Britwitch's Cottage

[Niriate]

A claw, the locked door. No challenge for the wolfburglar.

Door creaks open as she slips inside. Its tennant most likely away, or asleep.

A light snicker echoes through the darkened cottage, yellow eyes seeing through the darkness as the wolf leaves several things in its wake.

As silently as she came, she leaves, her presents in their place.
The door softly clicks shut, leaving little evidence she was ever there.

Spread across the tables are seven small ones. Each a different color, but all just as cute
A note underneath one of them reads:

Nauti kultaseni. Yksi koko kunkin tyttöjen

Jälleen kerran, onnittelut.

Niri

A language only she can read.
On the smaller chair, a larger wolf. Just as fluffy, but not meant for her, for her little one.

And in the middle of the room, the largest of them all. A perfect snugglebuddy, a guardian against ghosts and other nasties.

The smell of the woods wafts through the cottage as the Witch now also has her private pack of lupines.

 

[Britwitch]

Reserved for a response.

 

[Britwitch]

The pen moves over my skin, tickling slightly as it marks my body. Decorating it with...whatever variant of my words that she has decided suits best. Each new location for her writing sends an excited tremor through me. Curious to know what the words say, knowing that even with my best efforts they are likely to linger with me for at least a day or two.

The pen is capped and hands pick up something new. My eyes follow as she comes into view, hands fastening something around my neck. The action, the pressure that now rests gently against my neck, solidified by her whispered words.

"Oh we know you're ours."

Theirs.

Then new pressure, tighter as his hand closes my airway, making my eyes jump to his face.

"You can louder for me, can't you little toy? Make me believe you want to be used. You need to be used."

I nod, eyes wide, lips parted in a silent expression.
The pressure eases but doesn't depart.

"Please. Every part of me, all of me, needs your touch."

Blue eyes flit between the faces hovering over mine. Tone desperate, voice louder and trembling, just a little. A blend of fear and excitement and need, real need, making it shiver.

"It's all I can think of, all I need."

I wriggle slightly, not trying to escape...although perhaps I should, just unable to lie still as the idea of being touched, being used, by this wonderfully wicked pair fills my mind. Hips undulating slowly.

Tongue snakes out to moisten lips.

"I want to please you, both of you...please..."

The slightest hint of a whine now.

"You can do anything, make me do anything. Anything. Just please...please use me for your enjoyment, your pleasure. Please play with your toy...after all..."

A hint of a smile curves my lips.

"...that's what toys are for..."

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

His gaze leaves the Witch for a moment, flickering to Vivi as red lips lower near the ear opposite where his own hover, a slight grin on his lips as he watches her. His attention is quickly back on the Witch as her desperate voice fills the room, and his head nods slowly with each word that spills over her lips.

Her smile, and the final words that follow it, draw a bit of a grin to his lips, and his head bobs in a quick nod once more.

"Mmhmm... what toys are for."

His grin broadened.

"So let's play, toy."

His hand left her throat, his lips moved from her ear, and his attention shifted down, down, down...

Fingers are against her suddenly, near the words needy and desperate, a teasing touch for only a moment, and then two sink into her, pushing until his knuckle is against her. His palm points toward the ceiling and his fingers begin to curl inside her as his other hand joins it, more digits turned against her, this time used to tease the sensitive little nub of her clit.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. Two sides of one coin, a team, in tandem to make an already breathless and willing creature abandon all control, all wants, desires, to fall into the heady endless chasm of subspace.

I wonder if she'll survive.
I wonder if we will.

His hand disappears inside of her and already those hips are rolling against him, that wicked, wicked grin of his painted on full, eminently kissable lips. He's bent to his task, and I cannot help but to lean over, catch his chin and bring those lips to my own.

It's a very quick moment, and I've turned away before our eyes meet, already reaching for my crop.

My favorite toy, long, supple and wickedly pretty. Pink, actually.
If I'm going to hit you with something, there had better be glitter involved.
Pink leather in this case, with a tiny heart at the end.
Which, of course, leave tiny heart shaped welts.
Which in turn leave tiny heart shaped bruises.
Like I said.
My favorite toy.
One that is quickly sent flying through the air, landing where ever for the moment she isn't moving.
Her breasts.
Her belly.
Her chest.
A thigh.

Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain.

 

[Britwitch]

"Mmhmm... what toys are for...So let's play, toy."

