Work Text:
It starts, as do many things in a household of hungry vampires, with a corpse. Or rather, corpse soup.
That should probably be explained.
Nandor is just settling onto the settee in her crypt for her quarterly re-read of the Twilight series - a shiny new copy of New Moon, as her old one was lost in an unfortunate bubble bath incident - when a piercing shriek echoes through her window. At first, she believes it to be some kind of haggardly little creature of the night. Those raccoons have been getting bolder about the trash bins. However, the way the voice begins spitting Spanish curses quickly informs her that the being who is making those noises is most certainly a familiar little familiar.
Great. Guillermo already distracted her for twenty minutes asking questions about how she’d like the formal invitations to her Accession Day party to be written - who gives a shit, as long as the guests bring a steady supply of virgins and are willing to watch five hours of basketball from 1992 on video tape? - and now the girl is making banshee noises that are liable to get them a citation.
(Nandor still hasn’t figured out which of their neighbors complain about the occasional screams from the house, but when she does, there’s going to be a conveniently vacant house on their block, perfect for a new family who minds their own fucking business).
Nandor lets out a long-suffering sigh and drags herself off the temptingly comfortable couch, trudging morosely out the door and down the hall. She could simply turn to smoke and float her way out to wherever Guillermo is, but this just gives her another thing to complain to Guillermo about when Nandor finds her - look at what you’ve done, Guillermo, making me keep my corporeal form to avoid any nosy neighbors spotting me! Shoeless, she steps heel to toe across the warm carpet, her satin red robe swishing pleasantly against the tops of her thighs. She’s wearing nothing else underneath it, because there is a ritual to reading a Twilight novel - if you’re not doing it in a robe, next to a roaring fireplace, sipping on a goblet of warm blood, then are you really doing it right? She has standards.
Laszlo is passing through the hall as she strides by. “What the shit was that noise?” he asks her. “Should we be alarmed?”
“It’s just Guillermo,” Nandor shrugs. “You know how humans are, always making the annoying noises - oh, I’m so scared, oh, I’m dying, why did you bite me! - all that nonsense.”
“Well, if she’s not dead, tell her to keep it down; I’m about to watch some delightful pornography with my lady love and I can’t keep it up with her screeching.”
“I told you we should have done the soundproofing!” Nandor calls back as he moves away. “We are going to talk about it at the next household meeting!”
Outside, the chill October air cuts through her robe, and she shivers, pulling the fabric tight around her shoulders.
“Guillermoooooo!” she calls out, using her vampiric powers to float centimeters above the crunchy leaves blanketing the backyard as she mimics stepping down the stairs. “Now, where have you gotten to, you little rascal?”
“Mistress? Over here...” comes a voice so thoroughly put out and defeated, it needles the barest bit of sympathy - yeuch - from Nandor’s cold, dead heart.
Nandor follows the voice around the back of the potting shed, stopping when she sees her familiar - or, well, half of her familiar. The upper half. The woman’s arms are splayed wide out, glasses hanging haphazardly from one ear. She’s wearing a grey beanie and her favorite blue coat, but that’s all Nandor can see; her body from the chest down has sunk into the dirt, the ground sloshing disconcertingly around her. Guillermo’s face is splattered with some kind of nasty brown liquid, dripping down her skin, which has taken on a pale, greenish-looking hue. Her eyes are jammed shut, and her throat bobs like she’s trying to keep her last meal down.
“Guillermo? Why are you in the soupy ground?” Nandor asks, floating closer. “I told you, if you want us to put a pool back here, you’re going to have to earn it.”
Guillermo makes a despairing sound and shakes her head. “I found another sinkhole. Or, I guess, it found me. Could you help me out of here? If I open my eyes I think I’m going to actually vomit.”
Nandor blinks down at the liquid ground, taking a sniff and immediately making a disgusted face. “You expect me to get my hands and robe all filthy with this vile stuff? After I have already had my bubble bath?”
“Mistress, please,” Guillermo pleads, looking like she’s about to cry. And the thing Nandor will never admit - not even under threat of sunlight or staking or having to spend three hours in a room with Simon the Devious - is that she’s inexplicably incapable of saying no to a crying Guillermo. This is a well-hidden secret, as thankfully, Guillermo rarely cries. Sure, she’ll scream and gasp and yell and groan and pout, but tears are a rarity. Nandor likes this; her own emotions are annoying, so dealing with a sniveling familiar all the time would be a nightmare.
Nandor sighs, extra loud for dramatic effect, and floats closer, going horizontal as she positions herself behind Guillermo’s upper half. “If you squirm, I’m dropping you. Understand?”
Guillermo nods enthusiastically, and Nandor grips her underneath her armpits.
It takes skill, Nandor thinks proudly, to avoid getting any corpse soup on her robe as she heaves Guillermo out of the dirt. A little of it gets on her hands, but that is nothing compared to the wet, stinking stuff that clings to every inch of Guillermo’s lower half as she exits the hole. The stench of it hits Nandor’s nose, and she gags, nearly losing her own dinner into the liquid remains.
The ground around the hole looks dangerously unsteady, so Nandor floats them a few feet away before lowering Guillermo back onto her feet. That should be the end of it, but when Guillermo tries to bear her own weight, she cries out in pain and her left leg buckles, Nandor’s strong hands the only thing keeping her upright.
Uh oh.
“What is it?” Nandor asks.
“Shit... I can’t put weight on it,” Guillermo whines, biting her lip and finally opening her eyes, looking down at her ankle.
“Is it broken?” Nandor asks, cursing inwardly. She knows logically that this isn’t Guillermo’s fault, but she can’t help feeling resentment. If Guillermo wants to go to the hospital, Nandor isn’t carrying her there unless the woman gets into some clothes that don’t smell like decomposition.
Guillermo carefully rotates her ankle as Nandor watches, wincing slightly. “I don’t think so. Just sprained. I’m gonna need help getting back into the house.”
Nandor groans. “But you said you just needed me to get you out of there!”
“I didn’t know it was sprained at the time!” Guillermo leans sideways, pressing her dirt-slick hand against the side of the potting shed. “Look, just, if you don’t want to help, could you get me a big stick or a shovel or something? I can probably use that to get inside...”
“Oh, fuck this,” Nandor snarls.
Quick as a flash, she switches her grip, shoving her arms underneath Guillermo’s and wrapping them around the woman’s chest, tucked right beneath her breasts. The position pulls Guillermo’s back flush against her front. The woman’s warmth seeps through the robe, somewhat making up for the vile dirt soup that is definitely soaking into her nice robe.
Guillermo squeaks - a new, interesting sound, that Nandor will have to catalog to think about later. Her fingers dig into the soft fabric under Nandor’s arms, and her head swivels, catching Nandor’s eye. “M-mistress, you really don’t have to-”
“Be quiet,” Nandor chides. “The faster we do this, the faster I can go back to enjoying my literature.”
Edward Cullen waits for no woman - especially not filthy, injured little familiars.
