Brightwing Herbalchemy

For Morgana, it was the silken glide of naked flesh. It was the heat and the sweat and the cries of lovers lost in each other's bodies. It was lust and heat and soft tenderness.

Sex was Morgana's magic; and she drank from that power eagerly.

Suddenly, I felt her body stiffen. Her eyes flew open, and she shoved me away. I stumbled back, my spine crashing against the dividing counter.

"Stop!" Morgana said. "I--" Her breath was ragged, her naked chest heaving and flushed red. "I'm not ready. Arthus, I'm not ready!"

"What?" I said, blinking furiously, trying to think through the blood that was roaring in my ears. "Morgana, what the--"

"I'm not ready!" She repeated. "You can't kiss me like that when I'm not ready."

"I...what?"

My wife let out a long breath, the edges still frayed. "Its not fair."

I coughed, something like a laugh escaping me. "I'm sorry?"

"Thank you," Morgana said. "You could have ruined the potion. Saying your words and kissing me like that."

"Saying my words?"

"Shut up!"

She stomped over beside me, grabbing the sac of feathers and the sap and shoved those into my chest. Then, she grabbed my shoulder and pushed me downward. I didn't resist, taking the chance to surreptitiously adjust the bulge between my legs.

I was on my knees now, my face level with the lush folds of Morgana's sex. And just like that, my heart, which had been starting to calm, thundered once more.

I could see all of her. From the barely tamed thicket of soft pubic hair, to the silken edges of her already moisture-laden folds.

A groan escaped me. I could smell her, the heady scent of her ready wetness. My tongue felt dry in my mouth. It was heavy, yearning to part the tight slit of pale flesh before me drink from the pink sweetness within.

"Don't even think about it," Morgana said.

Her fingers gripped my chin, pulling my gaze up to hers. Through the peaks of her naked breasts, I could see that my wife's breathing had quickened once again. Her eyes locked on mine, bright beneath hooded lids.

"Feathers first," she said. "Hurry."

I forced air from between my lips, shaking myself to try and get my mind spinning in the direction it was supposed to.

"What am I doing exactly?"

"You're making me into a bird."

I frowned. "What?"

Morgana let out an impatient breath. "Arthus, come on. We're making a levitation potion. Levitation is basically flight. And what do we know that flies?"

"I get it."

"Birds!" She finished. "Birds fly. So, make me into a bird."

"By sticking feathers on you?" I guessed, my thoughts finally starting to judder forward.

"Obviously! Now come on. Hurry up." She let go of my gaze, her fingers tapping at a thick line of ink curling over her navel. "Here first."

I dipped the end of the first feather into the jar of sap; the strong, balsam fragrance mixing with the scent of Morgana's ready arousal. I pressed it onto her flesh, holding it there a moment before reaching for the next one. I worked quickly, following Morgana's guidance, sticking feather after feather onto her body's black whorls.

"Did you have to get a crow?" She said.

"I have sparrow feathers too, but there aren't as many."

"Use those first."

Sex was Morgana's magic. There was so much energy within it, she told me; released into the world by frenzied kisses and pounding bodies. She took that energy into herself, cycling it through her body; purifying and the shaping the raw magic.

Her tattoos helped. They were like channels. They guided the magic through her, easing the work of harnessing its potency and power. But more than that, Morgana's tattoos were there to draw more power into her.

Down from her lower lip they tumbled, swirling through every curve and divot of her body. The ink ringed her nipples, curling down her stomach to the flare of her hips and back to coil around the firm, smoothness of her ass. Her tattoos ran down to her hands, looped up from her feet.

They wound around every part of her body. On each place that might draw a lover's hand, or mouth or tongue. There to pull as much energy from the sensuous feeling as they could.

And nowhere were there more swirling, roiling lines of ink than around her luscious center.

She looked like a half-plucked harpy when I'd finished; naked breasts protruding over dozens of colored feathers stuck to her. I'd put some on her legs, stomach and shoulders. I'd worked along her back too, giving her feathered wings that stretched from her spine along the back of her arms.

"Looks good," she said, examining herself critically. "Now, take off your clothes."

I grinned, heart starting to drum. I freed my still aching erection. Morgana had stepped back into the nest she'd made; my manhood growing even harder beneath the heat in her slitted gaze.

"Wait," she said, nearly a gasp, when I moved to join her. "Not yet. Stay there."

"Love..." I said, my heart, a hammer on burning iron.

