Felt Your Spell

[Penelope Blaise]

It wasn't uncommon for Penny to grow impatient about getting out of work - at least not now that she had a person to return home to. There were times when she would appear during her break and make the final class of the school day practically impossible to teach. Admittedly, it happened more often than Penny should care to admit. In the end, she completely blamed the Australian who made it so hard to breathe.

But this was different. Or, at least the English teacher could recognize the differences. She would always appreciate the artist that chose to visit, but this was more than mere physicality at play - if their relationship was mere at all. It was more than just a visit.

For the psychometrist who had trouble with time already enough as it was, seconds dragged like minutes. Even with a sudden shot of confidence and her ego, she was barely making it through the class for those same exact reasons. Because emotions that belonged to the woman that loved her were running through her own veins.

So when she finally made it home - to a home now shared - her steps were quicker than usual as she made it down the hallway. Yet when she reached the door, she paused long enough to suck in a deep breath before opening the door.

[Lucy Serrano]

Lucy knew when Penny would be home. She knew how long it would take her counterpart to get from their home, and so she refused to disappear from the space they shared. There was half finished work sitting in a studio that she had completely abandoned on what seemed like a whim. But it was a huge feeling, and it was something she needed to express at that point in time. Surely it couldn't be held against her. At least, not in a negative way.

She hadn't even lost the paint worn shirt she had from earlier that day. Why take away the satisfaction of being stripped bare by then person whose hands had curled into it so intently. At least she lost her jeans; the last thing she wanted was to have to struggle her way our of them when a second set of hands were fighting with her.

As the door opened, quiet footsteps moved to meet her. Parted lips took in a breath, and a second later she exhaled it on a single word; "Penny."

[Penelope Blaise]

By the time Penny glanced up from the door, she was being greeted. Wide eyes looked back at Lucy when she heard her name, breathing in when she exhaled. It sounded so good passing the Australian's lips, and today it only sounded that much sweeter.

Penny pressed her hand to the door, drawing it shut, but she didn't put in the effort to lock it. "Lucy." She greeted back with her own brand of intoxication. Because she was already drawing her bag away from herself, setting it on the ground rather than the closest table. Some of the most basic needs that drove the pedantic teacher to act as she did were practically forgotten. It hadn't mattered where her bag fell, or even that she had yet to take off her jacket.

What mattered was where her hands landed, and with clever footing, she was drawing herself close to the woman that loved her. She had an entire class to miss Lucy and think of those imperative words she offered over and over again. So her palms pressed to her cheeks, and she kissed her.

[Lucy Serrano]

There was a great deal to take in in the passing seconds available. Lucy greeted her with a simple sense; her name and completely pressurised for how it now made her feel. There was no mistake in the way she spoke. There was no need for regret. Now that she had come 5o such a conclusion, there was no letting go of it.

And there was no uniform to the way Penny walked in. She didn't lock the door, and she didn't place her bag as she normally would. She didn't take her jacket off. It was like she didn't have the time. Hands pressed to her face to ensure she wouldn't move out of turn, and there was a pressure to her lips that she had felt only hours before.

Her own hands reached for that jacket, curling into the fabric and already trying to pull it off.

[Penelope Blaise]

Nothing else mattered now that she was back home and able to reach for her. She instantly sought out the Australian, and once she had her, she had no plans to let go. If anything the way she kissed her was sign of that. But Penny felt the material of her jacket slip from her shoulders, leaving her no choice but to let go, if only long enough to free her arms before they were pressing back to Lucy's form.

Her palms pressed to Lucy's waist, nails crossing over the exposed line of skin just below the hem of her shirt. The ink manipulator was clever to take off those cursed jeans, because Penny barely had the patience for the buttons of shirt, let alone anything that could have offered some difficulty.

She was taking smart steps, leading her backwards, though only far enough to the closest wall as she worked quickly through each button of Lucy's shirt. When she fumbled on the last, the teacher pulled at either side of the material, snapping the threads rather than making a second attempt.

[Lucy Serrano]

Lucy took on every little thing that was given to her, because she had learned a while ago that everything had purpose when it came to this woman. She was intoxicating. Entirely. She had a hold on the ink manipulator that in any other instance she wouldn't have deemed fair, but now that she was hear she loved the steps forced to take, just as she loved the way it felt for her back to hit the closest available wall.

And she started to fight with the clothes Lucy left on almost instantly now that her arms had been freed. She should have known this was how their first interaction had gone; the teacher had been waiting for Lucy to figure out these words for what probably seemed like forever to her.

"How did-" She tried, but she never got all the way through the question. She wanted to know how taxing the afternoon had been on her newfound love, but a snapping thread cut its way through the wording before she had the chance. "Your afternoon, I mean."

[Penelope Blaise]

Often, Penny was precise. She would have never snapped a thread, because she was usually the one that had to fix it, but burning Australian memories had been running through her veins without a way to shake them. Something so strong held with her, and certain traits stayed. Her impatience, apparently. Atop of Penny's own, it was dangerous.

"Painful." Penny replied harshly, allowing her hands to follow the line of Lucy's shirt past the break to wrap an arm around the Australian's waist. She kissed her again, and as rough as the connection might have been, it was affectionate in nature. "Long."

It wasn't long before her free hand was tracking down along a set of beating wings. Penny gave herself the time to appreciate the shifting ink as her fingers brushed across it, but within the next moment she caught the band just below her waist. "Unbearable."

