Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Stop squirming." 

"I would if you just- gah- tied this blasted thing and got it over with ," Phillip hissed, fidgeting uncomfortably underneath you as you tied his wrists behind his back. 

You rolled your eyes and finished up, flicking his bangs into his face. "There. Done."

Phillip muttered petulantly under his breath, but relaxed into the pillows beneath him despite it. The feeling of soft fabric against his bare skin, tight enough to bruise but not to really hurt, made gooseflesh rise along his arms in excitement. 

When you accosted him that morning with two pairs of silk cloth and a mischievous grin, he had no idea what he was about to get into, really. When you explained what they were for, his hasty agreement was probably something you were going to lord over him for the next few days. 

He flinched when the sensation of soft cloth brushed the small of his back, before slowly being dragged up to his spine and the nape of his neck. You wrapped the strip of cloth around his throat, tugging it lightly and making his face rise from its place on the pillows, forcing him to crane his neck back to look at you in your slightly-deranged eyes. 

"Ready? Or do you need a moment?" You asked, and he shifted for a moment before nodding. 

"Just- get on with it already, wouldn't you?" He muttered, glancing away as your gaze bored into his flushed face. "I've been waiting this entire time for you to hurry up."

"Hurry up? Phillip, are you trying to tell me what to do?" You tsked, and relaxed your hold on the cloth before running your fingers through his hair and tugging, making him let out a long groan. "My dear, I am the lawmaker here. Just be glad I'm not gagging you, okay?" 

"Nn… yes… okay…" he strained out, tears beading up in his eyes from the strain on his scalp.

He was released and his head fell into the pillow. You gently lifted his head back up, just enough for you to be able to wrap the blindfold around his face and tie it, before releasing him and removing yourself from his person entirely. 

Phillip laid there in the darkness, shivers running down his spine at the ordeal of not knowing what may happen next. He was bound, tied up, deprived of sight, and left to your mercy, but he knew he'd only be subject to your wickedness. 

Just the mere idea sent arousal to his gut, spurning him into a frenzy of thighs rubbing together as he tried not to get too excited.

A hand was placed on his leg and he jumped, craning his head back despite his newfound blindness as if he could see what was behind him. He said your name, and you didn't reply. 

Your hand ran down his leg, before slowly moving towards his inner thigh and then his inseam, rubbing the sensitive and bare skin between his crotch and his leg. He let out a soft gasp, squirming at the ticklish sensation. 

"What on Earth are you doing back there?" He threw the question at you when you made no further move beside rubbing the skin of his inseam, slowly moving closer and closer to his crotch, teasing him whilst not actually grasping the main prize, which was already standing straight and proud in the air. 

You said nothing.

Instead you removed your hand. Phillip scowled and went to snap at you to get a move on, and then let out a strangled noise when in one fell swoop, you lifted his left leg over your shoulder, straddled his right one, and grinded your bare crotches against one another. 

Your sexes brushed against one another perfectly, and Phillip threw his head back as you bore down on him, snapping your hips into his own as if you were penetrating him, jostling him back and forth on the bed as if he was your plaything. 

"Hhgb- yes - harder, harder, move- move faster , damnit," he swore under his breath, trying to grind downwards into your own hips and then letting out a pitiful whine when you suddenly stopped. "God- damn it all! "

You rubbed your hand against his thigh, rapping your fingers against the flesh in a pattern. One, two, three, four, stop. One, two, three, four, stop. One, two, three, four- 

"Please," he finally broke, whining, bucking his hips miserably. " Please , keep on going." 

You were merciless. It seemed more like you were trying to reach your own end, if the huffing and puffing from above him was anything to take into consideration. You spread his legs wide open, almost bending him in half as you raised his hips above him to angle your crotches together in just the right way, grinding against him in such a way that he saw stars. 

He wondered what your face was like at that moment, what your usually unbothered and unflappable expression was like with all those quiet moans coming from your mouth. 