In flagrant defiance of any possible prying eyes, Nandor flies upwards, floating them towards the second-floor bathroom window. With a quick flick of the wrist, the latch on the window comes loose, and another flick sends the window flying up, clearing them a path. Guillermo is blessedly quiet the whole time, and she only squirms a little. It’s a whole lot better than the first time they tried flying together.
After a little fussing to get them both through the window, Nandor sets Guillermo down on the toilet seat and lets her go. The vampire puts her feet down onto the cold tiles as she waves the window back into place and shuts the curtains. She glances down at her robe, frowning. The corpse liquid has turned the beautiful red satin an ugly brown, big stained patches across the breadth of her chest. The smell isn’t quite as bad as it was outside, but still present.
“You are getting this dry cleaned immediately, and if it’s ruined, I’m going to be very annoyed with you,” Nandor says, looking back up. Guillermo sits quietly on the toilet seat, hands folded, expression suitably guilty. Good. Nandor has potentially sacrificed her nice robe, and definitely sacrificed a portion of her evening to clean up from Guillermo’s mistake. And speaking of cleaning up... She reaches out, grabbing the front of Guillermo’s coat and fiddling with the zipper. “Come on. Off.”
Guillermo’s eyes go wide. She sits back, out of Nandor’s reach, wrapping her arms around her chest.
“I can take it from here,” she insists. “Thank you.”
“There is no way you are going to get out of these slippery clothes and into a slippery tub by yourself without falling and braining yourself on the counter.” Nandor swats Guillermo’s arms away before attacking the zipper again, yanking it down. “I am not losing a good familiar to an easily preventable workman’s comp situation.”
“I don’t think this job falls under any safety standards for OSHA,” Guillermo mumbles, but with a pointed look from Nandor, she lets her arms fall aside and allows her mistress to tug the coat off her arms. Underneath is a wooly brown sweater, checkered with little white diamonds. The top of it is still clean, but the bottom is soaked with dirt. It’s big and thick, but Nandor can still see the curves of Guillermo’s chest and stomach and hips through the fabric. The view is… not unappealing.
Guillermo flinches when Nandor’s hands slip under the hem of the sweater, and Nandor notes with amusement that her familiar’s skin is taking on a delicious pink tone as her eyes skirt anywhere but Nandor’s face. The sweater comes off, revealing a tight black t-shirt clings to Guillermo’s skin, the fabric damp with sweat and darker liquid at the very bottom edge. “Three layers? It is not even winter,” Nandor says as she tosses the sweater into the sink.
“I like layers,” Guillermo insists, grabbing Nandor’s wrists as she reaches for the t-shirt. “You’ve really done enough, Mistress.”
“We’ve only addressed your upper half,” Nandor says, straining against Guillermo’s surprisingly strong grip. When Guillermo refuses to relent, she switches tactics, fingers twitching towards the button on Guillermo’s jeans. “There are at least five to seven more items of clothing that need to come off.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be reading?” Guillermo challenges, as if that’s going to be enough to dissuade Nandor’s groping fingers; once the vampire has gotten her mind set on something, only a fool would get in her way. When Nandor continues to pull against her grip, Guillermo sighs. “Okay, okay. I’ll get the button, you can help pull them off.”
This is... acceptable. Nandor stands up straight and watches as Guillermo nudges her boots off. The woman ghosts her forefinger across the shiny steel button on her jeans as it catches the light. Nandor is momentarily reminded of the round shields wielded by warriors of an opposing empire, defending the soft, squishy bits of human bodies from the plunder of a blade.
Flicking open the button of her jeans, Guillermo draws the zipper down slowly - one might say hesitantly, as if there was anything to be hesitant about. She glances up at Nandor, then back down to her jeans, thumbs digging into the band. Nandor catches sight of black cotton underwear as she wriggles the denim down her hips. A delightful struggle ensues as she tries to stay seated on the toilet, the fabric straining across the breadth of her distractingly thick backside.
Nandor realizes her lips have parted, and she’s started to breathe, which is probably normal to humans but definitely not for Nandor. She clamps her jaw shut, swallowing as she sinks to her knees. Guillermo jolts and blinks at her, owlish curiosity mixed with obvious embarrassment. Nandor drapes her hands over Guillermo’s; the size disproportion is comical, covering the entirety of her familiar’s hands. She nudges those hands away from the denim, and grips the material herself.
“You are uncomfortable undressing around others,” Nandor observes, sliding Guillermo’s jeans down to her ankles. With the denim gone, she has a full view of Guillermo’s legs; the skin there is paler than the skin on her chest and face, her thighs thick with plush fat that heaves temptingly as Guillermo shifts on the seat. Nandor cups the back of her calf and lifts, savoring the rush of air that comes out of Guillermo’s mouth as Nandor tugs the jeans over her ankle and off her foot, fingertips ghosting the skin, taking the black sock on said foot with it.
Guillermo has always been a little skittish, a bit touch-shy, and no matter Nandor’s whims and wiles, she has always respected Guillermo’s personal space. She’s not a fucking man, after all. However, Guillermo’s reactions to her simple touches are... interesting. Worth investigation.
“I don’t really like people looking at me,” Guillermo says, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. “I’m not exactly Salma Hayek under the sweaters.”
“I do not know who that is, nor do I care.” Nandor tugs Guillermo’s jeans off the other ankle, discarding the denim and the rest of Guillermo’s clothes into the sink so they don’t drip all over the floor. She stands up, turns around, and draws the shower curtain of the tub aside. “You are Guillermo under the sweaters, yes? What is so bad about seeing that?”
“I don’t think you’d get it.” Nandor turns the knob of the hot water, testing the temperature against her wrist. She stays quiet, letting silence fill the space to encourage Guillermo to talk. She hears Guillermo sigh, and the rustling of fabric. “I’m all for body-positivity, but it’s easier said than done.”
“You are still speaking gibberish.” Satisfied with the temperature, Nandor flicks the switch for the showerhead and twists back around, freezing in place. Guillermo has taken off her t-shirt. Chest revealed, Nandor can see the plaid red brassiere she wears. It looks worn, some of the lace edging fraying at the ends, and the color is faded, but it cups her breasts beautifully, cradling them in the fabric like the hands of an attentive lover. They bulge ever so slightly up, all thanks to a solid underwire. Beneath the bra, her stomach curves out, rolling over her thighs. There are pale scattering stretch lines on either side that Nandor wants to drag her fingers down, to trace and feel the slightly raised skin.
Nandor’s mouth has not been this dry since desert marches in the sweltering sun. This is what Guillermo was hiding underneath those sweaters? This... this fucking feast? Unbelievable. How could she keep this from her mistress? Yet, Guillermo is looking down, curling in on herself - which does a lovely job of pushing her breasts together, making a line of cleavage Nandor wants to run her tongue through. Her shy reluctance to be viewed tells Nandor that the girl has no idea how utterly divine she looks.
Some days, Nandor really, really hates the modern world, for all it’s done to give humans these weird body complexes.
“Guillermo. Look at me,” Nandor orders.
To her credit, Guillermo immediately jerks her head up, meeting Nandor’s eyes. Her cheeks are mottled red, chest starting to flush the same. Fuck. Nandor wants to put her mouth on that wide expanse and sink her fangs in.