"I know," she said. "I know, I know."

She wedged her bottom lip between her teeth, bouncing up and down with supressed energy. Her tits jiggled and swayed, loosening the thoughts from my head.

"You...stay there," she said. "I think."

She made another impatient sound, letting out a quick breath.

"Yes. Stay there. Ok, so I'm a bird. A chick." She was speaking quickly, shifting her feathered body downward. "I'm in my nest. There's no one with me. I see the edge, the open wind beneath."

She leaned forward. "I want to feel its embrace, to spread my wings and let it take me." Morgana spread her arms wide. "I long for it. And so, I leap--"

Without warning, my wife suddenly jumped towards me. She soared through the space between us, her arms spread wide. I cursed, lunging to meet her, almost knocked off my feet as I caught her.

Her limbs wrapped around me, gripping me tight. She grinned; face flushed.

"And the air catches me before I fall."

Then, she pressed her smile onto my lips. I laughed into her; our kiss clumsy. I shifted my grip on her, my hands cupping the firm curve of her ass and lifting her. She laughed, breaking our kiss. She looked down into me, her arms looped around my neck.

"Don't let me fall," she told me. Her eyes were wide, and ever so bright. "You're the air."

"What if I hadn't caught you?"

She didn't answer, merely shaking her head bringing her lips back to mine. She opened herself to me, her tongue curling around mine. I tasted her; the warm, peach-sweet flavor of her lips and mouth. And as we fell deeper into each other, my body became light. I was starting to rise from myself; pulled upward by the beat of my heart and the roaring of my blood.

She made a small sound in her throat, her arms tightening around my neck. I shifted my own grip, pulling her hard against me. I could feel the press of her breasts against my naked chest, the flex of her thighs and the sticky roughness of the feathers.

Suddenly, I stiffened. I felt Morgana's lips curl into upward against mine. She'd reached a hand down beneath herself, her palm closing around my aching manhood.

She purred into my throat, her entire body thrumming. She started to work her wrist, stroking me with long, languid motions. I groaned, the soft heat from her hand warming me from root to tip.

Her lips slipped from mine, her breath swirling against me as she sighed, "finally."

I shifted her body, my arms sliding back along the outside edge of her naked hips. Feathers spun away, ripped away by the glide of our bodies. But they didn't matter. Not now that the magic had begun.

"Tell me," she murmured, her hand faster now as it ran up and down my cock. "Tell me again; am I your moon?"

I breathed her in; her warmth and life and song. Her raven hair tickled my neck and shoulders. Morgana had let herself slip even lower; her wet, silken center was just above the tip of me. She guided me with her hand, stirring the surface of her ready sex with my twitching head.

"No." My voice was strained, caught by the feel of her. My muscles were starting to ache, but the feeling was distant, fading beneath me. "You're too bright."

She sighed, letting herself slip downwards. That exhalation became a low-moan as I plunged into her.

I let out my own moan. She was so warm; so wet and so tight. She took the whole of me; enveloping me in her lush, dew-soaked ripeness. Her lips found mine, our teeth clicking together in our haste to be fully wrapped in the other.

I started to move my arms, sliding her body up and down. My cock stayed within the depths of her; feeling the slide of her silken slopes and ridges with my entire length.

Her kiss became hungrier. Her arms tightened around my neck, flexing as she helped me shift herself up and town. We found a slow rhythm, the soft curls of her pubic hair grinding against my own.

In my head, my heart and blood pounded louder and louder. I was lifting wholly out of my self, borne away in those great, sweeping wingbeats. There was only Morgana; the soft curves and ready wetness of her body. There was the peach sweet taste of her breath, the wafting scent of her sweat and sex carrying me higher and higher.

There was only her, and raptor's scream of my own hunger.

I suddenly wrenched her upward; looping one arm and then the other within the crook of her knees. Her moisture-slickened pussy left a glittering trail up the length of my cock, her folds now only gripping the tip of me.

A little gasp popped her lips from mine. "Arthus, wha--"

Her legs hung free from my waist now. I slapped my hands back to the fleshy firmness of her ass. My fingers closed around great handfuls of her, spreading her wide as her body settled fully into my arms.

I thrust back into her, pulling her body back to me. She mewled, her fingers raking my shoulders as my cock plunged into her. I felt myself skip off her soft, wetness-soaked ridges, pushing deep into her silken center.

