reworked of this ellie drawing i did a few months ago to now include abby, since there’s a good chance i’ll meet ashley johnson and laura bailey on sunday! fingers crossed i can get them to sign it.
hello im a big fan of ur art and i was wondering if u are okay with it being used in video edits with credit? if not thats okay i just love ur art sm :]
That would be awesome and epic actually go ahead:-)
hi, how you've been? haven't heard from you since you left touring with infected and the flies, you okay? we're getting close to the deadline dates so it would be nice if you stop being an asshole and send me your draft so i can read it before it goes on the next issue. quit fucking around — kindest regards, your editor.
even from where you're standing, it's all designed to drag you in.
the heavy shred of the guitars, the colored lights that change with the sound of abby's voice like a vision — it's a trap. a plan all along to get you to cooperate, allure you to celebrate this dark side they've been trying to hide all week. face painted, you can see the sharp lines of black and snowy white perfectly defined in corpse paint and it's almost an illusion: the fans screaming every lyric of the song, her presence that fills up every corner without the help of her band cause it's not an effort to be so devastating, so electric.
abby anderson's the main dish.
ellie wants you to know it as she stares from the side of the stage. make clear you’re the outsider, a stranger that was sent by the label to tell on their secrets, the complicated relationship of two rival bands that are touring together during the nineties: you’re the one who doesn't belong, who's too curious for her own good. a damn journalist who should be busy writing about other things more than vampires who scream into the mic.
much like her counterpart, ellie's intoxicating when you first meet her — if she's mad everyone suffers from the same humor, when she's happy you feel it like a glimpse of heaven. she spends forty-five minutes hypnotizing the public with infinite guitar solos and screams of pure anguish, every night right before abby takes the stage, she makes the mass fall into this frenzy state it's curious to see, bodies crashing against each other like a fish out of water and mosh pits of violence rather than really fun. it's different, the atmosphere shifts, she's different.
you're there to witness it all: the strangeness of each show, the lack of rules, the after parties, the groupies and what happened behind closed doors. you have an eye to find out about the hidden, their making out sessions nobody sees but it's a rumor worth mentioning, smeared paint that turns to gray. you know, deep down they've always been connected, not in the romantic sense of the word but the one that borders on the blatant competition, a combat that never ends but pulls them close enough to join them in a link further any understanding, lace them with want, hatred and need.
maybe that's when it all started to go downhill, when you realized the darkness that followed them around. oblivious to their nature, they haven't killed you out of pity, protected by the famous magazine you write for (since it would look awfully bad if a writer from the rolling stones disappears from the tour bus without a sane explanation, clearly) — by the end of the two weeks you spend with them, it doesn't matter, not when it's fair to say you've become a thorn impossible to remove in the palm, stinging as silver.
why is a pathetic little human interrupting the pleasures of the flesh? making them feed in silence, careful of what they share in your well-crafted questions, all made to admit some sordid detail, how they are able to bleed out a young fan in their 20's in the bathtub of the bus with no one finding out, how their hunger dictates the entire act.
"did you enjoy the show, miss rolling stones?" the nickname’s to get under your skin since abby knows that’s not your name, a fun and pristine way of teasing you after all the uncertainty you caused those last days. "hope you enjoyed our company now that you’re leaving us for new york tomorrow."
despite her looks, she's kind. charming. knows how to treat people so they feel like the only person in the room — abby's good at making you feel special, welcomed and it's equally as dangerous as ellie's cruel remarks, her sharp intelligence and mean attitude, just as intoxicating as they work together that night for a better reason, you can tell about it when ellie's offering you a drink and settles on your right.
she's a never-ending code, an enigma that remains a mystery, they are forces of nature, strong, intense, pure talent: you can tell something's going on in the air from days before you received a call from your editor explaining they wanted to read your first draft before it's published, denying their wishes as soon as you're proposed the idea: you'd never let a band read what you have to say beforehand, wouldn't it be unfair? why would you break the rules for them?
what do you know about unfairness, anyway? when you're alive and standing still, heart beating full of blood as you accept the drink ellie's holding next to you, when did you experience real suffering? aching misery?
"little bird told me you will not let us read your wonderful work before departing," it's a double-entendre of words for the auburnette — departing from their smelly bus tour, or departing from life? "it's a shame you keep it to yourself. i didn't take you for a narcissist writer."
"i appreciate your hospitality these last weeks as you've let me hop on in your way of living," fake politeness is a treat you're professional at, a mastermind when pulling the most gracious smile who deep down was as empty as everyone attending that after party, "it would simply be unfair to share what i've wrote. doesn't usually work like that."
