not to be a voracious whore but like what if Witch tried to cast smt on Price n he clocks it ofc and it was v stupid of her to try. he teases her a little and he'd be such a menace all "darling if you wanted to know you could've asked." and "Such a bad little witch, casting spells like that." "Such a stupid witch." he really activates my daddy issues
(Also price is a little surprised bc she put effort in it and it was very very sneaky and almost made it into him but his magic caught it like the last moment. he's proud of his witch <3 )
(its obvs v early on but like probs after they've been talking for a bit, like witch knows being caught wont be instant death from price)
I am a voracious whore for Witch and Price so you're in good company. I'm thinking this is maybe after Witch makes Price his command spell cigars, and she realizes that he could use them on her. So obviously she tries to put some protections in place, and that means sticking a spell to Price. Easier said than done.
Price is at the bar when he feels the gentle stroke of magic wrap around him. Delicate as a rose petal, and scented with lilac. Sweet and bitingly intoxicating, it tries to settle invitingly over his skin, eager to fly under the radar. Someone else might have missed it, but to Price it's all too familiar. Nastier people have tried worse spells on him. This one is too entreating, too cunning, not to know who it's from. You think you're so clever trying to wind your magic into his, as if he wouldn't notice.
He snaps the soft spell with his fingers, feels the lingering smoke of it --that was smart of you, to burn something, to meet his element-- roll across his palm. It drips like dew onto the lacquered table, inert. You should know better.
Price pushes back from the table, his chair scraping the ground loud enough to silence the conversation in the bar. His boys look at him with confusion and concern. The dew on the table fizzes and steams, boiling itself off.
"Just a little business to take care of," He tells the table before walking out.
You count through the contents of your bag, making mental notes on what you still have to restock. Mustard seeds, poke berries, snake ribs, raccoon baculum, a few shed skins, cat whiskers, you always feel a little bad about the animal curios. You try not to use them too often, but some spells call for it. You stop dead, look up at the empty street in front of you. You close your eyes to steel yourself against the presence you can feel behind you, try to keep a pleasant smile when you open your eyes and turn to face him.
"Price, what a pleasant surprise," You smile up at him, he doesn't look pleased to see you.
"Is it?" He asks, his voice painfully even. He takes a step forward as you take one back.
"Always," You respond easily.
"Interesting," He tips his head, looks down his nose at you with hard eyes, "do you know what I find surprising?"
You feel the spikes of his magic, the thorns that ripped your spell to shreds. Lying isn't an option, he's not asking because he doesn't know. He's asking so you'll admit your guilt and face the music. You don't think he'd kill you, but fae are unpredictable. Your best bet is distance, get some space and keep it before you try any more magic on him. You dart from him and Price's arm snags you around your middle, stopping you dead as he pulls you back. You drop your bag as you grab his arm.
"Oh sweetheart, you have been naughty, haven't you?" Your stomach drops at the suchor in his voice, the gravel that rumbles so promisingly.
"It wouldn't have hurt you," You try a different approach. His hands are so distractingly present against you, his touch spreading warmth through you even over your clothes. You're not used to being touched like this. You're painfully aware of the dull throb between your legs as his body slots behind yours.
"If you want something darling, you have to ask for it," He purrs, his voice low against your ear, "No spells, no tricks, just your pretty pleas." You swallow, resist the urge to lean back into him. He's so solid against your back, broad chest and thick arms keeping you held tight. Had you even thought about escape since he'd caught you?
You don't think he's working any sort of magic over you. It can't just be him keeping your thoughts vacant. It feels like your brain's poured out through your ears, you can't think of how to respond to that. How do you respond to that?
Price's hand catches your jaw, fingers digging ever so slightly into your cheeks, and jerks your head up from where you'd been staring at the cobblestone. "Say something pet, tell me why you needed to work your little magic on me," He all but commands.
"I gave you a powerful spell and needed a safe guard against it," You remember quickly. You won't apologize for taking precautions. Surely he understands that. You don't regret it, only getting caught. You'll be more careful next time you need to work any magic on this man.
"All this over a few cigars?" Price hums, drags his lips against the shell of your ear. You shiver and try to move your head away from the feeling. His grip on your face keeps you where he wants you. He chuckles against you, the sound dripping molten down your spine to settle between your legs. "I don't need to use magic on you, little witch, I have you exactly where I want you just like this."
You squirm, feel his arm tighten around you as you threaten escape. Your attempt feels pathetic even to you. You may be on par with Price in terms of magic, but in raw physical ability he has you beat. Isn't that intoxicating? Some small shivery part of you asks. That he can hold you like this, keep you in place with just his strength? He'd let you go so easily before, he didn't have the same compunction now.
"You don't cast spells on me," He tells you, speaks it into existence, a law between the both of you, "Got it?"
"Yes, fine, got it," You press, push your hands against his hold firmly. He lets you go and you stumble to keep on your feet as you scramble away from him, not for the first time.
"Good girl," His praise is buried under condescension as you pick up your dropped goods. You don't expect him to be there when you look up, and he isn't. At least the street seems to be coming back to life, unstuck from wherever he'd pulled it. He's gotten touchy recently. You wonder what that's about.
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