Author's Note: Don't know what is about Cerridwen that enables Sean to let his Sexwitch Flag fly, but I'm just glad this turned out to be a Freaky Friday chapter!

Song for this Chapter: Sadeness by Enigma. Nothing sexier.

"Hold still, Sean," Carrie admonished as she pushed two fingers deeper beneath his tongue. She curled them into the soft flesh around his jaw, and splayed her other hand on his face. Between her two hands, she raised energy to heal the fractured mandible.

Sean snorted in discomfort, and gripped the edge of the wooden farm table in front of him.

"I'm sorry, I know it's uncomfortable. It takes time to knit bone," Carrie cooed. She continued to talk and soothe him, as he tried not to gag from her hands stuck nearly down his throat, and from the pain of the healing. As soon as she released him, with a triumphant, "All done!" he rose, walked deliberately through the the cottage, down the steps of the small back deck, and vomited in the darkness.

When he clomped heavily back into the living room, Carrie was already waiting with a cool towel and a glass of his favorite juice, cranberry-pomegranate.

He wiped his mouth and shook his head at her as they folded into the suede couch together. "For a goddess, you spend an awful lot of time taking care of me." He sipped the juice. "Don't you have more important things to do?"

She threw a leg into his lap, and stroked the stubble on his newly healed jaw. "Hmmmm, not at the moment. And anyway, I'd say it's a fair exchange for your admirable service," she teased.

It was true. It had been more than five hundred years since she'd been sexed anywhere near approaching Sean's prowess. Not since Leonardo da Vinci was a strapping lad. Funny that people thought Leo was gay. She felt a bit guilty for that. She ruined him for mortal women. He never married, always longing for her, and denouncing mortal sex. She could never bring herself to stay with him, though they had an infrequent affair for forty years. She still felt bad, about Leo.

But Sean blew Leo out of the water. In bed. In everyday. She wondered if Sean was more talented than da Vinci. Genius was different in these modern times...more concentrated. Sean was certainly a musical genius, though he didn't understand that about himself yet. He was so young. She was so excited for him, for the parts of himself that he had yet to explore.

He offered her the juice. She drank and set it on the table that was ladened with candles. With a wave of his hand, Sean lit them all, as well as the ones that were arranged around the room in groups on little tables and wall shelves. The air breathed with their flicker.

"Mmmm, good idea," Carrie murmured, her body tensing, and then relaxing in the presence of his casual magic. She was unused to the intimate company of other witches.

In the candlelight, she looked around her new home. Open, pine cabinetry in the kitchen was laden with wooden bowls and heavy white crockery. There was a stone fireplace in the kitchen, complete with an iron cauldron—that was Hearne's private joke, but it was lovely, and she actually had already used it twice, to make brews, not to cook stews. The eclectically furnished living room was lined with old-fashioned clapboard paneling painted a cozy cream. The room was not just awash in candles, but iron fixtures, houseplants and hemp baskets. Cernunnos had made this place perfectly. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that he could know her modern taste so well, even though they had not lived together in two thousand years. He just knew her, inside and out.

But it wasn't only Cernunnos' efforts that made Carrie love this place. It was Sean being here. Him being so at ease here, and the two of them, in just a few day's time, feeling so intimately settled here.

She had never been herself with a mortal man before. She'd lusted for a few fine male specimens, had spent snippets of time having adventures and relatively satisfying sex with them. But Sean was the first one she...craved with something more than her body. At first, even though she adored him, she'd told herself it was just a goddess-supplicant relationship. But now, that was changing. He was claiming some of her feelings, and with that, she was losing her position of power over him. The realization made her feel nervous.

"Tonight sucked," he said casually.

"I know, Cutie," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

He kissed her temple. "No, I meant it sucked, but it wasn't as bad I thought it would be." He layed his head back on the couch, touching her face, his eyes traveling lazily over her features. "You saved me, Carrie. I couldn't have handled any of this, without you. Your loving care, it's so...healing. Even though part of me says it's too soon, another part of me wants to be happy again, " he smiled at her. "With you," he clarified.

She bit her lip, not sure if she should tell him the truth. She was so used to staying guarded.