When Nandor doesn’t say anything else, Guillermo squirms a little, fingers digging into her stomach. “Yes, Mistress?” she asks, voice infuriatingly timid.
Nandor reaches down and undoes the sash of her robe, which has been dutifully keeping the garment wrapped around her form. She pulls the two halves open, exposing her full, nude form, and lets the fabric slip from her shoulders to the bathroom floor.
Guillermo lets out a barely audible whimper.
Nandor tries (and fails) to not feel smug about that.
“I was in my early forties when I was turned,” Nandor says, tracing her fingers down the large scar that scores the space between her breasts. “My body will forever be as it was that day.” She touches the silver stretch lines above her breasts, then reaches down and cups the layer of fat that hugs her hips, squeezing. She takes a slow spin, knowing the jagged scarring from an axe injury curves over her shoulder. When she finishes, she folds her arms, giving Guillermo a pointed look. “I suppose you find this ugly to look at.”
Guillermo sputters, shaking her head rapidly as she stammers, “What? No, Mistress, no, of course not! You’re...”
She swallows, worrying her lip, as her eyes roam every inch of Nandor’s body. Nandor can see the open hunger there. She has never seen Guillermo look at anyone or anything with that kind of desire. Didn’t even know it was possible. That’s the kind of look that could burn down forests, could sweep through city blocks and reduce them to cinders.
It’s dangerous.
A decade of denied lust bursts its way out, rushing over Nandor from head to toe. If she was any lesser of a woman, the want would bow her over with the way it cramps the muscles of her stomach, a needy throb in her loins.
Oh, this is bad, this is so bad.
Guillermo is on fire, and Nandor wants to burn.
The tension is broken when Guillermo finally speaks again. “You’re beautiful, Mistress. Anybody could see that.”
“Yes. Well. Thank you. If I have nothing to be ashamed of, neither do you.” Nandor finds the words leaving her mouth far kinder than she expected. Her head is still spinning, and she has to turn away to refocus, bending to grip the edge of the tub. “Now, finish undressing. We need to get you cleaned up.”
Nandor waits, listening to the creak of the toilet seat as Guillermo shifts again, the soft swish of fabric sliding down skin. She takes the time to swallow down her lust; while the idea of pinning Guillermo to the wall and ravishing her this second is appealing, it’s less so when the woman is still stinking of liquefied corpses. Highly unhygienic. So, shower and soap first. Then they’ll see where the night takes them.
Apologies to Jacob Black, that hunky werewolf, but she has a familiar to seduce.
“I’m done, Mistress,” Guillermo says. “You can help me into the tub.”
Nandor counts to five, and then turns back around.
Shit.
If Guillermo was tempting in her undergarments, it was nothing compared to the beauty of her nude form. Her breasts are large, with dark areolas, nipples standing pert in the cool air of the bathroom. They sway freely, the bottoms touching the top of her stomach, an unbroken curvature that Nandor could spend hours running her hands, her lips, her tongue up and down. Lower, a curly thatch of dark hair covers the bulge of her folds; they’re large enough to cover everything else, an alluring pair of curtains that Nandor could draw open to seek what’s inside.
Nandor realizes she’s been caught looking when Guillermo clears her throat. “Mistress? Are we gonna...?”
“Yes! Yes,” Nandor says, the second yes a full octave lower than the first. Embarrassing. Acting like she’s never seen a gorgeous, naked woman before, full of blood and life and tempting, so tempting...
She steps over, sliding her arm around Guillermo’s back. With ease, she heaves the other woman up off the seat, Guillermo’s arm coming up to drape over Nandor’s shoulders. She’s warm, so warm, and smells sweet underneath the faint putrefaction. Nandor bites down a whine of her own. Fucking sinkhole, making familiars too filthy to be immediately ravished. This is torture - and she’s experienced actual torture.
Nandor helps Guillermo step into the tub, only letting her fingers brush the side of Guillermo’s breast a little bit - see, she’s being very good! Respectful. It is taking all of her willpower to do so. She wonders if Guillermo would tell her to stop if she was disrespectful. Perhaps they will find out.
She steps in after Guillermo, yanking the curtain shut.
The shower wall gives Guillermo something to lean on, and she twists around, away from Nandor, letting the stream of water hit her back with a satisfied sigh. Nandor stays slightly out of the spray, letting Guillermo have most of the water. She needs it more.
“Which one is the soap?” Nandor asks, pointing to the bottles on the little shower caddy built into the wall.
“Those four,” Guillermo says, motioning to specific ones among the dozen or so there.
Nandor frowns. “Four? You need four bottles of soap? Why? Do you get that that filthy on a regular basis?”
“Look, I like different smells, okay? If you just hand me one, I’ll wash off.”
“Nonsense. What did I say? You keep that hand on the wall so your brains do not go all over the tub. I will wash you.”
Nandor sees Guillermo’s spine stiffen, and she sways a little, like the idea of it alone could knock her off her feet. “Mistress, this feels a little... excessive?”
“I am a creature of excess, indulge me,” Nandor purrs.
She swipes one of the bottles off the shelf, popping the cap and sniffing it; a pleasant vanilla flavor wafts into her nose. Familiar. Her mind flashes to the past, the living room, lounging on the couch. Guillermo walks past while she dusts, a lingering scent in the air.
Nandor pours far too much soap into her palm. It flows over her skin, splattering onto the tub, and she curses and puts the bottle down so she can lather what remains between her fingers. Before her, Guillermo is silent but for her steady breathing, hand flexing against the wall. Her head is head bowed forward, neck exposed. Nandor could lean in, could put her lips right there...
No. Not yet.
“Stay still,” Nandor orders, right before she presses her hands against the breadth of Guillermo’s back. The skin under her fingers is blazing from the heat of the water, and she steps in front of the stream to block it off. Guillermo is obedient, unmoving as Nandor starts rubbing the soap all across her back, starting up at the shoulders, smooth circles as she watches bits of dirt and dried liquid begin to slough off. “Where is your loofah?”
“Hanging on the shower knob,” Guillermo mutters.
Ah, yes. Nandor reaches behind herself to tug it free, rubbing some of the lather into the sponge and then applying it to Guillermo’s skin. The loofah’s scratchy material helps with some of the more stubborn patches of dirt.
Guillermo lets out a pleased sigh as Nandor scrubs it down her back. “That’s nice...”
“Oh?” Nandor says, pretending curiosity. “I suppose it would feel nice anywhere I used it, wouldn’t it?” She swipes the loofah downwards, circling Guillermo’s lower back. “How about there?”
“Yeah, that’s good,” Guillermo confirms, nodding her head. Flecks of water bounce off her short curls, landing against Nandor’s cheek. She shivers visibly when Nandor slides the sponge down, swiping it across the split of her cheeks, before dragging it back up and across her hip.
“Still good?” Nandor asks, her free hand coming up to rest on the opposite hip. Guillermo seems to shy away from the touch for a moment, and Nandor starts to pull her hand away.