I hear myself groan as fingers part flesh and push inside. Hips rise from the bed, well as much as they can. Lips wide and open, eyes closed. A lower sound, a baser sound, as fingers move...as others join in. A wave of motion moves through my body, rocking hips, arching my back. Making the jewelled clips on my breasts twinkle in the light.

Their lips meet somewhere above me and I whine, wanting to be a part of it, wanting to kiss them both. My mind fills for an instant with heady images of lips bruised and swollen from harsh, needy kisses. Suckling on the ripe plumpness of hers, nibbling on the taste of his.

His touch, the kind of touch, I've been craving affecting me far quicker and far more effectively than I had expected. Fingers stroke and rub, blood pulsing beneath the skin, rushing like quicksilver through my veins to carry the delightful messages of pleasure to my brain.

I allow myself a sigh, allow myself to relax slightly. And then it starts as she begins her own game.

The accompaniment to such delights would have to be something sour to compliment the sweet. I should have known better.

The sting is sudden and unexpected. Making me cry out, although the sound rapidly turns to something softer as his fingers help my mind momentarily forget the discomfort. And so it continues...

Thwack.
Yelp.
Thwack.
Whine.
Thwack.
Whimper.
Thwack.

"Fuck!"

My body jerking as the crop dances it's vicious little routine over my flesh. Leaving patches of stinging tingling flesh in it's wake.

Breath is rapidly drawn through tightly clenched teeth as the toy narrowly misses a decorated nipple. I know it's destination was carefully controlled, she would have struck me exactly where she wanted to and had she wished to hit there, she would have. The drawing of the breath is merely relief that, for now at least, she didn't want to.

Teeth latch onto my lower lip, stifling another cry as the crop adds a fresh mark and muffling a whimper as his fingers continue to stimulate and tease.

Damn, they're good.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Fingers are on his chin, lifting his face, and then red lips are on his and gone almost before he can register what's happening. His gaze lingers on her for a second, tongue swiping across glistening lips, stealing her taste from them, and then he's focused on the task at hand again.

His hands move with the rise and fall of her hips, never losing contact, never losing the rhythm. Each movement is precise, even, nothing hurried or rushed, her body an instrument to be played. Already, the scent of her need seems to fill the room, fill his nostrils. He can hear his fingers moving within, a wet sound that mingles alluringly with her voice, and the impact of the crop.

A fine line between pleasure and pain. They've demolished the dam between the two and let the waters of each mix within her. A sip of one, a sip of the other. A gulp of one...

His eyes shift from the squirming, decorated, helpless body to the one whose taste still faintly floated on his tongue, and he watched her as his voice rose above the din of depravity they created.

"A game, little toy. If you can cum before the pain becomes too much, then I'll allow you to. If, however, you cannot finish before the pain is too much to take, then you do not get to until after you've made her cum." A slight lift in his brow as he pauses, then adds, "Assuming she allows you to touch her, of course."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"Assuming she allows you to touch her, of course." Soft delighted laughter bubbles up at these words.

Thwack

"Oh come now, Monsieur."

Thwick!
Oooh... I got her side there, I know that hurt.

"Here I thought, she'd ride you..."

Thwack!
A thigh, close enough to his hand that he shoots me a warning look.

"And I'd paint her backside red while she does."

Thwick!
Side of her breast. I watch her attempt to curl in on herself.
It makes me smile.

"Unless, of course, you're craving something else?"

Thwack!
An almost final point, this one lands right on top of a very excited, and abused breast. Another grin on my lips, though the crop is paused in it's rain of terror, quickly replaced by nails sliding down and over red, swollen, heated skin.

The sounds she makes are like music to my ears.
Simply magnificent.

 

[Britwitch]

"A game, little toy. If you can cum before the pain becomes too much, then I'll allow you to. If, however, you cannot finish before the pain is too much to take, then you do not get to until after you've made her cum....Assuming she allows you to touch her, of course."

A game? For who exactly?
The touch, the pressure, the sensation of his fingers is more than effective. I can feel how wet, how quickly, he has made me. Feel my sex clutching greedily at his fingers, hips rolling endlessly upon his hand.
My clit throbs and tingles beneath his fingers and, were that the only thing I was experiencing, I may well already be dancing along that knife's edge between the build up to and the climax itself.

But every time I start to feel the pleasure build up deep inside me, the crop steals it's power.