His eyes narrowed. He rubbed his thumb across her lip, like he knew she wanted to speak. "What are you trying not to say, Carrie?"

She bit at his thumb, hoping to distract him. He pulled it back. "What?" he said with a little chuckle. "Tell me."

"I...I really like you, Sean," she said softly.

He laughed. "Carrie, don't bullshit me. I know how much you love me, I feel it." He gestured to the symbol on his wrist. "You're my goddess."

"No, you don't understand," she said quickly. "I do love you like that—like a goddess loves a personally dedicated supplicant." Like a mother loves her offspring. "Of course, I do. But it's more than that. I...you...when I'm with you, I feel...like myself. And happier than I've been in a really long time."

Sean's features spread into tenderness. "That's good, Sweetheart. Really good."

Carrie felt his hand spread at the base of her skull, and he pulled her face down to his, kissing her more thoroughly, more intimately than he ever had.

After a long time enjoying her mouth, he whispered hoarsely, "We are a good fit, goddess."

His kisses made Carrie feel young and wild. She couldn't get enough of her young, dedicated lover. She ran her hand down his crotch. He was hard, like she knew he would be. "A perfect fit, in some ways," she teased.

She felt his energy flip. The sexwitch switch. She didn't pull back. She let him muss her hair and possess all of her mouth.

"Carrie, I want you," he murmured into her mouth, his voice soft but filled with magic. "Not like it's been. I want you with no rules, no instruction, no goddess controls. I want you to surrender to me."

His magical plea spread a heat through Carrie like she hadn't felt since Beltanes long ago. Her heart beat too fast, her stomach fluttered and below that, she literally ached. She pulled back, and ran her hands through his dark, messy mop of hair. Her hand's skimmed his Adam's apple, feeling where he made that beautiful magic with his voice. He knew what she needed. She needed more of his Witchtimbre to give in to what they both wanted.

"Carrie, please," he murmured. His sultry voice flooded her heart. She felt herself yield.

"Yes," she whispered in his ear. "You can make love to me however you want tonight."

He smiled the most beautiful boyish smile she had ever seen, and then he rose and swept her up bridegroom style. He carried her into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, and with a casual magical flick, he lit the bedroom candles, too.

"Don't take off so much as a shoe. I want to undress you," he whispered. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the bathroom. Carrie smiled as she heard him brushing his teeth. Then she swallowed nervously as she heard him rummaging in her closet. He came back into the bedroom, carrying a small tote bag he'd found in her closet. She rose on her elbows. He shook his head, pointing a quelling finger at her.

"Stay there. I need a few more things," he slipped out of the bedroom, and she heard the backdoor close. He was gone a full fifteen minutes. Then he returned to the house, and she heard the water spill in the kitchen sink, and drawers opening and closing.

What was he doing? What was he planning to do to her?

She felt a little panicked. Cernunnos was probably the world's best lover, but his style was completely organic and natural. She'd never been with a sexwitch until Sean. Hell, she'd never even been with a mortal man that had any imagination in bed, just stamina and solid skill. Sean was different. He was...wickedly magical. She focused on trying to control her breathing. She felt sweat pooling beneath her breasts, and her panties were already damp.

Sean slipped back into the room shirtless, and glamoured as he always was when her removed his shirt in Cerridwen's presence. He had too much respect for his goddess to come to her displaying Druantia's seal on his chest. She smiled at the sweet gesture, but swallowed nervously as she eyed the now bulging bag, and the large wooden bowl in his hand.

There was a knife in the bowl.

"What's all that?" she asked casually.

He didn't answer. He put his sexual implements on the floor beside the bed and climbed over her, slowly lowering his face to hers. Her breath, already running away from her, came in gasps as he rolled his tongue with hers, excruciatingly slowly, like he was already immortal and had all of eternity to make love to her.

He rocked back on his knees, and pulled her shoes off, peeling her no show socks as he massaged her feet one at a time. His thumbs in her arches felt heavenly. She'd been alive twelve thousand years and no one had ever touched her like that. Then he peeled the rest of clothes away, running his hands over her skin, melting her panic. By the time she was naked, she felt languid and sure.

