I’m sweating like I’ve run a marathon, and all I’m doing is standing in the middle of a courtyard trying to make water appear from thin air. The afternoon sun beats down on my back as I stare at my trembling hands, watching the small puddle of water flicker in and out of existence between my palms.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter through gritted teeth, focusing all my energy on the space between my fingers. The water appears again, clearer this time, shimmering in the sunlight. For a moment, I think I’ve got it, but then it starts to evaporate, steam rising from my palms as my mana control slips.
“Damn it!” I drop my hands, letting out a frustrated groan. My shoulders slump as I stare at the small wet spot on the stone beneath my feet. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”
Morgana watches me from a stone bench at the edge of the courtyard, her purple eyes tracking my every movement. She’s been silent for most of our first one-on-one lesson, letting me struggle through this on my own.
“Your visualization is excellent, Christopher,” she says, her voice carrying that dark velvet quality that still makes my skin prickle. “The water you’re creating is perfectly clear. The quality is immaculate.”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the sweat-dampened strands stick to my forehead. “Thanks, but it doesn’t matter how clear it is if I can’t maintain it for more than three seconds.”
Morgana rises from the bench with fluid grace, her tall figure casting a long shadow as she approaches me. The courtyard is empty except for us, the quiet broken only by the distant sound of birds and the occasional shout from the training grounds where Brooke is probably excelling at whatever Matilda has her doing.
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Morgana says, stopping just a few feet away. Her eyes meet mine, and I feel that same unnerving intensity from our classroom lessons. “This is only your first private session.”
I sigh, looking down at my hands. “I just want to be able to take a proper shower, you know? The baths are nice and all, but there’s something about standing under running water that I miss.”
She tilts her head, those purple eyes studying me with an intensity that makes me want to take a step back.
“If that’s all this is for, I could...” She stops herself mid-sentence, her jaw tightening. A strange look crosses her face, something almost like regret. “Never mind. I won’t even suggest it. I wouldn’t want to offend Brooke.”
I can’t help but chuckle, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She nods.
“You know,” I say, rubbing the back of my back, “I don’t know what you said to her yesterday, but Brooke was talking very highly of you last night.”
Morgana’s eyebrows rise slightly, genuine surprise flashing across her features before she schools her expression back to neutrality. “I appealed to her as a friend. That’s all.”
“Whatever you did, it worked. She seems a lot more comfortable with you now.”
“Good.” Morgana’s voice softens, and for a moment, she looks almost vulnerable. “I want her to trust me. Both of you.”
She takes a step closer. Her purple eyes lock onto mine, and I feel that familiar prickle of awareness run down my spine.
“Listen, Christopher,” she says, her voice dropping to something more intimate. “I can probably ignite your understanding of mana control. Give you a real breakthrough, not just these baby steps you’ve been taking.”
My heart leaps with hope. “Really? How?”
Morgana hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the chain at her hip. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look genuinely uncertain about anything. “It might be a little awkward,” she admits, her gaze dropping to the ground before meeting mine again. “And I don’t want to cross any lines that would make you uncomfortable.”
“What kind of lines are we talking about?”
Morgana shifts her weight, her fingers still playing with that chain at her hip. “Physical touch is one way to easily do things like this,” she explains. “While skin to skin is always preferable, I could just hold you from behind in this case. However, Brooke told me in your world women’s chests are lewd, so I know that could be too much for you.”
I blink at her, processing what she’s suggesting. “Wait, you’re telling me all we have to do to help me is that you hug me a little?”
“Kind of...” she says, her voice dropping lower. “But look, I don’t want any trouble with Brooke. I just got...”
I cut her off, making a decision. “It’s fine... I need to learn this.”
Morgana studies me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Alright.”
She steps closer, and I feel my heart rate kick up a notch. This isn’t weird, I tell myself. It’s just magic training. Nothing more.
“Turn around,” she instructs, her voice taking on that teacher tone I’ve come to recognize.
I comply, facing away from her.
Her arms encircle my waist, pulling me back against her. I feel the soft press of her chest against my back, those massive breasts making contact with my shoulder blades. The warmth of her body seeps through my tunic, and I have to force myself to breathe normally.
“If you get uncomfortable at any point, just say something,” she murmurs, her breath tickling my ear.
“Okay,” I manage, my voice coming out higher than I intended.
“Close your eyes,” she instructs, her tone gentle but firm.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The darkness behind my eyelids helps, but I’m still acutely aware of her body pressed against mine. I try to focus on anything else, the distant sound of birds, the warmth of the sun on my face, the slight breeze rustling through the courtyard.
“If we were both naked,” Morgana says, her voice a low hum against my back, “I’d be able to access every fiber of your being. Both spiritual and physical. But the clothes work as an insulation. Still, mana manipulation is within our grasp like this.”
My mind immediately conjures an image of Morgana naked, but I quickly shove it away, replacing it with thoughts of Brooke. Brooke’s naked body, her strong shoulders, the curve of her hip, the way she looks at me when we’re alone. This is for her. For us. To get closer to her level, to be the partner she deserves.
To my surprise, I find myself calming, my breathing evening out as I focus on Brooke’s face, her smile, the way she laughs when she’s truly happy.