Guillermo grabs her wrist. She looks back, meeting Nandor’s eyes, and guides her hand back Guillermo’s hip, then lets go and resumes the same position as before.
Nandor swallows, tattooing her fingers against Guillermo’s soft skin. She swipes the loofah in clockwise circles, each pass ending further from Guillermo’s hip and closer to her stomach. Her toes curl into the porcelain, inching her forward.
This close, Nandor can feel the tangible heat radiating from Guillermo’s skin again. Oh, how she aches to press into that soft, smooth skin, to feel that heat bleed through her. To mouth at the back of Guillermo’s neck, to slip her hands down Guillermo’s waist and find a place even wetter, hotter. She wants to see her familiar smolder, make her feel the same way that Nandor burns for her.
The tension in the cramped space is palpable; lust pungent on Nandor’s tongue. Guillermo is trembling under her touch. Nandor estimates another five minutes max, before she’s got Guillermo pinned to the wall, engaged in something utterly perverse.
Nandor lets go of Guillermo’s hip to slide that hand across her stomach, listening to the way Guillermo stifles a gasp with a keen satisfaction. Delicious.
“Mistress?” Guillermo asks, questioning.
Nandor’s lips are so close to Guillermo’s ear. She could have just a nibble...
“Your back is clean, but we can’t neglect your front, can we?” Nandor murmurs.
“I- I guess not?” Guillermo tips her head back, blinking up at Nandor. A deceptively innocent answer.
There’s nothing innocent about what’s going on here, and they both know it.
Nandor keeps the hand on Guillermo’s stomach steady, and drags the loofah upwards, through the space between Guillermo’s breasts. Guillermo bites her lip and lets her head drop back even farther, her scalp pressing to Nandor’s shoulder. The loofah continues its path, circling one breast over and over. Smaller circles each time, until the material is scratching across Guillermo’s nipple, drawing an audible whimper from her.
“Still good, yes?” Nandor asks. Teasing Guillermo is working wonderfully. Any sane person would’ve demanded they drop the farce of a platonic bathing session, but Guillermo is too good at letting Nandor push her limits, letting Nandor take and take what she wants with minimal complaint.
Nandor is so lucky to have her. She really should show Guillermo some appreciation.
Nandor applies attention to Guillermo’s other breast, swirling the loofah in the opposite direction. Guillermo sounds like she wants to cry this time when the loofah swipes over her nipple, though she stubbornly remains in place.
Well, that won’t do.
Nandor pushes her free hand into Guillermo’s stomach ever so slightly, a question more than a demand. Guillermo answers by stepping back, finally closing the space between them.
Skin presses to skin, both of them shuddering in tandem as they meet. Nandor buries a moan against the side of Guillermo’s head, inhaling the scent of her hair mousse; something sweet and tangy, impossible to associate with anything other than her.
“Mistress...” Guillermo pants, reaching her free hand up to grab Nandor’s wrist, stilling the movement of the loofah. “Please...”
“Hold on,” Nandor chides. She pulls out of Guillermo’s grip, and drags the loofah back down between Guillermo’s breasts, over the curve of her stomach, one particular final target in mind. “I missed a spot.”
Guillermo nearly buckles when Nandor presses the sponge firm against her sex, moaning as the tips of Nandor’s fingers ghost through her pubic hair. Nandor was anticipating this, wrapping her free arm tight around Guillermo’s chest to keep her upright. It won’t do to have the woman slip and fall again; all of this foreplay, only to end up in the hospital with a real broken bone? Devastating.
Nandor swirls the loofah, and Guillermo sobs, nails digging into the flesh of Nandor’s wrist. This doesn’t dissuade Nandor at all, only makes her press down harder, grinding the sponge against Guillermo’s mound in concentric circles. She imagines the motion feels good, but that kind of good that only makes you want more. It’s unsustainable. There must either be an end or an escalation. The fire must be extinguished or stoked to a full blaze.
Nandor knows which one she wants. But Guillermo has to want it too.
“Guillermo,” Nandor murmurs, mouthing at the shell of her ear. “I need to know you want this. Tell me.”
“Yes!” Guillermo shouts, pushing both palms against the back of Nandor’s hand, urging her onwards. “Please, Mistress, I really, really do!”
The growl Nandor lets out travels through both their bodies as she drops the loofah, drops the act. She cups the whole of Guillermo’s sex with her palm, swiping gently down the edges of her folds with her thumb, rewarded when Guillermo moans and bucks into her hand.
It will be the full blaze, then.
Nandor swings Guillermo around to pin her, face first, against the shower wall. Guillermo gasps “Yes,” mouth wet against the tiles, Nandor’s lips sucking a bruise into the skin of her neck. “Oh, fuck... Do it, please, ple-ahhh!” She chokes on the words as Nandor plunges her index and middle finger between Guillermo’s folds, driving them deep. Guillermo clenches around them, her nails scrabbling against the slippery wall.
Guillermo is as utterly drenched inside as she is outside, rocking herself on Nandor’s fingers, her juices dripping down Nandor’s palm. Nandor can smell the heady musk of her desire, knows by the scent alone that when Nandor does taste her, she will taste of spring rains breaking open the sky.
Pulling her fingers out of Guillermo’s slick passage, Nandor spends a moment stroking inside Guillermo’s folds, soft and silky beneath her fingertips, drawing wetness out to make the slide smoother. The motion is well received, as Guillermo whines and grinds herself down against Nandor’s touch.
“Fuck,” Guillermo gasps as Nandor pushes those fingers back into her. “Mo-ore-ahhh! Please, more...”
Guillermo moans as Nandor’s thumb slides up to press into her clit, sobbing as Nandor swirls her thumb in concentric circles. She is so utterly, beautifully responsive in every way Nandor could ask for.
This won’t last long; at least, not this first time. That is alright. Nandor has plans. Many plans. She’s going to ruin this very bad, naughty little familiar, hiding such a delicious secret from her mistress for over a decade. A pity that no one else will be able to live up to the experience Nandor is about to give her.
“Guillermo,” Nandor growls in her ear. “You are going to come on my fingers, and then I am going to take you back to the Blue Room and figure out how many other ways I can make you come.”
“Mierda!” Guillermo buckles again, dragging her fingers down the wall. She must be close, so close, by the way she’s rocking faster and faster, chasing her release. Always impatient, the little scamp. Nandor, too, is impatient, aching to taste her.
“That’s it,” Nandor croons, kissing the curve of Guillermo’s jaw as she flings her head back and cries out. “Come on, Guillermo, scream for me, you sing so sweetly...”
“Mistress!” Guillermo sobs, thrusting mindlessly. Nandor feels Guillermo’s body clench maddeningly tight around her fingers, jerking through a powerful orgasm. She holds Guillermo up through it all, fascinated by how this normally reserved, reticent creature displays such wanton desire, openly writ across her features.
Nandor draws her hand back, blinking down at the slick shine on her fingers. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” she asks.
Guillermo’s burst of laughter is disbelieving. Nandor supposes it was a pretty obvious question. “Yeah, that, that felt really good, Mistress.”