"and you wouldn't make an exception to your rule for us?" when did it shift to that? abby's voice is inviting as you can recognize their music playing on the speakers, the air getting thicker just at the same time everything else seems to become dull, boring but for the bliss of their company joining you in a corner of the room while you're seated in a small table at the lack of empty seats, as if you're part of the decoration. "us musicians can tease our fans with little snippets of our music, can't you do that for us too?"
at this point, the drink works as a way of easing yourself into the conversation since nobody but you seemed to be worried about the missing space, how ellie's shoulder brushes against yours, how abby's knee constantly touches your own as she speaks: it's hot, but why is it hot when you were freezing seconds before? there's no need to be this close.
"i'm sorry-- my editor won't let me, hope it's not a big issue."
"you're being mean to us." ellie lacks of the patience abby seems to have to spare, strange as you don't mind about the hand on your lower back that stays there as she adds: "i don't think we deserve this treatment. not after being such good hosts to you."
"it's a little snippet- how could it be such a bad thing if we keep it a secret?"
you didn't accept, at least that's what you remember from the night, you didn't accept so that's when it turns a little dark, a little cruel since they'd do anything to read what you wrote — suddenly you're drinking more, wrapped in this haze of kindness, tooth-rotten nice when they make you laugh, random memories of the tour you can add to the first draft since they're funny, fresh, made up carefully hours ago so you will get closer, a victim when you're positioned on the last level of the food chain.
they take care of you when the world's big enough to ignore the rest of the party. warm you up at first until the conversation's the only thing that matters, the music, the electricity, they are good at making you feel like you're the only person that matters in the room. it's the first party in a proper hotel after sleeping in the bus for so long and they're good at making you feel special, sugarcoating the truth with their warm words, building a trust as if they didn't ignore you most of the days you worked squeezing any kind of information you can get.
they invite you to this hermetic world you experienced for two weeks on the outside so easily by last minute, not given enough time to second doubt it: they know humans are weak, and between the alcohol and the music it's easy to make you believe something they are not, nice, a contrast to the heavy music they seem so fond of.
it escalates quickly cause you're not a big of a dancer, not really usual to party like tomorrow will never come but it feels right, like you're meant to be there breathing in the pine scent of abby's smell when having her this close, meant to keep up this so-called dance as ellie's hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer, a fight, a competition as usual: when did you allowed to get physical? when did you agree to dance with both of them?
it's okay anyway, even its confusing through the fog in your brain, you declare that you want it, bend the professional lines to the point they are non-existent, driven by an adrenaline rush you cannot explain.
the alcohol? their company?
"little human's drunk on us, huh?" ellie's voice makes you shiver when her breath hits the back of your neck like a reminder she's also there, ending this lame energy of a friendly chat to let you know her real intentions — "that's how you wanted to be all this time? like a good groupie?"
to be fair you haven't drink enough to enjoy it that much, a guilty pleasure as your ass's pressed against ellie's front, hands gripping on the belt of your pants to help you move against her, holding abby for support as she let you lean on her, rest your hand right above where her heart should be, missing heartbeats you never notice as your thumb presses down her skin, aware of the freckles on her shoulders, kissing on her skin like an invitation for you to do the very same.
is it the moment to admit you've been dreaming about them? ashamed enough to be thinking about any of them privately as you experience the most vivid dreams you've ever gone through in your existence: is it possible to say how affected you are? words that never come out trapped in your throat, sounds that die muffled by the loud music. you're taking it to the grave.
you know where it's going when ellie's hand grabs abby by the jaw, hand closing against her bone structure to push her roughly against her face, trapping you between two cold bodies as you're now invited to this private event, this blatant show of affection as she kisses her in the middle of the party — it's pure heat and you can feel it too. this dangerous fire that starts radiating from your back all the way to abby's chest, the contact of your hand in her body and your ass in ellie's front is a reminder that they want you there, sandwiched, barely breathing as they kiss.
your presence is wanted, required.
you can see tongue, saliva as you turn your face to have a better look: since when do you like to watch? you're a journalist and it's what you do, isn't it? write about what you see, the truth that now lies in front of your eyes to feast on. you wrote about it in the article, this scorching tension between rival bands who doesn't seem to be rivals at all, the romance you can sense, but never see until now, until you're aware of their taste, how demanding they both can be in in a fight for dominance, any kind of control they can inflict on each other.