It leaves me breathless. Again and again. Moans and sighs are morphed into yelps and curses.

A game, indeed.

Although which reward I am aiming for is still unclear to me. To be able to cum is tempting, very tempting.

To bring her to that powerful place, to push and tease her body to the brink of pleasure...that is quite the intoxicating thought in it's own right.

"Oh come now, Monsieur."

If I hadn't agreed to this I would be cursing them both, struggling and demanding my freedom. Although the thought occurs to me that to have agreed to the unknown wasn't perhaps my wisest of moves.

But what am I doing? Writhing and whimpering and wordlessly begging for more. More of the same. More of whatever they decide to give me.

"Here I thought, she'd ride you..."

The idea makes me groan wantonly. The idea of feeling him inside, deep inside. Filling, stretching...

A groan that end abruptly with a whine as the whistling sting of the crop marks me somewhere else.

"And I'd paint her backside red while she does."

The crop lands against the side of my breast and a curse shoots out between clenched teeth, body straining against the bonds. As much to escape the pain as to get closer to the pleasure.

"Unless, of course, you're craving something else?"

A hiss as nails replace the stinging bite of the crop, dragging with painful slowness over the welts and marks I can feel burning into my flesh. Marks left that will not fade for sometime. Marks I will see, and feel, for days.

I look from him to her and back again.

I want to touch her, taste her. So very badly I don't think I could put it into words even if I tried.

I want to do the same to him.

I want to cum.

I'm starting to never want this to end...

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

She has descended past words, turned to a writhing, wide-eyed live wire of need, and he is only too happy to send more electricity racing through it.

His eyes travel up her body, over a growing sea of red that competes with the writing on her skin to be the primary decoration they've given her, and all know that none of the evidence of this encounter will be fading from her body soon. The thought flashes a grin across his lips.

Her breasts, peaked nipples captured between twin clamps, are caught in his vision for a moment, held there as his fingers keep working on her, only increasing the struggle her mind finds itself in. Pleasure and pain, competing signals sent along the same bundle of nerves, impulses bent to their nefarious purposes.

But he wants more.

The travel of his gaze ends with her face, their eyes meeting, the connection held with her for a moment and the movement of his fingers inside her shift as he does, digits held straight and moving quickly between glistening and swollen folds.

His gaze swings to his partner in this carnal crime, his voice a low growl.

"I think she wants more... shall we give it?"

It's a rhetorical question, of course, and he doesn't want for an answer. Instead, his leg lifts, swinging over hers, and then he'd up on the bed with her, straddling her leg. He wonders, absently, if she will even have the awareness to note how hard he is against her.

But the thought is quick, fleeting, and it is replace quickly with the task at hand.

His fingers move inside her still, a steady, insistent rhythm, and it is to this that a new sensation is added as his mouth lowers to her. He tastes her, her scent fills his nostrils, her wetness warm on his lips as his tongue finds the nub of her clit.

Eyes open, his gaze reaches up the length of her body stretched out under him, watching her writhe and shudder, arch and squirm.

And waiting for what will be delivered to her to counter this new pleasure.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Soft peals of laughter spill out when he fastens his lips to hers...well, yes. I wait. I know he'll work his tongue over her and she'll....

Yep. There it is.
Those growing moans that alert me to her building pleasure. Were I not working in counterpoint to his ministrations, I'd be content to merely watch her climb to an orgasm and beg for her release. I'd sit back and cross my legs, and enjoy the whole sordid show, a permanent smile on my lips.

Still I wait, turning away and pulling another of my favorite items off the table. I can hear them both, the slurping and licking from him, her whimpers and moans. Ragged and sharp breathing from them both, enough to send tingles down my spine where the land squarely between my legs, enough for me to bite my lip and drag a deep breath in. Focus.

A zipper.
Perfect counterpoint.

Two strides bring me back to their side, quick in my application of each clothespin to her skin, pinch and clip, pinch and clip, pinch and clip... over and over. Till the pins slide down one arm, over one breast, around her belly, and down a thigh.

She's a beautiful mess.

Not to mention with each movement, each gasp, each whimper, moan, and jerk away from his expert tongue the pins pull at her, dancing with her.

I'm rather proud.
The end of the string is placed near my hand, which is near her head, where I kneel and coo at her for being such a good girl, to remember that she must ask to cum, that I'm so proud of her. Leaving sweet nimble kisses on those panting lips...
I wait.

