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Into the Maze

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This is brain-numbing.

Marina has to show a bright-eyed little firstie from somewhere in Assfuck, Indiana all over campus. Because she’s Fogg’s favorite girl and Fogg’s favorite girl would never refuse a task like this one. This firstie is pretending he doesn’t give a fuck that magic is real, yes, boring boring, and he’s wearing, of all things, a fucking bowtie and vest. She supposes he’d be fuckable if he were straight, but he clearly bats for the other team; she has to admit she appreciates the predatory look on his face when he stares after the other Brakebills boys. But this is all an act. He’s terrified. She can see it in his extravagantly grand gestures, in his over-the-top snark, in his sideways questions. He wants to fit in. He wants to be in the warm center of things. He could be useful. So she’s nice to him. She makes sure he likes her, with her red hair long and loose over her shoulders, her blue eyes sweet, not sharp; her lipstick conservative; her dress black and sleeveless but not too edgy.

Then she sees her.

She’s being escorted by another third-year, one of the stupider ones, and she looks like she wants to kill him slowly with piano wire. Her honey-brown-red hair is done in long, perfect curls. Her makeup is impeccable, perfect smokey shadow over big brown eyes, darkish lipstick. Long lashes. Perfect brows. Perfect body, perfect face. She’s tan, much different than Marina’s carefully cultivated pallor. She’s also wearing a red bikini, a white cover-up that hits mid-thigh, and flip-flops — and the edges of that bikini scream Brazilian wax. They must have grabbed her for the exam straight from the beach. Best of all, she doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck that she’s half dressed, and her tits are fantastic.

“Perkins,” Marina says sweetly, “You must be so worn out. I can finish the tour for you if you want.”

Perkins, unused to any sort of niceness from Marina whatsoever, grasps at it like a starving man for bread. “Sure, Marina,” he says. “This is Margo Hanson.”

“Pleasure,” the other girl says, examining her nails. They’re long and red and match the exact shade of her bikini.

“I’m Marina Andrieski, a third year here at Brakebills,” Marina says in her best honey-sweet voice, the one that roughens out the edges of her New York accent. “Where did you do your undergrad, Margo?”

Margo’s still looking at her nails. “UCLA. Theater. 4.0. Two questions, Marina Andrieski. Is this tour almost fucking over, and is there a magical way to kill Perkins in his sleep?”

Eliot is looking her up and down with an appraisal Marina’s only seen him reserve for boys’ asses. “Oh, she’s good,” Marina can practically hear him thinking. “Eliot Waugh,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Margo says. She doesn’t take it.

Marina’s mouth twists sideways. She likes this one better and better.

“Nice bikini,” Eliot says.

“I was on the beach when they grabbed me for this exam,” she says. “I went to the boardwalk, dropped my phone, looked up, and there I fucking was. 3000 miles miles away expected to do geometric proofs. And now my motherfucking tan’s going to be uneven. Assholes could have waited until I flipped to the other side.”

“What kind of magic did you do?” Eliot asks.

“I turned the desk into a fucking ice cube and shattered it after they yelled at me that I was just a boring pretty girl. I get real sick of that bullshit real fucking quick.”

“I levitated the dean after he called me faggot.”

She laughs, and Marina has to admit it’s everything: ringing, unselfconscious, head thrown back. “You perfect bastard,” Margo says. “Motherfucker deserved it.” She pauses. “Did you drop him?”

“Hard, girl.”

She laughs again and hooks her arm into his. “I like you already, Eliot Waugh.”

Marina’s slightly annoyed. This girl needs to be bonding with her, not this other stupid firstie in his affected little bowtie.

“When they came for me, I ended up making a black hole,” Marina says. “Blew off the ceiling of the exam room.”

Margo raises an eyebrow. “Impressive. Where’d you do your undergrad?”

“Columbia. 4.0.” And you don’t want to know how much dick I sucked to pay for that tuition, little rich girl, Marina thinks. Because between the clothes, the pendant, the makeup and the flip-flops, this is one spoiled LA brat standing in front of her.

“Major?” Margo raises an eyebrow. She’s pretending she doesn’t care but she’s clearly impressed.

“Sociology and psychology.”

“Nice chatting, but can we get this shit over with?” Margo asks. “I’ve got shit to do.” She hefts her enormous Louis Vuitton purse to her shoulder.

What, like file your fucking nails? Marina thinks. But this one could be fun. This one could actually be interesting. But she dutifully leads Eliot and Margo through the Maze, pointing out the fountains and telling them who hangs out where, letting her snark loose, which both of them seem to appreciate, Margo more than Eliot. She ends her tour at the freshman dorms, in the main house.

“And that’s magic school,” she says. “Probably more boring than you thought it was.”

“No,” Margo says. Marina is surprised to see her eyes are soft. “It was fucking perfect.”

That’s it for her, Marina thinks. She’s thrilled to be out of LA and into something more than pretty faces.

“See you later,” she chirps at them. Just as Eliot’s holding the door for Margo, Marina calls her name.

“Hey,” she says.

“What?” Margo asks. “Some more amazing thing you forgot to show us?”

Marina affects her most mysterious smile. “Meet me at midnight in the Maze and I’ll show you. Girls only.”

Margo shrugs, which Marina takes to be a yes. Oh yes. This one is worth her fucking time.