“I always picture a faucet when I think about magic,” Morgana continues, her voice taking on that teacher tone again. “The mana is the water, and you control the flow with the handle. Right now, you’re either turning it on full blast or shutting it off completely. So picture it with me and let’s just turn it to the middle together.”
I nod, following her lead. In my mind, I see a simple faucet, the kind from my apartment back home. I imagine my hand on the handle, carefully adjusting the flow.
The faucet in my mind feels stuck, like it’s broken. When I try to turn it, it doesn’t budge, and if I yank too hard, it just opens everything at once, flooding my senses with too much mana. But this time, something’s different. I can feel Morgana’s hand on top of mine in this mental space, her presence guiding me.
“It’s okay, Christopher,” she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. “Let me in. Let me help you.”
Her gentle hand on top of mine feels good, reassuring. She helps me spin the faucet, hardly applying any pressure at all, and it spins like it’s commanded by her. The motion is smooth, controlled, nothing like my usual jerky attempts.
“That’s it,” she whispers. “Now think of the water coming out of you.”
I can hear it instantly, the sound of water streaming from the palm of my hands, hitting the ground in a steady flow. My eyes fly open wide, and I gasp.
“I did it...” I say, staring at the water flowing from my hands, clear and perfect, not flickering or evaporating.
“Yes, you did,” Morgana says, not letting go of me. Her arms remain wrapped around my waist, her chest still pressed against my back. “I’m so proud of you, Christopher.”
She backs away slightly, and the water stops immediately. I feel the connection break, like someone’s pulled the plug on my power.
“Ahh...” I sigh, disappointed.
“Oh...” Morgana’s voice is soft, thoughtful. “We will need to work together a lot more it seems. The more we do it together, the more your body will get used to the flow of mana.”
I turn to face her, and she’s closer than I expected. Those purple eyes are watching me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
“That was incredible,” I say, trying to focus on the magic rather than the strange tension between us. “I’ve never been able to maintain it that long before.”
“You have the potential,” Morgana says, taking a small step back, giving me space. “Your mana pool is massive, Christopher. You just need to learn how to control it.”
“Brooke was right,” I say, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face. “You really are an amazing teacher, Morgana. We’re so lucky to have you helping us.”
The words come out heartfelt. For all her intensity and those unsettling purple eyes, Morgana has been patient with me when I’ve struggled, encouraging when I’ve failed, and genuinely excited when I’ve succeeded.
Morgana’s eyes widen. A deep blush spreads across her pale cheeks, climbing up to her ears. She looks completely caught off guard, like I’ve said something she never expected to hear.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice suddenly small. She turns away from me, her dark hair falling like a curtain between us. “I’ll be right back.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, confused by her sudden reaction.
“Yes, just... uhh... I have to go to the bathroom,” she mumbles, already walking away, her steps quick and purposeful.
“Oh… alright.”
*****
[Morgana’s POV]
I slam the door to my bedroom shut with enough force to rattle the books on my nightstand. My back hits the wood, and I slide down it until my ass hits the cold stone floor, my knees drawn up to my chest, my hands shaking.
“He praised me,” I whisper.
My fingers find the hem of my robes, bunching the fabric in trembling fists. I can still feel the ghost of him against my chest, the warmth of his body seeping through my clothes, the way he leaned into me like he trusted me, like I was safe, like I was good.
“He praised me,” I say again, louder this time, my voice cracking in the empty room.
I shove my hand between my legs pushing the fabric aside with frantic, graceless fingers. My underwear is already soaked through, has been since the moment we touched, and when my fingers make contact with my clit I let out a sound that’s half moan, half sob.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…“ The words tumble out of me in a breathless rush, my hips bucking against my own hand. “He praised me, he said I’m an amazing teacher, he said he was lucky to have me, he said I’m amazing…”
I’m not even being careful. My fingers are clumsy, too fast, too rough, slipping and sliding in the mess I’ve made of myself. I don’t care. I don’t care about finesse or technique or any of the things I’d normally obsess over. My back scrapes against the door as I writhe, my head thrown back, my dark hair sticking to my flushed neck.
“HE PRAISED ME!” I scream at the ceiling, my voice bouncing off the stone walls of my tower. “HE SAID IT! HE SAID IT! HE SAID IT WITH HIS OWN MOUTH!”
My fingers curl inside me, and I bite down on my own wrist to muffle the sound that tears out of my throat. My eyes are stinging, and I realize I’m crying, hot tears cutting tracks down my cheeks as I fuck myself with the messiest, most desperate strokes of my entire life.
“Oh my god, he’s so cute,” I whimper into my own arm, my hips stuttering. “He’s so cute, he’s so cute, I love him, I love him, I love him…“
The orgasm hits me like a freight cart, and I slam my head back against the door hard enough to see stars. My whole body locks up, my thighs clamping around my wrist, my toes curling so hard they cramp. I scream into my own flesh, and the sound that comes out of me is ugly and raw and completely, utterly unhinged.
I collapse sideways onto the cold floor, my robes twisted around my waist, my hand still buried between my legs, twitching with aftershocks. My chest heaves. My eyes are swollen.
And I’m smiling. I’m smiling so wide my cheeks hurt.
“I need more.”