 

[Britwitch]

His eyes meet mine somewhere in the midst of all that is happening and I can't look away. Even if I wanted to. There are so many different things shining in their depths, so many things - danger, seduction, excitement, need. It feels as if those eyes will burn right through to my core, reveal just how deliciously confused I have become. Almost ruined.

Almost.

I am sure there is still much they can, much they will, do to prove just how much control they have, how much power. And how easily I gave it to them.

His fingers change their approach, pushing deeper, harder. Breaking the contact between our eyes as mine flutter shut and a long, low sound leaves my lips.

"I think she wants more... shall we give it?"

I feel weight press down on my leg and it's only then I realise he has moved, that he is now over me...to a point. I raise my head to look at what he might be doing when another vicious kiss from the crop straightens my spine and forces my head back down with a stifled expletive.

Then another curse leaves my lips but this is so much softer when it's heard. Almost a sob as the warmth of his mouth meets my sex, as the wet firmness of his tongue starts to circle and stimulate that tiny but powerful bundle of nerves.

Almost instantly my breathing turns into panting. Fingers flexing, toes curling.

"Oh...oh god..."

Somewhere my mind warns me, begs me, not to sink too willingly or deeply into this new level of enjoyment.

Something is going to happen. Something new. Something from her.

When the first pegs are attached to my skin I almost give in there and then. Skin squeezed wickedly between wood, down an arm making me writhe and all but banishing his actions from my awareness.

Whimpers and whines flow from my lips like a river, louder as the pegs reach my chest and cruelly latch onto the skin there.

Suddenly in the midst of the pain his tongue sends a powerful thrill racing up my spine, robbing me of my breath and sending my mind and body into something of a freefall.

I am lost. Falling and ricocheting from one to the other and back again. Whines of pain melting into whimpers of delight.

As the pegs claim their last patches of flesh and her voice filters into my consciousness, encouraging and praising, I start to shiver. Pleasure building deep inside and only increasing as each twitch tugs on the pegs and sends small bolts of pain slicing into my body.

"Please..."

My voice is a ragged plea made from air snatched in between the sounds of my body's surrender to their expertise.

"...please...I...may I..."

A pause, a tremble, a tensing of muscles.

A question.

A plea.

"...please...can I cum...?"

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Just above her mound, above lips pressed firmly to her and a nose that pulls in the scent of her need with every breath he draws, eyes widen slightly at the appearance of the zipper. Were his mouth not otherwise engaged, he would be grinning at the poor thing, curious if she is even fully aware of what lay in store for her.

His pace slows a bit, and the movement of his tongue is timed with the attachment of each new clothespin, swiping across her as each bit of skin was captured.

He finds his previous rhythm as the last clamp finds a bit of her to grab onto, and his eyes slip effortlessly from one to the other, catching only the occasional word whispered to the helpless Witch.

After a moment of this, his mouth leaves her, a string.. of saliva? of her wetness?.. stretches from her to his bottom lip until it reaches a breaking point and snaps. A slip of his tongue steals a bit of her taste from his lips, and as his voice rises up from between her thighs, his fingers continue to work inside her.

"You can cum, my pretty little whore... but if you do, she will pull that zipper off."

A dip of the head, a swirl of his tongue around her clit interrupts his words for a moment, just to keep her body close to the edge, keep the need of release fresh in her mind.

"If you can't bear that, then she won't. But I won't let you, either."

Another interruption, another teasing of his tongue, his fingers still continually working, working, working.

"What will it be, my decorated trollop?"

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"You can cum, my pretty little whore... but if you do, she will pull that zipper off."

I will do nothing.
Except for the weaving of sweet words whispered in her ear.

"You want to come my darling whore...

Lazy fingers flicking pretty little pins attached to her skin, adding minute movements to her torture.

"Cum for us"

Nails sliding sweetly over heated skin.

"Scream for us, my pretty painted Witch."

 

[Britwitch]

...and the whole delightful scene fades to black...

 

[Britwitch]

The new year in the woods doesn’t look an awful lot different from the old one.
More snow perhaps. Lower temperatures.
But all is still and quiet.
Animals continue to sleep in their burrows and nests. Plants and flowers rest, awaiting the return of the sun, of the warmth.

