Although she desperately wants to stay still in fear of accidentally hurting him, Wanda fidgets where she lies. Every time he sucks, she shifts her hips delicately but digs her feet roughly into the bed, arching them and curling her toes as she lifts slightly off her back.

She can hear a mix of sounds from the neighbourhood, but nothing is as loud as her panting. Her mouth dries, but she hardly cares as she tilts her head back and closes her eyes. All the thoughts around her are there, present, little spokes trying to prod at her, but Wanda reaches telepathically out for him before she stops herself. Beneath her closed eyes, her irises begin to glow red. The tips of her fingers start to smoke a pale pink.

It's more when he sucks on her clit that she wriggles and red thin vines curl along her long fingers. Digging her heels into the bed, she lifts one of her feet up and plants it on his back. The moment she realises where she's digging her heel into, she quickly puts it back on the soft bed. "Sorry," she murmurs.