Wanda and Pietro

[quicksilvery]

They were supposed to be finally free. They were supposed to be fine. No spectre of their father hanging over their heads. No need to repress their love. No need to be anything except their perfect, uncompromising selves.

Pietro was supposed to be finally, finally able to love Wanda with all the fierceness of his wretched heart in their own home.

But Lorna, their father's fucktoy/mentee/imaginary daughter, was in their home. Their safest place. Their only place.

He thought he might go mad.

He was lying facedown on the couch, one hand tapping by his side - so fast that it was nothing more than a soundless blur - waiting for Wanda to come home from class, for their precious hour or so before Lorna would show up.

Comments

[scarredletwitch]

"I was thinking about the view, and what would be your best angle," she told him between kisses, lips never straying far from his. "I do love you like this, letting me ride you," Wanda continued, fingers working efficiently at the buttons of his shirt. "It would certainly let her see you sliding into me. But then I thought--what about you taking me from behind while we both kneel here on the couch? You have such a beautiful body, and it's a shame I don't get to show it off more."

[quicksilvery]

Wanda was perfect, and perfect for Pietro; he didn’t understand how anyone could think their connection was something wrong or broken or obscene (except for, of course, how it was obscene in all the best ways). Wanda was his light, his love, his home. “These are very good options,” he said with pretend gravity, tangling a hand in Wanda’s hair, the other trailing patterns on every inch of bare skin he could reach. “Why don’t we do it both ways and see which one she happens to see?”