"you don't care about anyone watching?" you ask after they separate, a genuine question since the place's full, since they are so loud about their lust, so evident — "about fans knowing about your preferences?"
there's not a response at first, not when ellie's stealing a kiss that's equally as intense with you this time, good at shutting you up as her fingers tight against the flesh of your face, sure her nails will leave a mark on your skin she'd be able to look under the lights as she angles you enough so she can have you in the exact position she wants, licking into your mouth and not caring about how messy it gets, how filthy it turns.
you moan against her mouth when abby's pushing you closer to ellie, always a presence when you can feel her hand on the back of your neck watching, transfixed, how her tongue plunges into your mouth in a delicious kiss, how her touch makes you dumb enough to comply to any of her wishes, any of vampire needs as you open your mouth further apart, desperate to mingle, be one.
"does it look like i care about anyone looking? you think abby gives a shit?"
the answer doesn't matter when it's abby's turn now. patiently waiting like a trained dog on a leash, ellie's the one that makes you remember to please not only her, but her counterpart. swollen lips, it's a delightful sight you give the dirty blonde a feast of mixed saliva when you're being kissed again, a contrast of personalities when abby's gentle with you, roughly discovering your buccal cavity as her body covers you like a warm blanket — hard to the touch, you don't know which kiss leaves you more breathless.
"ellie could finger you right here, and no one would care." it's electric. filled with dangerous poison like fog in your lungs as abby's right: the air is different and people don't care, don't look when ellie's hand unbuckles your belt only to let it hang at the sides of your waist, a silent way of asking, of pleading for more and add to her partner's words. "you gonna let her try?"
"answer to her," you don't care about commands, not even when ellie's fingers thread in your hair to pull it backwards, offer you to abby now as her kisses go down to your neck, get soaked in the smell of your blood, your heart beating under her lips as she nips at the flesh until your pulse's erratic, until her teeth is marked on curve of your shoulder as a warning for any other vampire in the room: they don't share, ellie and her would never share if its not with each other. "tell abby if you're going to be a good pet and let me finger you right here."
her words only leave your brain to short-circuit, malfunction for a minute or so as her right hand glides under the thick fabric of your blue jeans, leaving nothing but a caress, a simple massage from your lower belly to between your legs, touching you but not quite enough, not remotely enough to satisfy you like it's needed.
the dance's long forgotten now: hell, was it even a dance? or a shameful try of one? it's all an excuse to rub yourself between them, let ellie's hand roam in your mount, feel the trail of hair from your nicely trimmed bush pointing her the way to devastation.
"please, ellie" she likes it. the way you say her name, how you arch your back like a pretty human slut asking for more of her touch, like she's the only one in the world that can touch you like you want. you're so quick to encourage her to keep her fingers trailing an invisible path down to your soaking cunt, ellie's going insane,— "please."
"please what, huh? don't act dumb baby."
"please- finger me right now, i don't care at this point, is that what you wanted to hear better?"
it's abby now the one who laughs. latched in your neck, dangerously close to the vein that pumps blood directly to the heart and talks to her in ancient languages, it's different, different from the groupies they bled out in the bathtub, the blood they feasted on every city they played in, an elixir she never wants to be deprived of.
"easy whore already wanting to be used," the sound's muffled against your collarbones, stone muscles that keep you in place as abby's voice fill the space. "that's what you wanted to write about? how you beg ellie to fuck your cunt 'till it's sloppy?"
ellie's laugh sounds right against your earlobe as she keeps her hand there, mocking your lust, touching, teasing, feeling how you react to her after so many banters and failed interviews: you're such a feisty little thing, only to what? melt in her hands like a good human pet?
usually they don't mind the public, both down to fuck you there in the middle of the party if you asked nicely, an agreement they don't have to talk about at first. public’s good, however, there's something about having you in a private room for their eyes only — just for them to see. there's no use in laying down on the sofa in the main room when everybody's going to be aware of how fucked they got you, how debauched you can be after pulling up this stuck up act for so long.
put that hotel room to good use.
they want the moment to belong to them, and you allow it as your feet move on their own, quickly following them upstairs without saying a word as abby holds your hand, pulling you to walk faster, take less time: why does the undead have to wait like a mortal would?
is it being under the vampire's spell when you're so desperate for it? when the alcohol rubs off like it's poured on a fresh wound, a pain that wakes you enough to be sober. the people outside seems to be consumed in a trance and doesn't make any sense, yet you enjoy the privilege of being awake, of your brain working enough to know that's not a dream nor your imagination playing tricks — when ellie's locking the door behind her back it only helps to make your heart beat loud and fast as a treat for vampires ears: you're fucking up the article and it's real, tangible, necessary.
seated on the edge of the bed, abby's figure is strong as her body joins yours, melting against your back so you can feel her chest pressing against you, lean figure that simply fits against your own, holding you in place. her hands are soft when they roam against your sides, deliberately following the curves of your body as if committing it to memory, keeping her fingers etched in what's left of your brain.
