the air. Her brow arched, her lips tightened to a curious grin. "I see… And how would you say I'd do that, madam?"

Chariot tilted her head to the side. "Any way you can think of. You'll just have to follow me first."

"Now why would I do that?" she asked, never mind the steps that Chariot lured out of her.

"Because…" Chariot replied cheekily, roaming backwards towards the doorway, "you're the type to join whoever's dancing naked in front of you—not just take notice."

At the foot of the bedroom door, the couple swayed. Hands wandered from the small of Chariot's back to her thighs, then her bare ass that the length of the button-up covered. Chariot giggled tenderly through their shared kiss before Anne murmured, against her mouth, "There might be some truth to that, I suppose."

"'Suppose…'" Chariot quoted. "That's not really all that truthful."

"It's not?" Anne punctuated between pecks that ventured along the young witch's jawline.

"Not really, no."

"Damn."

With the indecency that would have the feathers of their hats—together at the edge of Anne's desk—wilt, the women continue to kindle the arousal between them. Anne, with her hands navigating Chariot's bare skin from underneath the wrinkling button-up, and Chariot, with her grasp firm around Anne's hips, tugging the woman closer. "Bed," she breathed against Anne's lips. "Bed— You were supposed to follow me."

Anne dipped her head to the most sensitive part of Chariot's neck and nursed, accompanied by a sly, "I thought the rule was no hands?"

"I'll shove it up somewhere where you'll need your hands."

The professor froze before abruptly pulling away. "You wouldn't!" she snapped.

"Not if you let me take you back to bed," Chariot insisted. She scooped Anne's sharp jaw and added, "Besides, it wouldn't be the first time you had to dig."

A grumbled, though quietly amused, "…you're too much."

"Oh, I know you love it though."

There was no lie. It was a pleasant discovery for Chariot just how much Anne loved spoiling the woman, on top of how much she enjoyed playing along with Chariot's ruses. So much so that Anne followed Chariot into the bedroom earnestly. At the side of the bed, Chariot pushed Anne by her shoulders before she straddled her. As she watched Anne with hooded eyes, she palmed the uniform at Anne's chest. With the top strap holding the hood in place unlatched, Chariot whispered, "You followed…"

"I did…" Anne murmured in kind. She hummed as her uniform was unzipped, enabling a hand to them smooth over her buttoned shirt underneath. Her eyes flicked to the other hand, however, as Chariot slipped her wand from the side of her belt. The wand was erected with a sharp thwick!, and the mere sound of the metal shot a spike of excitement through the professor.

Chariot teethed the straight of her wand, the soft glow at its end a gentle green. "What now, Anne? How will you get your tie?"

For fuck's sake… The warmth of the naked woman straddling her alone was a solid argument, one that Anne couldn't resist agreeing with. Behind a narrowed gaze, she decided that she would, if anything, give a dog her bone. Tease the idea of what her lover really wanted out of her. Heels were kicked off before Anne lurched, twisting the two around until Chariot was planted firmly against the sheets, her wrist with the wand in its adjoined hand held in place. Anne rolled her free-arm's shoulder to allow the uniform's sleeve to hang. With her other hand, she snatched the wand and carelessly tossed it away, leaving it to clatter on the wood. Her other shoulder rolled.

What did the magical stick mean anyway? Nothing, if it meant Anne could have Chariot part right at the base of her hips, her legs on either side of the professor. Her hands raced across Chariot's womanly thighs, and Anne decided that, yes, it meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So forget the wand.

Now for the bolo.

Chariot eyed her with a curled smirk and a cocked brow, which only invigorated Anne's temptation. Both knew damn well that no hands did mean magic, but that wasn't fun, was it? Magic would be the…correct option for Anne to get back on schedule and finish plotting out the exams.

But...

Well.

The most examining Anne wanted to do was of Chariot, and how far the young witch would play her scheme. So Anne lowered herself to Chariot's neck, kissing right at the catch of her chin. As she felt Chariot's purr hum down her throat, Anne delicately teethed the bolo's jewelry before gliding it down the cords. Exposing more flesh to kiss, which she did, nipping and teasing Chariot's skin until there were several shadows of bruising. And Chariot, she felt excitement pulse from her gut as Anne began to grind against her. Out of instinct, really. Chariot doubted that Anne quite realized the rolls of her hips; humping Chariot, after all, was a nice past time as it turned out.

Humping or not, Anne was always a meticulous witch, able to pinpoint a spell and strike her wand immediately. And a meticulous professor more so, what with her articulated lessons and all.

