A Sorceress's Secret: Gwen Tennyson's Forbidden Awakening

The old Rustbucket rumbled to a halt in a secluded forest clearing, miles from any prying eyes or alien emergencies. Inside, the air was thick with a tension far more potent than the ozone smell after one of Ben’s electrical alien transformations. For Gwen Tennyson, the brilliant redheaded sorceress, this summer trip had taken an unexpected turn. It had started with a shared, lingering look after a particularly harrying battle, a brush of hands when passing a bag of chips, and had now culminated in this: being utterly, completely alone with her cousin, Ben, in the cramped, intimate space of their grandfather’s RV. The usual bickering had softened into a charged silence, every unspoken word hanging between them like a spell waiting to be cast.

Gwen sat on the edge of the lower bunk, her biology textbook forgotten on her lap. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with academic stress. She could feel Ben’s gaze on her, a tangible heat that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up. She tucked a strand of her vibrant ginger hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she thought she’d conquered. Her mind, usually a whirlwind of logical spells and complex equations, was now a jumble of illicit, confusing desires. He was her cousin, her rival, her partner. And yet, the way he was looking at her now—like she was the most fascinating alien artifact he’d ever discovered—sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool evening air seeping through the windows.

“You’re staring, doofus,” she finally managed, her voice softer, less accusatory than she intended. It came out as a breathy whisper.

“Can’t help it,” Ben replied, not breaking his gaze. He leaned against the small kitchenette counter, his usual brash confidence replaced with a quiet intensity that was entirely new. “You just… you glowed today, Gwen. Like, literally. Your magic was all pink and crazy, but even after it faded, you’re still… glowing.” He pushed off the counter and took a step closer, the small space making the movement feel immensely significant. “It was kinda awesome.”

A warm blush crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks. She focused on the green of his eyes, so familiar and yet suddenly so deep, so unknown. The romantic tension that had been building for weeks, maybe even years, was finally reaching its breaking point. The air crackled with it, a palpable energy that made it hard to breathe. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way no villain had ever made her feel. Her cute, practical cotton shorts and fitted t-shirt suddenly felt like far too little clothing.

Ben closed the final distance, kneeling before her on the worn carpet. He didn’t touch her, just looked up into her face, his expression earnest. “I’m serious, Gwen. You’re… you’re amazing.” Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he reached out and gently took the textbook from her limp hands, placing it on the floor. His fingers, calloused from gripping the Omnitrix, brushed against her thigh, and a jolt of pure electricity shot through her.

That single touch shattered the last of her reservations. A small, desperate sound escaped her lips, and she surged forward, closing the gap between them. Their lips met in a collision that was nothing like she had ever imagined. It was hesitant at first, a soft, questioning press, but it quickly ignited into something hungry and profound. His lips were slightly chapped, but warm and insistent against hers. She could taste the faint remnant of Mr. Smoothy on his breath, and it was the most intoxicating flavor she’d ever known. Her hands came up to frame his face, her fingers tangling in his messy brown hair as she poured weeks of pent-up, confused longing into the kiss.

He responded in kind, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard planes of his chest through his shirt, the steady, rapid beat of his heart matching her own frantic rhythm. The world outside the Rustbucket ceased to exist. There was no Plumbers, no aliens, no Grandpa Max—just the two of them, lost in a forbidden, passionate discovery. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him willingly, a moan vibrating in her throat as their tongues met, dancing a slow, sensual dance that spoke of curiosity and raw need.

When they finally broke apart for air, both were breathing heavily. Ben’s eyes were dark with desire, his gaze dropping to her lips, swollen from his kisses. “Gwen…” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips.

Wordlessly, driven by a courage she didn't know she possessed, Gwen took his hands and guided them to the hem of her t-shirt. Understanding flashed in his green eyes. With trembling, reverent hands, he gripped the soft fabric and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin pebbling in the cool air and under his heated stare. She wore a simple white bra, and she felt a surge of self-consciousness before it was washed away by the pure awe on his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky. His thumbs stroked over the sensitive skin of her waist, making her shiver. He leaned in, burying his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. “You always smell so good.” His lips found the pulse point on her throat, sucking gently, and Gwen’s head fell back, a gasp tearing from her lips. The sensation was overwhelming, each press of his mouth sending waves of pleasure straight to her core. Her own hands were busy, pulling at his shirt until he got the message and ripped it off, revealing the lean, toned physique earned from countless battles.

Her exploration was hesitant at first, tracing the lines of his arms, his shoulders, his chest. But as his mouth continued its devastating work on her neck and collarbone, her touches grew bolder. She scraped her nails lightly down his back, eliciting a guttural groan from him that vibrated through her entire body. He fumbled with the clasp of her bra, his hero's fingers uncharacteristically clumsy, making her giggle softly against his skin. The sound seemed to spur him on, and finally, the garment gave way.