Not merely content to let the rainfall of the showerhead wash the evidence away, Nandor lifts her hand and laps the sweet release off her fingers, a subtle ambrosia that is entirely Guillermo, though merely a taste of what Nandor really wants access to. Guillermo let out a little sigh as Nandor sucks the fingers into her mouth; the woman has twisted her head to look back at Nandor, gazing reverently, as if the sight is something worshipful.
“Do... do you want me to finish you off, Mistress?” Guillermo asks, rocking her hips back. Only now does Nandor notice the way she has one leg hooked around Guillermo’s thigh, her own sex leaking eager fluid against the curve of Guillermo’s hip. The heat in her gut is smoldering, but she is an immortal vampire, and it will take more than some unintentional grinding to make her lose control. Besides there are far more tempting ways to achieve orgasm outside of this slippery tub.
“Not yet, Guillermo,” Nandor says, drawing away, though she immediately misses the warm, soft body beneath her. “Let us finish washing, and we will adjourn to a more comfortable space.”
After Nandor cleans herself off, she steps out of the shower, leaving Guillermo to the last of the hot water as she opens the cabinet beneath the sink, spotting several large, fluffy towels. She wraps herself in one. The mirror mocks her as it has done these past seven hundred years, and she has to feel out the strands of her hair, smoothing away the frizziness with her fingers. Guillermo can wash it out later; repayment for a series of amazing fucking orgasms she’s about to get.
She hears the faucet squeak, the water slowing and then splattering its last few drops against the porcelain tub. Guillermo draws aside the curtain, and Nandor is already there, a towel opened wide to catch her, to swaddle her in soft white cotton. Guillermo stands unmoving as Nandor wraps the towel around her, blinking up at Nandor as she pulls the fabric tight, sucking in a breath when she pulls it tighter. Nandor works fastidiously to see Guillermo’s breasts pushed together, see them heave and swell over the edges of the towel. She’s going to wrap this little familiar up like a present and then take her time unwrapping the gift in the bedroom.
Her fingers drift against the hemmed top edge as she lets it go, and she catches Guillermo’s eye, stilling. The girl’s naked want still remains etched across her face, an emotion so utterly vulnerable in its brazen display. Nandor supposes that, once you’ve got your mistress’s fingers buried in your cunt, there’s no more questions about whether she wants you carnally.
This is the dance of many a vampire and familiar over the centuries. Hell, Nandor’s had a fair few dalliances of her own. But it’s different, somehow, here. It’s not just lust driving Nandor when she leans forward, gripping the towel and tugging Guillermo into a slow, heated kiss. Not just desire when she strokes a thumb against Guillermo’s cheek, mumbling against her mouth, “You are gorgeous, you know that?” There’s something buried beneath, an affection, a need.
Sentiment.
Fuck. Nandor is in danger, isn’t she?
“Come,” she intones when they part, cutting off any of Guillermo’s questions by hoisting her out of the tub, tucking the woman against her chest in a bridal carry and whisking her out the door. For Guillermo’s part, she looks appropriately mortified to be carried this way, stammering that Nandor doesn’t need to, as if that was the point. Nandor silences Guillermo with another kiss, letting her feet take her down the hall.
Nandor can hear faint exultations coming from Nadja and Laszlo’s chambers, but the sound cuts off when she kicks the door to the Blue Room shut behind them, striding over to the bed with her tongue still working to cajole Guillermo’s lips apart. The woman yelps a little when Nandor tosses her onto the big bed, scrambling back against the mountain of pillows, her heart beating pitter patter as Nandor kneels at the foot of the bed and observes her.
“You will tell me if I do something you do not like,” Nandor commands, shuffling forwards and smoothing her hands up Guillermo’s calves. The skin is still damp, and delectably warm - impossible to tell whether this is from the shower, or just how hot the woman normally runs. Nandor hopes it’s the latter.
Guillermo nods rapidly, hands fisting into the pillows as she leans into them. “I don’t think you could do anything I wouldn’t like, mistress. But I will! I promise,” she says when Nandor gives her a pointed look. “Ah, how would you like me?”
“Just like this,” Nandor says. She grips under Guillermo’s knees to tug her forward, letting her lie back a little more. Nandor slides up her body, looming over her, knees on either side of the girl’s hips.
She can smell it, that desire, wafting up from between Guillermo’s thighs, and it is so tempting to let her impulses take over, to wrench Guillermo’s knees apart and bury her face there. But no, she is not going to rush, she is going to make this good for the both of them. She is Nandor the Relentless, conqueror of empires; she has pillaged and ravished and taken what she has wanted, and in this moment, she wants to make Guillermo go to pieces under torturously slow attention.
She begins with a hand, her palm against Guillermo’s cheek, staring intently as she draws it down. Her fingers twist to ghost over Guillermo’s jaw, trailing down her neck. Guillermo shivers and her eyes flutter shut, but this will not do. Nandor wants Guillermo to watch, to see every little thing she is doing to Guillermo’s body.
“Eyes open,” Nandor orders, and Guillermo obeys immediately, breath catching as Nandor rewards her with a barely-there kiss. “Keep looking at me, don’t look away,” she murmurs, sitting back and continuing to drag her hand down Guillermo’s shoulder, up over the crest of her bosom. She swipes her thumb across the peak, feeling the bump of a nipple underneath the towel, and smiles when Guillermo whines softly, pressing up into her touch.
Somewhere along the line, Guillermo’s towel has loosened its grip around her body. Nandor decides it has done its duty. She grasps the tucked in end and pulls it out, drawing the material aside to reveal half of Guillermo’s nude form, the other half still teasingly covered. Guillermo squirms a little as she pushes the other half of the towel aside, fully exposing her to Nandor’s thirsting gaze. Nandor watches the muscles in Guillermo’s arms flex, hesitant hands sliding towards and then away from her chest, her groin, clearly torn between letting herself be seen and trying to cover up. Still nervous, it seems. Uncertain.
“It has been so hard for me, do you know that?” Nandor dips her head, dragging her tongue over one of Guillermo’s nipples, swirling it and watching with satisfaction as Guillermo whines and digs her hands into the sheets. “Hmmm... watching you strut around in those tight little sweaters over the years, bent over tables and chairs, doing all the dusting and the cleaning.” She draws the nub between her lips this time, giving a suck, smirking when Guillermo jerks upwards. Another gentle lap of her tongue, and Nandor continues: “A full meal at my beck and call, but did I pin you down to the couch and have my way with you? No, I was very good.”
“You should have,” Guillermo breathes, shuddering as Nandor switches to her other breast, mouth wrapping around the whole areola and tonguing the nipple greedily. “Fuck! You can, whenever you want, in the future.”
“Who says I’m ever letting you off this bed, now that I have you?” Nandor questions. “No, we have wasted you as a familiar; you’re much better suited to the job of concubine.”
