happilyeverbeginning | i keep on fallin' [scrooge x magica]

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i keep on fallin' [scrooge x magica]

If Magica had a heart, it would've been beating rapidly. Though she had longed to be free of her shadowy prison for centuries, a part of her had given up hope long ago. Even now, with the last of the ingredients gathered, that part of her said something wouldn't work. Scrooge's power wouldn't be strong enough, she'd been trapped too long - and then there was the horror of what if it did work? Would she age rapidly into bones or dust? If she lived, would she be able to adjust in this world? Ultimately, she was more afraid this night than she'd ever been her entire long, long life.

That was probably why she was so silent, as the last of the candles were lit. Technically, everything was being set up perfectly. She stayed on the while, quietly observing, staying as still as she could. Surely something would go wrong. Scrooge would change his mind. They'd gotten an ingredient wrong. Something. Anything.

Of course, stubborn as she was, she wasn't going to tell Scrooge how she felt. Let him draw his own conclusions.

"Hmm..."

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He chuckled, and she likely could feel the rumble as he lazily set his throat against her breast, his beak pointed towards her ear.

"We don't have anything extra for you," he murmured, knowing she could probably feel him talking in addition to her hearing it. "Might want to be a little more careful."

"I have waited centuries for you," She meant to say "for this" and apparently hadn't noticed the Freudian slip. "So I don't care if I have to walk out of here with nothing but a few well-placed hickeys." Now that she meant. She'd long ago lost pride, why not make decency next?

Long as she was at it, might as well get rid of the other sleeve. "Don't you dare go easy on me."

He wondered if she meant that literally or figuratively in the sense of "I have waited centuries for one of your clan to set me free". Even odds either way.

"I'll try not to, but I've never done this before," he admitted. "That and I'm not sure you want to risk being the mother of the next generation of McDucks, do you?"

Edited 2018-09-10 23:42 (UTC)

And that... makes her stop. Not out of shock or horror, but mostly to pull back enough so she can give him a "are you for real" look, eyebrow raised.

"I am the Queen of the Shadows, all-power sorceress and most dangerous magic-caster that has ever lived. You really think I can't control a little thing like eggs?"

Honestly, Scrooge, that was almost insulting. "If you can't think of anything intelligent to say with that mouth of yours, I have a much better use for it." He didn't think she'd stop insulting him just because they were getting intimate, right? She grabbed his cheeks, ashing his mouth with her own again, jabbing her tongue in deep.

He rolled his eyes at the insults, well-used to them right now. Sometimes it was better to just let her get it out of her system rather than fight about it.

Besides, it wasn't like he'd ever thought to ask about that sort of magic. Her actually getting her body back had been a long shot.

He choked a little as her tongue went a little too far back, so he wrapped his tongue around hers to keep it occupied. The last thing he wanted was for her to trigger his gag reflex.

At the same time, he blindly groped for her breast, squeezing it perhaps a little too hard in the process. She was surprisingly soft.

Now this was a much better distraction. Playing with his tongue was its own game, eager to relearn just how it could move and taste. Her annoyance was snuffed out like a wet candle, cradling his head in her arms. She didn't even fight the painful squeeze to her breast - after being deprived of all her senses for so long, even pain was something to enjoy. She wanted anything to remind her that was alive.

One of her legs rubbed up alongside his, her dress beginning to ride up.

A more experienced man probably could've hit the proverbial bull's eye in their current arrangement, but the inexperienced Scrooge certainly couldn't. Though he used his own leg to encourage her skirt to ride up higher, he wasn't able to do much more than brush against her privates. He wasn't intending to tease, but trying to do this from beneath her wasn't as simple as some of his glimpses of the other cowboys had led him to believe.

Still, he ran his hands along her form, sliding them beneath her blouse to feel more of the shape he'd seen the shadow of before.

Magica could have easily believed teasing or intentional, it didn't really matter here or now. What mattered now was that she'd been touched in a place that hadn't even been felt too often when she was alive, and it needed to keep happening. She'd hate herself later for showing any signs of weakness, but she couldn't help but let out an absolutely feminine whine, breaking her mouth back to breath.

"Oh, gods, I need to be touched." Yes, he was already touching her, and probably couldn't do much more than that at this given moment, but she was (almost literally) a bitch in heat and was about to lose her mind.

Well, the lady did ask.

He buried his beak in her neck again, scraping teeth against her skin and sampling her taste with his tongue. He admired her shape with his hands, the well-formed body feeling just as attractive as it looked. All the while, he continued brushing at that one spot, trying to make proper contact but not managing it.

Well, perhaps the theoretical next time when he wasn't drained from a massive spell and in a better position would bring him better luck on that last part.

Magica voice her agreement "Yes," with every breath, "Yes", getting louder and louder with every passing moment, "Yessss..."

She pressed his head into her neck, wanting him to devour every inch of her until nothing was left. He just didn't have enough hands or mouths to get all of her at once, which was so unfair. There were probably plenty of spells to fix that problem, but it might've been a mood killer. She'd have to settle for what he had.

Then again, judging from the size she was feeling down there, he might be more than she could handle. Gods, wouldn't that be fantastic.

Thank God she wasn't willing to transform him into some sort of abomination. "Mood killer" would've been a massive understatement.