"there you go, that’s better, only for us" her voice's rough and sprinkled with lust as she barely makes an effort to spread your legs wide open: hours ago you were on the side of the stage enjoying the show and now you're soaking wet as she presses gentle kisses on the side of your face — "you gonna keep them spread for me?"
you hum in response, shit. you'd do anything abby asks you too, a weak yeah, a shiver that goes down your spine as her hands find their way under your shirt, soft skin against her palms until she's cupping your breasts, the fabric expanding to her strong fingers taming you down while ellie's planted between your legs, looking at the scene with a hunger that surpass the monster of her stomach.
"what are you writing about us, huh?" the auburnette asks curiously, perfect height so she can reach your unbuckled belt and toy with it enough to catch your attention, finger latching on the metal hook as she tugs on it "is it so bad you can't talk about it?"
it's only a tap on your hip so you understand her needs. lifting your waist for a second, ellie doesn't need much help when tossing your blue jeans to the floor before the smell of your wet cunt fills the air making it venomous to breathe, leaking through your panties, your moans never subside under abby's hand, the blonde vampire's busy already as her pierced lower lip keeps attacking on the side of your neck; you don't seem to notice, yet one random move and it would have her canine teeth breaking through the tissues of skin. always a prime killer.
"if i take care of you, would you start talking?" take care it's a funny word, yet ellie's kneeling in front of you taking it to the heart, making your breathing catch up on your throat for a minute as she rest her cheek close to your knee, too far from where you want her as that finger — that condemned finger, keeps teasing you just right in front of her face in a new dangerous path: from the knee to the edge of your panties, from the panties to your aching folds until she’s touching freely from over the fabric, enough to have you squirming in abby's arms,revealhow you react to her: pathetic, desperate, "or maybe you're going to be good and let us bleed you to death. it's not that hard baby. you can use your words."
they are used to it. groupies who offered themselves to their passionate encounters, eternal nights of threesomes and blood who usually ended up with a human bleeding out in the tub as food for later. the same routine in a different city, feed the body to the rats, let them eat until there's nothing but the remains of corroded bones in the ground, pulverize them until it's dust and not a human, pretend she was never there, disappear to the next place.
"you'd kill me for an article?"
"we'd kill for many things" ellie's hands are cold, yet it's close to fire as they slide over the slick fabric of your underwear, a cosmic touch that only makes you frustrated as abby's hand take place on your stomach, pushing you down to the comfortable mattress of the hotel bed as the other vampire keeps intruding, preventing you from moving. "you have no idea of what we are capable of."
to be fair, it's nearly impossible to concentrate. there's too much to feel, too much to experience as they take your time in pleasing you, turns so it's never over, never enough — ellie's fingers rub over your clothed clit, abby pinches on your nipples with her free hand, leaving red marks in the side of your neck, more teeth bites from where she wants to feed from. they are a deadly combination.
"what do you do with the girls that you hook up with?" you reply between moans, much composed, in control, your gaze find ellie's green eyes tinted in a shade you can't explain, a glow that borders the inexplicable. "i've been trying to contact them afterwards and i haven't got a single reply."
why are you choosing to say it there anyway? what’s your point? to die as they fuck you? destroy your chances of getting laid because you're talking about other girls?nobody cares about missing women in the 90's, shit, nobody has ever cared about girls in history, so you know it deep down like a sixth sense as there are goosebumps on your skin: you're almost half-sure of her antics, her ways of living. something must be wrong with them and whatever moment it is, you need to find out what it is exactly.
it pisses ellie off — how couldn't it? her hands slides under your soaking underwear this time to find your clit, and she truly enjoys breaking you down in the process, have your eyes rolling to the back of your head as she begins to rub it in slow circles, taunt and find out if you're worthy to take at first since her ego's bruised, since you're the one who threats to her comfort.
"and why would you even try to contact our hook-ups? you jealous?" abby tries to tone it down as she holds you still, trapped between freckled muscles and slender fingers that stimulates you in hopes of making you come crashing down, bring the devastation to your garden while the blonde vampire seeks for your pleasure instead, "it's not that hard to know they are like you are right now."
"so you don't kill them?"
