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There wasn’t much of a need for it anymore but Vaggie still regularly trained. The feeling of working out and being in a gym was something she genuinely enjoyed — something she could reclaim and didn’t have to define her anymore. She could redirect her anger from dealing with a full hotel and frustration from… everything else, on both the inside and outside. Besides, with the hotel having such a nice, extensive gym after the remodel, she’d be a fool to not use it. She had decided to take the elevator up to the penthouse rather than the stairs, her deadlifts had done a number on her lower body today. Plus, if she’d taken the stairs, that was time she didn’t really have despite getting up early to work out. It cut just enough time out of her morning routine that Vaggie had to slightly rush, unfortunately.
Fortunately, Charlie was already out of the shower. The sight of her tucking her dress shirt into her pants and fastening her belt was the first thing Vaggie saw once the elevator doors opened, and it made her smirk a little.
“Very good morning,” she jokes.
“Hey!” is the beaming reply. “What did we do today?”
“You would never be able to deadlift with me,” Vaggie chuckles as she kicks her shoes off. “Remember that time you fell on your face when we did the 5K?”
Charlie pouts. “Running with hooves is a bitch!”
“Babe, you were out of breath. Before the first mile.”
“Okay — well, I never have to run anywhere. I have you to fly me out of there.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Vaggie slides her hoodie off next, and shakes her whole body a bit, like she can be rid of the soreness that easily. “I did deadlifts and a run. Nothing crazy. We have a packed day, and I don’t wanna be exhausted by noon.”
She pauses in her stride to the bathroom, stopping to meet her girlfriend’s eyes, absolutely boring into her body the second she had walked into their bedroom.
“You wanna take a picture?” Vaggie balls up the hoodie and throws it right at Charlie, hitting her dead center in the chest. “Dork. I’m all gross right now.”
Charlie splutters a little when the clothing hits her, “You stop. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. You’re never gross.”
“Never?” Vaggie raises a brow. “Really?”
“Well, not right now. You’re,” Charlie eyes her up and down, lightly nibbling at her lower lip. “You’re radiant. You’re always so pretty, I forget how strong and… and built you are.”
A soft, surprised chortle escapes Vaggie and she shakes her head.
“Alright, casanova. I gotta get ready and get changed.”
And then, Charlie’s silly request makes her halt in her tracks. They usually do, but this one definitely makes her entire face go hot — and it had just calmed down from the exertion that came from exercise.
“I can help you get changed,” she pipes up, like the words rush out of her mouth before her mind can register them.
“Oh?” Vaggie smirks, and turns to look at her. “I’m a big girl, babe. I tie my own shoes and everything.”
“You wear flats.”
“Okay,” She rolls her eye and chuckles, “I tie my own hairbow.”
“And you tie my bowtie for me almost every single day.” Charlie practically stalks across the bedroom to her. Her bowtie was, in fact, undone. Days Vaggie slipped out of bed early to go workout were days Charlie often used a smidge of her angelic grace to tie it or even head down to the lobby with it loose until someone else did it for her — sometimes even refusing others help until Vaggie was ready. “Can’t I help you out too?”
Her hands were already sneaking up Vaggie’s tank top, the line breached and any fight she had left crumbling in front of Charlie’s eyes.
“Okay,” Vaggie’s knowing smirk melts into a smitten grin. “I guess you can help me out.”
The sweet, desperate ‘thank you’ is drowned out by Charlie diving in for a kiss and backing her up towards the bed, both of them tumbling into the freshly-made blankets. She was quite grateful for the shirt having a built-in sports bra, one less thing to take off. Her teeth grazed in the tender expanse of skin between her breasts, her tongue dancing to each side as she did so, making sure each area was loved and acknowledged.
Her hands travelled down, and without thinking, her nails had turned a tad sharper, nearly claw-like. Charlie gasps softly against Vaggie’s flushed, slick skin just as her body feels a shift and now — the claws and horns have come out to play.
And thus, Vaggie’s leggings are nearly shredded from her body, the stretchy fabric easy to shove away and further tear as Charlie gets it out of the way.
“Charlie!” Not quite yet the moan of desire she was hoping for, but instead, an annoyed one.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” She replies in a rushed out breath. “Those were worn out, anyway,” Then, she pulls out the waistband of Vaggie’s underwear just enough for a slight sting to radiate after the snap of letting it go. “I could see these right through them.”