**********

And, somewhat to Marina’s surprise, Margo shows. She’s standing at the entrance to the Maze, in actual clothes this time, a short red dress bled black under the full moon. A Burberry watch. Marina gets the idea that this is how Margo dresses all the fucking time — she didn’t get anything special out of her. Even better. If she’d dressed to impress, she’d think less of her. Margo’s cultivating a look of careful boredom but Marina can tell by her tapping foot that she’s nervous.

“Come on, it’s just over here,” Marina says. She grabs Margo by the wrist, a subtly aggressive gesture, and leads her through the twists and turns to the fountain she’s after. “Look into it. But do not, under any fucking circumstances, fall in or touch the water. You know, some people say the fountains were here before Brakebills. That they built the school to be near the fountains, not the other way around.”

Margo leans over and looks over the stone edge; Marina resists the urge to back up and look at how far her dress rides up, but she does venture a glance at her long length of thigh. She holds Margo’s waist so she doesn’t get too close, and she inhales the girl’s smell: rich bitch products, floral and vanilla. She’s subtle about enjoying her scent as Margo stares and sees the other faces looking up at her. She jumps back.

“Christ on a motherfucking tricycle,” she swears.

Marina laughs at her and lets her go.

“There are fucking people in that fountain.”

“We don’t know where they come from, if it’s another place and time or another world entirely. Someone did some boring dissertation on it once and came up with nothing. So he jumped in to see. Never came out again.”

“Jesus.”

“Well, there’s all sorts of creative ways to kill yourself at Brakebills. You’ll see.” Marina twists her mouth into something that can be interpreted as a grin, if the onlooker wants it to be. “You have me to keep you from making dumbass mistakes like that.”

“I’m not the type to make dumbass mistakes,” Margo says.

“I can tell. You think I’d have asked you out here if I thought you were?”

Margo appraises Marina, her dark eyes black in the night. “So why did you ask me out here? It wasn’t to show me a fucking fountain.”

Marina shrugs. “Thought you might be interested,” she says casually.

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’re quick. I like that. Most of the people here are boring as fuck. You’ll see. You’re not.” Marina steps closer to her. Margo doesn’t step back.

“You think you can bring the little firstie out here and sweet-talk her into some fun and games, think again,” Margo says. She’s shorter than Marina by a good bit, especially with Marina in stilettos, but she isn’t backing down. “I don’t fucking play.”

“You mean you don’t like girls?” Marina challenges.

“No, I mean I don’t fucking play head games.”

“Oh, really?” Marina says. “Then why’d you show up here to begin with, firstie?” She takes another step closer. Margo’s still not backing down. Marina’s in her face now. Oh, this one is going to be fun to break. She talks a big game but Marina can already tell it’s mostly an act, just as affected as that Eliot’s bowtie.

Margo smirks. “Because I thought you might be worth my time.”

“Funny. I thought you might be worth mine.”

Marina decides to give it shot. She crosses that final small step separating them and crushes her mouth down on Margo’s, hard. Margo kisses her back. Neither of them play. There’s no new-lover exploration, no teasing each other’s lips. Marina’s tongue is in her mouth and Margo’s is twining around it. She tries to lick in between Marina’s teeth and Marina touches her for the first time. She yanks at that those long, loose curls and stops. Margo’s chin is tilted up at her, forcing her to look Marina right into her pale blue eyes.

“Oh no, honey,” Marina says. “I don’t play games.”

“Excuse me?” Margo asks.

“Keep your tongue in your mouth and behave.” Marina knows instinctively that if she pushes this one too far, she’ll turn around and walk off, and she won’t see her again. She loosens her grip on Margo’s hair but doesn’t let it go completely, then leans down and whispers in her ear. “I know you like that,” she says silkily. “I know no one ever gave it to you. You always have to be the big bad bitch, don’t you, honey? Always have to be the one in control. But we’re both smart enough to know it’s an act. What was it? What happened? You don’t have to tell me. But something big did. Something that made you put up a real attitude toward the rest of the world. But you’re safe with me, sweetheart. I won’t tell anyone your secret. Let’s try again.”

Marina kisses her again, this time softer, gentler. She plays with her lips a little. Margo opens her mouth to her and lets her skate her tongue along the inside her mouth, teasing her. And when Marina’s tongue finally tangles up with hers, she doesn’t push back, but seems to enjoy it instead. Her arms go around Marina’s neck and the older girl feels a leap of triumph. She has her now. She’s won this particular game. This one is not only worth her time, but she’s managed the delicate dance of getting such a fucking fireball under her thumb. Difficult, to say the least. It’s taken all of her patience and skill to snag this one, who can read people almost as well as she can. Shockingly, she’s got the alertness of someone who’s learned to survive. Sexual assault, has to be. Marina files that one away: something to tread carefully around and something that can useful, depending on the situation.
But right now, she’s got this delicious little thing wrapping her arms around her, kissing her, starting to press against her in that short little dress. Marina pulls her closer with a hand on her lower back, the other still wrapped in her hair. Margo gives a pleased little sound in the back of throat. Oh, this one likes sex, Marina thinks. This one likes sex a lot.

“Come up to my room,” Marina whispers in her ear.

“My roommate will wonder where the fuck I am,” Margo points out.

“Do you give a fuck?” Marina challenges.