It was by pure luck he actually managed to properly hit the target. He grunted as he shifted his hips, trying to get in just the right alignment and maneuver himself so she could feel more of him and he of her.

With every attempt, miss and hit, Magica lost more of her mind. It felt as if she didn't experience all of him, and soon, she would very well die. She needed him, needed him now and always, and there was only so much teasing she could take, even if he hadn't meant to do so.

She drew back, teeth grinding, and moved to take a handful of his hip, driving him in, trying to get the right angle, gods, dammit, it shouldn't be this complicated, it wasn't her fault she hadn't done this in centuries, he had better be worth every single -

"Oooh!"

Finally, mercifully, he was inside, and, oh, yes he was worth it.

Scrooge panted as he began moving his hips back and forth, thrusting as best he could in such an awkward position. He leaned his head forward so his beak rested on her shoulder, hands tightly gripping her hips as he continued familiarizing himself with what she felt like surrounding him.

For the first time ever, he got why people seemed to like doing this so much.

Any games, any seduction, any care about being superior or conquering was done. It had been so long since she'd been taken, apparently she'd forgotten what it was like - or maybe Scrooge was just so good that it destroyed all previous experiences. Or both. Let him do whatever he wanted, it didn't matter anymore.

Her mouth was open, but she couldn't form any words. Her eyes rolled back, her breath hard, her fingers losing their hold on him.

Him being that good was unlikely. He doubted he had a natural talent for this, but at least he'd pleased her.

He rocked with her for several minutes before he finally, reluctantly, removed himself from her. He'd started this entire endeavor exhausted, and he was especially so now. He leaned his head back to rest it against the floor as he loosened his grip.

Magica was practically melted down to the core, rocking her hips back and forth. She didn't want this to end - and then she felt him move - back? Oh, no, nononono, don't you fucking dare, not when she was - almost - almost -

Apparently he'd hit just the spot just as he left, as luck would have it, as it was the last thing her body could handle before climax. She let out a shrill cry before collapsing against him, her body writhing on his. "Oooh, yes..."

Scrooge chuckled, one hand resting lightly on her back. "I'll take that as a sign that I do decent enough work."

His voice was a bit breathy as his body relaxed again. He could've very happily curled up on the floor and gotten a solid eight hours of sleep.

Magica didn't even have enough energy for decent snark or bite. She was still recovering from her body's finish, her nerves on fire. She'd deny if it he said it, but she was snuggling up to him, nuzzling her beak to his neck. "Mmm...."

"Ye might be more comfortable on a bed, lassie," he murmured sleepily, accent thickening with his exhaustion. His eyelids started drooping as the last of his energy flagged.

"Don't care." And she really didn't. Maybe her restored powers could have teleported them to a more comfortable place or transformed what was beneath them, but she genuinely didn't want to budge. Not when he was warm and soft enough, and there was no need to pull an inch away from him when he was holding her so tenderly.

"You'll do."

"Glad to be of--yawn!--service," he mumbled as he drifted off, periodically mumbling in his sleep.

Well, at least she was used to that.

As exhausted as Magica was, the magic in her veins made sure she didn't need to sleep as often as the average person. So as he went into dreamland, she quietly stroked the feathers atop his head, watching him.

She was used to this, yes, but now she could touch, lay, listen, smell... he was hers. All hers.

"Goodnight, Scroogie."

No matter when Magica fell asleep, she ended up being the first to wake up. At some point, Scrooge had rolled over to lie more comfortably on his side...though that had likely dumped her off to one side as well.

Still, there was evidence of what they had done all over the place: The chalk lines around them were smudged and in places smeared with suspicious fluids, and Magica's scent was all over Scrooge with his on her. Then of course was Magica's stretched blouse.

It likely wouldn't take too much to wake Scrooge, but given everything that had happened last night--major magic work and sex--he was pretty worn out.

This gave Magica plenty of time to asses the situation she was in. With her returned magic, it was quite easy to clean up here and there - mostly to make herself look presentable when he woke up - and now she sat, mulling. She was finally free, with all of her powers intact. There was nothing stopping her from rising up and getting her promised revenge on the entire McDuck clan.

Nothing physically, anyway. But the very real thing stopping her was comfortably sleeping in front of her. Horror of horrors, she had been tempted to move him so he'd sleep in her lap, so she could stroke his head - like some damned giddy lovesick schoolgirl. Her first act of freedom had been jumping the bones of her sworn enemy. Now what?

What the hell was wrong with her? When she had made the deal with Scrooge, a part of her was crossing her fingers, ready to abandon him the second she was flesh again. What did she need with him, except as a tool to enact her vengeance? It was what she always wanted. It was supposed to be worth everything. And now the thought of it felt so... pointless. She could kill them all, and - what would it do? What would it bring? Would it actually feel better than the night they just had?

As she thought, she airily waved one hand, fixing herself up with her magic - the shadows provided her with a new dress, her hair straightened, and she was as good as new. So she stared at Scrooge, thinking, thinking, thinking.

Scrooge had no idea what Magica's thoughts were. Instead, he shifted in his sleep, trying to get that much more comfortable on the hard floor. He'd slept in worse conditions than this. His internal alarm had hit the snooze button. Otherwise he would've been up before first light.

He mumbled something incomprehensible before breathing Magica's name. Apparently, her shadow lingered even in his dreams.

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Figured I'd give Magica a little more time to think.