Vaggie squirms and huffs. “They were the same color.”
Charlie laughs as she pulls those down too, idly kicking them anywhere but between them. Her mouth kisses little indents and scars — raised lines of defined abs and physical representations of stories Vaggie didn’t have to tell, not yet — before it reaches the promised land, the oasis in an endless, enchanting land.
The serpentine tongue briefly flicks her clit, a brief greeting before making its way home and feeling like it was in a place where it belonged. She devours Vaggie like she’s a woman deprived, like they’d been apart for months instead of the mere two hours her workout took. Charlie sweetly moans when Vaggie’s hands wrap around the base of her horns to drive her further in, and slowly slide their way up, and down, occasionally stuttering but for the most part, matching the rhythm of her licking and sucking. A mutual, synchronous action, fueled by the other’s desire and dedication, so loyal and complete that they were nearly one.
Charlie squirms and grinds her hips into the mattress, one of the hands wrapped around Vaggie’s thighs moving to rub at her clit and the hand still holding on digging in with force to bruise, not quite bleed. They still had to face the rest of the day. And Charlie liked leaving her with reminders, not souvenirs.
However, there’s a certain shiver that always goes down Charlie’s spine when she consumes anything and everything Vaggie. She’s chalked it up to desire and a certain spark of true love. It’s the same prickle in her veins she gets when she steals a bite of Vaggie’s food, she always gets everything spicy; a certain zing on her tongue, a tingle up her nose, her eyes watering. But this isn’t entirely the same. The burn remains but stings differently. It was as if someone had personally bottled up the feeling of adrenaline and made her take a straight shot of it, with the most delightful chaser — the smell and taste of her soul’s pillars, the one who pulled on the harmonic strings of her heart, her other half, the love of her life. Charlie needed to live and breathe this woman. This perfect, beautiful, wondrous woman Heaven must’ve made specifically for just her.
Heaven must have spent every waking, holy moment on her when they'd crafted her soul.
She made Charlie, in all of her hellish glory and misguided humanity, feel holy.
The realization pulls Charlie into the light, actually. Reluctantly away from Vaggie’s cunt and into the blinding, half-sunrise morning light of their room.
“Holy,” She trails off, and covers her mouth with her hand.
A breathless, trembling ‘huh’ escapes Vaggie, and she’s visibly startled by Charlie’s repeat, now bewildered and awestruck — “Holy?!”
“You okay?”
“...is everything angelic holy water?!”
Vaggie’s confusion steamrolls over desire, her easy, delighted expression being overrun by her eyebrows furrowing. “Wha?”
“I know tears are. My dad told me once.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, please don’t talk about your dad right now.”
“But is everything else?” Charlie shivers. “I mean, I’m addicted to going down on you because I love you. It just always felt kinda weird, not bad-weird. Just different. And you’re all gorgeous and sweaty from your workout, like, more than you usually are during sex. Is all of it holy water?”
Vaggie stammers as she heaves out a breath, and loosens her grip on Charlie’s hair. “Wait, you were turned on by me being gross and sweaty?”
“Vaggie, I think you’re missing the point here.”
“I don’t mean this in a bad way, babe, but I think you’re a weirdo.”
Charlie shrugs, a bit apathetically, even. “Yeah, but you love it.”
“I love you,” Vaggie affirms. “And I’d love you even more if you went back to what you were doing.” The second the words leave her mouth, however, the gears almost audibly click into place and she almost shoots up to sit, if it weren’t for her girlfriend’s hands on her waist. “Wait, am I hurting you?! Have I been — the whole time?!”
“No!” Charlie hoists herself up to meet her halfway, her hands now shooting up to cradle her face. “No, no, never.”
Vaggie shakes her head. “You’re the Princess of Hell. Shouldn’t that… do something to you?”
“The teensiest bit of Hellborn in me, sure. Like I said, it’s different, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s like — like I don’t know. A thrill. I’m one of a kind,” She has that awkward, sheepish smile on her face. Truthfully, that’s the one Vaggie fell in love with; not the million-dollar mega-watt one the rest of the world gets, when Charlie is trying too hard. Here, she’s authentic as it gets. “And so are you. Let me stay blessed by you. Please.”
Well, when she put it like that.
“If I didn’t already fall,” Vaggie knows she’s practically whimpering. “You would have made me.”