“Not really,” Margo says.

Marina takes her by the wrist — a subtly aggressive gesture she’s fond of using with her lovers — and leads her to the library, to the secret back staircase where she does a Mann reveal. She teaches Margo on the fly and is pleased to see she picks it up almost immediately. At the top of the stairs, she unpicks the wards and takes her into her room. It’s large, all bookshelves crammed with half with volumes on casting and magic, half with an eclectic assortment of everything from Game of Thrones to trashy adolescent lit. Books are piled on the floor, teeter in stacks in corners. Margo’s on them like a bee on a flower, but Marina yanks her back.

“I didn’t bring you up here to examine my literature collection,” she snaps at her. “You can do that later. I want to see your tits.”

“Excuse me?” Margo snaps right back.

“I’m sorry,” Marina says contritely. “Do you need me to be a little more gentle, sweetheart? I can do that.” She curses inwardly. She got so excited she forgot this one needs careful handling or she’ll bolt. She approaches Margo and coos into the curve of her ear. “You need to relax, sweet thing. Lie down on the bed with me and let me play with you. But take off that dress first so I can see those gorgeous tits of yours.” She nibbles at Margo’s ear and lets her hands stray down to flick at her nipples. Margo gasps. She clearly wasn’t expecting this.

“Shhh. I’ll take mine off first.” Marina pulls her dress over her head. She knows her tits aren’t huge, but they’re pretty. She leans down to unbuckle her shoes, then drops her bra. Margo stares, and Marina sees desire flicker through her eyes. Yes. Margo mimics Marina. And Marina’s pleased to see that yes, her tits are high and full and round, just the way she likes them. She leads Margo, this time by the hand, to her double bed with the Brakebills crest on the comforter and lays her down. She knows how much she wants to get on top of this one, but she also knows she won’t tolerate it, not yet, so she lies at her side and kisses her again, gentle and soft.

Margo’s melting into her. Her nipples are already hard, little slut, not that Marina’s much better, and her thighs part automatically for Marina’s. Marina pets her hair and skates her hand down Margo’s body. It’s lush, despite her small frame, big tits nipping down to a small waist, real hips and an ass to die for. Not like Marina’s long, thin flapper-girl build. Margo’s arms are locked around her neck like a lovesick, horny girl while she lets Marina do all the caressing, but that’ll work for tonight. Tonight is all about getting her into bed and keeping her here.

Marina reaches down and thumbs one of her nipples. “Do you like it like this?” she asks. “Or do you like it better like this?” She pinches, not too hard, but not softly, either. Margo lets out a sharp breath and arches against her. “Oh, you like that,” Marina purrs at her. This is one that’s going to need all the purring, all the cooing, all the attention and the petting for a while until she trusts her. She pinches both of Margo’s nipples into sharp peaks. Shyly, Margo hand slips between them and flicks Marina’s nipple back and forth. She’s not used to this, Marina realizes. She’s not done this much before at all. So she has not only a mouthy little bitch in her bed, but a baby one at that. This’ll be an interesting combination, but not one Marina can’t handle.

“Like this.” Marina shows her how to roll her nipples between her fingers and draw circles around them until they harden into nubs. “That’s it, baby. Are you getting wet for me yet? I bet you are.” She lowers her mouth and sucks at Margo’s perfect tits. Margo arches and buries her fingers in Marina’s hair. This one is easy. She’s inexperienced but she wants it bad. Marina pets down her belly while she sucks, softly, until she reaches the barely-there lace. She plays with the band, then stops and looks and up at Margo, her nipple still in her mouth.

Margo looks down at her, pleading, as if wondering why she’s stopped.

So Marina strokes lower, finds her hood and pets it in the soft, up-and-down strokes that boys never get right. Margo purrs. Marina knows nows she’s getting wet, and slips a finger between her legs. Sure enough, a tiny slick of wetness is building on her lace. Marina strokes her there and Margo arches up to her. She stops for a moment, reached into her side table, and grabs some lube. A drop on her finger, she pushes Margo’s lace aside and spreads it over her lips, just around her entrance, in slow circles that move ever inward until she’s just barely inside her. Margo groans. Marina moves her mouth back to Margo’s as she slowly starts to fuck her, ever-so-softly, with the tip of one finger. Margo bucks.

“You like that?” she whispers. “You want more?” She slides her finger deep. Margo’s tight, thank god she started with one finger. She finds her g-spot and strokes it. The younger girl arches up to her and cries out.

Marina laughs at her. “I haven’t even started with you,” she says. She slides out of Margo, earning a whine, and drops more lube on her fingers. She spreads it all over her, still holding her panties to the side. Marina then concentrates on her clit. She knows how women work; she knows this is how she’s make Margo come. She plays with it, stroking directly on it, which makes Margo shiver and bucks up and down — too much. She traces circles on it. Good, but not enough. Then she reaches up from underneath it and flicks up. He finger slips just under Margo’s hood and must hit some perfect spot because the girl cries out loudly, spreads her legs wider, and jams her fists under her ass. That’s it. Marina finds that spot again and pets it softly until she has Margo rocking her hips, shivering, shaking and making little noises. “Come for me,” Marina whispers. “I want you to come on my hand for me, sweetheart. You can do it. Let it go. You’re safe here. Let it go.”

