14 MMV: When Love Takes Over

"Looking out for you to hold my hand/It feels like I could fall/Now love me right like I know you can/We could lose it all…" –Astrid S., When Love Takes Over (David Guetta cover)

7 pm, Week 7, Lakefront Gazebo, Camp Wanaka

Matilda heard a telltale pop a foot away. Wyatt. She grinned nervously, smoothing the wrinkles from her Old Navy floral linen-blend dress as it had been packed at the bottom of her suitcase, crammed in tightly with her other outfits like a pack of sardines. Its sweetheart neckline and fitted bodice, coupled with its casual-chic goldenrod blossom-prints was enough for Matilda to choose the outfit for the evening ahead.

"How was your day?" he asked, raising her hand to his lips, kissing the tips of her fingers. Matilda's cheeks reddened slightly.

"The usual," replied Matilda, reaching over to help Wyatt carry his accoutrements. "Is that tonight's dinner?"

"Yup," he nodded. He offered his arm and Matilda took it, as they orbed off into the late afternoon ambiance of summer.

7:10 pm, Bayliner 285 SB Boat, Lake Wanaka Marina

They landed squarely on the grey-worn wooden planked dock, with nary a person in sight. Wyatt led Matilda to the same small white-colored futuristic speedboat-type water transportation vehicle from their first date. They walked onto the boat as Matilda continued gazing at the smooth wood interior cabin with cushioned seating and a small two-person table. Had this and the previous date been but a dream? Sometimes, late at night while staring at the cottage ceiling from her dorm-style bed with its crisp sheets and down pillow, she wondered whether everything between her and Wyatt had been a hallucination, a sultry fever dream—that perhaps, she would wake up back home at Epicenter Pico or Vera Manor in a cold sweat—that their stolen kisses on the campgrounds, their nautical sojourns hadn't really occurred.

But it was real, every moment of it.

"Thanks," Wyatt grinned as he removed the bags from Matilda's arms, revealing the evening's succor—fresh Coromandel scallops, caramelized carrots, and cold-set strawberry Jell-O made with sparkling cider. He braised the scallops with two teaspoons of olive oil, a hint of Creole seasoning, a fifth of a cup of dry white wine, a tablespoon of unsalted butter, a minced garlic clove, half a teaspoon of lemon zest, and a tablespoon of freshly-chopped parsley. Once the scallops were prepared, he plated these then warmed the carrots on the pan, after which he added the vegetables to the plates of scallops.

"Dinner for two," he said, presenting the plates.

"Looks amazing," Matilda murmured, and it did smell delectable, curls of aroma wafting throughout the cabin, the salty sweetness of the caramelized crimson-orange carrots soaking in their own jus combining perfectly with the earthy-yet-mildly-spiced shellfish commonly found in the country.

8 pm, Cabin, Bayliner 285 SB Boat, Lake Wanaka Marina

After their succulent dinner and accompanying Jell-O with sparkling cider, the pair cleared away the dishes and disposed of whatever trash they had in the paper grocery bag. Wyatt pushed the various items on the floor to the edges, and pulled out his phone, turning on music. "Feeling nostalgic already?" Matilda attempted to joke. Wyatt shook his head.

"I know we only have tonight—everyone's taking off next week, it's gonna be insane back at camp—and in the weeks we'd been together, I realized we hadn't danced together—yet."

Matilda shook her head, her crimson curls flying about in the enthralling manner that endeared her so to the man standing before her, beach-blond tresses and all. "Wyatt, you don't have to—I mean, I'm not a great dancer or anything—and it's just me after all—" she began, but Wyatt interrupted.

"What do you mean, 'it's just you?'" asked Wyatt in a low baritone that made her inexplicably shiver.

"I guess," she admitted, "I'm used to being overshadowed—I'm used to being bad at things—bungling things up, setting stuff on fire—"

"Matilda Valensi, are you trying to tell me you're scared? Of a dance?" Matilda stared at the floor for a moment, bit her lip, faced him again, and nodded. Without missing a beat, Wyatt carefully drew near her lithe form, placing his outstretched right palm in the air so that her left palm could meet it; he tenderly encircled her lissome waist with his other hand as Matilda's right hand angled toward his broad shoulder where she lay her head ever-so-gently, as the music played on.