But nothing of her witchcraft or her instruction was comparable to how precise she played with Chariot's body. To think that the same professor with the ironed uniform and proud hat would be found grazing her teeth along Chariot's choker, and palming her stomach with a sensual touch, and, well, be able to keep up with the young woman at all.

Yet: "My god, Anne…" Chariot breathed, moving with the professor's hips. She mewled once hands slithered up her torso, eager to massage her breast from underneath the buttoned shirt. Anne grinned against her neck, thoroughly pleased with herself, as nails raked her shoulders through her uniform. "You better not pull the same shit and leave," Chariot moaned into her ear.

"Well, love," Anne murmured, her voice of smooth whiskey, "I think you caught me at a better hour today…" Chariot groaned a breath once another bout of lust bubbled in her gut, and Anne took note. A hand balled the sheets while the other slipped from Chariot's breast to hook around the witch's naked thigh. With her hips burrowed deeper between Chariot's legs, rocking in their shared rhythm, nails dug through her uniform and into her shoulders.

That did it.

Chariot won. She schemed well.

Anne let out a low moan as her torso began to welt into a molten vat of giddy lust. She kissed Chariot with a sinful tongue, one that had the young woman smile victoriously.

Even so, the young witch had to ask, "Only an hour?"

Anne chuckled through another low moan. "If you play nice…"

Chariot hissed air and closed her eyes as that sinful tongue dragged itself along her jugular, and it sent her heart pounding as any jackhammer. At that point, with the way Anne was working her, she could feel herself start to drip. Ready for Anne. For her fingers. For that tongue. She smiled and cooed into Anne's ear, encouraging the melody her hips ground to. Her stomach bubbled with anticipation. Anne was mouthy that morning, it seemed, and just the thought of how she was brewing herself a snack almost sent Chariot reeling on her own.

She ducked her head back as buttons were undone, and her breasts were tainted by the crisp air of the room. Chariot cradled Anne's head as she felt a layered, sopped warmth trail over her nipple. Through a gasp, Chariot groaned Anne's name as the woman kneaded her chest with her mouth, massaging her skin to curdle its flushed heat. "Baby, please…" she breathed.

"Patience, my dear…" Anne murmured into her chest. "You know to never doubt my timing."

Chariot arched a brow and lazed hooded eyes to her lover. "Hypocrite…" She hissed abrupt air through a bite of her bottom lip. Knuckles teased their way between her legs—a taunting graze. "You're still so slow," Chariot sighed, and her hand sculpted the edge of Anne's jaw.

"I'm punctual," Anne replied. She smirked against Chariot's stomach, and the woman's coo melted with her lips. As drawled fingers curled around the edge of wet folds, heavy teal eyes traced red. The rose of hair. The blush of skin. Swollen lips as they curled along Chariot's moan. And, of course, the wandering seductive crimson of her gaze. For that crimson which ushered the excitement through Anne's blood, she murmured, "But…I suppose just this once—" she kissed down Chariot's stomach to the lower hilt of her naval— "I can comply."

The inside of Chariot's thighs buzzed when Anne's tender, wet kisses marked her skin, churning the soft white into blushed hues of red. Once lips greeted her sex with a leisured smack, Chariot moaned her approval. She puckered before Anne's gifted tongue grazed along her folds, and it was made apparent that Anne was, still, going to tease Chariot for the stunt she pulled. However, there was a reconsideration. Maybe it was from how full of soaked desperation Chariot was, or possibly it was because Anne's libido garner a better meal than what was served that day in the cafeteria. Regardless, the next paddle of her tongue stirred more of Chariot's insides, echoed by a low, hungry groan of the professor.

And Chariot kept a hand by the side of Anne's head, crimson locked with teal. If this would be her first meal of the day, Chariot intended to feed Anne out of starvation—as she had done in the past. She was, in short, a very bountiful feast. A persistent tap that would flood if not attended regularly. And, well, Anne was a very responsible plumber.

So responsible, in fact, that if it wasn't for Chariot's talent in her rapid restocking, Anne could drain her dry with her determined feeding alone. Chariot could practically feel herself soak the wicked tongue that gathered her hot sex, slithering against her inner, throbbing walls. Hell, even the bridge of Anne's hooked nose serviced her. Never could anyone else treat her core without the help of hands. Hands, which, teased the flesh of her naval before hooking around her freehand. The other supported her leg as Chariot hung it along Anne's shoulder.

