The Witch's Tale

Chapter 5: Earth

When the storm is over, Papa reluctantly gets out of bed. He has business to attend to, and he needs to see what the Ghouls are up to.

"They've been quiet," He says, searching for his clothes.

"Too quiet,"

Sara watches him dress, the body she has become so well acquainted with disappearing beneath the layers of his suit. She has her own tasks waiting for her. The cat needs to be fed, and she is certain Old Nan will be stopping by to check on her. But she does not want to leave, if it were possible, she could stay in this bed forever. She tells Papa this.

"I know," he says shrugging on his jacket, gracefully.

"I hate to leave our little nest too, but duty calls, eh?"

He extends a hand and helps her from the bed, and right into his arms. The satin of his suit feels strange and wonderful against her bare skin. She sighs into his chest, a bittersweet little sound that melts his heart.

"Don't worry my little love," He croons, peppering her face and neck with kisses.

"You'll see me again soon enough. I imagine you've been meaning to ask me quite a few questions, but have been otherwise...distracted,"

"Distracted indeed," she says, extricating herself from his embrace.

"Now let me dress, you rogue, or we'll end up in bed again,"

Papa chuckles at this, and admires her curves as she bends to retrieve her clothes. He moves in behind her and slowly caresses the fleshy curves of her bottom.

"That wouldn't be a bad thing, you know," He growls, his ministrations becoming more insistent.

Sara leaps away, just out of his reach.

"Oh no no no," she teases.

"Duty calls, remember? You have things that must be done, and so do I,"

She dresses quickly, pulling her shift over her head, and boots on her feet. Then, she allows Papa to lace her bodice for her. He kisses her the entire time, tongue gently probing her mouth, teeth nipping her lips as he pulls the ribbons tightly. She knows he's trying to seduce her back onto the bed, but she resists all the same.

"Lovely," He purrs when he finishes the task. His fingertips brush the exposed tops of her breasts.

"Shall I walk you to the door?"

She allows that she would like that very much, and so they leave his bedroom and walk down the old corridors together, picking up her discarded cloak along the way. They move slowly, partially to extend their time together, and because Sara finds that she is quite sore. For all of Papa's tenderness, for all his preparations, she has been left with a rather raw and chafed feeling between her legs. This she knows to be normal, and so she is not surprised or dismayed. What does surprise her, however, is the stickiness she feels down there, as the evidence of their love-making drips down her thighs. She's not sure why she didn't expect it, but it makes her feel rather...unclean. Not in a bad way, mind you, just an uncomfortable one. She wants, no, needs a wash. As soon as she's home, she's filling her copper tub and getting in it.

At the front door, Papa kisses her farewell. It is a deep, longing kiss, one that expresses everything neither of them can say.

"Until we meet again, my sweet Emeritus?" Sara asks softly, stroking his cheek, tracing the markings there.

"Until we meet again, my love," he agrees fervently.

And so the lovers part.

The whole way home, Sara revels in the events that have just passed. Did she really just lose her maidenhead to a mysterious anti-pope? Did they really make love not once, but twice? She sighs at the memory of their second time together. He had moved inside her slowly, holding her hands, pinning them to the mattress. He looked into her eyes the entire time, and she had met his gaze even as she came, clenching and spasming around his length.