You moved your grip from his leg to his hip, holding it tight enough to bruise. You dragged him further upwards, in such a position that his upper body was pressed into the bed and his lower in the air, with you presumably crouched over him, plowing him like he was just a tool for your enjoyment. 

Phillip moaned specifically because of that thought, his penis twitching with precum. 

You huffed, the grinding of your sexes slowly stuttering, ceasing, as your hips came to a halt and- 

Liquid, warm and sticky, dribbled over his genitals and the inside of his thighs. 

Phillip threw his head back and came, splattering over his stomach, the liquid dripping down the creases of his body and into his collarbone. 

You released him and he fell back into the mattress, feeling as though his lower body was run over by a wagon, and the most movement he made was the fluttering of his eyelashes when you pulled his blindfold off. 

He stared at your face, at the dark color in your cheeks and the way sweat clung to your brow, and he couldn't help but feel his body begin to heat up again when you grinned at him. 

"So you managed to stay awake this time?" You teased, and he let out a long suffering sigh and looked away. 

At least you had redeeming qualities besides your incessant need to make him feel like a dog. Which. Well. He wasn't exactly opposed to the idea, per se, but… ah…

His face burned and he shoved it into the pillow beneath him. Down, boy! 

A soft thump beside him and an arm being flung across his side told him you were there, cuddling up to his back with what was probably a devilish smirk on your face. 

That wasn't far off, really. For years he'd resisted temptations of all kinds, vices that would render him impure. Despite that, despite his virtues, of which he'd manage to keep in the Demon's Realm, he finally succumbed. 

Maybe you were temptation incarnate. Maybe you were the very Devil themself, here to lead a valiant Witch Hunter astray. Regardless, he had fallen into your clutches- thrown himself into them, practically- and despite that you weren't a witch, a demon, or even the Devil- you were a human. 

And he was yours. 

Chapter Text

"I don't understand why you're so uncomfortable with me going out on my own," Phillip said, frowning at you from across the table as you paged through your book. "The Boiling Isles is… far from an ideal place to live, but it's not as if I'd perish from tripping over a pebble or something of that sort."

"It's not that I don't like that you're roaming the Boiling Isles specifically," you said, raising your gaze from the book to meet his. "It's just that you're a hazard to both yourself and the people around you." 

He blinked. "Explain?" 

You sighed, and placed the book on the table before scooting back in your chair. You folded one leg over the other before pointing at him. "You antagonize literally everyone you meet," you said, and before he could protest you continued, "I'm serious. You're quite honestly the most passive aggressive person I've ever met, like the first time we met you commented on my clothes being out of style." 

His face reddened and he glanced away. "I was right, you know. It's just that-" 

"You have been wearing the same set of clothes ever since I first met you, you have no say in matters of fashion," you squinted at him and he tugged at a lock of his brown hair while avoiding eye contact. 

"You're severely over exaggerating things," Phillip changed topics, sweat beading on his brow as you scrutinized his clothing (and life) choices. "I highly doubt that the actual amount of altercations I've been in are high enough to warrant any concern about my behav-" 

"Just yesterday you threw a rock at a witch's head and called them a "hooligan" for… what was it again?" 

"They called my hair crusty," he muttered. 

"I had to stop them from popping your head like a grape," you sighed, before lifting up a finger. "And I haven't even gotten to how you are a danger to yourself all on your own." 

"I'm an adult," Phillip protested, standing up and leaning against the table. "I can take perfectly good care of myself! I'm the picture of responsibility, sanity, and self preservation skills!" 

"Last week you lost your razor, so instead you tried to burn off your beard," you blandly stated, staring him down until he slowly sank back into his seat. "You had to lie in bed with salves on your face for the rest of the day." 

He stared down into his lap, where his hands were clasped tightly. "I'm a responsible adult," he muttered rather petulantly, and you, once again, let out a long suffering sigh before standing and walking over to his side. 