Her moans melded into hitched whines, and the young woman whimpered, "B-Baby… I—" She stuttered a gasp. A spike of pleasure scorched up her spine, and Chariot leaned away to the chilled sheets against the skin of her back. She draped an arm over her face as Anne hummed with pride, massaging the upheaved walls as they continued to constrict around her. When she pulled out, Chariot's groans of euphoria having quieted a decibel, a string molten sex followed. Anne gathered it with the back of her hand before pressing it against her mouth, licking her skin clean.

Anne crawled back to Chariot, heartfelt pecks marking the way, and with each one, she felt Chariot's gentle laugh strum through her lips. Chariot leaned forward to taste the leftovers of Anne's breakfast with a particular interest in the tongue-turned-utensil. She held onto Anne across her shoulders, a hand laced within her loose almond bun. "It's so unfair…" she mewled against lips as they trailed along her jugular. "You poor thing. Must be sweltering under all those clothes…"

"It's not the clothes that's going to break my hips…" Anne grunted quietly, her voice strewn with enamored lust.

Chariot grinned and whispered, "I'll try to be careful if your clothes are off?"

An arched brow. "Is that a question?"

Leaned back to the sheets, Chariot batted her eyes with a lewd innocence. "…please?"

"You're too much," Anne murmured with a slight shake of her head. Though, her lips swept Chariot's, and she purred as hands teased the edge of her uniform's belt. The buckle was popped, and Anne groaned down Chariot's throat as a lingering hand ventured to palm between her legs. A twisted smile plagued Chariot, who could feel the building pressure and boiling warmth through the several layers. The uniform was struggled off, what with the young woman's frantic hands tangled with Anne's body. But once cast away, Anne arched in sync to Chariot's touch, from the kiss that scorched her neck to the hands, underneath, that followed the curve of her back. Her hands then trailed to the front of the woman, drawing circles before toying with the buttons. Anne, however, was eager. Her skin was feverish by that point, and the only drive that fueled her body in that hour was to mount Chariot, completely bare.

So, through that eagerness, the buttons were snapped clean from the button-up—each to be lost in between the crevasses of the bed and nightstand until the eventual flick of a searching wand. But, of course, neither noticed nor cared. Anne tore the rest of the shirt away, discarded on the floor, while Chariot nipped and teased a nipple once she tugged on the cups of her lover's bra. And then the unnecessary bra was flung out of existence. Nails clawed the rim of Anne's stockings, and as their open-mouthed kisses grew continuously fevered, lines were torn in the fabric from the curve of Anne's hips to the joint of her knee. Again, not that either cared. The stockings, and her underwear that quickly followed, was thrown away.

As Anne scowled at the clothing heap at the foot of her dresser (something on top fell over, like a book or…something), Chariot spread her legs and set her provocative gaze to her lover. "Anne, baby…" she cooed with a bite to her bottom lip.

Anne turned, and at the sight of the young witch so salacious—pornographic, really—, a smirk curled, and she crawled forward. Chariot saw it in those teal eyes before Anne held her chin to give her the kiss of sweet salt and sex: the impatient hypocrite within the woman, who was just as undomesticated and oversexed as any, well, untamed animal. The young witch supposed as much, anyway. Once Anne slithered across Chariot's body, grappling her arms on either side for leverage, legs hooked around her hips. Anne felt the kiss of gold and turquoise stone beneath her chest when she pressed herself against Chariot, her teeth grazing her lover's neck. Hands curled along her shoulders, urging Anne to grind. Chariot's moan in her ear boiled Anne's drive. "God, baby…" she breathed, "you're so wet."

The professor only grumbled noise, far too busied by the kisses she shared with that unholy tongue of hers. The rock of their sexes together conducted the quiet springs of the bed. And because she knew how much Anne loved the sound of her voice, regardless of its volume, Chariot let her moans and whimpers and breaths encourage the woman's work.

Which proved to be deliriously successful.

Anne was driven by a new purpose that day, one that consumed her and shunted the stupid exam-thingies out of her consciousness entirely: fuck Chariot into oblivion. Her husked tones cradled Chariot's smooth voice, and she nipped and teased the skin at the edge of her neck as the bed and their wet sexes resonated within those walls. Less and less of her grace remained as more and more of that newfound purpose came to fruition.

This was what Chariot wanted all along: a reminder that the poignant, by-the-book professor that handled the school with an iron fist could be worn down to the woman that would ravage her body. Chariot sunk her teeth into Anne's shoulder with a guttural moan, and her nails trailed angry lines of red along her back. The chorus of their bodies and their sweat-stained sheets melded with the beat of their bed, and the groans that leaked into the fabric of her choker. She felt how stirred Anne's thoughts had unraveled into. Exams were a thing of fiction in that hour. All the women wanted to do was lure their acute ardor to a physical reality. Have it pulse through their bodies. Drug their skulls. Embed their skin with the marks that no student should catch.