Guillermo moans and arches up as Nandor slides her tongue down through the valley between Guillermo’s breasts, trailing the wet muscle in a slow path towards her belly button. “But- but who will do all the cleaning? And there’s always more bodies to get rid of-”
“I don’t care,” Nandor growls, nipping at the roll of Guillermo’s stomach, pressing her face into the plush fat and breathing in, letting the scent of her familiar overwhelm her senses. Fuck. It’s a fucking travesty, going a decade without allowing herself this pleasure. “We’ll find someone else to do the dirty work. The women and men of my harem didn’t worry about such things. They were far too busy giving themselves to me whenever I desired. And oh, how I desired them.”
“I can do both,” Guillermo insists. She pushes herself up onto her elbows, panting heavily and watching as Nandor presses kisses to her belly. Her curls are sticking to her forehead, and her eyes have taken on a wild desperate look. “You don’t need anybody else but me.”
“Oh, greedy, are we?” Nandor smirks against Guillermo’s skin, reaching a hand up blindly to grip Guillermo’s hair and yank her back down onto her back. The woman whines and strains against the hold, clearly put out. “Wanting me all to yourself, huh?”
“Yes,” Guillermo gasps, not a hint of shame in her voice. “Nobody else, Nand- ah, I mean, Mistress...”
“Caught yourself, good girl,” Nandor praises. Guillermo’s responding whimper kindles the fire in her gut. It’s been long enough, hasn’t it? Time to give in to her want. “Fine then. I will hold you to that promise.”
She slides back and nudges Guillermo’s knees up and apart. Guillermo spreads her legs without resistance, so that Nandor finally gets a good look at her; her gorgeous mound split open, pink inside and glistening like a ripe peach, waiting to taste. Nandor moans softly, looking up at Guillermo, eyes conveying a genuine gratitude for being allowed access. Guillermo’s cheeks are blazing red, clearly warring against the last vestiges of bodily embarrassment, but she nods, and that’s all Nandor needs to lower herself onto her stomach, cupping Guillermo’s lush thighs in a firm but supportive grip. Nandor dips her head, her tongue wriggling its way between Guillermo’s folds.
Guillermo squeals, loud and unabashed, as Nandor begins licking at her, thumbs hooking around her labia to spread her wider, give more access. Ah, there, now Nandor can see the little nub she was searching for, and she circles it with her tongue, once, twice, three times. Guillermo bucks like an unbroken stallion, the muscles of her thighs quaking as Nandor laps her sweet juices up, savoring the taste. She swirls her tongue in the opposite direction next, noting how Guillermo struggles to stay still, to adjust to Nandor’s ministrations focused on her clit. Sensitive, unbelievably so. Nandor wonders whether anyone has ever done this for her before. She knows that Guillermo isn’t a virgin; one good whiff could tell anybody that. But there are plenty of ways to go about losing your virginity, not all of them as pleasing as this.
“Guillermo...” Nandor kisses the inside of her thigh, tapping her index finger against the muscle to draw the woman’s attention out of the cloud of lust and back to her mistress. “Have you ever been with a woman before?”
Guillermo bites her lip, hands ghosting up her own belly, and Nandor has to wait far too long for Guillermo to slowly shake her head. “I always wanted to, but, um, it’s not easy, meeting someone, in this line of work. I just had boyfriends before I came to you.”
Nandor smiles, pleased. “Then I am glad to be your first, and I’ll have to ensure it’s memorable, won’t I?”
“I’m not going to forget a second of this,” Guillermo insists.
She reaches down to cup Nandor’s cheek, thumb rubbing circles against her cool skin. The motion twists something painful and foreign in Nandor’s chest, something she hasn’t felt since the last few beats of her heart, centuries ago.
Quickly, Nandor pulls away and returns her focus to kissing and licking at Guillermo’s sex. She hopes Guillermo had missed the startled expression on her face. It wouldn’t do to upset the girl, and Nandor isn’t even sure what just happened.
Once Guillermo gets going, it seems like her arousal stays steady and consistent; each time Nandor licks at her entrance, lapping up her sweetness, she comes back to find more. It’s fascinating, watching her normally prim and put together familiar dissolve into a shaking, writhing mess the longer Nandor goes on. There’s nothing left of embarrassment in her form.
When Nandor feels fingers ghost against her scalp, she reaches up, grasps Guillermo’s hand, and guides her to dig her fingers into Nandor’s hair. “Good girl,” Nandor praises, before going back to tracing her tongue over Guillermo’s clit; she’s learned that drawing different things with the tip will provide different reactions - her favorite is the face of her beloved horse, John. Tends to get the ladies wild.
“Mistress... fuck, yes, just like that!”
See? Wild.
“Are you close, sweet thing?” Nandor asks, to which Guillermo answers with a shaky nod. Perfect. She’s been saving her favorite part of this for last.
She buries her nose into Guillermo’s mound, thrusting her tongue deep into Guillermo’s body, as deep as it can go. Guillermo wails, and her nails bite into Nandor’s scalp, delicious pain to match the delicious sound of the woman’s turmoil.
This close, Nandor is overwhelmed, her senses filled with Guillermo; her taste and smell and that wonderful warmth. Nandor moans wickedly, shoving a hand down between her own legs to thrust several fingers into herself. It helps with the cramping lust in her belly, drives her to work her tongue harder. She slip the thumb of her free hand between her nose and Guillermo’s mound, so she can keep touching, keep teasing Guillermo’s clit.
Nandor feels it, feels the moment Guillermo’s shaking becomes uncontrollable, plunging her tongue deep a final time and rolling Guillermo’s clit under her thumb. The woman’s spine suddenly arches, her body a taut bow of gorgeous pleasure. She screams, “Yes, yes, Nandor, yes!” as she barrels into her orgasm.
The use of her name spikes a shock of lust straight to Nandor’s core. Interesting. She realizes that she is closer to her own orgasm than she’d thought; there’s a temptation in waiting, but she considers this only briefly as Guillermo pulses around her tongue, and decides that there’s no point. A few precise swirls and swipes of her thumb, and it is over. Nandor moans into her familiar’s gushing cunt as she too topples into her release.
Guillermo is groaning somewhere above her, body still jerking through the aftershocks of her pleasure. Nandor lifts her head, meeting her familiar’s gaze, and purposefully sticks out her tongue, licking a wide circle around her shiny, wet lips.
“Shit,” Guillermo shudders, tugging insistently on Nandor’s hair. “Please come up here.”
Nandor takes her time, stretching languidly like a cat in the sun, arching and then pushing off her knees to crawl upwards. Draping herself over Guillermo’s body, she licks her way back into the girl’s mouth, grinning as Guillermo squeaks and grabs her hips.
“You make a lot of funny noises when somebody is eating you out,” Nandor comments dryly, taking Guillermo’s lower lip between her teeth and rolling it, careful to keep her fangs away from the delicate skin. It’s plump and gives easily to the pressure. Nandor imagines biting bruises into it, leaving marks for Guillermo to run her tongue against for hours and hours.
“Can’t say I have a lot of experience,” Guillermo murmurs when Nandor releases her lip. “Was news to me too.”
Nandor lifts her head, frowning. “You had boyfriends, though.”
Guillermo blushes, shrugging nonchalantly. “I did.”