And finally, with a loud cry, Margo does, arching and bucking up to Marina’s hand. Marina presses on her so she can ride the orgasm out, presses when she jerks with it, making it last. When she finishes, her face is red, her hair tumbled over the pillow. She’s breathing hard.

“Was that the first time a girl got you off?” Marina asks.

Margo nods.

“Did you like it?” Marina asks, a purr in a her voice.

Margo nods again.

“Stay here tonight,” Marina says. “I’ll teach you more in the morning.” This is one who will want to cuddle. If she’s going to trust her, she needs to be coddled and petted.

“But I have to —”

“That doesn’t start until noon,” Marina says. She yawns. “Plenty of time before that.” She pulls Margo’s lace back to where it belongs, pulls her close, and situates them under the covers. Marina doesn’t quite yet know what she’ll end up using this one for. But she’ll be useful. A 4.0. Already picking up spells, and fast. Easy once you know what buttons to push. She’ll probably end up breaking her heart. But maybe not. She cuddles in next to her. For the time being, she smells good. And she’ll turn into a lovely little playmate.

Chapter Text

At first, Margo’s totally confused. Where the fuck is she again? Then it all comes flooding back: the beach, the exam, magic school, Marina. Marina. Marina who’s sleeping next to her, curled on her side, one hand under her pillow. Her face is relaxed, soft, nothing like the twisty smirk from yesterday. Neither of them are wearing anything but underwear, and Margo’s is that super tiny lace pair that leaves practically nothing to the imagination. Marina’s pretty, Margo thinks: not as pretty as she is, not conventionally at least, with her sharp features, but pretty still, long-limbed and lanky.

And last night: last night was … something different. Margo never gives in like that, not ever. And this girl waltzed in, told Margo all her own secrets, and rather than slapping her and walking off, Margo had just dropped like a little bitch and let her have her way. Because it fucking felt good. And it had felt good, for once, just giving in like that, the way she never, ever, ever does with men. Being the one seduced, instead of always the seducer. Being the one someone’s cooing at, someone’s petting. Someone pulling her hair for once. She’s not supposed to want that. She can’t want that.

Except she does. She’s profoundly shocked to find she really, really, really wants it.

Her eyes flick to the clock. It’s 6 am.

No way is she walk of shaming it back to her dorm.

So she gets up, silently, and scans the shelves. Anais Nin’s Delta of Venus. Oh, fuck yes. She lies down on her belly next to Marina and begins reading. She’s almost halfway through an hour later when Marina’s eyes flutter open.

“Nice reading material.” Marina smirks.

Margo shrugs at her. “Convenient.”

Marina sits up. “You’ve never played with a girl before last night,” she says.

Margo shrugs again and pretends to keep reading.

“I had to show you how to play with my tits, honey,” Marina says. Her voice drops into something silky. “It’s okay, baby. You just need more practice.” Margo feels a finger run down the back of her spine, and she shivers involuntarily. Goddammit. Marina stretches out next to her. She’s only in her underwear, plain black cotton. “Is it time for another lesson? I know you’ve been reading that book. You think I haven’t read it? I know how you’re feeling right about now. Bet you’re wet, sweetheart.”

That voice is right in her ear right now. “You felt so good last night, honey. Do you want to play again this morning? I bet you do.”

“I probably have to get back to my room,” Margo says, a little loudly. She curses herself for picking up Anais Nin. Stupid fucking move, even if it is a damn good book.

Marina sits up. “Look, I get if girls aren’t your thing,” she says.

Margo doesn’t raise her eyes from the book. “Never said that.”

“Mmm-hmm. Then this is a pretty shitty morning after, don’t you think, sweetheart? I thought you said I was worth your time.”

“You might be,” Margo says, still not looking up.

Marina mouth twists. “Not what you said last night.” She leans down and whispers in her ear. “So sick of having to boss everyone around, aren’t you? Drop the bored girl act. We both know your eyes haven’t moved on that page since I woke up.”

No one ever calls Margo out. Ever.

“But it doesn’t have to be like this. You’re safe here, sweetheart. You don’t have to pretend.” Marina gently takes the book from her, marks the page, and sets it on the bedside table. “You had a good time last night.” Marina brushes the hair off her neck and kisses her there. “Why don’t you let yourself have another one this morning?” She starts playing with Margo’s long hair, braiding it. “What gave you the tough girl act? You weren’t always like this. You were one of those baby geniuses, weren’t you? Pretty little smart girl with her nose in a book?”

Margo doesn’t answer. She turns her face away and lets Marina keep playing with her hair. Her stomach drops.

“You can tell me, baby,” Marina says. She keeps playing and playing, gently working out Margo’s tangles. “Who was it?”

Margo’s stomach flips, as if she’s about to plummet down the giant hill on the coaster at Knott’s Berry Farm.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Marina says. “But I understand. It happened to me, too. I was only 13. I hadn’t even gotten my period yet.” Gently, gently, she keeps untangling Margo’s hair. “I know how it works. You have to be the baddest bitch then, because you know what happens if you aren’t. I understand.” She starts braiding again. “You never told, did you?”

Margo wants to scream. She wants to run. She wants to hug Marina. She wants to break down. Marina’s hands are so gentle.

“You don’t have to ever, ever, ever say it. It’s okay. But you can be safe here, okay? You don’t have to pretend. You can just be. What was your favorite book, before it happened? What did you love to read the best?”