You sat on the table beside him, running your hand over his head. "At least you're pretty." 

He blinked up at you. "I am?" 

"Pretty fucking stupid," you continued, and he once again looked into his lap as you patted his head. "But I don't really care about all that. I mean, I do. I'd rather my lover not die before we reach middle age, you know. But regardless, I still like you, your little dumb head and all." 

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not?" Phillip felt he should feel rather patronized, but then you cupped his chin with your hand and tilted his face up to look at you. 

"Stay home today. Please?" You smiled. "I'll make it up to you. Just for my peace of mind." 

You were slowly creeping towards him, scooting further off the table and towards where he was sitting. He squirmed a little under your suddenly predatory gaze, before letting out a harsh, nervous laugh whilst attempting to make eye contact. 

"How could I say no to you?" He said, and suddenly you were in his lap, hand tangled in the hair at the back of his head, yanking to pull it back just so you could press your lips against his throat. 

Phillip closed his eyes in contentment as you lavished his Adam's apple with attention, nosing at his jugular as if you were specifically looking for his artery, for where his blood pumped through him. This… this was fine. He could deal with a delay if he had someone like you here to make him feel like this. 

His hands rested against your thighs, not cupping them or squeezing them like you usually did to him, but holding them, appreciating them as they were even if they were guarded by cloth. 

Still pressed against his neck, you ran your hand down his back and his waist, before moving around to his front and pressing against his stomach, your pinky finger grazing the top of his belt buckle. 

"Say," you began, and he suddenly felt chills as he knew just what that tone meant- you were about to experiment with him, "Could I try something new with you?" 

"... what, exactly?" 

"I've been thinking of leashing you with your own belt," you idly said, slipping your hand under the hem of his shirt. "It'd be nice to pull on something whenever you misbehave, don't you think?" 

In almost half a second he found himself tugging at his own belt to unbuckle it, fumbling with the clasp before he finally slipped it out of the loops of his pants. Your surprised laughter brought a red flush to his face, but he presented you with the belt nonetheless, looking away as he clenched his hands into nervous fists. 

"Well?" He prompted. 

"Impatient," you chided, and examined the belt in your hand. He tensed in anticipation as you lifted the long strip of black leather up, before, in a flash of motion, pulling it around the back of his neck and tugging him towards you. "But I know you won't do anything about it. It's just like you. You're going to let me do anything I wish to you, aren't you?" 

He said nothing, not wanting to implicate himself in what was certainly the truth. His loins stirred when you pulled him forward by the belt, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss. It was almost sweet, but the way you looped one end of the belt through the buckle and pulled it tight enough to almost choke him belied your true intentions. 

You were testing him. Each time he tried to deepen the kiss, you tugged on the belt so that he was forced to move away from you, lingering a painful few inches away from your mouth before you loosened your grip and allowed him back into your embrace again. 

You wanted to make a point. That you had power over him, even if it was something as minuscule as this. His pride warred with his desire, but in the end, his desire won out- and he obediently stayed where he was when you finally ended the kiss, not making a move towards you. 

Phillip panted, his hair mussed from the treatment you gave it. He wasn't even sure if it was worth putting it into a ponytail anymore- Heaven knows you just loved to pull on it until it, and then he, became undone. 

He watched you with curious eyes as you trailed your fingers down the front of his chest, and then his pants. They grazed his straining erection and he let out a long sigh, hips twitching with restrained need as you dipped your hand within its confines and pulled out his aching member. 

"Are we not going to retire to the bedroom?" Phillip queried, voice strained as you slowly moved your hand up and down its length, agonizingly so. 

Your eyes glinted as you looked at him from where you were previously and intently locked on his crotch. Then, with a grin, you patted his cheek and moved your hand to your own pants instead. 

"We don't need to," you paused. "Or rather, I don't want to. I want to do this here and now." 

