Unwholesome OC Week - June 5 - DubCon
Content warning: blood, alcohol, mind control, sexual content Word count: 2271.
The night is young as Jip stands in front of their mirror. Their hands fidget with a strand of hair, trying to braid it into what is supposed to be some kind of rat tail. They struggle with it for a while before they eventually decide to give up. Fingers drop the strand, reach out instead to a piece of charcoal which they swipe under their eyes.
Their appearance should not matter. In the mass of bodies they're planning on disappearing into, appearance does not matter. Yet they find themself doing and redoing every small detail in an attempt to look exactly how they know She wants them to look. Sure, they should be able to dress themself how they want, but something in the back of their mind makes them reconsider every single item they put on their body.
Eventually they settle. Black pants that are slightly too tight, held closed by a hairtie. Chains. A fishnet excuse for a shirt. A thin, leather collar hanging around their neck loosely. Who cares if it's Winter in Amsterdam when you're about to head into the night, right? Their combat boots will keep them warm. She will keep them warm eventually.
They make their way to Club Escape from their student accomodations. It's not very far, and they're better for it. They skip the line with a small nod to the bouncer. They've been here a lot recently, the two of them are pretty much on a first-name basis, if they had ever bothered to introduce themselves to one another. It's a small victory to not have to stand out in the cold for too long.
Inside it's warm. It's busy. Bodies press together and Jip loses themself in the beat of the music for a while. They order beer, one of the few drinks they can handle without too much of an effect on their composure, because they know they water it down. Half of it ends on the floor anyway. They have a fun enough time, until what they perceive as a tug on the collar around their neck draws them towards the stairs. The VIP area is just for that: VIPs, but for some reason Jip is never stopped when they try and make their way up.
They slide into one of the empty booths. Don't bother ordering drinks, Nicole keeps the champagne coming. They know Her preferred type involves an excessive amount of the French alcohol and they're more than happy to oblige. They were never too big on champagne before, preferred the purer alcohols like vodka to truly forget who they are or what they're doing, but there are few things they'd not change for Her. They bring the flute to their lips, eyes half-lidded as they keep their eyes on Her direction. It won't be long now until it's their turn. She spends her time speaking with others like Her, discussing things impossible for them to comprehend. They can't hear Her, can barely even see Her, but everything in their body knows that She's right here.
They're five drinks in when a man walks in their direction. Oddly enough, they also seem to have lost a sense of where She is. Another flute, but this time with the message that he's to take them aside. They get up, cheeks flushing due to the alcohol in their system and the sudden movement. They steady themself by placing their hands on the table, accidentally knocking over one of the empty glasses. An attempt at an apology is made, they reach to pick up some of the shards, cut a small gash into the side of their finger. They cuss, one of the few words they retained from their early childhood. The man tells them to suck it up. The staff will take care of it. They should really follow him now.
The man - did he ever introduce himself? Jip can't remember through the haze of alcohol - leads them through a door that reads 'Private'. They stop in front of a door that looks… inconspicuous enough, and the man knocks. "She'll be with you shortly," he then states, before he turns around and leaves Jip in the hallway.
Their heart beats in their throat when the door opens. Although it doesn't open fully, Jip takes this as a sign that they're allowed entry. What they see is simultaneously what they expected and not what they expected at all. They stumble over the small doorstep, barely manage to hold the champagne flute level - or level enough to not spill the liquid. The room is relatively dark. Like a painting that's spent too long in a room with smokers. The colours faded, the dimmed in a way that could be made beautiful if they got their hands on it. They throw the champagne back, wander deeper into the office until the door closes behind them.
It is as if someone turned on the light. Their attention snaps into the direction of a sitting nook, where She has taken a seat on a couch that looks like it's more expensive than their rent in the Amsterdam centre. She raises an eyebrow, they're drawn to Her like a moth to a flame, no words needed. The cut on their finger is long forgotten, by Jip, anyway, and they place the champagne flute on the first available flat surface they find in their path. It ends up on a mantle, next to a pair of unlit candles.
"Jip." Her voice breaks the silence they unknowingly kept sacred. She taps the couch right next to Her, inventing them to sit down. They can't help but obey obey obey. They slink down next to Her, body angled into Her direction. It's hard to focus on anything but Her. Their eyes wander from Hers down to Her neck, Her shoulders, Her arms until they're staring at Her wrist. They compare Her blemishfree skin to their own, to the cut on their finger, to the remnants of oil paint under their nails. They can almost see the veins and arteries under Her skin, can almost taste Her blood. Alcohol makes them crave it more.
"Jip." Another mention of their name from Her mouth snaps their attention back to Her face. They can't read Her expression, they might have had too much to drink. Their face flushes, they don't know if it's the alcohol or embarrassment. They can see a trace of a smile on Her lips. "You know you are my favourite, right?" They follow Her fingers as they reach over to the collar around their neck, fidget with the clasp and tighten it flush against their skin. If they were sober, it might have been a bit too tight, but they're drunk and they're with Her and everything's fan-tas-tic. They gasp, Her smile grows.
"I know what you want."