His eyes were dark with magic. He gazed at her nakedness curiously, contemplating.

"What are you going to do to me?" she breathed.

"I'm going to make you beg, so that you know what it's like to be the supplicant," he said very softly, as he ran his hands behind her knees. She shivered.

He reached below the bed and pulled two silky scarves from the bag. Very gently, he tied one of her arms and then the other to the iron headboard. Her chest was heaving now. She couldn't hide how turned on she was.

"Have you ever been tied up, Goddess?" he murmured, watching her face as he tightened the bonds.

She shook her head.

"A first for both of us, then. I'm very good with knots. I don't think you can get free by mortal means, but I want to see you try," he murmured. His voice was strong with compulsion as he said again, "Try to free yourself."

His voice couldn't make her try, but it made her want to try. She twisted and pulled. The silk slipped around and around her wrists, but she couldn't wriggle free. Her struggled had disrupted the pillows and now her position was not comfortable at all, and without the free use of her arms, she couldn't recover it. Her hair had fallen forward into her face and she couldn't brush it away, either.

She suddenly felt very, very vulnerable. The panic flared again. Her fingers itched to correct her discomfort with her magic.

He read her mood. "It's okay, Carrie. Let me fix things." He put his hands under her hips and adjusted her body, restoring the pillows and tenderly brushing the hair from her face.

"Well, now we know my boy scout training was good for something," he smirked, waving at the bonds. "But...I don't want you disappearing, Goddess. Promise me you won't just unmake yourself from my bondage."

She closed her eyes, "I won't. I trust you."

"I want you to be able to. I will never hurt you, unless, maybe one day, you ask me for pain. But I'm new to sexwitching. I don't how how intense the magical sensations might be for you. Do you know what a safeword is?"

"I have seen movies, Cutie," she panted.

"Then choose one."

"Ok. Uhmmm...not a word. A phrase. Fiat lux," she was speaking slowly, trying to master her breath.

"Latin? I suppose the tongue of the enemy is a showstopper," he chuckled, drawing a slow finger down her exposed under arm. She jerked beneath the sensation and turned toward his hand.

"No," he said softly, turning her head back to meet his eyes. "Don't look at what I'm doing to you. Look at me."

He trailed his finger down her arm again, slowly tickling her side, and she laughed nervously. "Oh god! That tickles. Stop! "

"No," he denied her, and tickled her again. And then the other arm. And again. She arched her back, more laughter erupting against her will. He tickled her until she was breathless and earnestly pleading for him to stop.

Much to her surprise, when he did stop, she felt...disappointed.

"You didn't use the safe word," he admonished her. "So I can only assume you want me to keep going," he warned.

She stared at him mutely, clothed only in her smile.

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a pensive look. "What does it mean, Goddess?"

"Hmmm?" she asked, confused. She had an intense longing for him to be touching her, even if he was tickling her. Wait, no, especially if he was tickling her.

"The safeword," he prompted. "What does it mean?"

"Let there be light," she said smugly.

He nodded approval. "Very fitting. You're not just a beautiful Goddess, you're a very smart witch, aren't you?"

He reached a single finger out toward the side of her breast, where he had tortured her with sensation a minute ago, and she arched toward him, but he dropped his hand on the bed.

She moaned in protest.

"You like this already, don't you?" he whispered.

She was captured by his gaze. Unable to deny the truth, she nodded.

His smile was wicked.

"I need you to practice the safeword. Three times, please."

"Fiat lux. Fiat lux. Fiat lux." she murmured, her eyes still locked on his.

His fingers grazed her elbow and slid down her arm again. "Good girl. I hope you don't ever feel like using it, but I want you to use the word, and not your power, if you want to stop. Don't ever flee me, goddess."

"Okay," she whispered.

He climbed atop her again. He murmured an oath-binding incantation into her mouth, pledging to stop all play whenever she used the safeword. The spell he cast was a very old spell, and very familiar to her. She knew breaking his oath would cause him great pain. The sensation of tasting another's magical oath, pressed into her mouth, was something Carrie had never experienced. His wordbond tasted like, iron. Like blood.