Phillip watched as you unbuttoned your pants and shimmied them off, dropping them on the floor before returning to his lap, straddling his hips. His length laid against your stomach, standing tall and proud as you waited for his response. 

"Well. Whatever you wish," Phillip sighed as you wrapped your hand around his penis again, squeezing and stroking it at a faster pace this time. "God, just have your way with me." 

"You always know the right names to flatter me with," you cooed, sickeningly sweet as you rubbed precum over his tip and down his shaft. You suddenly sat up, angling your hips over him, and he had to scramble to hold onto you as suddenly he was spearing your entrance without a single warning. 

"Ghn-" he groaned out, instantly forgetting the sacrilegious comment from earlier, "I- please, you're so-" 

You settled on his lap, a pleased look on your face and you gripped the end of the belt and pulled , snapping his head back as he scrambled at the leather around his throat, his airway being blocked off, and it hurt and burned but then it was so good and his head felt fuzzy and light and- 

You released, and he greedily sucked in air as he slumped back into the chair. The warmth around his length had him trembling, every shift and fidget from you a sensation felt throughout his groin and his entire body. 

You made no move to touch your own genitals. Instead you looked him up and down and smiled in such a way that your bared teeth looked like it belonged on an animal that had just caught its prey.

"How about we make this a game?" You began, pulling on the makeshift leash to get his attention. "I'm going to have my way with you. You won't speak. Every time I do," you pulled on the belt tighter, and that same pressure began to return, "I'll do this. Do you object to that?" 

"Not at all…" Phillip said in a dazed manner. His hands returned to your thighs, and you shifted as they did. "But, if I could…" 

You rolled your eyes. "Yes. Fine. You can touch me." 

Phillip immediately began to run his hands up and down your sides, in awe of the body beneath his touch. You let out a long sigh, before you began to shift your hips, ever so slowly. 

Your face didn't color, exactly, but the swear beginning to bead on your brow told him of the strain you were feeling. Regardless, you didn't stop- if anything, you got faster, beginning to rise and fall in such a way that your hips audibly slapped against each other. 

Phillip threw his head back, biting on his lip hard enough to bleed as he tried not to curse. The firm grip you had on the belt was enough to warn him away from his fate if he did that. Every depraved moan that tried to make its away out of his throat was swallowed, and to distract himself he tangled one hand in your hair, cupping the back of your head, and moved the other downwards, to your neglected crotch. 

You made no sound of protest, closing your eyes in content when he began to stroke and rub that special area. Your hips stilled momentarily, and there was a silence between the two of you only interrupted by the mutual sounds of panting from both parties. 

Suddenly, your hips began to pick up speed, and he lost his grip on you when you lifted yourself up, twisted your hips, and- 

" Oh- please-" he moaned out, hands scrambling at your hips, and you didn't even chide him for the death grip he had on them. 

Instead, in the corner of his eye, your lips spread, wider and wider, until it was ear to ear in a grin. You readjusted your grip on the belt, and then you pulled.  

He let out a gasp when his airway was blocked again, and he had no chance to recover as you began to ride him once more at an unforgiving pace, creaking the chair with every move, each slap of skin against skin becoming louder and louder as your fluids began to mix with one another. 

Phillip couldn't help but let out a choked off sob as you released, just to pull on it tighter than before when you went back down on his penis, before releasing and then repeating. The punishing pace refused to cease in its torturous pleasure, regardless of the tears beginning to bud at his eyes and stick to his eyelashes. 

He moaned senselessly and you pulled again, until his head was back and he was looking at the ceiling, his entire lower body owned by you to enjoy. His hands were probably bruising your hips from how tight they were gripping them, but you didn't care, you didn't care at all. 

You leaned in and kissed his exposed throat, before nuzzling the junction beneath his jaw and then grazing your teeth against it. His hips seized, thrashing back and forth underneath your iron grip, before they finally stuttered to a halt. 