In the cottage too, little has changed. The small signs of the festive season are gone, back in their box. New candles flicker in the windows, freshly made ice lanterns glow eerily out on the porch. Much is as it always was. The kettle waits close to the fire, just waiting for tea to be made. The tin on the shelf all too ready to tempt visitors with its sweet contents.

The owner has changed a little…she has more constraints on her time these days. More people, new people, have come into her life. More people to care about, to care for. Family. Friends. In some ways there isn’t really a difference between the two.

She has more to worry about too. But so much more to get excited about.
She knows how lucky she is. Even though she’s tired, beyond tired if she’s honest…which she never is, not about that…she wouldn’t change a thing.

Alright…maybe a little more sleep wouldn’t go amiss…

She has more stories to write, far more than she’s had in a long time, with some simply amazing writers. Writers who inspire her, whether they believe it or not, stories that excite her. Writers who are so patient with her it really surpasses her understanding at times.

And so, the cottage and it’s occupant look to the new year with smiles. In the few short weeks since it began, the year has had far more good days than bad. Some exceptionally so.

Cradling a mug of tea in her hands, watching the snow float down outside, she can barely begin to imagine what else the year will hold. But she can’t wait to find out…

 

[Britwitch]

His voice. Three words. A whole story.

"Don't stop me!" His voice is laden with laughter, fingers tickling, pushing up beneath clothing to find warm skin beneath. She squirms and pulls back, until the wall means she can go no further. Hands trying to bat his away, to take hold of his wrists, to stop the delicious torment. Squealing she pleads for clemency, promising anything to make him stop.

"Don't stop me..." His voice a whisper now. Playful but in a different way than before. Hands ceasing their tickling, rising up over curves to press gently on shoulders, to wordlessly inform her of how she should repay his kindness, his benevolence. Within moments she's on her knees, mouth gliding up and down. Hands in her hair helping her find the rhythm he most desires, most needs, in that instant. Guiding her with a subtly increasing level of control and power until that power and grip is used to pull her from him and guide her somewhat less than carefully onto the bed.

"...don't stop me..." His voice is growing hoarser as hands remove clothing and eliminate barriers, pushing her down on her back, knees nudging legs apart and allowing him to start to tease her anew. Her back rises from the bed, chest heaving as expertly he has her on the precipice within what feels like seconds. The rubbing and the probing of fingers doesn't falter and soon she's falling into that delicious oblivion.

"Don't stop me," His voice is a taunt, she couldn't stop him if she tried. The hand not rubbing her cruelly towards yet another climax holds both of hers over her head. It's been some time since she'd lost count. Bucking and writhing, a mess of words and sounds, soaking his hand and the bed beneath. Only stopping when she's finding it hard to breathe but only letting go of her long enough to flip her to her stomach and raise her hips. She groans and shivers in to the bedding as he thrusts inside her.

"Don't. Stop. Me." His voice is now laden with heat and need, so low it's almost a growl. Words punctuating by his body claiming hers. Again and again the slightly too hard thrusts collide their bodies and every time she cries out that little bit louder, that little bit higher. Skin slapping on skin. Strong hands now gripping hips, holding her in place, leaving her no choice but to take it. Take everything.

Somewhere in the middle there are no words. Just sounds, whimpers and moans, groans and cries. Until, after a rapid increase in speed and force, all movement suddenly stops. The room is silent. Heavy breathing. Thumping hearts. Sweat beaded skin rests against flushed skin. Limbs entangled there in the gloom.

"...don't stop me..." His voice is soft, so soft, almost trembling as their lips meet and meld. Tongues stroking, silent expressions of affection and desire communicated more succinctly than the most eloquent of admissions could manage.

His voice. Three words. Their story.

 

[marauder13]

Slow feet shuffled through the snow that blanketed the ground beneath the trees. Not even the multitude of widely spread arms and broad fingers could catch all of the snow that sank toward the ground over previous days and nights. Even as he walked, ever cunning flakes of frozen water drifted through the barriers that separated ground and sky to land on his uncovered head. The contact was fleeting before the invader succumbed to his body heat and turned to cold water that ran down inside his clothing.

He ignored the discomfort inflicted upon him, continuing his expedition to a place long since visited. A place of comfort. Peace. Gentle company that would help ease some burdens thought quiet conversation and warm tea. The hostess was one of great compassion and boundless affection for those that paid her a visit to that special place of hers.