"My Arthus," she panted, gazing at me through pleasure hooded eyes. "Make me fly."

Morgana was much easier to move now, her body swinging pendulum-like from the loop of her arms around my neck. I thrust my hips into her when I pulled her to me, our bodies meeting with a wet, rhythmic slap.

Morgana's breath was hot, as our bodies met again and again. Her heavy, inked breasts bounced, her stiffened nipples tickling my skin. I kept my motions short, slamming her into me faster and faster. Her tits leaped and jiggled; her creamy, lust-red flesh quivering erratically.

Morgana let out a breathy little moan every time I thrust into her; the sound quickly becoming a short series of panting gasps. The flesh between us was slick; my navel and hers coated in sweat and moisture.

"Faster," she begged. "Faster."

I obeyed, hammering my cock into her again and again, our bodies like thunder. All I could hear was the beating of the wings, the throaty, desperate moans of my wife and the crashing movement of our bodies.

Despite my frantic pace, I still felt every silken fold and ridge of her. My cock speared her again and again; careening off the hot, ribbed walls of her center. Her pussy was so tight, seeming to ripple and pulsate around my twitching manhood. I felt the pressure in me build, her body working to milk every drop from me.

"Don't--" She panted, driving her hips into mine. "Don't st--"

Suddenly, her insides convulsed. She arched her body, throwing her head back into a silent scream. The orgasm ripped through her; her nails tearing at my back and shoulders before her body locked into a tight clench. She was burning, a flood of her wetness further soaking the flesh between us.

I didn't stop, pounding into her, impaling her frozen body again and again and again. Morgana went limp in my grip; gasping and trembling and mewling. Her arms slipped from my neck, locks of her hair sticking to her sweat-soaked flesh.

I slammed into her. She swayed into me, her head falling into the crook of my neck, her tits slick against my chest. The wings were beating madly in my head, the last furious climb before the long, screaming dive.

I was so close. I crashed into her, again and again. My eyes fluttered, seeing only the height that I'd come. Again, and again; reaching for the final peak. One, two, three more times and I was there. The wingbeats still, folding themselves tight, a heartbeat of perfect silence.

Then, a raptor's scream tore through me as I dove back down through myself. The building pressure was suddenly unbearable. My limbs locked tight, clamping Morgana's tattooed body to mine. My cock twitched and bucked, spraying the inside of her.

I was cutting wings and rending talons. The raptor's plunge wracked my body; drawn out into and smothered within the hot, silken dampness of the witch. Her gasping breath was loud in my ears, her arms rising, scrabbling at my sweat-soaked shoulders. She ground her navel against me, up and down, milking everything from me.

I emptied myself completely; blinking into the light-headed daze that followed.

"My Arthus," she purred, breathless. "You brought me to the clouds."

A weak laugh bubbled out of me; my muscles suddenly water. I swayed forward. Morgana's slickened body slipping from my weakened, trembling grip.

"No!" Morgana said, sliding down me. "No, no, Arthus!"

Her arms were wrapped tight around my neck, the only thing holding her to me. I took swerving step forward, almost collapsing.

"The magic!" She said, her naked legs slipped along my waist, flexing, trying to find purchase. "Don't let me fall!"

I groaned. My cock was still trapped within her, her sliding body bending it downward. I pawed at her with puppy weak hands; finally, just throwing my shoulders backwards in a bid to pull her upwards.

She was alarmingly low, about to slide right off my manhood when her legs finally locked around me. Her stomach slammed back into mine and the weight against my neck eased. I just about moaned in relief.

"Hold still," she said, her skin flushed, voice strained. "Stay inside me."

"Morgana," I panted. "I can't."

"Just hold still."

I gritted my teeth, my whole-body quaking. Saints and winged-martyr I was weak. My body was drained. Morgana shifted, shimmying herself up to a more comfortable position.

"There," she said. "Almost done. We just need to collect what drips out of me; before it touches the ground. Thats important, love. Only air."

"Ok," I said. "How?"

"We just need an empty cup, or something." She was looking past my shoulder. "Fuck. Do you see anything close?"

"Morgana, I--"

"--recommend mixing the magic directly into the potion," a voice said. "That will minimize any loss of potency."

"Shaggy!" My wife said, "I didn't see you come in!"

"Indeed not, Miss Morgana," her familiar said. "I didn't want to interrupt your...working."