“The Fillory books,” Margo says softly. “I read the Fillory books. I wanted to be Fiona Chatwin.”

Marina stands up. She puts her finger to her mouth and taps it against her lips, furrows her brow. Her breasts are beautiful in the morning sunlight slanting through the curtains. Then she smiles and pulls five books, all in the row, from a middle shelf. She drops them on the pillow in front of Margo. “Here,” she says. Margo looks down at the books spilled in front of her. The World in the Walls. The Girl Who Told Time. The Flying Forest. The Secret Sea. The Wandering Dune. She looks up at Marina. The older girl is smiling gently. She reaches down and touches Margo’s face. “Morning,” she says. “You look pretty when you wake up.”

She lies back down next to Margo, close. She keeps playing with her hair. It’s so comforting. Margo wants to close her eyes and purr. She turns towards Marina. “Only 7am,” the other girl says. “Plenty of time for you to get over to your place and ready for the long day of stupid paperwork signing. ‘I will not hold Brakebills responsible for my death under any circumstances, blah blah blah.’ Hope you’re prepared to be bored.”

Margo smiles a little bit. “Is it that bad?”

“Worse.” Marina flips onto her stomach. “So how long were you reading Anais Nin for?”

“Like an hour,” Margo says.

Marina grins. “That’s a lot of self-control to read Anais Nin for so long without resorting to … extracurricular activities.”

Margo smiles a little bit again. “I’ve read it before.”

“What’s your favorite part?”

Margo turns red. She actually hides her face in the pillow. She can’t believe she’s resorting to this. Margo Hanson would never hide her face in a pillow. Ever. She would call someone a twat or launch into a graphic description of some deviant sex act.

“You can tell me,” Marina coaxes.

Margo picks up her head. She’s still bright red. “The part with the voyeur and the exhibitionist,” she manages. “Where one of them wants to be watched and the other one wants to watch and they just meet by chance on a train and —”

“Oh, I’m familiar,” Marina says. “Which are you?”

“Excuse me?” Margo asks.

“Which one are you, honey? The voyeur or the exhibitionist?” Marina’s got a mischievous smile on her face.

“Um, some of both, probably?” she answers honestly.

“That works well. Me too.” Marina turns on her side again. “So let me see.”

“What?” Margo asks.

“Let me see. Come on, baby girl.” Marina runs a finger down her cheek. “Let me watch. You can watch me. Then I’ll know what you like better, anyway. Win-win.” She leans over, brushes Margo’s hair away from her ear and whispers into it. “I know you’re wet already from reading that book.”

Margo blushes again, because she knows she is.

“C’mon,” Marina pets her face, down her neck, down the side of her breast. Margo shivers. Her nipple puckers. Damn it. Of course Marina notices and takes it as an invitation, catches it between two fingers and rubs it softly. Margo grits her teeth to keep from gasping. “You’re safe here,” Marina says. “You don’t have to be the mouthiest, baddest bitch here. C’mon, sweetheart. Let me see you play with that pretty pussy. I’ll let you watch me.” Marina’s hand is straying down to her own belly. Margo’s eyes are riveted.

“You do want to watch, don’t you?” she purrs. Ever-so-gently, she pulls Margo’s lacy underwear off her, then pulls off her own underwear. Marina, Margo sees, also has a Brazilian. Her fingers skate down through her red curls — oh my god, bright red, like her hair — and start petting just on her hood. “I like to start right here,” Marina says. “It makes me wet to start like this. Where do you start?”

As Margo stares at Marina’s fingers softly stroking herself, she reaches up and pinches her own nipple, first one, then the other. She rolls them in her fingers, draws them into peaks. She feels Marina’s eyes on her and that makes it even better. Then she strokes down her belly to her pussy. She knows she’s already wet; there’s no sense in pretending she’s not. She finds her slit and traces her fingers along the edges of it.

“You’re cheating, you’re wet already,” Marina says. “But you like that, don’t you? You like to touch your own pussy? So many girls just stick to their clit.” Her fingers dip down a little bit. Margo can see she’s starting to get swollen. She uses her other hand to hold herself open a little. Her clit peeks out from between her folds. Marina grabs the lube from off the side table, spreads a tiny bit on her finger, and strokes it over her clit. She sighs and relaxes back on the pillows. “Oh god, that feels so good,” she says. “Here.” She tosses it to Margo.

Shyly, Margo spreads it on her fingers, then rubs it just inside herself. It feels so good to be this wet. She dips her fingers in and slowly starts fucking them in and out, just barely. She hums with pleasure at the feeling. She’s been getting wet and swollen reading that book and it feels so good to finally touch herself. Her wet fingers skate up and find her clit. It’s still hidden up under her folds, but she slips her fingers inside and rubs it anyway. Even better, she spreads more lube on her fingers and rubs it onto her hood. She presses on it, then begins rocking her fingers back and forth. Her clit slides inside it. Marina is staring intently at her.

“Let me do that,” Marina says. “Here. You touch me. You see how I’m doing it, it’s not hard, baby girl.” Gently, she guides Margo’s hand between her legs. “See? Touch right - ah - right there. That’s it. Just pet right there, right on my clit. And I’ll pet you.”