“Ugh, I hate men,” Nandor grouses. “Fucking pigs. Always focused on their own pleasure and not their partner’s.”
“I mean, it’s not like they never... uh, never mind,” Guillermo says, shutting up when Nandor raises an eyebrow. “Sure, yeah. Fuck men.”
“Not right now, you aren’t,” Nandor teases. The smile Guillermo gives her in return makes that funny stab of pain flare up in her chest again. What is that, is it reflux? Unusual; she hasn’t drunk any particularly rich blood lately. It’s... it’s not a physical pain, more of, of an emotional one-
Shit. Fuck, shitting fucking- oh, this is not good.
“What’s wrong?” Guillermo asks. Apparently, Nandor is doing a very bad job controlling her facial expressions.
“Nothing!” Nandor schools her features and slides a hand back, gently lifting up Guillermo’s left calf. “How is the ankle?”
Guillermo twirls it slowly, wincing when it bends too far to the left. “Definitely still sprained. I’m probably going to need to let it rest a few days... sorry, Mistress.”
“It is fine,” Nandor says, waving her off. “Gives me an easy excuse to ensure you stay with me.” She pauses, realizing there are multiple ways that could come across. “For the sex, I mean.”
“Right.” Guillermo nods, eyes going all shifty. “Um, so we’re gonna do some more of that?”
“Of course we are. Are you saying you don’t want some more amazing orgasms?”
“Oh, no, not at all. It’s just, you’ve gotten me off twice, and I didn’t... I was kind of hoping...” She finishes neither of these sentences, raising her eyebrows, as if Nandor will catch her drift - which, obviously.
“You want to put your mouth on my lady parts, yes,” Nandor agrees. “We were getting there.”
Guillermo nods, doing a fantastic job of not crumbling into a stuttering mess like she usually does whenever the vampires talk so blatantly about sex. “Yeah... only problem is, I might have trouble kneeling with my ankle like this. Don’t wanna put any pressure on it by accident. Maybe you could lie on your side, and I could...?”
“Hmmm.” Nandor considers this; it’s not the worst angle, but if she’s going to teach Guillermo the proper way to practice cunnilingus, then there are better options. “I have another idea. One moment.”
Guillermo sits up as Nandor steps off the bed, walking with an easy gait over to the other side of the room. There is an antique oak desk pressed up against the wall, and a high-backed wooden chair tucked underneath. Nandor pulls the chair out, dragging it over to the bed, huffing a little; the damned thing is big and heavy, and perfectly sturdy for erotic hijinks. She’s bound many a willing victim slash bedmate to the thick wood, having her way and then her meal with them. Unlike those partners, there is a high probability Guillermo will survive this encounter.
“Here,” Nandor says, offering Guillermo her arm. She helps the woman up off the bed and onto the chair, her rump hitting the wood with a pleasant slap that belies future possibilities for Nandor’s collection of paddles and whips. Today, though, they start small. “See? No weight on your ankle.”
“Good idea, Mistress,” Guillermo says, staring up at Nandor as she steps in front of the chair. Her looming height means that, from this seated position, Guillermo’s face is perfectly positioned at eye level to Nandor’s crotch. The familiar reaches her hands out, but Nandor is too quick, grabbing her wrists in a flash. “What?”
Nandor shakes her head. “If you are going to learn, you are going to learn the right way. No hands.”
Guillermo’s eyes go wide. “But- but you-”
“I have had many years of practice, and know exactly what I am doing. You don’t. So, hands on the chair.” She guides Guillermo to grab the smoothed arms, curling the woman’s hands over the rounded fronts. “If you let go, I will move away.”
Guillermo lets out a displeased little whine, shifting in the seat, legs pressing together. “I want to feel you...”
“You will,” Nandor reassures her. “You just won’t be using your hands to do it.”
Guillermo bites her lip, eyes traveling down from Nandor’s eyes, roaming across her chest, sliding to her hips, and finally, landing on the area she’s supposed to be giving attention to.
“Should I just- start?” she asks.
It’s amusing to watch this woman, clearly out of her depth, hesitant at her next move, and yet, a fire in her eyes that speaks to a desperate enthusiasm that Nandor wishes she could get out of all her partners. Whatever she lacks in experience, Nandor can already tell, she will make up for it in spades.
“Here,” Nandor says, shuffling closer. She thumbs at either side of her own lower lips, gently nudging them apart; they’re smaller and hide less than Guillermo’s, which means Guillermo won’t have to do much to gain access. “I presume you understand the basic concept.”
“Lots of tongue and find the clitoris,” Guillermo deadpans, leaning in. “If South Park taught me one thing...”
“Who taught you what?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
Guillermo presses a gentle, barely there kiss to the top of Nandor’s mound; it would be considered chaste, anywhere else on the body. Nandor watches her tongue flick between her teeth, her eyes roaming, considering.
“Don’t dawdle,” Nandor chastises. “Wherever you put it, it’s going to feel nice.”
There’s a genuine relief when Guillermo tentatively licks a stripe up the center, right between the folds, tongue dragging against their edges. Nandor lets out a grunt, nodding when Guillermo’s eyes flick up to check her reaction. Her breath is warm as she slips her tongue deeper, lips brushing against the curly hairs of Nandor’s mound. Her eyes flutter shut, and she sighs, lapping upwards.
It’s clumsy, no real technique to the motions, but there doesn’t really need to be; there’s heat and wetness and the knowledge that this is Guillermo doing this to her. Nandor is already alight.
“Good girl,” Nandor croons, caressing her cheek and urging her on. “Slowly, don’t rush. Press your tongue a little harder... there, ahhh.” She swallows, the tip of her thumb playing at the edge of Guillermo’s mouth. Tempting to slip it inside - no, she needs to focus, this is educational, after all. “Higher now, show me you know where- yes, good.”
Nandor is already so, so wet from the first orgasm, and with each swipe of Guillermo’s tongue, drops of Nandor’s juices flick out, landing speckled against Guillermo’s lips, her jaw, her chin. Guillermo doesn’t seem bothered, seems to enjoy tasting her, practically drowning in her as Nandor steps closer, knees hitting the front of the chair. Nandor can see her hands flexing against the wood, the tremble in her arms. It’s killing her, Nandor realizes, to hold on. To not be allowed to touch.
Farther down, there’s more trouble: Guillermo’s legs are clenched around Nandor’s, so she can’t quite close them. As such, a steady drip of her arousal oozes from her sex, coating her inner thighs, and whenever she squirms, another shining wet stripe paints the seat. If Nandor wasn’t currently getting fucked by Guillermo’s tongue, she’d drop to her knees right now, and lap her way into that beautiful core heat between Guillermo’s thighs.
Oh, fuck it.
Nandor does drop to her knees, startling Guillermo, who moans and flings herself back against the chair as Nandor yanks her legs up and apart, resting them over Nandor’s shoulders. She dives in, wrapping her lips around Guillermo’s clit, suckling.
“M-mistress!” Guillermo pants. “Wait! What-”
“A moment,” Nandor answers, nipping teasingly at Guillermo’s inner thigh. “You’ll have your turn again, but I- I cannot let this go.”