Morgana laughed. She shifted against me; her voice excited. "Can you feel the power in me now, Shaggy? My channels are filled, and I'm tingling with it. Its like--"

"Love," I groaned.

"Sorry, sorry," she said. "Its important. I just want to tell him that--"

"Morgana! I'm about to fall!"

"Be silent, cur!" Shaggy barked. "Miss Morgana, do you see how--"

"Drown in fucking piss, Shags," I interrupted for the third time. "What do I do!?"

"Ok," Morgana said. "Just get me to my cauldron, Arthus. We can't spill a drop."

I choked back a whimper; that fucking rabbit going on another tirade. I caught a glimpse of him as I swung my body around, perched on a high, cushioned stool by the cauldron's edge.

"Don't touch anything," Morgana said, as I took my first, tottering step. "You're the air, love. Only air!"

What the fuck did that even mean? I moaned to myself, taking another wobbling step. I managed to get us around the first counter, swaying through the narrow, chaotic maze of pots and tables.

We three paces away. Morgana was bouncing up and down against me, a stream of encouragement pouring out from her.

A thought flashed through my head.

What would my brothers and sisters think of me, seeing me like this? What would they say to me, before burying their spears in my gut?

We made it to the cauldron. I stood over it, my breath hissing from between clenched teeth. Morgana was still wrapped around me; the curving, inked flesh of her ass dangling over the simmering pot.

"Perfect," she said, giving me a quick kiss. "Don't move."

"Now what?"

She pushed off of me with her legs, just far enough for my member to slip out of her. Liquid gushed from her, fat globs of it plopping into the simmering mixture. Immediately, it started to bubble. The color of it brightened dramatically.

"Your juices and mine," she said.

She clenched and unclenched her body, pushing out all that she could of me. "Wrapped only in air." She grinned. "We're potent together, my husband."

"I'm going to fall," I croaked.

"Almost done!"

I collapsed into a nearby chair a handful of heartbeats later. I finally let my exhaustion roll over, leaning back, my chest heaving. I was empty; having given part of myself to fuel Morgana's spell.

Through the slits of my closing eyes, I saw my wife, still naked, adding the final few ingredients to her potion. She chattered with Shags, stirring the pot with quick flicks of her ladle. I shut my eyes a few moments later, when Morgana started to sing.

I don't know how long it was before I woke. When I finally cracked my eyes open however, the sun was low in the sky. Morgana stood above me; wearing nothing but a grin, a few stray feathers, and her bright blue apron.

"We got it," she said, waving a little bottle of cloudy liquid in her fingers. "I was able to make near a dozen! Our client is due soon with our gold."

I shifted, still naked. My body was stiff, neck aching from sleeping on the hard chair. "We'd better get dressed, then."

"Right," Morgana said.

She lowered herself onto my lap, her bare skin warm. She let out a contended sigh, her head finding its place within the crook of my neck. I wrapped my arms around her.

Maybe we could wait another minute.

......

The oily little prick did indeed show up not long after with his gold. He took the potion with hardly a word of thanks. He hurried away, clutching it tightly.

Morgana and I spent the rest of the evening quietly. Her and Shags spoke about those new mushrooms she'd found, while we started cleaning up what needed cleaning. We brought the plants back inside as the sun set, and I took the time to check on An, Twegen, Phri and Foewer; turning in for an early night.

And though we may have been finished with this day, it wasn't quite ready to let us go.

A scream of pure, unfiltered terror woke us. Another followed a breath later; and within moments, half the town was spilling out onto the streets.

Most looked as confused as we were; the light of hastily lit lanterns revealing even hastier thrown on clothes. We milled about, confused, and I wondered at the gentleness of this place that I'd been the only one to emerge armed.

A third scream caught us, pulling the mass of us towards the center of town. The houses became larger, the streets cleaner as we moved deeper. Finally, we spilled into an already occupied central square. We were before a grand old house, the entrance marked by a fountain decorated with the carved statue of some long-dead lady.

"Is the Count back from La Seine?" I heard someone ask.

"I saw him return this afternoon," another said. "His daughter was with him."

"Help!" The voice, a man's, screamed. "Don't just stand there, you fools! Help me!"

My heart sank. Of course, it was him.

There, on the roof of this lord's house, was the man who'd bought our potion. He was illuminated by the light of the moon, shrieking loudly. His arms were wrapped around a thin chimney; his body arching in the air. His feet above his head, trying to pull him up into the dark sky.