Feet left show covered ground, placing themselves on clear wooden steps that led to an equally clear wooden verandah. He felt slightly bad at the trail of slush and mud he left on the otherwise clean wood. But it was part of the cost of dwelling in such beautiful surrounds. He tapped his booted feet against the side of the verandah floor, dropping off clods of dampened earth and brown ice. He got to the doormat, which was more bristly than many others he had seen. But then, it was more effective at the task it needed to perform.

Eyes drifted closed and lungs fully inflated before he opened his eyes to watch a slow billowing cloud form between himself at the door. A hand reached up, pausing an inch from the door's surface, fingers curled in readiness to announce himself to the one waiting within. Time slowed, thoughts multiplied and pursued random paths and directions within his head while his hand remained stilled where it stopped. A slight shake of the head, the thoughts banished and time resumed its normal pace. The knuckles rapped the wood several times before the hand dropped to his side.

Patiently, he waited to see if the hostess was indeed in.

 

[Britwitch]

The crackling of the fire was loud in the otherwise silent cottage. Fresh wood from the store was obviously still full of sap and every now and then a loud pop would sound and make her jump. Every time.

Kettle was close to boiling and a mug stood ready, waiting.

She was sat at the kitchen table, looking over notes, trying to get some semblance of a post together in her head when a different noise was heard over the rising hiss of the kettle and the sounds of the fire. A knocking.

Brow furrowed slightly as she pushed back her chair and, after glancing at the kettle to ensure it wouldn't boil over while she answered the door, she crossed the small room and pulled open the door.

Brow smoothed in an instant as eyes fell on a familiar face.
"Well...hello there..."
A pause. A wide smile.
"Oh, what am I like? Come in, come in, it's bitter out there!" Fingers closed on the sleeve of his jacket and tugged him inside.

"You have perfect timing by the way," She laughed, urging him with a gesture to move further inside while she headed back to the now shrilly whistling kettle. "Tea...?" Fingers moved the water from the heat and sought another mug to stand alongside her own.

"Now, get those damp things off and get near that fire. You need to warm up!"

 

[marauder13]

He didn't wait long. If she was present, her innate kindness would not let a visitor remain in the less pleasant weather that took place in this part of the world. He knew if she didn't respond in the next ten seconds, then she was not there. Faint sounds of movement from within told him all he needed to know. His face was already housing a smile when the door opened with a waved of warmth, light and a lovely hostess.

"Well...hello there..."

"Hello."

He stood still, enjoying as always that initial view of his good friend. Her smile added to the warmth from her hearth, while also lifting his sagging spirits.

"Oh, what am I like? Come in, come in, it's bitter out there!"

He knew better than to try and answer a question like that one as he was partially pulled through the door. He moved quickly, so not too much of the precious warmth was lost to the outdoors, clearing the doorway swiftly so the door could be closed.

"You have perfect timing by the way."

"Hardly, you always seem to have a kettle just ready to boil when someone arrives. All part of your witchly ways."

Her laugh was a joy to hear as always, as he followed her insistent gestures while she was heading back to the equally insistent kettle.

"Tea...?"

"Thank you."

It was peaceful within her little cottage. The fire blazed merrily, the occasional pop and crackle adding to the near mythical feel of the place. Knowing she would "mother hen" him concerning his clothing and warmth, other layers of protective wear were shed, and hung in the proper places while he moved to just the right distance form the fire to help him warm up, but not over heat.

"Now, get those damp things off and get near that fire. You need to warm up!"

Genuine laughter escaped him at the predicted instructions that he was already part the way through carrying out.

"I know you well enough to anticipate that suggestion... no command. Plus, there is no need to fuss over me being in the right place either." He nodded to the fireplace. He looked around a little, smiling wistfully. "This is the place I saw when you spoke of Elena's place. I can see the two of them here, in this room, talking and learning about each other. I really miss them."

 

[Britwitch]

"This is the place I saw when you spoke of Elena's place. I can see the two of them here, in this room, talking and learning about each other. I really miss them."

Tea was left to steep and a happy smile curved her lips as she headed to join her friend.

"I miss them too. Very much."

She waited until he'd made himself as comfortable as he could before settling beside him, curling legs beneath her and leaning on the back of the couch so she could turn to face him.

"Sometimes I can't quite believe that that story, our first one, is really over."

