Vampire!Cassie + Priest’sdaughter!Victoria
WARNINGS :: masochism, choking, fingering, depictions of blood (obviously), one track minded Cassie, eager to please Victoria
The wind is bleak and heavy set in Cassie’s lungs. There’s an ache in Cassie’s chest, a wandering pound, a relentless rhythm in her heart— a feeling she can’t resist. And Victoria, the priest’s daughter, was just oh, so compliant…
She loves the taste of her blood. That silvery, thick, hot liquid that popped and poured onto her tongue when she’d dig her teeth in, like a misbehaving dog.
Victoria was one of the very few that could ever play along with Cassie’s urges, leaning into the sick fantasy despite the ache that sat heavy in her shoulder after Cassie visited, pointed canine teeth dented into the skin with two thick puncture marks.
“This pretty lace, it’s for me, huh?”
Cassie’s voice dips into the room as she enters it, pale hands brushing the doorframe with each nearly hushed footstep. Cassie had perfected that eerie way of silence that birthed an unsteady ache of anxiety in Victoria’s chest, one that bloomed a perverse urge deep inside her despite not knowing when or how the other woman would appear at her door.
Victoria stayed quiet from her stance infront of her mirror, hair curtaining her face, caping down her back.
She liked to see the snags and tears in the delicate lace after Cassie held her, nails catching on the seams.
Cassie’s behind her now, eyes low from their position over Victoria’s shoulder. She knows by now, what the woman’s hunger held for her, and yet she watched in a trance when Cassie’s fangs punched through the layers of skin in her shoulder.
She crooned her head off the side, letting Cassie’s nails graze the very back of her neck when pushing her hair to the side.
It made Victoria dizzy, which, she never managed to tell the difference between the feeling of it— if it was lust or the blood loss.
Cassie’s lashes feather against her as she slowly let the blood pool, lapping the thick, wine coloured substance with the warmth of her tongue.
There’s a sharp jerk that slid up Victoria’s spine once feeling the white bones of the other woman’s teeth leave, leaving dull, throbbing slits in the space above her collarbone, sat along her trapezius muscle.
Cassie’s cold palm presses downward, greedily taking in the expanse between the two lace fabrics— sliding down Victoria’s stomach, making contact with the subtle bow nestled at the top lining of her panties.
Her eyes feel heavy while watching the dim woman from behind hold her, red nectar delicately trickling down her collarbone, tracing the curve of the bone.
Cool fingers meet Victoria’s core before she really had a moment to process more than half of their interaction, while her legs managed to squirm apart, panties clung to the mid of her thighs. The settled a spark in her gut, warm, gushy feelings beginning to bloom louder, more urgently.
She knows to be patient. Cassie only ever does this after borrowing just a little too much from Victoria, a silent, shamed apology masked by lust and friction.
The slim fingers brush down, two digits managing careful circles so perfectly against her bud— there’s an arch in her back she hadn’t noticed until her spine started to gnaw in pain. Cassie’s second hand is against Victoria’s ribcage, her chin tilting up just to witness more of Victoria in the reflection.
There’s a subtle delicacy, a drift of softness— the way Cassie would whisper to her, just small things, praising her for standing there and taking it for her, for letting her supply from her…
It made Victoria woozy, head dipping back against the woman’s shoulder, hands beginning to panic to find a surface to hold before she crumbled. Cassie usually took her chance her to lap at the bite she planted just seconds ago, making just of what she had.
She pressed her free hand up, cupping Victoria’s throat enough to elicit those pathetically squeaky whimpers, gasps that caved in her chest.
Victoria knows it’s enough to bruise. It’s enough to burn crimson and wine coloured bruises by the morning against the column of her neck, but there was something, something in that that made her want it even more.
She’s rasping, eyes flickering shut, legs growing increasingly more exhausted the longer she endured Cassie’s pleasured assault.
By the morning it’s cold. Silent. There’s dried blood stained against Victoria’s skin, hugging tight to the surface of her shoulder— and there’s an ache each time she’d swallow.
That was the only way of remembrance, of Cassie.
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