Margo’s never, ever touched another girl like this before but she’s wanted to, and it feels so natural, like touching herself. She strokes Marina the way she likes to have her clit touched, slowly, gently, almost flicking but not quite. Marina makes little pleased sounds in her throat and rocks her hips. Margo feels Marina’s fingers on her hood. She uses almost the exact amount of pressure Margo was using herself; she rolls two slick fingers back and forth across it. Margo arches up to her.

“That’s it,” Marina says. “That’s it, honey. Doesn’t that feel good?” Margo starts rocking her hips, but Marina dips her fingers down, down to Margo’s entrance and pets her. “Oh, baby, you’re soaked,” she says. “You’re so wet. That must feel good. Do you want me to put my finger inside you?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Margo says. She bucks a little.

“What was that, doll?” Marina asks.

“Mmm-hmm,” Margo says with a whine.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have to ask for what you want,” Marina says gently. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Put your finger inside me,” Margo begs. She hates herself for it.

“That’s better,” Marina says. She slides a finger up inside Margo. Her other hand returns to play with Margo’s hood and she arches her back again and almost cries out with the sheer pleasure of it.

“Your fingers feel so good, honey,” Marina says. Margo’s still petting her, in short, quick strokes. “That’s it. Here.” She spreads some more lube on herself. “Do it harder for me. I like it rougher than that.” Margo strokes her harder, but Marina laughs at her. “No, baby. Harder. Like this.” She takes Margo’s hand and presses it on herself, then grinds her clit against it. She gasps with pleasure. “Like that, baby. Do that. It won’t take me long if you do that.”

Margo could never, ever take being touched like that, but Marina is arching on her fingers and bucking, almost moaning with pleasure. She’s not the only one; her finger has found Margo’s g-spot and she’s petting it in short, cat-like strokes while she rolls Margo’s clit under her hood. Margo’s gasping. She and Marina are almost belly-to-belly now; their breasts rest against each other and their mouths naturally find one another. Marina takes charge, like before, and Margo lets her. She finds herself enjoying it, in fact, loving the feeling of Marina’s hands between her legs and her tongue in her mouth. She bucks and arches and thrusts at her. She feels Marina laugh. She pulls her mouth away. “You are a little slut for this, aren’t you?” she says affectionately. “Never hooked up with a girl before and look at you, begging for it. You want to come so bad, don’t you, honey?”

Margo’s not the only one; Marina’s grinding on her fingers and gasping, twisting her hips. “You want it as bad as I do,” Margo manages.

“Mmm-hmm,” Marina says. “Come for me,baby.” She presses harder on Margo’s g-spot. “I know you want to. Come hard for me.” Marina’s thrusting her hips now, harder and harder. Margo doesn’t know how she can keep this up much longer. Suddenly, she goes tense; her legs shake; she freezes up and jerks. Margo feels a wet rush on her hand. Oh my god, was that — so that’s what people were talking about. Holy shit. She thought that was made up.

But Marina scarcely misses a beat. She keeps rubbing Margo; Margo feels herself tensing, tensing, her legs straightening out and her toes curling up and her ass clenching; her legs start to shake. “That’s it,” Marina coaxes.”That’s it, baby. Come on. You’re almost there, sweetheart.” And Margo’s clutching at Marina’s finger, her own release tightening on her again and again as she comes hard. She hears a thump and opens her eyes; it’s Marina’s hand. Keeping them from hitting the ceiling. She panics but suddenly Marina’s arms are around her.

“Shhh. Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay.” Marina’s laughing. “It can happen with two magicians. It’s all right. Don’t freak out, baby. You’re not going to fall.” They drift slowly back down to the bed.

“Does — does that happen every time?” Margo asks. She’s totally spooked. They were fucking levitating.

“Not every time, no,” Marina says. She smiles sweetly. “Only when it’s really good. And here, by the time we get dressed it’ll be a respectable time for you to walk back to your dorm. If you want, I’ll shoot you a text later?”

Margo nods dumbly. They were on the fucking ceiling. She just fingered a girl. And then they fucking floated.

She pulls her clothes on in a daze.

Marina puts her number in Margo’s phone, then texts herself. “Got you,” she says. “I’ll see you soon, okay? You have fun with all the other little firsties today. Make some decent friends. The smart ones. You’ll know who they are. That Waugh kid wasn’t bad — he could end up being useful later, if you can put up with the bowtie bullshit. Later, honey.” Marina gives her a long, lingering kiss and sends her out the door.

Margo finds her way back to her dorm. She ignores her roommate’s questions, put on another killer outfit, and does her hair, which barely leaves enough time for breakfast. She scrambles down to the dining hall and almost runs into the kid in the bowtie. Eliot.

“You’re in a hurry,” he says lazily. He takes a bite of an apple. “Rumor has it someone didn’t come home last night.”

“Rumor has it someone should mind their own fucking business,” Margo snaps.

“Down, girl,” Eliot says. “You want to grab the last of breakfast? I hear it sucks, but there’s a cereal bar, at least.”

Margo pours herself some granola. Eliot gets Lucky Charms.

“Breakfast of champions,” Margo comments. He ignores her.

“So, were you with hottie upperclassman Marina last night?” Eliot asks. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

“By inquiring minds, you mean you, and none of your fucking business,” Margo says sweetly.

“Didn’t peg you as someone who liked girls.”