His member pulsed warningingly, and before you could come you pulled him out and sat back in his lap, his length resting against your stomach once more as it throbbed and twitched. 

"Just let yourself go," you cooed, releasing the belt and reaching down to stroke his penis, dragging your thumb down the underside of it. Your thighs came up to bracket it, squeezing it between them. 

Phillip whined, he whined , like a dog, before his hips jerked and his back arched and he came, semen spilling into your hand and splattering your thighs. 

His body shook, wobbly, as if he were liquid. He leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes, but before he did, he saw your gaze, predatory and intent on his boneless body, hungry as it was locked on to his expression. He saw your face, and he saw the way your hand dipped between your legs to stroke yourself, getting off to- perhaps his weakness? Or his submissiveness? 

Either way, it was to the picture of him beneath you.

Though it wasn't as if he could judge. After all, he'd had much the same fantasies of you being above him. 

… but really, the two of you needed to get cleaned up soon before this stuff got dry and crusty. 

Chapter Text

Deep into the night, he was snapped awake. The moonlight drifted in through the curtains on the window, but his attention was more on the entanglement of foreign legs and arms with his own. He shifted and sat up, looking down at where you were clinging to him. 

Philip didn't have the energy to be embarrassed about it. Instead, he sleepily blinked down at you, resting his hand on his cheek as he studied your sleeping form. 

He reached down and ever so gently grazed your cheek with his knuckles. Your elvish ears twitched in your sleep and your nose crinkled at the touch, but you leaned into it with a sigh of satisfaction. 

The image pierced his chest sharply, and he drew back quickly, leaning back against the headboard of the bed as he pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. 

How did it come to be like this? Sitting here, right by your side, pining so painfully but unable to let you go? A part of him regretted ever agreeing to have you tag along with him, but another part of him, a more selfish, possessive shadow of himself, delighted in it, in the casual contact, in the fleeting but tender moments, in the knowledge that he was the one monopolizing your time and nobody else. 

It was sickening. It was invigorating. 

He bit down on his knuckle and stared at the wall ahead of him. Could he go on like this? He was wandering the Isles with no plan in sight, going from town to town without even really paying much attention to the sights he was seeing. If anything, he was more focused on his time with you instead.

… he desired so many things. This emotion, this forbidden attraction, it was the first of it's kind that had blossomed within him. He'd never felt such a deep and magnetic pull towards any other person, but you, with your enigmatic personality and sharp mind, seemed to have dragged him in. 

He let out a huff of air. And look where he was now. Trapped in a situation of his own making. 

You shifted and stirred beside him, and Philip stilled when a hand reached up to wrap around his arm. You blearily blinked up at him in a slow, owlish manner that made him practically melt with fondness. 

"Philip?" You sleepily muttered, before pulling yourself up and rubbing your eyes. "'S the... middle of the night, what're you doing up?" 

"It's no matter," he muttered, and brushed you off. He looked away before you could see the desire within his eyes. "You should go back to sleep."

"You're acting a little strange, Philip," your voice started to gain clarity, and you leaned towards him, your chest barely pressing against his back. "Actually… you've been acting strange."

"I… don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Let's go to bed. It's too late to talk about this."

"You can't spare a bit of time for your favorite witch?" You muttered, and rested your chin on his shoulder. He shivered at the close contact. " I want to talk to you. I like hearing your voice."

"Well…"

"Can't you spare me some time?" You said. "I've been very patient on this trip, but now I cannot help but ask… what has been tearing at you so?" 

"It is nothing," he denied again. 

"Oh? Are you sure it's nothing?" You asked, and your tone turned amused. "I thought we already went over my intelligence, Philip. I noticed the way you act around me."

"I…"

"Those quick glances. The little touches. Your journal entries ," you cup his chin and turn him around to face your serious expression. "I know."

Philip's eyes widened, and he looked away ashamedly. "I'm- I apologize."

