@viktorialomidze
lomidze house; the hours following the conclave gala
From the gala to the mansion to Viktoria's haven of a bedroom - she leads her prey in once more, just like she had during the hurricane. The guest bedroom is just a few long strides down the hall, and where Sadie's been staying since her home had been fucked over by a tree, but Viktoria has other plans for the night. Setting her down by the desk, she cups Sadie's cheeks in her delicate, long fingers and makes eye contact. All the compulsion for the gala is released, dzvirpaso. She strokes the pads of her fingers down the planes of her face and watches the shift in confidence.
"There we are. There's my girl."
It's like a wave washes over her brain - if it was scrubbed clean before the gala, it's like hot, astringent water's being dumped on it now - and she remembers everything she'd been told to forget - shame, mostly. Thirty one flavors of it, but it doesn't help either that the last thing she recalls clearly is getting into a car with Viktoria, and then a party, where she met... people... and it was all very boring.
She blinks, suddenly tired but also wired, half drunk, sitting in a chair with Viktoria's fingers wrapped around her face. Her cheeks flush then, with the excitement and the secrecy of it - a date. It still feels strange in her gut, and then comes the dirty feeling - the old sting that this isn't something she can ever talk about with anyone back home... "I feel... so weird."
“Weird would be normal. You had a fair amount to drink. I also changed your personality for an evening.” Long fingers continue their attention on her face, the warmth of the blush delicate under cold skin. She smiles as she studies her. Of the people alive in the world, only a select few see Viktoria’s real smile— it’s an odd thing, reserved, but stretches her face in such a way that breaks the illusion of inhumanity she wears purposefully. She looks… almost normal.
Viktoria stands while Sadie continues to sit, and she brushes her fingers through her hair— removing bobby pins and whatever else had been needed to craft the illusion of put together for her. She tilts Sadie’s chin up to look at her.
“Adorable little thing.” Sadie is nothing remarkable. She’s hundreds of women who look just like her— barely put together, shy, brunette, soft features. In the population of the world over history, Sadie simply would never stand out. It’s exactly why she wants her— exactly her taste. Her record of past lovers is much the same — plain, but beautiful men and women.
She helps Sadie to her feet to help her remove her outfit. “I have something for you to change into— but would you like some water?” Pleasantries before she consumes her totally. “You’re going to feel even more odd in a bit.”
Sadie palms her face, rubbing along her cheek. "I feel like it..." then, a realization- "What? What do you mean-?" She looks up to Viktoria, trying to remember the hazy moments before the night, but the woman catches her face, and Sadie's eyes dart about, searching for them before rising back up to Viktoria's face. She's not sure what that means, only that it's been months of this strange interplay - she knows Viktoria is a monster, and she knows that her sisters are too. She's terrified, on some level, and confused as to why she can't just... tell somebody, why she can't make herself pull away from this - even more confused as to why sometimes she resigns to it.
And then, fingers in her hair, caring touch, the way her chin's lifted, the way 'adorable little thing' rolls out of her mouth. Sadie feels herself warm and soften and feels her breath catch quietly.
"I think I should," voice as woozy and light headed as the rest of her but steady enough. Her head turns back to where Viktoria's undoing the snaps on the long skirt, the room still moving even when her head stops. The last bit gives her pause, more odd? As if the entirety of these last months haven't been an odd mix of shame and fright and some strange hybrid fruit of desire and doubt? She doesn't speak that, just lets her expression hang in its confusion.
Viktoria takes her time with helping Sadie undress, and moves away from her only to find a large enough shirt for her to slip on and a bottle of water to press into her hands. She’ll need food later, Viktoria thinks, but that will come with time. Once all the mechanics of it are taken care of, Viktoria leads her, instead, to her bed.
There’s a brief moment of thought, and she slips out of her own clothing quickly and smoothly before changing into something comforting and loose— only then does she slide over onto Sadie’s lap.
Delicate fingers find her face once more, thumb stroking along the blush adorning her cheek. “I compelled your shame away earlier, took the shackles of religion away. They’re back now, don’t worry. Your thoughts and your actions are your own.” For now, at least. It would be fun to perhaps make her do something else, but listen to her doubts and thoughts all the time— but she wants to savor this bit first.
“You were fun, but I like this better— the real you. It’s why I took you as my own in the first place.” She leans in, then and places a gentle kiss to her lips, trailing her own attention down her jawline and one soft kiss to her neck. She inhales the scent of her there and lets her teeth make contact with skin, but doesn’t quite bite yet.
“May I? I’ve craved you all night.”
Viktoria details what she'd done, and there's a lurch in her mind as Viktoria sits in her lap and Sadie looks her up and down with equal measures confusion and ashamed desire, feelings that only intensify with her touch.
At first she's about to beg an answer of why - why do that. Why change her, then bring her back. Why keep her here, but she's cut off by praise. The months since the storm have been a whirlwind - going to school, going about her day as if nothing's changed, and then coming home - not to her place but to this massive house. Into Viktoria's.
And now, school is out, and Viktoria has unbidden reign on her, as demonstrated once again tonight. The language she uses is so possessive; she feels as if she should be offended, but she isn't, and as Viktoria kisses her, down, down, down from lips to chin to jaw to neck, Vik talking of her being claimed and taken and Sadie's eyes search aimlessly. She finds the shame in how much she enjoys it tiresome and confusing.
And then, damnit, she feels herself melt at the last thing Viktoria says. Craved. She's craved. "Yes." She whispers, bracing for the pinching, biting pain.
She lets Sadie breathe a little before she does what she wants to do. Viktoria strokes the other side of Sadie’s face and neck, hoping to soothe some of the ache, but then she sinks her teeth in — quickly and gently as possible to drink her down and lick at the wound, her tongue dipping down into it and lathing at the meat just underneath, but not opening it further.
She pulls back with a soft kiss to the wounds, then bites at her thumb and brings it to Sadie’s mouth to heal her up. “There we are, you’re doing very well. I’m so proud of you.” She strokes at her cheek some more, and then leans in to kiss her gently.
“Talk to me? Where’s your head?”
Viktoria's touch is so gentle, so disarming, that even in this weird haze of confusion she can't help but feel like she could melt into her grasp, like even just the proximity renders her soft and pliable.
She gasps at the bite- as she does, but the rush of heat to her throat feels kind in its own way until Viktorias tongue planes against the tears, making her moan in pain before the vampire pulls free, touching wide soft lips to the wound, feeding blood to her, and Sadie lets it happen.
"I... I just feel so ... dirty" It hurts to say, but that's how she feels. "Wrong. Unnatural." She looks to Viktoria. "Afraid..."
