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Agatha is gently brought back to her body—as hands roam aimlessly along her, and a calming warmth presses against her side.
Letting her head fall towards the warmth, Agatha presses her lips to the forehead she finds resting on her shoulder, smelling a comfortable, familiar, cloying scent. The head hums at the touch, the hand on her stomach moving up to her breasts, gently massaging them as Agatha's body grows heavier and relaxes once more into sleep.
The body started shifting against her, pushing further, a leg coming between hers—but not where she wants it—needs it—before unintelligible words tear her from this soft dream state as reality crashes over her.
Her body frozen as Evanora continues to grope at her, unaware of the change in Agatha. Every vein in her body turning to ice as fear paralyses her—trapping her in this bed.
Evanora's murmurings turn into kisses pressed along her shoulder; each touch of her lips blistering Agatha's skin. Stopping to suck the tender spot at the junction of her neck; scraping teeth igniting sparks that travel down to where the leg was rubbing against her clit.
Agatha's pleasure kept building against her wishes—cold tears were running across her face as her stomach turned in knots. The sounds Evanora was making were getting louder; words becoming more apparent between her soft moans.
'—miss you.'
Agatha chews at the scars on her cheeks, distracting her from the pain of hearing words that she knew could not be for her. A shameful, wanton noise escapes her anyway—a noise she cannot say is a sob or a moan—at the thought they might be, that she could be wanted enough to be missed; the coil in her stomach tightens further.
'M-mother—' Agatha attempts to rouse her before they pass a precipice, but only a hoarse whisper left her mouth as her throat swallows the sounds.
And, as if she could sense Agatha's need, Evanora uttered a phrase that would never be for her—but one she had spent endless nights wishing she could hear in her mother's voice.
'Good girl.'
Evanora's hips were now rutting against Agatha in a purposeful rhythm; the thigh between her legs covered in the slick of Agatha's repugnant desire.
The hand on Agatha's chest groped blindly at her sore breasts as the gentle words pierce her body. Tears and hair sticking to her face as Evanora continues to take as she pleases.
Evanora's words become more infrequent as she nears her peak, taken over by soft grunts and hot breath that passes over Agatha's skin like needle pricks. Each one drawing Agatha distressingly closer to her own end before Evanora's hips are stuttering against her, as her whole body tightens around Agatha—intertwined in a way they haven't been since birth—before words Agatha has craved hearing her entire life leave her lips.
Leaving Agatha with the aching knowledge that they would never be hers as Evanora's heavy body falls back into its lovely oblivion of sleep. The words echo around her head as the dawn chorus begins and all she is left with is a treacherous throb between her legs.
'I love you.'