You laughed at that, sudden and abrupt, and then you squeezed his cheeks between your fingers. "Oh, Philip. I'm not mad at you. I'm going to admit, I thought it was very cute to see you all red faced and flustered all the time-" 

"You noticed ?" 

"Of course I noticed. Practically every time I'm a five foot distance from you you turn into a mess," you good naturedly pat his cheek. "It's very flattering, by the way."

He covered his face with his hands. "Oh." 

"And don't even get me started on how touchy you are," you mused. "Humans run cold? Seriously?" 

He peered up at you between his fingers, confused. "So you…"

"I knew."

"But… you did not…"

"I went along with it anyways, yes."

He stared at you, wide eyed. " Why ?" 

You gave him a confused look. "Why? Why else would you think?" When no recognition entered his eyes, you sighed. "Philip. Why do you think I've been flirting with you all this time?" 

"It's a part of your personality," he guessed. "Also I thought that that was just… the norm between friends."

"Philip," you repeated his name, a painful note in your voice. "I was flirting with you because I'm interested in you."

"... as in-" 

" Romantically ," you look like you were torn between laughing out loud and crying out in agony. "Yes. Exactly."

His world stopped for a second. Philip opened his mouth and floundered as his brain struggled to put your sentence together in contrast with his preconceived notions in his mind. 

But- you- he- what? He was so sure that you wouldn't have reciprocated. He was sure that you might've been a little appalled if he ever confessed to you, given how abhorrent his behaviour was towards you when you first met, and during the month following after. But instead, it was just him being in such denial that he didn't even consider the fact that you may have actually…

"Am I… goodness, am I really that stupid?" He put his hand on his forehead, and you let out a raucous round of laughter. "And I didn't even- oh, stop laughing! Stop it!"

"Y'know, I was planning on something a little more romantic when I thought of finally wooing you," you commented, and in the darkness it was hard to see, but it seemed like you maneuvered yourself so you were sitting in front of him. "But this is far more funny."

"For you, maybe," Philip rubbed his temples. "For how long did you…?" 

"Mmm, probably since before I left with you," you said, and he groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Maybe a few weeks before that."

"This this possibly the lowest point in my life," he muttered. "Right next to the fire bees."

You laughed and then, suddenly, you were holding his face between your hands. He blinked up at you, and then his face heated when he realized what this meant under the newfound context. 

"At least I can hold you like this and it'll mean something much more now," you smirked and leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. "Honestly, with all the hints I was throwing your way… are you just that dense?" 

"Maybe," he breathed out, eyes trained on your mouth. "But, now that I can ask… I'd like to kiss you, if you would."

"Oh, my muse," you traced his cheekbone with your thumb. "I've been waiting to hear that for a long time."

Philip was thrown into motion. In a swift action that was faster than any half-asleep person should ever do, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled himself into your lap. Your hands settled on his hips, and his heart rate picked up as he gazed into your eyes, an uncontrollable smile working it's way up his face. 

He didn't know how to process the reciprocation. He didn't even know how to address the new, uncharted land between the two of you. 

All he did know was that he'd rather like to have your tongue in his mouth, pretty please. 

He raised one hand to cup your cheek, and then he closed his eyes and leaned in. He fumbled, pressed a few sloppy kisses on your jaw and cheek, before finally finding your mouth. 

Perfection . He closed his eyes in sheer euphoric delight, his lips sliding into place against your own. His hand trailed from your cheek to one of your ears, and a long time curiosity of his spurred him into stroking the end of it. 

You let out a low, needy sound against his mouth and something within him ignited. He grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer to him, parting his lips as he gasped into your mouth. It felt as though he was breathing in your essence, becoming one whole being with you, like two puzzle pieces finally connecting. 

Your hand slid under the back of his shirt and magic sparked underneath your fingers and sent tingles up his spine. He cried out when you slid your tongue into his mouth, desperate for more, desperate for anything . 

You parted from him, lips smacking in a lewd way that made liquid fire swirl in his belly, and you panted audibly. 