The first song was New Zealand singer Astrid S.' rendition of David Guetta's "When Love Takes Over," the ethereal melody of the singer's lilted soprano surrounding the couple as they moved about the cabin, in their own embrace, transfixed on the steady movements of the other they held within their grasp, their hearts beating as one, willing the powers that be for this moment in time to never end, as Wyatt whirled Matilda and dipped her low to the ground, causing her curls to bounce as she giggled aloud.

The second was Taylor Swift's "Cardigan"—"I knew you/hand under my sweatshirt/kiss it better…" a seemingly melancholy, haunting tune that evolved into a flurry of nostalgic sentiment, hinting of goodbyes, ex-lovers, and "changing endings" about "Peter losing Wendy." I don't want to lose you, their heady embraces indicated, as Matilda peered into Wyatt's visage, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "Wyatt, why are you crying?" she softly asked, stroking his hair with the palm of her hand. He shook his head, embarrassed by his sudden burst of emotion that had emerged out of nowhere.

"I might never see you again," he murmured in response, as they continued to slow dance, their artful movements overtaking their mutual practicality, of everything that came after what they both knew would be their last time seeing each other at camp—a mutual parting of the ways, new school years separated by state boundaries, internships, new jobs, and new people.

Matilda faintly smiled. "The lyrics mention "I knew you'd come back to me," right? So anything's possible…" Wyatt attempted a chuckle.

"Possible isn't the same thing as probable—" he began, but Matilda placed a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Wyatt Halliwell, I want you," she whispered sensuously into his ear.

"Here? Right now?" Wyatt glanced down at Matilda, who nodded. "Are you…sure?"

"Yes—as sure as I've been about anything, which definitely says something," she responded, ignoring the fact that the wood cabin had hard flooring, and side benches, which meant for unusual positioning, but in that moment, it didn't matter to her. I want him now, she thought to herself, as she bit her lip, awaiting his answer.

8:30 pm, Lower Cabin, Bayliner 285 SB Boat, Lake Wanaka Marina

"Wyatt, where are we going?" asked Matilda, as Wyatt walked to the upper-left corner of the cabin and threw open a door she hadn't noticed before; he disappeared through it, not before motioning her to follow him, which she did. The short set of stairs led to a comfortable-looking queen-sized bed with black bed coverings, slate-grey carpet, and a variety of classic nautical frames of sailboat prints tastefully sprinkled throughout. "What is this place, anyways?"

"A spare bedroom, mine actually, I use it when I have evening lakefront duty, making sure folks stay safe at camp," he responded, closing the shades tightly, as turned to face her.

Matilda raised an eyebrow. "You must bring a lot of women here, getting it all dressed up like," she gestured at the sublime décor before her, "that." Wyatt shook his head.

"Actually…I'm a virgin," he confessed.

"Seriously?" exclaimed Matilda, rooted to where she stood, in thorough disbelief. "But…you're fucking gorgeous!" Wyatt wryly laughed aloud.

"Don't make me feel any more embarrassed than I already do, Val," he said matter-of-factly. "A lot of girls think being a camp counselor is…weird," he admitted, stepping closer to Matilda until they were mere inches apart.

"I'm not like other women," she murmured. Wyatt shook his head.

"No, you're not—and that's what I love about you." He kissed the top of her crimson curly hair.

"I kind of have a confession to make too," Matilda spoke.

"What's that?" inquired Wyatt.

"I'm a virgin too," she replied, "but that's mostly since I'm a cranky workaholic balancing school and working at a bar."

"What're the odds?" Wyatt jokingly mused aloud, as he continued stroking Matilda's curly tresses.

"I know, right?"

"Maybe we should do something about that—" he began. They grinned cheekily at each other in that moment, silently daring each other to make the next move.

8:45 pm, Lower Cabin, Bayliner 285 SB Boat, Lake Wanaka Marina

"Do we need to worry about—" Wyatt pointed to Matilda's earrings, and by extension, her fire powers. She shook her head.