"oh no, we do kill" ellie's deep between your legs when she answers, tired of your underwear as she pulls it to the side impatiently so she can directly spit in your already soaked cunt in hopes of mixing her fluids somehow with your own, digits helping to spread the saliva between your folds, against your entrance and to your clit — "we do kill them. it's what you must give to us, the sacrifice of pleasure. have you thought that maybe none of them will contact you back cause they won't rat out to the press?"
you don't really know if she's serious. all this time you didn't know if ellie would tell you the truth this easy but somehow it makes you feel guilty anyways: enjoying the touch of someone who only plays with her fans, someone so selfish… maybe it's a plan, a need to dip you inside her ocean of wanting until you're clouded, unable to distinguish among the good and the morally bad, dumb.
"i think you're being selfish, miss stones." — how will you defend yourself when she's touching you like that? when abby keeps your legs open so ellie can put all her attention on your swollen clit? you respond to her so well it's lame to see how you try to hold the moans she provokes, the involuntary movements of your body. "if you wondered so hard, then you should just ask. you wanna creep out your public? write about our groupies soaking wet, trembling for more, bleeding out for us until they are dry since they are offerings, our offerings.”
it's the danger what turns you on, isn't it? there's no rational explanation for it cause it's weird. abby can smell it like a second perfume that sticks to your sweaty skin, she can tell by your heartbeats you're surrendering to this strange combination of pleasure and fear ellie keeps feeding you to, the sound of the music playing outside and sweeping inside, it strokes her ego.
"c'mon stop fighting that moans i know you like it," you do, hell, you enjoy it so much when your hips unbuckle against ellie's fingers as they slide even lower to finally reach your sensitive hole, circling the entrance without fully fucking you until you're begging, her voice sounds so loud in your head, "i know you're a smart cookie, you must have a few ideas of what's going on here."
"my ideas are just-- crazy theories."
abby's chuckle fills up the space, comes from her chest and vibrates behind you — "what are your smart girl theories? fill us in, baby."
ellie's movements become slower now, similar to torture as she looks up to you, haunting gaze as she waits for your answer, impatient as ever. her fingers never stop, greedy as abby is too when they both keep touching you, soaking up her hand with your leaking arousal constantly dripping between your open legs, a gentle pull on your nipple a pinch to keep you aware of your upper body, that abby's there too.
"don't laugh," you reply finally defeated, abby's hair falls against your shoulder now, long, soft, smelling like cigarettes as she rests her chin on the side of your neck, close to your face: can she bite you, or are they going to keep pretending you didn't discovered their entire secret life? — "but i've come to think you can be some sort of serial killers-- or just metal heads with a heavy blood kink, who likes to act as if they are- you know-"
you stay silent for a second or two because the thought is simply ridiculous, enough to make ellie fill the words out for you as they are already there, lingering in the air: "vampires?"
"that's what you meant to say?"
it makes you feel stupid for a moment. as if you watched too many movies, consumed too much horror media to somehow mix up the reality with ideas that borderline the madness, however, when the silence falls upon the three of them, you're overwhelmed by the weight of the silence. cursing silently at the lack of ellie's hand between your legs, at abby's cold labret against the warm skin of your shoulder.
"own it."
"yes-, i told you it was a crazy theory. i get that fans won't get back to me because of the loyalty they feel for both of your bands, it was stupid to assume something so crazy."
are you that dumb or you want to believe it for your own sake? it makes ellie wonder as she shares a look with abby, that look of fuck-it-you-know in plain silence. the moment stops suspended in the circular time, eternal, it feels like the minutes double down from their true number, naked still as the words begin to sink in your head.
vampires.
"are you really that desperate to know what we do in the dark?" abby's the first to give in since it slips out of her control. the constant banter, the smell right under her nose — "you can handle the truth like a good girl, right? you journalists only write about the truth, you'd like that? unfiltered, solid."
"don't be afraid, okay?" it's a change in ellie's voice when she speaks again — "just relax and let us do the work like we do in your dreams- we won't kill you."
"i mean, you have to write about our bands, right? we're not killing the pretty little journalist."
how could they know about your dreams? you barely have time to register it as a shiver goes down your spine, violent, you know they don't lie now, they really are convinced of their immortality. it's sadly clear when they need a quick trip to the psych ward to understand heavy metal and some face paint won't make you a creature of the night, a literature monster.