Of course She knows. Jips mouth hangs ever so slightly open as the beating of their heart pulses against the leather around their throat. They dare not speak, She hasn't suggested they do. With fascination that borders on desperation, they watch as She brings a hand to Her mouth. The cut on their finger they had long forgotten had not gone unnoticed. She slides a finger along a fang, wills Her blood to the surface before She holds out Her hand, bleeding finger now extended. Their eyes fixate on the vitae instead of Her face, they're so close they could almost taste it.
"On your knees."
Jip slides off the couch and falls onto their knees. They slide their legs under the coffee table, scoots in between Her legs with their eyes still focused on Her finger as She rubs the vitae along a second digit. She lowers it to about their eye level, uses Her free hand to reach behind their neck and pull on the collar ever so slightly. "Open up, you know the rules."
Their lips part, She moves Her fingers between their lips. Lets them hover just out of reach. If they move their tongue, surely they can—. A tug snaps them out of that line of thought as She lightly bumps a nail into their soft palate. Her voice sounds harsher now, more controlling. "You. Know. The. Rules." Jip can only whimper in response. Of course they know the rules, but the thing they want most is so close and they're not thinking clearly and—. Her free hand has gripped their chin now, forcing their eyes up at Hers. She doesn't need to do this, Jip'll heed every word she speaks, but Her eyes boring into theirs as their chin is held with inhuman strength really do something to them.
"Break."
And Jip does. Like a fucking dog they let their lips close around Her fingers, tongue darting up to tentatively lick the vitae off them. They feel Her eyes on them still, even if they can't help but close their own as they suckle on Her fingers. They can pretty much feel her grinning. Her hand slides down, grips the collar again and tugs on it, restricting their airway ever so slightly before She jams Her fingers into their mouth, curling them and flexing them and forcing Her vitae onto Jip's tongue. They moan, involuntarily, desperately trying to keep their gag reflex at bay when Her fingers nearly hit their uvula. Their tongue slides between the two fingers, licking at every hint of vitae they can get.
Jip's eyes flutter open when Her fingers are removed from their mouth, but they don't get much of a chance to catch their breath. Nicole pulls them up into her lap by the collar. They can feel a slight warmth coming off Her skin, something that's not always a given. Maybe it's their own body heat reflecting off of Her, Jip can't tell the difference. They open their mouth to speak, instead find themself gasping when She tears at fishnet, using Her nails to gash the trace of fabric and expose their shoulder and collarbone. They can still feel the thick vitae coating their mouth, a phantom sensation that hits them harder than it should when She presses Her lips against their neck. It won't be long for them to move down to the newly exposed area until—
She pulls away. A small gash, similar to the one on their finger. Blood wells up and follows gravity over their collarbone. It moves more quickly than it usually does, a side effect of the amount of champagne in their system. She adjusts them in Her lap, makes them sit on their knees, one leg on each side of Her, pressed against Her lap and with their collar bones perfectly on Her eye level.
"You're so pretty when you bleed…"
Jip shifts under Her gaze. They need Her lips on them, Her teeth in their skin, yet they know they shouldn't ask for it. The shifting doesn't help, either, if anything it leaves them more and more bothered. She adds another, slightly deeper gash with Her fingernail before leaning forward, teasing at the blood with Her tongue as they grind down on Her lap. "Don't say I never did anything for you."
She grasps at their sides, their hips, whichever part of their body She can reach to hold them down with Her vampiric strength before She bites down on their skin, slides Her fangs into their subclavian vein. The pain is instant, but it gets washed away by the intense pleasure it comes with. Jip cries out in pleasure, their hands reaching to find purchase in Her hair. She swats them away, drinking deeply, sucking the life essence out of Jip's intoxicated veins. The only thing they can do is hump against Her lap. They can tell She's enjoying it, though, maybe even more than they are. And Jip's enjoying it a whole lot. They can't form words, their moans nothing but noise until She decides they're being too loud and once again slides Her fingers in their mouth to keep them quiet. Maybe if they suck on Them enough, they can find a small trace of vitae.
It seems like time's speeding up, their heartbeat working overtime to keep their blood pumping, while at the same time no time is passing at all. Her tongue drags along the gashes She's created, leaving nothing but pinker skin as it neatly heals over. Her fingers are still in their mouth, although they've stopped sucking on Them a bit ago. Their heart's working overtime, their eyes barely open as they end up slumped against Her. She's taken more than She usually does. They feel more lightheaded, more tired, more empty than they have in a long time.
Their eyes flutter shut, they barely even notice when She pulls Her fingers from their mouth. It is only when She casts them aside as if they're nothing. Gets up. Smooths out her shirt. Jip finds themself looking up at Her. They're shaking, floating on the high of the act they've just committed.
"Nicole?" Their voice is shaking, too.
Her expression is impossible to read. That is to say, they don't think Her expression matches the mood. They feel like a bug under Her gaze, when She's basically the Sun to them. Had they been sober, they might have noticed the way Her nose scrunches up when they speak.
"You can leave now."
With those word, Nicole makes her way out of the room, leaving Jip behind. They don't know how long they're in there when two young girls wander in and escort them out. She is nowhere to be found.