"Philip-" you tried to say, but he kept on trying to kiss you, pulling you close and pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, and then your actual mouth, and you had to push him away, a soft laugh escaping your lips. " Philip. Calm down."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, and you just laughed harder, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

"Who knew such a prideful human would be this needy?" You tilted your head and ran your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. A hand trailed down his front and strayed at the waistband of his pants, and he stilled. "Of course… Even prideful humans run terribly cold during the night. Isn't that what you told me?" 

Philip looked down at where your attention was, and heat flushed down to his neck when he realised that he was positively throbbing beneath his pants, pressed against the crook of your hip in such a way that sent shivers of pleasure into his groin. 

"You…" he muttered your name, and you pressed your lips against his neck, not minding his scraggly beard. " God , please…"

"Do you want me to warm you up?" You breathed, and he shivered when you gripped his hips tightly. "Do you want me to touch you?" 

" Please, " he pleaded, and you let out a chuckle. 

With a swirl of magic, his wrists were suddenly bound above his head and he was pushed into the bed. He stared up at you, wide eyed at the wild look in your eye as you crouched above him. 

"I quite like it when you beg," you slid your hands up against his hips, and then underneath him where you touched his buttocks. He twisted underneath your teasing hands, a strained sound leaving his mouth. "Can you do that again, my dear?" 

Philip's eyes glazed over. "Touch me- please, just- give me your hands, I beg of you." 

A smile twisted itself across your lips, and you swooped down to capture his own. He moaned when you gripped him through his pants, legs spreading around your own as your hand dipped underneath his pants and began to pull them off. 

You sat back to catch your breath, examining his cock as if you were admiring a piece of art. He shifted uncomfortably underneath your hungry stare, his wrists straining against the magical binds keeping them in place. 

"Are you going to- oh Hell !" He exclaimed in surprise when you grabbed him around his base, thumb caressing his underside and stroking along the veins. 

Philip's hips canted into your grip, and you held them down with your other hand as you slowly, tortuously, stroked him from his base to his head. Pearly liquid drooled from the slit, and you squished it with your thumb and spread it across his length with your next stroke downwards. 

"Would that I had oil on hand," you complained, examining him with a starved fervor. 

You leaned in and gave an open mouthed kiss to his neck, taking the skin in between your teeth and leaving a stinging, sharp nip. He keened when your pace picked up, squeezing his cock within your hand with every twist downwards. 

Philip thrashed underneath you, his inexperienced body alight with pleasure. He tilted his head to the side, lost in the sensation of your breath tickling his neck. Unbidden, a smile rose on his face. Perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of the situation, or the way you lovingly touched him, or even the fact that he was here with you . Regardless of the giddy glee that threatened to take him over, he was just so, sickeningly happy to just be with you that, for a moment, he began to think with his heart instead of his head. 

"Hnng, please- oh, your touch, you're so good, so sweet, you-" he arched his back when you gave him another bite. "Yessss, just like that, you're doing so well, please-"

"Philip," you let out a breathy laugh against his neck, and he whined when your pace slowed down. "You should save your breath before you run out of it."

He didn't listen, his mind overcome with dizzying lust. "You feel so good, you're perfect, absolutely p-perfect," he moaned out and his eyes slid shut. He was probably making a fool of himself, but he didn't care. Something in his brain told him to lavish you with praises, to compliment you as you deserved, to give you every thought he's ever had of you.

"I'm serious," you said, but your voice was filled with a gentle sort of humor as you kissed him, silencing him with your lips. 

He moaned into your mouth when your pace became dangerously fast, his cock pulsating in your grip as something within him tightened , and his breath began coming out harshly. 

"Are you going to come for me?" You muttered against his lips, and Philip cried out into your mouth at the heady tone in your voice. "I wonder if your face would look the same as it does in my dreams. Come for me, my dear muse."