"is frankenstein here too? i want to say hi."
at least ellie laughs at your joke, utterly enjoying how clueless you can be, how you choose to remain ignorant of the new world that's presented to your eyes.
you don't fully buy it until the kisses on your neck turn rougher, when abby's touch turn meaner and she doesn't ask about your comfort when moving you to the position she needs you to be in, no — she can't hold your weight any longer as her teeth find the way to the vein that connects her to the aorta, the spot that flutters under her lips right under the metal ball of her vertical labret piercing: one last tender kiss until her mouth falls wide open and it only takes a second to tear the flesh, profane pure blood with the sins of the undead as she's the first to eat from you.
a gasp escapes from your mouth when the pain makes your body go stiff and the panic is an instant reaction, the fear that slowly starts to consume your body limb by limb: it's different to claim you're a vampire than to actually bite you, feed from your vital blood. wordless, not a single sound's able to get out from your lips, anything more than the discomfort of the suffering as you can feel the subtle suction of abby's mouth every time she eats.
there's no way of denying it when you feel so small in her arms, when her force's intoxicating enough to leave you powerless, under her spell, when she's sucking the life out of you and it hurts, hurts like a curse, good.
"your heart's beating so fast… you need to breathe" ellie's voice is a soothing reminder that you still exist, planted in front of you she never looks at you when speaking as her vision's already busy between your legs. "breathe, human."
ecstasy hits later. the warm feeling of the blood gathering in your neck, the rush of energy that blends with the pain and the sudden pleasure of belonging, of remembering you're naked, of this new sharing, this connection. abby can feel the panic dissolving in the crimson taste, red that fills her mouth and now is much sweeter than before, inviting. a moan, an involuntary shake and its clear you begin to enjoy it, cementing your path to the insanity you're messing around with.
they are vampires. far from ever lying to you, they are creatures that feed from human blood, but there's not time to experience the fear of meeting the undead, of knowing you can be killed just like the previous groupies that disappeared.
any kind of fear is ignored when ellie should be saying something — since she wants blood too, profess her need to have the privilege to try you first as well. mouth watering, she's ready to fight until she's granted with a different kind of hunger, one that replaces the anger as her mouth closes against your g-spot and she remembers, like a light that comes from above, that there's a lot of space to feed from more than your neck, that she's still between your legs.
the contact is unexpected. you squirm against her face, rolling your hips against her mouth it's enough for ellie, enough as she can finally taste you entirely; not your blood but that personal essence that congest her taste buds, makes her fangs rise to the surface since it's too much, the blood, the smell, your moans, the sound of your cunt as her tongue delves between the labia right to attack you clit.
flat tongue, ellie's always been a messy eater. inevitable as your transparent fluids get on her chin, smeared against her cheeks the vampire enjoys it even more when earning your attention, a quiet competition as your eyes find her own — sucking on your lips, using her hands to spread you further apart so she can access to you better and finally worship you how it's expected.
"don't bite her," abby says as if she read her mind from before. "she's mine first. wait for your turn."
if looks can kill, abby would be long dead before midnight. jealous when it's ellie's name the one you moan, when your fingers thread in her hair and you shove your cunt against her face desperate for more. the blonde keeps lapping at the wound she left on your neck when hearing you, allowing the drips of blood to fall against your chest right above your navel until it's ellie the one that licks the ambrosia, coming from between her legs only to take the crumbles of desire abby left for her.
and to be fair, ellie's desperate to feed, the taste has the perfect recipe to annihilate any good intention left in her body, when she stops holding back and she dives between your legs, assaulting your clit at the same time her fingers find your entrance, circling against your fuckhole for a second or two before sinking in until her knuckles brushes against your entrance and your brows furrow in an explosion of pleasure.
"mmf-- what the fuck" hair sticks to your face now, such a common human reaction to get that makes ellie smile at the sight in front of her: abby's glued to your neck, playing with your tits, while you only seem to pay attention to her, to her mouth and her fingers that now filled you up to the brim.
"does that feel good?" the blonde asks against your earlobe only to receive a barely mumbled yeah in response, don't you dare to fucking forget about her."she's so good at fucking that pretty pussy huh? keep you open so you can take my fingers after."
"fuck off," ellie manages to say, brows furrowing together at the idea of being stolen from her spot, "get in damn line."
it's funny to know even in moments like those they managed to never leave their discussions aside, even when abby's hand slides against ellie's fingers helping her in their quest, reaching your clit from behind, working along her lifetime partner in driving you crazy.
there's blood on her fingers when her digits circle around your clit, smearing the blood between your folds only to have ellie cleaning it for her, wet sounds leaving the auburnette lips and filling the air as a nice background music, something abby could incorporate to her tunes as your moans mix up with the filthy sounds your body makes as you're soaking wet under ellie's mouth.
