Monthly Bonus Content #2 - Autumn Special (Morgan Version) (Patreon)

“I just don’t see why we’re stuck doing this,” Morgan grumbles, a cigarette hanging limply from her lips as she stabs at the dried leaves littering the lawn around the Warehouse.

I stare over at her with a brow arched. “Well it’s going to take five times longer if you just poke at the leaves instead of raking them.” I overemphasize my own motion of gently raking the leaves, and she puffs a string of smoke in response.

Another groan erupts from her not twenty seconds later. “They’re all off on a mission—”

“And you’re here stuck with me, doing chores. I get it,” I huff out, having heard the speech five times already. 

A whoosh of air makes the small pile of leaves I’d gathered together flutter around my feet. With a confused frown, I turn on the spot to find Morgan right before me with a smirk on her lips.

“Oh, sweetheart/handsome, being stuck with you is not the problem,” she purrs. 

I chuckle, leaning on the rake in what I hope is a nonchalant kind of way. It seems to work as her gaze slides over me in appreciative appraisal. 

“And what about these leaves? They’re hardly going to rake themselves,” I say, sweeping an arm out to gesture at the orange and red-hued leaves which carpet the grass.

She moves her focus to the piles, a glint sparking so brightly in her eyes that I’m surprised it doesn’t set the leaves alight. “We could put them to another use.”

“And just what exactly—Oof!” We land together with a soft whoomph, Morgan’s body pressed on top of mine. Her fingers play at the edge of my shirt, and I think the heat really will set the leaves on fire now.

Her lips set to work on my neck, apparently her mouth having other uses than flirtatious banter now. Which I agree with, as her kisses—slow but deep—press against my skin. I let out an eager moan. 

My fingers curl into her hair, tugging her head up so as my lips can find hers. When she makes to pull away, I grip the leather cord about her neck, the crystal she wears oddly warm against the palm of my hand. 

“You know we’re just going to make more work for ourselves?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

She smiles, the expression already sending a throb of warmth between my legs. “If that’s all you’re thinking about right now, then I think I need to work harder.”

I bite at my lip as she begins to slide down my body, lifting my clothing to plant kisses over my stomach as she goes.

My hands flail about in the leaves, sending my neat piles skittering about around us as I try to find something to grip hold of. 

When Morgan does work…she really works hard.