“Funny, because I definitely pegged you as someone who liked boys.”

“I do tend to give off that je ne sais quoi of homosexuality.”

Margo can’t help it. She snorts into her granola. “It might have something to do with the bowtie. Possibly the vest.”

“Honey, I couldn’t act straight if I tried. I mean, could you drop the bitch if you tried?”

Margo thinks back to last night and pretends it didn’t happen. “No. Probably not.”

“Oh, and props for the I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about the bikini yesterday. I think I fell a little bit in love with you. As much as it’s possible for a gay man to fall for a woman whose sexuality is currently in question.”

“I like dick and pussy. This is boring. We’re at fucking magic school. Can you find something more interesting to talk about? I hear today’s the day we sign all the papers about how we won’t hold the school responsible for killing ourselves by magical purposes.”

“Oooh, sounds both amazingly interesting and brain-numbingly boring all at the same time.”

“Right?!” Margo says. “Like, I want to hear more about the death parts? But the legalese and the paper-signing? Gross. I wish someone had some alcohol around here.”

“Um,” says Eliot.

Margo’s eyes grow wide.

“What do I have to do to get you to share?”

“Promise to be my best friend forever and ever and ever,” Eliot smirks.

“Deal.”

“Then let’s get discreetly smashed, girlfriend.”

Margo remembers what Marina said about Eliot. That one could be useful. But she doesn’t really give a fuck about useful right now. What she’d really like is a friend. She links her arm into Eliot’s. They walk back to the dorms and up to his room. Maybe today won’t be so boring after all.

Chapter Text

Marina toys with the idea of making her new little firstie wait. This morning had been good — very good, in fact — at gaining some more trust. She’s getting Little Miss Margo wrapped around her finger; thank God she had a copy of those stupid Fillory books sitting around. That was the perfect touch. She decides to send her a text. With the most tempting offer she can think of.

Come over and read later tonight -m

Sure enough, there’s a knock on her door around ten. It’s Margo, wearing a flowered sundress, hair long and loose. That girl wants her books, possibly more. But Marina won’t push that tonight.

“How was your first day, sweetie?” Marina asks in her honey-sweet, smooth-edged voice. “Did you learn about all the ways you could die?”

Margo snorts. “No, Eliot had alcohol so we got drunk and signed some paperwork. It was actually fairly entertaining.”

“Meet anyone interesting?” Marina’s always looking for intelligence.

“Not really. This kid Todd who’s super-crazy nice to everyone but seems dumb as a stump. That’s about it.”

Marina hands her The World in the Walls and points to an armchair. She knows what Margo needs, after this morning. More coddling. More gentleness. You can’t bring up trauma like that and not smooth out the rough edges. “Here. You can borrow some clothes. You can’t curl up and read properly in that dress. We can also start some poppers and some basic spells, if you want.”

“Can we?” Margo asks eagerly. “What are poppers?”

“Something you will grow to fucking hate until you can do them without thinking,” Marina says. “But first, comfy clothes. Then you decide if you want to read or get ahead of all the other firsties and become Fogg’s second favorite girl.”

Margo furrows her brow. “Who’s the first?”

Marina smirks. “Me.”

Marina’s not disappointed when Margo chooses to get ahead instead of curling up and reading. She starts with the basics, correcting Margo’s finger positions over and over. She hates this shit. It’s annoying and boring and beginners have such clumsy fucking hands. But she puts on her smile and gently corrects her fingers again and again until Margo can do the most basic of spells, including the simple spark that will light a cigarette. She shakes out her hands. “This fucking hurts,” she complains.

“Yeah, it hurts like a motherfucker in the beginning,” Marina says, and she almost feels some sympathy. Almost. “You want to read for a while? I already have some homework.”

“Yeah,” Margo says shyly. “If you don’t care.”

So that’s how Marina ends up with Little Miss Tough Bitch curled up in her armchair, in yoga pants and a backless shirt, reading a fucking Fillory book. She flips the pages rapidly. Quick reader. Really, really quick reader. This one’s fucking smart. Marina hadn’t picked wrong when she plucked this one out of the sea of firsties.

“Time for me to head to bed,” Marina says after a while. She stretches theatrically. It’s way too early for Marina to go to bed. She only needs about four hours of sleep a night. It’s a gift.

“Okay,” Margo says. “I’ll get going.”

“You can always stay if you want,” Marina says softly. “I have another trick I can show you, if you want. You don’t have to do it. I’ll just do it to you, okay?” She can tell Margo’s intrigued by the way her head tilts a little and her mouth purses. “You want to stay and play a little while, baby girl?”

“I should probably stay in my room at least once,” Margo says.

“Do you really give a fuck what other people think?” Marina challenges. Push her buttons, push her buttons, and that’s a big one.

“Not really,” Margo says.

“Then why don’t you lay down with me for a little while? Bet you’d like if I were on top? It feels really good.”

Marina can feel Margo go on guard. “I don’t know.”

“Shhhh,” she approaches her and strokes her cheek. “You’re safe. Remember? You’re safe here. This room is safe. I’m safe. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

Margo looks up at Marina and searches her eyes. Marina makes them as kind and gentle as she possibly can. She’s gotten good at this, over the years. Very, very, very good. Margo lies down on the bed. Marina comes over and gently gets on top of her. She’s careful to hold herself up by the elbows so she’s not putting weight on her, which she’s afraid might trigger something. But she does rest her breasts against Margo’s, her soft belly against hers, and her warm mound against the younger girl’s. Margo’s breath hitches.