"keep eating her," abby whispers to the vampire — "you're doing so good already els, i know you want to keep feasting on her cunt. don't feed yet."
she knows ellie will follow her instructions, she knows her girlfriend gets mad when she's bossing her around but she won't do anything about it, teeth already sharp and ready to rip off the flesh and reach the so desired blood flow, it's similar to candy there in that spot in your inner leg that pulsates in a written invitation. makes ellie's mouth water as she resists, as her fingers fuck you faster, as she makes abby's hand aside only to notice how you're dripping all the way down to your ass.
"you're going to cum," she points out, and as your head manages to move in a liable approval, it's been a while since ellie accepted a human reaching her peak right against her mouth, a surprise when the vampire randomly chooses not move from her spot, only doubling her efforts already cocky to state she's the first to make you cum — abby may feed from you yes, but did she bring heaven to you like ellie did? she doubts it. "cum, i want you all over my face--"
so your moans become erratic after a minute or two, squeezing her fingers deeper, asking for a third digit as abby helps in pinching your tits, grabbing you by the neck where the two holes of her teeth were marked before and now were a delusional memory with no mark behind to prove it. the blonde vampire is good at grounding your hips against ellie's face when you can no longer keep moving by yourself, until you're shaking and mumbling some erratic praise that makes her smile.
it does it for ellie when you cum, weak on the knees as she works you through it. crazy when she doesn't want to separate from you, when you're creaming against her lips and she's nothing but amazed by your body, by the tasty flavor that fills her mouth as you accept your high. it makes her brain foggy, her vision blurry as she forgets about abby's words cause they don't matter in the rush of the moment, in the need to eat as she's been deprived from food for too long.
her fangs graze against that spot between your legs, close to your cunt, but still in your inner thigh so it won't hurt that much, so you will enjoy it too until she's yanked away by a force that doubles her own, a sharp pain that makes her stand from the floor and instead of feeding, has ellie falling against your body, pressing right against your sensitive cunt, you can feel her weight crushing you down as she lands on top of you, sandwiching you between abby's chest and her own again.
"i said- don't," abby repeats pissed off, "don't feed until i told you so."
now, ellie could be blushing — but there's not enough blood in her system to turn her cheeks red, show more of the freckles in her face as abby's hand stays in a fist against her hair, face right in front of yours, the blonde uses her other hand to gently slap her cheek, not using any kind of force but enough to make ellie open her mouth wide enough so you can see her fangs from up close.
"you wanna write about the truth?" she asks in your ear, "write about this, about how i feasted on your neck, how ellie worshiped your cunt until you cum all over her face-- about fangs."
the words are sloppy before you're being manhandled again (or is it abby-handled?), a low whine leaving your lips as you're being tossed into the bed like gravity never existed, yanked by the ankle close to the same edge as you were seated before in a much more compromised situation now on your hands and knees, face against the sheets as you're looking at the vampire from over your shoulder — she's so fast you cannot begin to register the moment she slips inside the strap-on, harness secured around her waist as you stare at the red dildo.
"spread further," abby demands, and you get what she's saying as you use your hands to separate your ass-cheeks further apart, gaining a low hum of approval in response. "fuck-, you're such a whore for vampire cock already, huh?"
gripping the toy between her fingers, abby rubs the silicone between your folds before sinking it your abused hole, slides in easily since you're soaked and stretched by ellie's fingers from before, at least enough so the strap slides inside of you without any resistance, until she can feel your breathing getting shallow, battling for any ounce of oxygen you can get as the vampire hips crash against your ass, making sure she sinks inside you until there's no space for more.
"abby-"
"you take ellie's fingers s'good-" she manages to say, "you can take me too. don't play coy with me."
heavy hand, it hurts for a second when she's holding your hair between her fingers, making you look forward so you can see what ellie's doing on her own, comfortably laying back against the headboard as she tries to be quiet when abby moves behind you, thrusting at a constant pace, you were too busy to notice when exactly she started peeling the layers of her body until it's nothing but bare skin, the barrier she never needed.
it's mesmerizing — she's beautiful, pretty that borders on the dangerous sense of the word. her own fingers flick against her clit, skin glistening under the lights of the room in a different kind of sweat, a silver-like glow that it's close to a hallucination. through half-lidded eyes, you can see ellie's face drowning in the pleasure, mouth wide open as she looks down at you, at the whole scene of abby hammering you into the mattress, the force that makes her own tits bounce and somehow leaves her looking like a deadly goddess.
is she a looker? you are not really shy as your gaze travels through her body, soaked, ellie's fingers slide to fill herself up right in front of your face, proud of her trimmed bush, the hair that looks sticky as you can hear the sound of her arousal every time she plunges her fingers deeper, back into her greedy cunt like a reward.
abby fucks at a supernatural pace and you doubt for a moment about her intentions of not killing you, light-headed since the blood loss hits you harder than ever. there's not much energy for much more than a moan or two, to help somehow moving your ass backwards so she can reach deeper, hit the cervix, feel every inch of her cock.
