Pocket Watch Witches Ep. 20


I knew Dimitri didn’t need that much pampering. He offered to help often. I enjoyed taking care of him, though. He finally gave in when he saw Hugo’s library. Although he finished the tour of the house, I suspected he’d have been content to stop there and stay all day. So, I led him back there once he’d seen everything. He quickly settled in with a book. He surprised me by reading aloud after cuddling close to me. I stroked his hair and listened to the romance novel he’d selected. Several chapters in, he showed no sign of stopping, but hunger pangs forced me to untwine from him. 

“You can stay here. I’ll bring you lunch,” I told him. 

“But we can’t stop here. The baker’s assistant is realizing the accountant isn’t so bad,” he objected. 

“Okay, come with me. You read while I cook. But at the end of this chapter, you should drink some tea, so you don’t strain your voice,” I compromised. 

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

Dimitri pulled a chair closer, so I could hear him clearly over the sizzling pan. He gave the characters distinct voices. I couldn’t help grinning at the grandmotherly voice he put on for the old baker. If he didn’t already have a dream of opening his watch shop, he could make money selling recordings of himself reading books. I’d certainly buy them. Dimitri respected my request and stopped reading at the end of the chapter. I’d gotten so enthralled with the story that I almost asked why he’d stopped. Thankfully, I remembered our deal before asking him why aloud. Instead, I poured hot water into the teacup and let him tailor the beverage to his tastes. He added two spoonfuls of honey to the drink before sipping and smiling in satisfaction. 

I served lunch before he could finish his tea, prolonging his break from reading. Since waking up, Dimitri rushed through every meal. I didn’t know if I should worry about that or not. It made sense when he’d gone over half a day without eating. This time, I couldn’t decide if he rushed to get back to reading or because his recovery left him ravenous. He’d ask for seconds if he needed them, wouldn’t he? Or would he hold back to avoid inconveniencing me? 

“Would you like some more?” I asked after he finished. 

“No. It was delicious, but I’m stuffed,” he reassured me. When he picked the book back up, I cast my worries aside. 

Dimitri sat on the counter next to the sink, this time while I washed the dishes we’d used. Coincidentally, the assistant baker and accountant found themselves in a similar situation. The accountant reviewed a financial plan for the bakery with his love interest rather than reading him a novel. But the assistant baker stood at the sink, washing dishes. At least until he can’t resist his attraction anymore. The two men come together in a crash of passion. Dimitri’s voice grew huskier as he read the erotic passages. Before I could think better of it, I turned off the water and approached Dimitri. He kept reading until the characters reached their climax. By the time he looked up from the page, I’d stepped between his legs. 

Dimitri set the book down and licked his lips, mimicking the accountant. I took my cue from the fictional assistant baker, running a hand through Dimitri’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. As if he’d memorized the passage, Dimitri’s every move mirrored the character. He wrapped his legs around me. Thankfully, my counterpart responded much as I would. That made it easy to maintain the fantasy. Dimitri unbuttoned my shirt and kissed down my neck until he could flick his tongue over my nipple. I groaned and ran my hands up his back under his borrowed shirt. Remembering he still wore my clothes swept away my hesitance about what happened next. I pulled my hand out from under the shirt and gripped the collar. I tore the shirt, revealing his slender body. 

I slipped the ruined shirt off as Dimitri moved to the other nipple and coaxed another groan of pleasure out of me. Dimitri’s legs disentangled from around me, and his feet touched down. I took his commitment to accuracy as tacit approval to keep going. If he told me to stop, I’d do it, but I didn’t want to. I turned him to face the counter and knelt, pulling the cotton shorts and underwear down as I went. When I teased his hole with my tongue, he broke from the novel, whimpering my name instead of the character I’d adopted. That encouraged me more than his perfect act thus far. 

Dimitri’s hand landed on the back of my head as I continued to rim him. My cock strained harder against my pants in response to his whispers for more. I didn’t give in yet, though. My fictional parallel focused on his partner a bit longer before giving in to that urge. I continued in my role, wetting a finger and sliding it inside Dimitri. He arched his back, gripped the counter, and begged for more. I complied with a second finger. Then I worked my way up his back with kisses and gentle bites. He rode my fingers eagerly. I pulled them out, and he let out a dismayed sound. I unbuttoned my pants and finally freed my cock. 

He ground himself against my crotch, making me twitch in anticipation. I grabbed oil off the counter. Conveniently, it was within arm’s reach, just as the assistant baker’s had been. I didn’t remember putting it there and suspected our magic had assisted. Our continued dedication to reenacting the story felt almost like a ritual at this point. I slicked the oil over my full length, then slipped my fingers back inside Dimitri, this time wet with the leftover lubricant. We both moaned as I slid my fingers out and replaced them with my cock. I grabbed his hips and thrust into him. A hand returned to the back of my head as I bit his shoulder. I sucked at the skin, knowing I’d leave a mark. 

He gripped tighter, encouraging me to claim him. That eagerness for me pushed me over the edge. I came, humming against his skin before finally releasing him. His muscles clenched around my cock. I reached to stroke him, and a spurt of warm fluid hit my hand before I could wrap it around his shaft. I hadn’t expected to get him off hands-free despite everything else mirroring the scene he’d just read to me. My suspicions of our magic’s involvement grew. The circles of our entwined power flowed over my skin faster than ever. I felt we could boil water on contact. 

“I love you,” Dimitri said.

The words should have made me happy. They did for a second. Then I remembered the accountant said the same thing, with the assistant baker still buried inside him. Had our magic pushed him into saying it? Was he just finishing out the scene? He’d said my name before. That meant he’d know what he was saying now, didn’t it? 

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