John giggles a little too. Some things maybe possibly unknot inside him a little. 

She kisses the top of his head again.

"Shall we?"

John (regretfully) removes his face from her breasts, nods, and gets up out of the chair. "Let's!" he agrees, and reaches out to take her hand. 

She squeezes his hand and kisses his shoulder and leads him along the path.

And he follows excitedly! (She's gonna be his she's gonna be his and this time it's gonna stay that way (at least for a little while) (long enough for them to fuck, at least) (fuck he's looking forward to that. He's really looking forward to that. It's gonna be so hot).) He squeezes her hand a little and keeps focusing on that instead of anything else which is just nerves. 

Rosy is also pretty excited. She keeps bouncing.

When they get close to the ritual site, she lets go of John's hand. "All right, places," she says, and looks to make sure he's standing ready to enter his sub-circle and has his fidget wristband and so on before she begins the walk around the circle to her own spot.

John remembers things from last time (it was less than an hour ago) and stands ready outside his circle, watching her for his cue. 

One tiny excited wiggle before she sets off.

When she reaches the edge of her sub-circle, as before, she closes her eyes and summons her light in the space between her cupped hands. It splits into a rainbow of shards, and each shard takes its place in the corresponding crystal, with the white shard moving last and settling in the center. It's still just as beautiful as it was last time.

She smiles, and looks over at John, and once she makes eye contact she steps into her place.

And John follows barely a step behind, paying extra close attention to make sure he doesn't mess up at all this time. He sits down in the chair, still there, and turns to watch her, grinning to himself, as she goes through the rest of the ritual steps. 

Once again, a tangible sense of weight settles over the clearing; once again, as Rosy manipulates the mostly-invisible energies of the ritual, that weight deepens. It might be easier to see the patterns this time, or maybe John just has more practice; whatever the case, it's clearer now just how complex an enterprise this really is. The coloured lights push and pull on the flow of power, directing and enhancing it, weaving it together into a structure he can still only barely see.

Once again, that structure solidifies. Once again, the dance of lights becomes even more intricate, coloured glimmers racing along the lines in the ground, bringing with them invisible threads that shape that mass of power in further detail. Once again, the crystals light up ring by ring, and then the whole diagram floods with white light, and the fresh twigs flare with white flame, and Rosy looks across the circle to catch John's eye again.

Now that he knows what to look for (or something like that?) he's able to see what's going on a little better this time. If he looks close enough, he maybe see a hint of the magic or energy or whatever moving as she directs, forming the structure or engine or pattern or whatever that will enact her will (and make her his). Or maybe he's just imagining it.

Regardless, there's even less danger of him being bored than last time. He watches her work, sees (or doesn't?) the magic move and take shape, and tries to guess when the transitions between stages happen, (which he knows what they are, more or less, even if he skimmed over that part in the notes a bunch because it was the least important), based on what he feels and sees happening. And when the sees the crystals light up, and the twigs burn white, he knows what's about to happen. (Soon!!) He stands when she looks at him, ready to receive her, and say his lines, and have her be his. 

The structure of the ritual gathers in around them both as Rosy steps between the lines with careful purpose. A focused anticipation tells John that his cue is coming.

"I come before you of my own will," she says, eyes alight with happiness, and his cue arrives.

(Can he feel the shape of what's happening, now? Does he feel his cue coming? It's probably just his anxiety, and the knowledge of what to do.)

"I acknowledge your choice," he says, trying to put the proper gravitas in even though he's nearly bouncing with excitement (so so so very soon now! And he's gonna keep it this time!) and so his voice cracks maybe a little. 

"I ask nothing, and offer everything."

There's more confidence in her voice, this time. It worked, and it's going to work again.

Her confidence is... calming, almost. He bounces a little less, and smiles a little wider. "I understand your offer."

"I give you myself, Euphrosyne Angharad Blake, to be bound to your will, your unwavering servant, fully and without reservation."

Maybe someday in the distant future that line will get old, but for now, she means every word just as much as she did the first time, and gets just as turned on by saying them.

It's still pretty hot hearing her say it for him too. (Her being naked doesn't hurt, either.) "I accept your gift." he says. 

The circle flares, and the ritual completes. She's steadier, this time, better prepared for the sudden rush of light and colour and weight and power, and the sudden absence when it clicks into place. She is his, visibly, tangibly. She is his and looking to him for orders.

He can feel it too. She's his now, and she has to obey him. He feels himself stiffen a little at the thought. "Kneel," he tells her, trying to make sure it's an order. 

"Yes, Master," she says, kneeling in the dirt just as gracefully as before, staring up at him with worshipful reverence.

He grins, and, despite himself, bounces up and down a little, full of excitement. (It worked! She's his! It's really hot!) And he can see that she's excited (and adoring, and everything else) too. The look she's giving him, from her knees (where he ordered her to be), is... fuck. He wants to congratulate her, even though that seems kinda silly. He also wants to kiss her. He reaches out a hand to pull her up to kiss. Oh wait. "Um, stand back up. If you want!" he adds the last line quickly. He blushes slightly. "I thought it would be easier to kiss you if you're standing." He's being so awkward, damnit. Rosy doesn't mind, but he still feels kinda foolish about it. 

"As much as I enjoy kneeling at your feet," she says, taking his hand and getting up, "I like kissing you even more." She wraps her arms around him and presses herself against him and kisses him passionately.

He wraps his arms around her in turn, and kisses her, hungrily. Fuck, if he wanted he could just take her, right here and now. She wouldn't be able to do anything about it (though probably better not to be antagonistic). Rosy might raise some objections, but would still enjoy the idea of them, um, consummating this new aspect of their relationship right here. Thinking of her, naked, in the grass (probably not the most comfortable place to be, now glad he thinks about it) with her legs spread, his hands on her body as he fills her for the first time... the thought makes him makes him drag her closer to him, kiss her harder. 

Happy melty Rosy soft and warm and worshipful in his arms.

Fuck, he could do whatever he wants. Anything at all. And she wants it, anyone could feel that. Her body and tits so warm and naked and loving against him. 

But... this isn't forever. And even if it were, he still wants to treat her right. And do the right things. (And make their first time be perfect.) So no sex here in the grass. He should... do other things first. 

After they finish kissing. Probably.