“Don’t put that on my conscience, silly,” Charlie murmurs, just before she steals a quick kiss.
One last farewell as she returned to her duty. Vaggie might’ve been the soldier once upon a time, but Charlie took her missions incredibly seriously, no matter the detail.
And there really was no better place to be posted in either realm, Hell or Heaven or even Eden itself, that could compare to between her girlfriend’s legs. God could’ve put the rarest creatures and the finest delicacies together, every favorite thing Charlie had in her life, and she would still choose her girlfriend’s pussy.
Because getting to pleasure the woman who reassured her every fear, supported her wildest dreams (and fulfilled even wilder ones), protected her against the darkest parts of everyday life in Hell, was the ultimate experience.
Trashy romance novels and bad videos online could never compare or even try to describe the sensations being with Vaggie brought about for Charlie.
However, she felt herself grow restless by hearing all the rich, beautiful sounds Vaggie was making and not being able to see the faces she was making throughout the desire. And her hand was practically itching, about to start twitching, as she clutched the blankets tight in her fist. Her fist that was now morphed and volcanic, burning hot like she’d dipped it in the purest, most potent Hellfire and came out unscathed, like she’d become a part of the sick landscape. With holy water smeared all over her face and the glow her horns suddenly had, an absolute storm of an idea was brewing.
Charlie sat up, just enough, relishing in the sweet whine Vaggie let out at the loss of her mouth.
“I know, I know,” Charlie hushes her soothingly. Instantly, the spade of her tail traces along her clit to make up for the emptiness. Vaggie frantically reaches up to hold her, hands scrambling at her shoulders at first before they go back to her horns, like it’s where they belong. She wished she could wear Vaggie’s handprints on her horns permanently. “I just wanted to look at you, beautiful.”
And then, her hand replaces where her mouth had been.
The two defining sides of their souls merging in a way they hadn’t before.
The husky, strangled “oh, baby” that Vaggie chokes out when those hot fingers press at her entrance almost makes Charlie pull away — but the tightening grip around her horns are a blindingly bright green light. Especially when she notices the way Vaggie’s hips tremble, how her nose crinkles and her eye rolls back slightly.
She’d come from that alone.
What in unholy fuck. Quite literally.
Charlie’s middle finger caves gently in between her folds, testing the waters. Even if they were lush and deep, she still proceeded with caution, like she was trying to find where the drop was in an unmarked pool. In this form, her hand was almost double the size it typically was and the most she’d ever given Vaggie was three. The average experience was two — particularly if it was a sudden opportunity like now.
And yet, times past seemed to fade away as Vaggie’s voice pitched high and she drove her hips forward to drive the appendage deeper.
“Is that good for you?” she whispers.
There’s a tremble to her reply, but it tumbles out anyway, “Fucking amazing.”
“That’s it. That’s my pretty girl,” Charlie growls. “My angel.”
Vaggie was glowing. Not even in the magical, loving way either, it was literal. Golden blush entirely flushed her face, her eye wide and watery, her mouth wet from what a new workout she was getting and how hard she was panting. Charlie isn’t sure which Sin drives her to do so, but she finds herself savoring a long, hungry lick alongside Vaggie’s face — shoving her bangs out of the way, her tongue flicking at the end of the scar and snaking its way up to her temple. A few fluttering sweet kisses in the middle, lingering briefly at her forehead, before she repeats it on the other side and makes sure to collect a tear or two while she can as another finger merges in.
Her morphed hand continues driving deep into Vaggie’s cunt, the two fingers making her squirm and the burning blazes of Hell on her clit clearly doing something entirely new and unexplainable to her body.
“Is it too much?” It’s Gluttony and Greed that permeate her voice, unsatisfied by how much they’ve taken out of Vaggie, determined to keep going until there’s nothing left for her to give. But Charlie still remains, and she still wants her love to feel safe in the vulnerability. “Talk to me, mi amor.”
“Where did you—” Vaggie asks, incredulously, too overwhelmed to finish the question. A sudden wave of warmth revving back up has her cut herself off with a moan.
“You still here?”
“Charlie,” Vaggie writhes her head back and forth against the bed.
“Not an answer.”
“Is ‘I’ll make you sleep in the lobby for a week if you don’t keep going’ answer enough?!”
