Morrigan stood impatiently by the glass doors that opened out from the back of her estate into her garden. The sun would be rising soon and her lover should have long ago returned from her hunt. The white-haired woman remembered many nights just like this one many years ago when she stood waiting for the same thing in the same place for the same reason. Several decades ago, she would find herself standing outside those very doors at every turn of the moon. But during all those full moons her lover had returned eagerly to her arms, even before her transformation was through.
She would come with game in her jaws and would present it to her proudly, always eager to show off her skills. They would watch the sunrise together until it was too unbearable for Mo's sensitive eyes to handle. And after the full moon had worn off, Mag would shrug off her werewolf form and they would head into the safety of the dark mansion. Depending on the two women's patience, they would either bathe off the blood, moss and dirt from Magdalena's dark skin and out of her wild curls. Or else they would head straight to bed and spend the entirety of the daylight hours in each others embrace. They would make love until both were spent and then they would sleep until the sun had once again set below the horizon, allowing for Morrigan to safely wander the world.
The vampire supposed it was too much to ask for the werewolf to be eager to return to her. After so long apart with so many bitter feelings toward her, it was a miracle Magdalena had come to her home at all. While they did spend many hours together, it was obvious the honeymoon stage was over. Her lover was not so affectionate or needy anymore. In her time alone she had become very independant and negative. She was wiser in the way of the world and there was much less wonder in her eyes. That imaginative and free spirited naive young woman had been replaced by someone who had seen more than it seemed she had wanted to see. She had been tortured by all kinds and been shunted by her own kind. She had experienced more anger than any one person should be allowed to bear and she had failed to satiate that anger for many years. She'd starved nearly to death, been hunted, and traveled the world in search of her own game. But no matter how different the woman acted, Mo could not shake her feelings for her.
Perhaps she was clinging to some false idea that it could be as wonderful as it used to be almost a century ago. They were happy together once and Mo wished more than anything that the world could return to that innocent time. It was unfair to ask it of Mag, she mused. It was unfair to wish her to remain blissfully ignorant just so that she could have some peace of mind. That time was long gone and it would never be the same again. All Mo could ask now was that Mag would not decide once again to take her anger out on her.
A shadow slipped around the trees, catching Mo's attention and pulling her from her thoughts. As she observed the shape, it became obvious who it was. She smiled with relief and watched the battered, dirty and naked woman emerge from the treeline and into the borders of the garden. The moon had released its grip on her already and the sun was coming perilously close to being fully risen. Morrigan tentatively shuffled further into the shade of her home, wishing her lover would hurry to her.
But she walked at her own pace, seeming not to even notice the fact that someone was waiting for her. She rolled her shoulders, and rubbed the sore muscles of her arms. Mo could see her how her body moved, tired and aching from her night in the woods. It was doubtful she would be willing to continue their tradition of spending the day together as they once did. This was only their first full moon together after a thousand alone. Mo would be patient with her and just let it happen when the right time came.
It surprised her when Mag looked up from her body up to the crystal doors and the expression on her face wasn't that usual annoyed sneer. Mag seemed as surprised as she was that Mo was standing there waiting. Her pace slowed and her eyes glanced to the sun, silently asking her question. Yes, it was hurting her, but she would wait an entire day out in the light if she knew Mag would be coming to her. Mo smiled sheepishly and took a few steps further from the door and into the shade behind the doors, to which she was granted another surprising reaction. Mag hurried herself! She jogged down the garden path and up the stairs, her long legs taking her a long distance with each step. And when she reached the double crystal doors, she shut them tight, darkening the room and bringing Mo a great feeling of relief.
"The hell are you doing?" the dark-haired woman snapped, making sure the curtains on the doors were closed tightly, protecting the vampire from daylight. "Don't you have anything better to do than to stand there like an idiot?" the berating continued.
With any other person, Morrigan would never have tolerated such impudence. Whatever poor soul dared speak down to her with such disrespect would have had their throat slit in moments. But under Magdalena's gaze, Mo found herself cowering, staring guiltily down the slim and muscled brown legs before her at the bare brown feet. Mo feared no one, not even this tall and dangerous werewolf. They had battled many times in the past and Mo knew she could take her in a fair fight. What she did fear was that scorn. Ever since her return, Mag had been fiery in temper and easy to anger. So far she had not done anything that would cause her to leave once more, but she felt as if she was walking on coals trying to please this woman. It was unhealthy, she knew, but she needed this woman like an addict needed their own personal vices.