"Not unless they're removed, which is impossible unless I'm the one removing them." Wyatt paused from kissing Matilda and went upstairs, and she followed to retrieve her knapsack. They returned minutes later, Wyatt with a fire extinguisher (just in case), and Matilda with her knapsack, which she rifled through to find an unopened condom, which she handed to Wyatt.

"Y'know, to be safe," Matilda said, and he understood, as they resumed from where they had last left off, tumbling onto the bed, as she suddenly found Wyatt on top. She often found herself strong-minded in her daily life pre-camp, and secretly enjoyed being dominated herself, though she'd never admitted it to anyone out loud. Her legs encircled him, as their kisses grew increasingly frenzied, their tongues exploring each other's hidden crevices, as she felt his hardness digging into the crease between her upper thigh and abdomen, which would likely cause a bruise the next morning. A tattooed remembrance of the sordid night before, she mused to herself as she removed his shirt, as he simultaneously shed his shorts in a heap at the foot of the stylish bedspread.

"Turn around," whispered Wyatt, and she did as he unzipped her dress from behind, massaging her bare shoulders, her constellation of amber-colored freckles sprinkled throughout. "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, kissing each and every one of her freckles as she gasped at the sensation. One sleeve, then the other. The dress was deftly removed, pushed off the bed with a shove of Matilda's foot, as they continued to tangle themselves in the other, Wyatt nipping and biting at the sensitive area of Matilda's neck as she ground her pelvis into Wyatt's prominent erection, causing him to utter an audible groan.

To delay himself from coming too early, he wound his finger from Matilda's breast down toward her opening, where he manually penetrated her so that she would grow accustomed to the very feel of his skin, eliciting a gasp from her. Slow and steady, he thought to himself, recalling the online Reddit threads he'd read in the past week on how to deflower one's love, as he curved his finger, moving faster, plunging into her once she signaled she was comfortable and utterly wanting, hitting her G-spot, causing her to writhe in utmost pleasure as she began to lose all semblance of composure.

8:47 pm, Lower Cabin, Bayliner 285 SB Boat, Lake Wanaka Marina

Wyatt reached across the bed for the condom and unwrapped it, pinching the tip as he rolled it onto his stiffened self; he crouched on his knees above Matilda as she slowly guided him in. She winced as she felt something within her rip, akin to a delicate piece of silk, knowing it was gone for good, as she wanted it to be. Wyatt noticed her grimace and made as if to pause, but she motioned for him to continue. "Deeper," she murmured, knowing that to experience pleasure, she had to withstand a bit of early discomfort.

He moved slowly, agonizingly so, as he felt the tightness of her moistened walls capture himself within her internal grasp. "Fuck," he groaned aloud, as he continued thrusting, gradually, unhurriedly, until Matilda scraped her nails along his back.

"Faster," she muttered, loud enough for him to hear; his eyes smoldering with pent-up sexual frustration from the weeks past, he increased his tempo, sinking into her fully, completely, as their tongues continued to meet in unbridled fervor, and her legs inveigled themselves around him once more, for him to plough into her ever closer in their sordidly intimate embrace.

"Scream for me Val," he whispered in her ear, noticing that up until then that she had repressed herself, remaining silent, trying not to let her unruly physical reaction overpower her ever-overthinking brain capacity. She nodded, and yelled not once, but twice, as he hit her most pleasurable area.

"Very good," responded Wyatt, but this time it was Matilda who took the next step, as she repositioned themselves so that she was straddling atop his form.

"What's my name?" she hissed. Wyatt mischievously grinned.

"Val," he spoke, and she pinched his abs hard.

"You know that's not my real name," Matilda replied, a sneaky twinkle in her eye as she pinned his arms to the bed. "What," she pinched him after each enunciated word. "Is," Matilda's teeth made contact with his upper chest as she bit him ever-so-gently. "My," she slapped his arm away as he attempted to wriggle free. "Name?"

"MATILDA," he groaned. She finally released his arms, and he gripped her hips and thrust deeper. "Fuck," he stammered aloud as they began ascending their apex, "I'm-I'm gonna—" Matilda bit his neck hard as he came, his spurts reverberating into the latex confinement that was nevertheless felt within her soaked, feminine walls.