He drew back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her bare breasts, pale and tipped with rosy, taut peaks. “Wow,” he breathed, the word full of reverence. He cupped one breast, his touch surprisingly gentle, his thumb brushing over her nipple. A sharp, delicious ache made her arch into his hand, a silent plea for more. He obliged, lowering his head and taking the peak into his mouth. The heat and wetness of his tongue circling her sent a bolt of pure, undiluted lust straight to the apex of her thighs. She cried out, her fingers clutching his hair, holding him to her as he lavished attention on one breast and then the other, worshipping her body with a focus he usually reserved for saving the world.

The need for more, for everything, became an unbearable pressure. Gwen’s hands went to the button of his jeans, her own movements frantic. He helped her, shoving them and his boxers down in one rough movement. He stood for a moment, gloriously naked and fully erect, and Gwen’s green eyes widened, a mix of nervousness and fierce desire swirling within them. He was perfect.

His eyes then fell to her shorts. With a look of intense concentration, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of both her shorts and her plain white cotton panties. The cute, practical underwear she’d put on that morning without a second thought suddenly felt like the most erotic garment in the world under his burning gaze. He slowly, torturously, peeled them down her legs, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She lifted her hips to help him, feeling utterly exposed and more alive than ever before. He knelt again, now between her spread legs, his eyes fixed on the glistening, auburn curls he had revealed.

“Ben…” she whimpered, suddenly shy.

“I just want to look at you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect, Gwen. Every part of you.” And then he leaned forward and did something that shattered her completely. He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her very core.

Gwen’s world exploded into sensation. A high, keening cry was torn from her throat as his tongue delved into her wet heat, exploring her with an eager curiosity that was so uniquely Ben. Her hips bucked off the bunk involuntarily, but he held her firmly, his strong arms wrapping around her thighs to keep her in place. He licked and sucked, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan his name like a mantra. The coil of pleasure tightening in her belly was unbearable, a supernova waiting to happen. She was chanting his name now, a broken record of pleasure, her hands fisting the sheets as the pressure built and built until it shattered. Her climax crashed over her with the force of a magical typhoon, blinding and absolute, leaving her trembling and boneless against the mattress.

Before she could even come down from her high, Ben was over her, his body covering hers, his hard length pressing insistently against her still-quivering entrance. He looked into her eyes, seeking permission. Wordlessly, her green eyes clouded with passion and love, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He pushed inside her in one slow, exquisite thrust, filling her completely. There was a brief, sharp pinch of pain, but it was quickly consumed by the overwhelming feeling of being joined with him, of being one.

He stilled, allowing her to adjust, raining soft kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids. “Okay?” he murmured against her skin.

“More than okay,” she breathed, rolling her hips experimentally. That was all the encouragement he needed. He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that quickly built into a frantic, passionate pace. The bunk creaked in time with their thrusts, a rhythmic accompaniment to their ragged breaths, skin slapping against skin, and the whispered, desperate words they exchanged. He drove into her, again and again, each thrust hitting a spot deep inside her that made her see stars. She met him thrust for thrust, her nails digging into the muscles of his back, her legs locked around him, pulling him deeper, closer.

Their eyes remained locked, the deep green of his reflecting the passion in her own. This was more than just physical release; it was a conversation, a confession, a bonding of souls that had been hurtling toward this moment since they were ten years old. The romantic tension had boiled over into a consuming fire, and they were both willingly burning in its flames. She could feel her second climax building, coiling tighter and hotter than the first. Ben’s rhythm became erratic, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps against her neck.

“Gwen… I’m gonna…” he choked out.

“Me too,” she cried out, her body tightening around him. “Ben!”

Her scream of his name triggered his own release. He plunged into her one last, deep time, burying his face in her ginger hair as he spilled himself inside her with a guttural roar that was pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Her own orgasm washed over her, a softer, warmer wave this time, milking every last drop of pleasure from him as they convulsed together in a perfect, synchronized harmony.

For a long time, they simply lay there, entangled, their sweat-slicked bodies cooling in the evening air. Their heavy breathing was the only sound in the quiet RV. Ben, careful not to crush her, shifted slightly to the side but kept her firmly in his arms, one leg thrown possessively over hers. He pressed soft, lingering kisses to her forehead, her hair, her shoulder, as if he couldn't stop touching her.

Gwen nestled into the crook of his arm, her head on his chest, listening to the frantic beat of his heart gradually slow to a steady, contented rhythm. A profound sense of peace and rightness settled over her, quieting the last whispers of doubt. She traced idle patterns on his skin with her finger, a soft, happy sigh escaping her lips. The setting sun streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over their naked, entwined forms.

“So,” Ben said, his voice a low, contented rumble beneath her ear. “That was… something else.”

Gwen smiled, a genuine, unreserved smile that reached her sparkling green eyes. She tilted her head up to look at him, her red hair splayed out like a fiery halo on his chest. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, her voice full of wonder. “It really was.” She knew, with absolute certainty, that their relationship had irrevocably changed. The bickering cousins were gone, replaced by this new, profound connection—a bond forged in battle and sealed in passion. And as he tightened his arms around her, pulling the blanket over them both, Gwen knew that whatever challenges the universe threw at them next, they would face them together, bound by a love as powerful and unique as any alien force in the cosmos.