The choked out snap of a reply is instantly reeled in, by the way Charlie crooks her fingers further and twists. Vaggie’s trembling legs almost snap shut out of instinct, but Charlie’s knees press deep into the surprisingly supple muscular flesh to keep them apart. Her tail takes a brief reprieve from petting at her clit, just so the entirety of it can wrap around Vaggie’s waist before it’s spade returns to where it once was, now quickening in pace and the tail wrapping tightly, enough to leave a slight indent when they were done.
Finally, like it was something she had to unlock, Vaggie’s wings flash out and almost cover them entirely, feathers fluttering down around them. A flurry of grey and white further adding to the whirlwind they’d become tangled into together.
Charlie gasps against Vaggie’s skin, teeth grazing experimentally until it decided the peak of her breast seemed like a good place to mark up. A bite mark around her nipple would heal beautifully, the perfect spot to claim her girlfriend’s body as hers. Hers to hold, to have, to ruin and fix back up again as many times as she would let her.
One of Vaggie’s hands drops from a horn to bury into her hair, gripping tight until she had a fistful of it to yank, and summoning Charlie to bite down harder. Perhaps angelic blood was gold because surely, it was what the tale of ambrosia had come from.
With a few different tastes of Vaggie on her tongue, Charlie feels her body tense and unravel underneath her, reaching a second orgasm with a broken, fragile cry of “Fuck” echoing in their bedroom. Her wings twitched too — as if she could get any cuter or more perfect.
Charlie made a mental note to pray before she went to bed tonight. She had to express gratitude, after all.
She slowly rises off of Vaggie’s body just enough, kissing her forehead and gently ruffling her hair back just-so.
“What did you say before?” Charlie teases. “Very good morning, indeed.”
“Shut up.”
“Why? Because there’s better things I could be doing with my mouth?” Pride burned bright and hot in her chest, and she could feel it stretching at the end of her smile.
Vaggie softly groans, a tender annoyance, and shoves a hand against her chest. Not quite pushing away, just keeping at arms bay.
“Where did that come from?” she giggles.
“Where did what come from?” Charlie asks, as she sits up to let Vaggie get up as well. Her smile is awfully cheeky as she wipes her hand clean on her suit jacket and her eyes are still alight despite the rest of her morphing back to her usual self. “I’m always obsessed with you.”
Vaggie gently bumps their shoulders. “You need to learn how to roll your r’s. That was kinda the worst ‘mi amor’ I’ve ever heard. You’re lucky you’re the cutest.”
She’s right — it felt like walking a tightrope when Charlie had said it, but coming from Vaggie’s lips, felt like an effortless free fall. Nevertheless, Charlie beams and leans in to kiss her girlfriend’s bare shoulder.
“Well, guess you have to teach me. I feel like I don’t match you in the nickname department.”
“You do pretty well everywhere else.”
“Pretty well? That wasn’t fantastic?”
“Charlie.”
Vaggie actually groans in frustration when Charlie bats her eyes.
“My legs haven’t felt this weak since that time we all had to run stairs for three hours because I missed a… a target.”
Charlie hums softly, and eyes her up and down. “You missed on purpose.”
“Of course I did.” Vaggie’s scoff turns into something softer, almost melancholic. “How’d you know?”
“I know you.” She looks so piercingly at people — often to the point she looks right through them, unfortunately, and that’s where the communication crumbles. “And I know talking about it brings out a side of you I didn’t know was there. A new side of you for me to love. A piece of you I think I always loved, either way.”
Charlie gently massages at her thigh the entire time, the sore spots she’d gathered between both workouts and the silver, shimmery scars that littered every inch of skin from her knees up.
“Honey,” Despite the sweet term, Vaggie held a certain edge to her tone. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“Oh, I made you finish alright.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
She wraps her legs around Charlie’s torso to pull her in, just to enjoy the closeness, to quell the rush of her heartbeat and to envelope in her wings so they could escape the world for a few moments more. However—Vaggie feels that familiar wave of desire flood her all over again when she realizes a certain hardness underneath Charlie’s slacks.
Vaggie pulls away just enough to meet her eye, and keeps that contact as her hand slides down to cup the slight bulge in her pants.
“I, uh,” Charlie stammers. “I put on the strap for comfort purposes today. Honest.”
“I’m sure you did, sweetie.”
“But now—uh, well,”
“Charlie.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna have to help you undress now. Return the favor, after all.”