“Like that?” Marina says. She wiggles a little bit, and Margo automatically spreads her legs, as if for a boy. Submissive little slut. Marina totally has this one. She rubs herself against Marina and sighs. “Feel good?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Margo says.

“Feels better if we kiss while we do it,” Marina says. She lowers her mouth and starts kissing Margo gently, not hurried, as if she has all the time in the world to explore this little firstie’s lips and tongue. Margo starts moving a little underneath her, moans a bit, then moves some more. Soon she’s trying hard to deepen the kiss and bucking underneath Marina, rocking her hips and begging. This one likes sex. It’s so much easier when they like sex. So much easier to manipulate.

Marina sits up on her and pulls off both their shirts. Neither is wearing a bra. She lies next to Margo and pinches her nipples into redness, then lowers her mouth and sucks. She starts soft, then, as Margo relaxes into it and starts playing with her hair, sucks harder, then rakes her teeth along it. She gets a gasp in return. She alternates, tongue and teeth, tongue and teeth, until Margo’s coming undone. Marina switches breasts, taking a moment to enjoy the red, wet peak she’s sucked Margo’s nipple into. Then she stops.

“Your turn, baby girl,” she says. “Do it hard.”

Shyly, Margo lowers her head. She holds Marina’s breast in her hand and starts sucking. Marina arches and sighs. She loves this part: the warm wet mouth on her, the hard suck. Margo tries her teeth, but feeling Marina flinch, goes back to that deliciously hard suck and starts using her tongue. Marina pets her hair. Good girl. She’s a quick one. She switches breasts but still plays with the nipple she’s left behind and Marina’s pleased she’s smart enough to pick up on that trick without being taught.

“Now I’m going to make you feel really good, honey,” Marina says. “And don’t think you have to do it back, okay? I want you to lay down and enjoy this.” And I want you to feel like you fucking owe me. She turns Margo onto her back, sits up, and starts petting her. She pets her breasts, earning a whine; she strokes down her stomach. She pulls off the yoga pants and her underwear, then finds that nice little spot on her hood and starts stroking it. She grabs a pillow and puts it under Margo’s ass.

“This is going to feel so good, baby, I promise,” Marina says. She replaces her finger with her tongue. Margo jumps, but Marina lays a soothing hand on her thigh and pets her gently, as if she’s calming a frightened animal. Margo relaxes into it. Then she starts to enjoy it. Then she’s jamming her fists under her ass and whimpering for more, more, more than just her hood. Marina’s laughing inwardly. She knows how to lick pussy. She’s a fucking master at licking pussy, and this little firstie is going to be ruined forever after she’s done with her.

Slowly, while she keeps licking at her hood, her finger sneaks down and starts stroking her entrance. Just like she suspected, it’s already getting wet. She traces Margo’s lips, coaxing them to open up. They open, all right. She dips a finger inside and feels a wet gush onto her hand. Oh, this one is so fucking easy. As Marina keeps licking, she starts swirling her finger slowly inside her, working it upward, then begins gently fucking it in and out. Another gush wets her hand. Once she reaches her g-spot, she pets softly. Margo arches and almost screams with pleasure. Finally, Marina moves her tongue down to her clit. It’s swollen. Her whole pussy is swollen and wet and open for her. She resists the urge to draw back and look, because she knows it’ll only turn her on more, and she’s not getting off tonight.

She remembers how to get this one off. A flick off from her clit, underneath her hood, and she finds that spot again. Margo twists on her. Marina keeps stroking her g-spot while she presses on that tiny little spot, licking and rubbing with the flat of her tongue. Margo’s hips are shaking. She’s going to come, and come hard. Marina swirls her tongue and presses harder on her g-spot, then begins fucking her hard with her finger. Margo gasps, bucks, and comes hard, her orgasm clenching on Marina’s finger over and over. Marina feels that wet rush and smiles through it. It’ll embarrass her a little and that’ll give Marina even more leverage.

When Marina finally raises her head and swipes at her face, Margo’s eyes are glazed. Her perfect curls are tumbled all over the pillow, her chest red, her nipples hard. She looks delicious. Marina wishes desperately she could make this one get down on her knees and lick her, but not yet. Not yet.

“Was that good?” she asks innocently instead.

“I’m so sorry I — all over your face — ”

Marina laughs. “It means it was really good, baby doll.” She kisses her, and she knows Margo can taste the seawater scent of herself on her tongue. She wonders if she likes it or not; some girls do, in her experience, and some girls don’t. “Go to sleep now. I’ll walk you back before it’s light so no one sees you. First day of class tomorrow, big day.”

“But can’t I —”

“Not tonight. Later,” Marina says. “This isn’t a business transaction. You don’t owe me anything.” Which means you feel guilty, which means you owe me everything. She arranges Margo in her arms. This one smells so good; she feels good to curl around. And Marina has to admit, she’s fun in bed, pretty and entertaining and a exciting mixture of eager and naive. Smart. She could be charming if Marina could teach her to drop the bitch once in a while and learn to be sweet. She has a lot to learn, Marina thinks as she drifts off to sleep. But so much potential. Oh, so much potential.