INÉS MONTOYA: DRINK. SENDER FEEDS OFF RECEIVER'S BLOOD BY BITING THEIR BREASTS.
the first thought that came to mind was an absurd, detached, clinical thought of men on autopsy tables. that's the place she went to when she needed somewhere safe to go. somewhere factual. it helped her to better wrap her brain around inés, what she was, and how clarice ended up in her bed.
with her back pressed into the mattress, fingers twisted tight into dark sheets, she watched as inés bend over her with the same grace of a predator she always seemed to possess. her mouth ghosted over clarice's skin first, causing a lightening strike of anticipation to shoot through clarice ; she hated the way her breath caught at something so small. the slow press of her lips to the swell of her breast made clarice's whole body tense before it melted all at once, a reaction so immediate she could barely understand it was happening. her hand flew instinctively to inés's shoulder, fingers digging in, but there was no resistance in the touch. she felt the other's tongue trace over already heated skin, over a reactive nipple. despite knowing what came next, the bite came sharp and sudden and was enough to wrench a cry from clarice's throat, her back arching off the bed. for one white hot second it hurt - a piercing sting that made her body lock around it - but that quickly dissipated and left clarice in a dizzying rush that unfurled through her nerves. it was warm, disorientating, sweet. clarice's grip on inés tightened as her breath stuttered into broken little fragments, every muscle in her body suddenly aware of itself, and the nearly ethereal being feeding from such a sensitive part of her. @faerys.