Philip writhed, his toes curling into the sheets as he arched up into your grip. He opened his eyes and almost sobbed when his arousal reached a sudden peak and he saw stars . 

You continued to stroke him through his orgasm, your eyes zeroed in on his expression with a lidded gaze. He sleepily moaned, body falling limp into the bed and the magic around his wrists dissipating into the aether. 

"I was right," you finally said after a moment of quiet. "You are beautiful when you release."

Philip took one look at your enthralled face and immediately looked away, a helpless smile teasing on his lips. "You treated me so well. I'd like to…" he reached out, and you took his wrist and shook your head. 

"I'll be fine, my dear," you said, and kissed him for just a moment. 

He sighed into the kiss, a quiet whine escaping his mouth when you separated from him. Sweat slicked his heated body, and he could feel the sting of the bites on his neck start to intensify once the haze of pleasure began to leave him. 

"But you must be left wanting," he said when the two of you parted. 

"The only thing I want to do is admire you," you said. With a flick of a hand an orb of light hovered between the two of you, illuminating your features. "If I could, I'd keep looking at you all night."

Philip became a little breathless when you lifted up one of his arms and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. His hand turned to cup your cheek, but you began to trail kisses down the length of his arm and then to his shoulder, making his stomach jump in flustered surprise. 

You pressed your lips against the shell of his ear and tugged at his shirt and he complied, lifting his arms over his head as you pulled the last remnants of his clothes off of him. 

With one hand trailing down his front, you leaned back to give him a look, examining him up and down. You stared at his flushed face, at his limp cock, at the pearlescent liquid dripping off his lean stomach, at the red marks on his neck, and smiled. 

"If you'd allow me, I'd like to immortalize this image of you forever," you said, and his eyes flickered over to where your bag lay discarded on the ground, your art supplies within. 

"You don't mean…" he began, and you grinned. He looked away, more than a little bashful. "Well, if- if you so insist. I don't see the appeal."

"My book is practically dedicated to you at this point," you shrugged, and leaned off the bed to grab your satchel. "What's one more image of someone I love?" 

Philip's attention turned to the orb of light bobbing in the air beside the two of you. His hand reached out and touched the bottom of it, watching the way it danced away from his touch. 

"Someone you…" he trailed off, a little disbelievingly, and you turned your sharp gaze onto him whilst you began to pull your things out of your satchel. 

Your eyes softened. "Oh, Philip," you cooed, and cupped his cheek. "Is it still so hard to accept? I love you."

He felt as though his heart had burst at that moment. He'd waited to hear those words for so long, and he was so convinced that his errors in his past with you would make that impossible. Philip wasn't one to get teary eyed or sappy (as much as you loved to mention the time the two of you found out he was sad when he got drunk), but his breath hitched in his throat, clogging it with an indescribable emotion. 

You sighed and pushed his hair back behind his ear. "Do you really have to look so disbelieving?" 

"I- I'm sorry," he was unused to apologizing, but here he felt like falling over himself with them. "I just- it feels a bit like a dream, don't you agree?" 

"A little," you leaned away, opening up your leather bound sketchbook in your lap and examining him intently under the light of the magic. "But it's the truth. Verily and all that."

"That's not how you use that word-" he shook his head and leaned back on his elbows as you began to scribble on your parchment. "Never mind that. I just hope I don't look like a mess."

"You're a hot mess," you sent him a wink and he gave you a flat stare in return. 

"I don't know what that means."

The night progressed slowly, only interspersed with the sound of your charcoal against your paper, and the quiet chatter between the two of you. He found himself lost in the familiarity of it all, comforted by your presence by his side. 

As he leaned back in the pillows, gaze drifting once again to the innocuous little light that illuminated the two of you, he called out your name. 

You looked up from your craft, brows raised and face having been smudged with charcoal sometime ago. "Hm?" 

Philip's eyes flickered to your own, and he delighted in the flustered expression that crossed your face when he said, "I love you, too."