"c'mere" you say, hand reaching ellie's thigh to pull her closer to your face, a lame try when you fail to move her from the spot, making the vampires chuckle as you stubbornly try again — "let me please you, i can do better than your hand."
"you think so? cocky human. show me how good you are," it's easy to place herself where you want her to be, cunt right against your face, you don't need an invitation as your hands wrap around her thighs, securing her still as you kiss her most sensitive zone with a feverish need to do right, to take your time as your tongue traces a path from her recently-used hole back to her clit, arousal spreading through your face as you fill your mouth with her taste, a different essence from the normal; much thicker, sour yet delicious when two fingers quickly slide to replace her own from mere seconds before, "good work baby, yeah- -keep moving that tongue…"
it's a good change — you can see it on ellie's face still buried between her legs, enjoying it even more than before. suddenly pliant, inviting, less sharp as she can only remember how to move her hips against your face, panting out how good you look getting fucked, how nice is to have you there, turning her into your new favorite meal.
and when abby's fingers slide against your clit? fucking hell, you're already leaking all the way down to the bed. overstimulated, your body shakes under her hands holding you together, keeping the pieces from falling down entirely. it's hard to please the vampire in front of you as your hand gets sore now, fingers curling to hit that spot inside of her that got her moaning louder than before, noticing your erratic movements, the efforts of not stopping.
"can i-"
"yes" to be fair, abby's too entranced to care about what ellie does, muscles flexing as she rubs your clit faster now, knowing your body as it tenses under her touch — "quick before she cums-"
your hand's yanked away from ellie's cunt in less than the blink of an eye, the lack of touch immediately annoying as you're ready to say something, determined until you can see her fangs right against your wrist, a proof of your heartbeats against the pulsating skin as she finally bites you, piercing trough the skin with almost a non-existent force as a scream of pain leaves your parted lips.
there's no time for it. for the banality of the pain when you're so overwhelmed by pleasure, when you can feel the sucking of her mouth as you struggle to keep eating her.
"why did you stop, huh?" ellie demands as your vision starts fading to black: the blood drains from your wrist spreading through the vampire's chest and dripping down the sheets in a horror vision freshly etched on your head — "did i tell you to stop licking me?"
you try. try until your body's shaking and you finally cum, you try even as you leak around abby's cock to the point the harness is now soaked with the traces of your orgasm, when ellie keeps sucking from your wrist as she cums too, making a mess on your face you gladly clean up until it's getting harder to breathe, suffocating.
weak voice, you fight against the dizziness as you try to stay awake, "the groupies they die-"
"now you care about the girls? after you look like this?" abby's response makes ellie chuckle at your worry, licking the wounds from your wrist with a care that makes you shiver — "c'mon sweetheart, we do what's in our nature. will you blame us? you humans eat animals too."
the vampire has no plans to stop feeding from you any time soon, and when you begin to experience the hardcore symptoms of the blood loss you finally understand where those girls must be.
lightheaded, you're confused from even where you are, weak as ellie keeps sucking, bleeding out against her chest as she suddenly adds:
"you gonna lie again now and say your editor wont let you show us your draft?"
oh how quickly everything changes! how quickly you become a prey in the beast's garden. awake. you fight against destiny as your eyes begin to close on their own.
"ellie," abby calls her out as a distant voice, "ease out. that's enough."
silence. it's real exasperation when you can only hear now as your vision surrenders to simple biology.
"ellie. fucking hell we are not killing her-"
silence.
it feels like a fever dream the next morning.
sore, there are no signs of the band in the hotel when you go to the lobby, knock on abby's room to be received with their absent presence.
was it a dream? were you drunk enough to make it all up? you don't really feel weak like you were last night before fainting, afraid of your well-being as the sun gets through the curtains of a messy room.
they left.
so when you take a shower and their fingerprints appear like a map of the desire of the night in your body, you understand. understand when your laptop's carefully placed on a spot it wasn't before, when your files are exactly the same with the exception of just one that lies now open on broad screen.
motherfucking vampires.
it makes sense you're mad as you arrive to new york. they never hear from you again even when you are connected to them by blood, — not until you published the article at least.
they remember too well, cause that's the day you decided to ruin the two most influential heavy metal bands of the 90's.
quick reminder to the future: do not play with your damn food.
2087
stormborns
theartofmadeline
izzy806
jacobvanloon
dededos