After a very strained moment of silence where Mag received no answer, she seemed to soften. Mo looked up when she heard a resigned sigh escape the naked woman's lips. Without warning, those lips were at her own and she felt a very soft kiss grace her mouth. "I'm sorry," came the hoarse apology. Morrigan did not think Magdalena was even capable of feeling guilt anymore. She seemed so sure of herself and even arrogant at times. But there it was, a word that made her feel less at fault than she had felt in almost a century. "I'd forgotten what it was like back then. Just didn't think anyone was waiting for me anymore." Another soft kiss and Morrigan felt like she would melt. Brown fingers caressed her pale face and neck and hands cupped either cheek, almost holding her up to the loving kiss.
Tentatively, Morrigan brought her hands to gently touch on the other woman's bare stomach. She felt smooth skin and taut muscle. This woman was a runner and a fighter and it showed. When there was no resistance, her hands moved more boldly along her naked sides, curving along with the woman's delicious shape. As her hands moved upwards. she could feel her lover's hands move down. Almost simultaneously, they touched on each other breasts. Magdalena's were small, but they were firm, perky and sensitive. Morrigan traced the tips her fingers along the hard brown nipples lovingly, enticing a moan from the lips attached to her own. Likewise, impossibly warm hands gripped her larger breasts through the fabric of her blouse and undergarments. Even through two layers of clothing, she could feel her heat and she wished for nothing more than to feel it directly on her skin. Luckily, Magdalena seemed to have that very same desire.
The werewolf made a little distance between them to watch her own fingers deftly unbutton Morrigan's shirt. In seconds, her cleavage was clearly visible, skin pale against her black bra. Unfortunately, this moment could not continue. As desperate for that touch as both of them were, they were still in the middle of a hallway. Servants would be passing through any second to make sure the house was secure for the day and Morrigan did not think she had the constitution to be caught in public just yet. She knew for certain that Magdalena had never been the exhibitionist type. Pale hands pulled brown ones away from her chest, holding them to either side of her body gently. She received a questioning and annoyed look from the taller woman and she answered by leaning bodily against her and standing on tip toe to be able to whisper in her ear.
"I would prefer somewhere more private, my love," her voice was low and sensual and it pleased her to feel the body against her own shiver. "How about we retreat to the bath? God knows we both deserve to just relax and soak." Morrigan knew by then that she had to be careful with her words around this one' as with everything. She had a silver tongue but many times now Magdalena could recognize and didn't appreciate being manipulated. And yet, she could not simply insult the woman to her face and tell her she reeked from her night in the woods. So a sincere suggestion that included the both of them and did not sound like a command seemed just the right thing to say. Still manipulative, but less obvious, she reasoned.
Relief filled her when the words were agreed to positively and she felt Magdalena nod, their cheeks rubbing against one another. Deep red lips spread into a smile and she stepped back to take her lover's hand. It was a lack of foresight that she did not bring anything for Mag to cover herself in, but she didn't seem to think anything of it. Morrigan knew that she definitely didn't mind. Delicately, the pale woman led the dark one through the house, passing only a few respectful maids on their way up the stairs and toward the mansion's master bedroom.
Only after the door was closed and locked behind them did Morrigan release Magdalena's hand. Without a word. she crossed the room toward the attached bathroom, disappearing within to run the bath. The porcelain bathroom was shining white and always meticulously clean. In all of Mo's long, long life, only Mag had been able to get away with making a mess. And sure enough, this woman was getting away with murder with the way her dirty feel padded along the floor, smearing her accumulated filth along the carpet and tile. The woman followed her into the bathroom, looking on in silent awe at the changes that had been made. The last time she had seen the bathroom, plumbing was a new concept and it had not been completely installed within quite yet. Now the room looked just as modern as any other. Except for the layout, Mag did not seem to recognize the room.