[Lucy Serrano]

There was no need to fight with extraordinary undressing of her counterpart. Lucy was sure she would never get a chance; she had known this from the moment she made it home. She might have held a sense of dominance in their relationship - naturally, as status did so elevate her - but this instance was completely hers to take.

Her hands hooked into the fabric of the dress she couldn't be bothered losing, holding on with a type of intensity usually reserved for the bare skin of her back, but there was no time to complain. There were no muffled sounds amidst the obvious way she had anticipated this kind of greeting. She still burned her name into this ceiling with a clever tilt of her head back against the wall she had been forced against. It was still unfair, but so perfect at the same time.

When she allowed some sense and stability to filter back into the Australian's form, Lucy pressed her forehead against her shoulder; not because she didn't want to look at her, but because stability in a moment so pressing was imperative. It was futile to try and maintain a sense of control against the evident way she was adored; and what would be the point in it? It was a time to give as much as she could.

[Penelope Blaise]

Hearing her own name, from her lips, like that practically killed the English teacher. With the way Lucy tilted her head, Penny took the opportunity to press her lips to her pulse, teeth dragging along the beat of her heart as she kept her pushed against that wall. She hadn't the patience to even try to move, and with a grip like the one against her back, she was sure she wouldn't get the chance.

Her free hand traced slowly up the length of Lucy's form, filtering into dark locks as she kept her head pressed down against her shoulder. Anything to offer some sense of stability to the girl who was so short of breath. By proxy, she felt it herself, too.

"What were you painting?" She asked, because it was one of the questions that had time to form over the length of her class. Seeing as the artist stated she was working, and that she was covered in paint, she could safely assume it was what she was doing.

[Lucy Serrano]

There was no relieving pressure from the body against hers. There was no way to get out or get away, and there was no need to search for such a resolution. There was no need for an escape. Lucy knew on some level that she had to wait; that she should wait. She could wait.

She didn't let go, either. Hands might have lost their overtly harsh pressure, but fingertips still danced about the material she wore. Every fold shifted beneath her hands with the slightest inch of movement as one dragged from the base up the line of her back. It was all about stability, especially when she knew it was about to be lost for good.

The slightest tilt of her head didn't drag it up far, but it did grant her the ability to brush her lips against her ear with whatever daring words she could create.

"I'd rather show you." She admitted then, when she finally found the means to figure out her words.

[Penelope Blaise]

The tickle of shifting fabric at her back only made Penny wish she had the patience to remove her dress all together, but she couldn't imagine pulling herself away from the Australian long enough to undress herself. At least, not immediately. Because in time, she was sure that she would grow too irritated of the fabric barrier to live with it any longer.

For what seemed like a simple, logical response, it felt like everything but. Those words brushed against her ear like they were a confession within themselves, sending Penny's mind reeling as she tried to suck in a breath. "Okay." She agreed; she had no idea when she would actually be granted the chance to see the piece, but it was her call to make.

Moving more slowly now, she peeled the artist away from the wall, taking backwards steps to lead them further into the home they now shared. She pressed her lips to the open curve of Lucy's neck, but she still tried to talk. "How was your afternoon?"

[Lucy Serrano]

Words left against her ear were given as such as if someone else could ever catch them. It hadn't surprised Lucy that she had been figured out. At least on some level, it must have been known that the work she spent her day doing coincided with her decision to rush to a school and offer careful words over and over again.

The thought of taking this woman to the studio where she worked was admittedly daunting. But for someone like Lucy, confidence coloured that imperfection far too well to make it obvious. She might feel it more later.

Lips hit a point against her neck where she was sure the erratic rhythm of her pulse would be caught. But the wings at her waist were more than enough proof of that instability. She tilted her head upwards immediately to welcome the obvious attention; "I gave myself something to look at." She replied then, the threat of humour lining her words, but she couldn't make it so far as to laugh.

[Penelope Blaise]

The tilt of Lucy's head felt like perfect encouragement as she continued a light trail of kisses along the length of her neck. Teeth grazed against her skin lightly as she exhaled. Getting caught up was getting far too easy. Far too distracting. It was hard to stop. Impossible, even. Her hand was already threatening past the line of Lucy's hips again.

"Mm?" She asked, because somehow she doubted the artist returned to her studio to work. At least, Penny found it improbable with the amount of time she was given. It might have dragged, but it had only been a couple of hours at most.

She pressed her lips to her shoulder, lingering there.

[Lucy Serrano]

Penny seemed to need Lucy to elaborate. The little sound that passed her lips radiated into the ink manipulator's skin, and even if she wanted to give the necessary details, she doubted she could in that moment. For someone so riddled with obvious confidence, she was easily left with next to nothing, weakened by everything she had given only hours ago.

It was like she knew that fact, so she eased away to brush her lips against her shoulder instead. That or she was beginning a very slow, very paining trail downwards while the Australian was still on her feet. She honestly wouldn't put it past her love stricken counterpart at this point, given where her hand lingered.

"Bedroom." She explained, even though a single word likely couldn't explain the entirety of the situation to her in a single word. Or maybe she could.

[Penelope Blaise]

Regardless of Penny;s intentions, they came to a short halt when the Australian said a single word. It caught her attention, but in part because she didn't know how to decipher it. While she kept pressure on her shoulder, it remained light, and she didn't move lower as she allowed it to sink in.

Whether it was intended to be a suggestion or not, Penny took it as such. And so she tilted her head up to try and catch those eyes, hands moving in the opposite direction she had just been intending to as she gently eased them in the direction of the room.

"Just what kept you busy?" She questioned, properly this time.