A softer smile now filtered onto her face.

"Without Elena and Jacob I don't think either of us would be here. After all it was them, and you, of course...that drew me back after my time away..." A hand rose to squeeze his forearm for a moment. "I owe them a lot!" She grinned.

 

[marauder13]

Feeling himself to have removed the bitter shill of outside, he retreated to the couch that held pride of place within the lounge area of the cottage. She slowly moved to join him, assuming her favourite seated position when she talked with him.

"I miss them too. Very much. Sometimes I can't quite believe that that story, our first one, is really over."

He nodded, knowing how she felt. In his mind, the two of them had grown into almost real people. Someone who he could almost expect to meet on the street... if he wasn't languishing in gaol.

"Without Elena and Jacob I don't think either of us would be here. After all it was them, and you, of course...that drew me back after my time away..."

He blushed slightly, dropping his head at the thought that he was somehow responsible for Brit returning to Lit after all she had been through that previous year.

Her hand rose to squeeze his forearm for a moment. The gesture spoke of many things in just that brief moment.

"I owe them a lot!"

"Well, not just you. I owe them a great deal too. Anyway, I'm sure that there were plenty of other reasons for you to come back. You had many dear friends and good writing partners before me. Plus, I'd also say there were many a tale that would have been singing their siren songs to have you come back to them.

"And think of how many people's lives you have brightened with not just your writing, but with the little extras you have done and left about the place."

 

[Britwitch]

A slightly shy smile now took over her mouth.
"I might have had many stories to write and people I missed but you were one of, if not the first one I sought out when I came back.

"And I do what I can." A slight shrug. "I like to make people smile, to know I've done something to brighten their day...glad to know it works from time to time."

She leant closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering before she moved away.
"So learn how to take credits and compliments where they're due, mister. After all, I've had to!"
A soft giggle was heard before she left his side to go and removed the leaves from their teas and return with two mugs, steaming with their warm contents.

"Before I sit down can I get you anything else? Something to eat? Are you warm enough?" Eye were wide and genuinely concerned. She did, she really did, like to make sure her guests felt as comfortable and as well taken care of as possible.

Friends mattered to her. They mattered a great deal. And all who took the time to trek through the woods in all manner of weather were among those dearest to her. So they received her fussing and her worrying whether they liked it or not.

 

[marauder13]

Her words made him feel good, regardless of how much he chose to believe them. It was the thought behind them that he was best bale to focus on, and react to most completely. He still found it hard to believe that he was the first one she sought out, given all the other people she knew before him.

"So learn how to take credits and compliments where they're due, mister. After all, I've had to!"

He didn't know what caused the greater blush. Her gentle friendly kiss or her parting comment while she got their tea.

"Before I sit down can I get you anything else? Something to eat? Are you warm enough?"

"I am fine, thank you. I am warm enough, and my belly was nicely filled and fortified for the trip out here. The tea is perfect, thanks."

He carefully took the mug from her hands, letting the extra warmth from the mug seep into his fingers and aid the warming up process. A sip of the tea confirmed that his hostess was indeed hitting bulls eyes continually with her efforts.

"It has been a while since coming here last. The few occasions when I wanted to visit, you already had a visitor, or two, and I was loath to disturb you at those times.

"The last few days have been interesting in my part of the world. A couple of things happened that took away some niceness and hope I was growing. Stuff that has hurt a bit too. None of it I could do anything about, and little of it I had any idea was coming too. I guess I needed somewhere peaceful to come to for a while, and the first place I thought of..." He smiled before taking another sip of the tea.

 

[Britwitch]

Her brow furrowed slightly at the thought of her friend having to face strife, it seemed a common theme at the moment among the people she spent time with. But as much as she hated the unhappiness that sometimes crept up upon her friends, she truly appreciated being one of the ones people turned to. It meant more than she knew how to express. She'd been blessed, or cursed, with broad shoulders. She liked to think she'd been given them for a reason and as such, she liked to be able to put them to good use.

"Well, I'm glad you considered coming here...you know you're welcome, any time...and I won't push you to tell me more than you're comfortable with." A sparkle in blue eyes as they sought his.

"So...did you want to talk about it or be distracted? I think I can manage both!" She laughed softly. "I think I can probably manage being quiet too, at a push, if it's some true peace and quiet that you seek." A wink was given as she sipped her own tea.