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Magic Lessons With Scarlet Witch And Strange
1 year ago
45K (45,177)
0:26
Wanda was trembling beneath him, legs drawn up and spread wide, held firm in his grip. The butterfly position left her completely open, completely his. Each thrust was deep and punishing, his pace relentless, but every time she neared the edge he would slow just enough to pull her back from the brink.
Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, body writhing beneath him, trying to chase that high he kept so cruelly out of reach. Her magic flickered around them in bursts of wild energy, responding to her helpless need.
“Not yet,” Strange growled against her ear, his voice low and steady. “You’re going to stay right here until I decide you’ve earned it.”
Her breath hitched, a broken whimper escaping her throat as her hips lifted into him, desperate and aching. Every time she thought he would let her fall, he pulled her back with a bruising grip on her thighs and a sharp thrust that left her crying out.
Wanda had started the lesson full of power and fire, but now she was flushed and undone, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in gasping pleas. He watched her crumble with quiet control, letting her hang on that edge until she was shaking, nearly sobbing, aching for release.
The Scarlet Witch had mastered chaos, but not this. Not the slow, delicious torment of being held there — stretched open, dripping, desperate — while he taught her exactly what it meant to be under his spell.
Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, body writhing beneath him, trying to chase that high he kept so cruelly out of reach. Her magic flickered around them in bursts of wild energy, responding to her helpless need.
“Not yet,” Strange growled against her ear, his voice low and steady. “You’re going to stay right here until I decide you’ve earned it.”
Her breath hitched, a broken whimper escaping her throat as her hips lifted into him, desperate and aching. Every time she thought he would let her fall, he pulled her back with a bruising grip on her thighs and a sharp thrust that left her crying out.
Wanda had started the lesson full of power and fire, but now she was flushed and undone, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in gasping pleas. He watched her crumble with quiet control, letting her hang on that edge until she was shaking, nearly sobbing, aching for release.
The Scarlet Witch had mastered chaos, but not this. Not the slow, delicious torment of being held there — stretched open, dripping, desperate — while he taught her exactly what it meant to be under his spell.
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