Gods, everything this sexwitch did to her was an amazing turn-on. As he completed the oath, he kissed her more deeply. Her legs went around him at once, and she moaned in pleasure as she rubbed her sex against the roughness of his jeans.

He pulled her legs from around him, crooked her knees, and planted her feet firmly on the bed.

"No, Goddess. I haven't begun to make you beg. Now, don't move your legs again, or I will tie them down, too. And I don't want to do that. Not the first time we play, anyway."

Another disbelieving laugh erupted from Carrie. She'd never had a man deny her when she wrapped her legs around him. And she had never come close to wanting a mortal man as much as this gorgeous sexwitch. Enough playing.

She tugged at his will with their bond. "Cutie, fuck me right now and make me come hard, okay?"

"That doesn't sound like begging, Goddess," Sean said playfully, as he trailed his fingers over her breasts and belly, and stopped just where her thighs started.

"Please fuck me right now," she said as she dropped the suggestion down to a hard compulsion. She willed his hands to move to his jeans and free his cock.

He smirked at her and continued to tickle her belly. She strained to compel him again. He rose off the bed, and leaned against the wall, his eyes raking up and down her tied, restrained body.

A realization hit her brain and shot down her spine all the way to her center. She couldn't compel him.

"What did you do?" she said very softly.

"Your buddy Sucellus? We had an interesting sidebar at the party tonight. He felt sorry for me, being a mere mortal man, my will bound to your whim. He doesn't think too much of women having the upper hand, it seems."

"He's just popped into existence again, after two thousand years. He has some catching up to do," Carrie said lightly. She wasn't angry at this little trickery. She was amused. Damn, Sean surprised her. She liked that.

"I don't know, I think Sucellus had a great idea."

"To put a godly ward on this bed--to prevent me using my divine power to compel you, you mean? It's a good parlor trick, I'll admit. But his power is not as great as mine, I assure you. His ward won't last more than a few hours against my will."

Sean's lips twitched, but he stayed put. Suddenly, Carrie had a very disturbing thought. One that actually almost scared her. She tried to unmake herself. She tried again. She couldn't.

Sean sensed what she was trying to do, and shook his head regretfully. "Sweetheart, you promised you wouldn't do that," he said softly. "Do you want me to untie you? Use the safeword. Say it and you are free. But since you broke your word and tried to flee, if you use the safeword, I will lay down beside you, and go to sleep, and you will be left very unsatisfied. And you can't compel me to do otherwise. Not in that bed."

She bit her lip. "Sucellus didn't ward this bed, did he?"

"It was his idea, but it got kicked up the chain. Cernunnos set the ward."

"That motherfucker," she hissed.

Sean laughed. "Ahh, for once, I don't hate him so much. How long do you think his ward will last?"

For as long as Cernunnos existed, but she wouldn't give Sean the satisfaction of actually saying that. "He promised to never to interfere here, without invitation."

"He's old-school, you know that. He thinks if I'm fucking you here, that this place is my...territory. That I have some say here. I asked him to implement the ward. Honestly I thought he was going to tear out my throat, but he said the ward was a good idea, because once set, even he wouldn't be able to penetrate it with his god's eye. And technically he didn't come into your home. He warded this bed from his back deck. He built this place, furnished it. He knows the layout intimately. He can access every inch of your sanctuary and ward it for protection."

"This is protection?"

"Yes," Sean said softly. "Because I will never hurt you in this bed, Sweetheart. And this ward is only about growing trust between us."

Carrie layed her head back on the pillows, trying to reclaim her feelings. Her legs began to slide down, and Sean clucked.

"Be clear about what you want, my Lady. It's up to you. If you want to stop tonight, say the safeword, and we stop, and maybe tomorrow we have sex your way, on the couch, or above Malone's. But if you want to play tonight, in this bed, it's on my terms. And I warned you, if you drop those legs, I will tie them down."

Carrie drew her legs back up, but she lay quiet for a long moment. She was still burning, so turned on she could feel the wetness between her legs dripping. The safeword was pursed on her lips, but it was her pride pushing her to utter it. What would it be like, to set