And Chariot was spiraling over the edge.

Her eyes rolled back before she closed them with a gruff, pierced moan. "F-Fuck, Anne!" she snapped into the woman's neck. "My god!"

Anne grunted as a reply, her hips unceasing as she drove herself to that same edge. It was the feel of Chariot's trembling body against Anne that lurched her climax to around the corner, and then sex that lathered her skin that catapulted her over. Their bodies tangled together, swamped with the jitters of a joint orgasmic high. Spent, Anne's weight rested against Chariot, and all they could think to do was gather their breaths—or try, at least—while they inhaled each other's scent. From skin, or from the tainted sheets. Safe to say, Anne wasn't going to let the goblins or fairies or golems of the academy clean them. That would be her duty.

Chariot's coiled sigh caressed her ear, and Anne nestled her her head against her lover's, thoughts still pulsing to the muse of her throbs. She felt the woman's breath carve deep into her skin, and the professor didn't give a damn about her bolo any longer. It could wait. Anne was still in a haze of arousal and everything related to the witch below her. A frenzy, almost. A lulled, seductive frenzy.

She drew lagging kisses up to the crook of Chariot's neck, then purred with Chariot's growing hum, moving to the hands that raked her back. Lips wove themselves together, slow and harmonic. And as Chariot adjusted herself, Anne felt the edges of mischief reincarnate in hopes for another hour. "You still have to get your tie off, don't you, baby…?" Chariot whispered in Anne's ear.

"I suppose I do…" husked Anne.

A meandering kiss eased both women to roll over, and once on top, Chariot broke away. As hands crawled along her ample thighs, Chariot slipped off the button-up and cast it to the edge of the bed. She was the shepherd to Anne's wandering touch, navigating it up her curves to palm her stomach and hips. "Maybe you should try again, then," Chariot murmured, and her words dripped with honey. "That first attempt wasn't very pragmatic…"

"So what would be a pragmatic persuasion for you…?" Teal slinked along the tie that kept itself between Chariot's breasts as a ravine, then eyed the devious glint in those crimson eyes. And the grin that spread itself across Chariot's lips only emphasized her desire for more.

[— — — — —]

"Anne…? Baby, are you gonna wake up…?"

Slowly, carefully, the witch blinked with a glower from her pillow. Dammit. That had been the third damn Saturday in a row she'd let Chariot do that. Seduce her. Anne hummed and rolled over to find a cheerfully smug Chariot, wrapped up the blankets just as well. "I'm awake," Anne murmured.

"Oh," Chariot cooed. "You look so tired…"

"Don't play coy with me," Anne grumbled as Chariot wormed her way into her arms. She sighed and closed her eyes again. Anne felt Chariot nestle against her, quite content in whatever snuggling business she had in mind. The young woman smelled of almonds and vanilla, and her skin was smooth and fresh. "I see you've gotten around?"

Chariot nodded against the crook of her neck. "Yeah… I think you need another bath. I can help you with that…?"

"Uh, no."

There was a snicker, and then, "Oh why not?"

Anne peered at her with one teal eye. "Because…you're still in a mood."

"What mood?" Anne's eyes rolled open, and she watched Chariot's grin—which was still, very much, seductive. A touch languid, as well, though that never promised that Chariot would stay lazy.

And because she was still very drained, Anne rested against her pillow. "Oh, you know exactly what you're doing…" she retorted.

"Doing what?" Anne growled a syllable before Chariot laughed against her shoulder. "Oh…baby, don't be mad. I think you enjoyed yourself."

"…that's beside the point."

"And enjoyed seeing me in your clothes a little too much. I was only expecting that first round you know."

Anne didn't expect any continuation either. Now, several hours of napping later, her body was still a lump of coal because, dammit, she needed to quit forgetting her age around Chariot. She was not in her prime, and her prime wasn't ever comparable to Chariot's prime anyhow. That, and "…you did start it up again."

Chariot laughed quietly. "Oh, I guess." She traced shapes along the curve of Anne's chest, and she murmured, "We haven't done anything that intense since Samhain…"

A sly grin escaped Anne before she could help it. "I know," she murmured with a peck to Chariot's forehead. "I'd even argue we blew that night out of the water."

"And to think all you wanted to do was write up your exams…"

"Well, it was only something I wanted to do for productivity's sake," Anne muttered sheepishly.

A smirk crawled, and Chariot hummed, "Uh huh. And our fornicating wasn't productive?"

"…n-no, it wasn't."

"Sure it was… I did give your tie back to you."