This is what sex is supposed to be like. Messy, impulsive. Fantasies switching from moment to moment. Guillermo’s legs kicked up over Nandor’s shoulders, the chair so wet she keeps sliding down it, gasping and pleading for mercy.
Well, Nandor isn’t feeling merciful tonight. Guillermo is a temple, and she’s going to burn her to embers.
She surfaces from her new happy place a time later, nose buried into the thick hairs on Guillermo’s mound as the woman pulls on her hair.
“Please,” Guillermo begs, tears leaking out of her eyes. “Nandor, please...”
“What do you want?” Nandor gasps, letting Guillermo drag her back up. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to let go of the chair...”
Guillermo doesn’t seem to care, pulling Nandor onto the chair and sliding her mistress’s legs around her waist. Then she’s kissing Nandor, nonsense words babbling from her mouth as her hand slips between them, and she thrusts three short, thick fingers right into Nandor.
“Fuck!” Nandor shouts, nails digging into Guillermo’s sides. “Guillermo, Guillermo, yes, just like that...” She moans and rests her forehead against Guillermo’s shoulder, rolls her hips into Guillermo’s probing fingers. Maybe the girl has never put her mouth on another woman, but surely she’s put her fingers inside herself, stroked them against her trembling, sensitive walls. Taken herself apart the way she’s now working Nandor.
“Good?” Guillermo asks, breathy in her ear as she pistons her fingers in and out of her mistress. “Is it good?”
“So good, my good girl...” Guillermo makes a noise when Nandor praises her. Something needy, something desperate. Nandor wants to hear it again and again, wants to find moments in their waking life to drag these sounds out of her.
Maybe Nandor will press Guillermo against the wall in the library, sliding her hands under those knee-length skirts that Guillermo wears in warmer months as the girl shivers and spreads her legs to give access. Maybe she’ll pick Guillermo up and sit the girl on the kitchen counter, going to her knees and feasting while Guillermo muffles her cries against her hand. And maybe Nandor will yank that hand away, so that everybody in the house will hear her sounds. Let everybody know what Nandor is doing to her familiar - hers, nobody else’s.
Guillermo’s thumb finds her clit, and then it’s over. A primal instinct kicks in as Nandor’s release punches through her. A hunger. The need to feed, to claim. Her fangs sink into Guillermo’s neck, and she sucks that sweet red liquid out of Guillermo’s veins as the woman shakes beneath her, moaning.
A smart human would be struggling to break free. Guillermo is probably a little stupid, pushing into Nandor’s lips, seemingly enjoying the act of being fed on. She doesn’t understand the danger; if Nandor was a lesser vampire, she’d have torn this poor girl’s throat out mid climax. But the centuries-old vampire retains some semblance of control, only taking a bit of blood. A few mouthfuls at most. She pulls back and laps at the wounds as her pleasure crescendos, and then fades into tingling through her arms and legs.
“You next,” Nandor demands, sucking blood off her fingers. “I want to watch you get yourself off.”
Guillermo whines, pulling her fingers out of Nandor. She doesn’t bother wiping them off, immediately pushing those thick digits, still covered in Nandor’s release, into herself.
Fuck, oh fuck. That is-
Nandor growls, surging forward, licking into the girl’s mouth. She feels Guillermo’s arm flex, feels her shake, hears her moan madly with lust.
“Come on, Guillermo. You don’t want to disappoint your mistress, do you?” Nandor smiles at the desperate noise Guillermo makes. She always suspected Guillermo’s slavish adherence to her title belied a far more perverse, unspoken reason. It seems so obvious now, with Guillermo mouthing down Nandor’s neck, bucking on her own fingers, that her desire for a mistress extends beyond the platonic.
Guillermo sobs as she shudders through another orgasm, muffled when Nandor claims her mouth, gripping the back of her neck to keep her still. The wood squeaks under Guillermo’s hips as her body convulses, and her slicked up thighs rubs against the grain. There’s an audible splatter as Guillermo arches; Nandor imagines a wellspring overflowing, a geyser exploding. They will have to deep clean the seat.
Guillermo’s eyes are hazy, distant as Nandor pulls back. Her breath comes in shallow gasps as she slumps against the chair.
“Guillermo, what’s the most number of times you’ve gotten off in one session of sex?” Nandor asks, casually. A very ordinary question, with no ulterior motive behind it.
“I... I think three?” Guillermo shrugs her shoulders, her hands now free to stroke up Nandor’s spine. Her fingertips press and rubbing out the cricks in an unprompted act of caretaking; Nandor has always complained of backaches, leading to a fair number of offered massages. In retrospect, the offers probably had selfish implications. Sneaky girl.
Nandor makes a face that can only be interpreted as wow, that is really pathetic. Before Guillermo can get all huffy, she slides off of the chair, grabbing Guillermo around the waist and picking the girl up. It’s a short distance from the chair to the bed. She lays Guillermo back against the pillows, kissing her softly, before saying, “Well, then we only need one more to break your record.”
Guillermo’s smile is shy, peeking out like the first rays of moonlight over the treetops. Her eyes full of mirth, she replies, “What’s your record, Mistress? Any chance of us reaching that tonight?”
Nandor’s mouth pops open.
“There is no way you would survive that!” she stammers. “I am not trying to kill you, you know!”
“Well, just another reason to think about fulfilling your promise. I wonder what we could do if I was a vampire...” Guillermo raises an eyebrow, implying so much with such a simple motion.
Suddenly the room feels frigid. Maybe that’s just the cold shock rushing down Nandor’s spine. A sour taste wells in her mouth, and she swallows, sitting back out of Guillermo’s reach. “Are we really talking about this right now? You have just gotten off thrice, and now you’re fishing for immortality?”
Guillermo blinks. “What? That’s not what I meant-”
“Wait! Wait.” Nandor has a horrifying thought. “Is that why you let me fuck you?”
“No!” Guillermo shakes her head frantically. Her hand snatches Nandor’s wrists as the vampire moves to leave, refusing to let go. “Nandor, stop it- I wanted this. I have always wanted this!”
Silence fills the room. They stare at one another.
Shit. Nandor has really gone and stepped in it now. She’s tried to ruin this sassy little human, but the one who seems to feel ruined right now is her.
“What are you talking about, Guillermo?” Nandor asks, voice hoarse as she stares down at her familiar.
“I... I have wanted you. For so long.” Guillermo lowers her gaze, thumb swirling circles into the underside of Nandor’s wrist. “You think I’d spend a decade luring in virgins and dismembering corpses for any old vampire? I have an associate’s degree, for fuck’s sake. You’re so much more than a pair of fangs to me.”
“You said nothing of this,” Nandor points out. “You could have said something, the whole time!”
Guillermo shrugs. “You didn’t seem all that interested, and I’m not one to push. So I waited. And hoped? There was a lot of ugly crying into pillows. I almost sewed you some dolls of us, once. Thought that might give you a hint.”
Nandor blinks. “So, you are saying that it’s not just about the orgasms?”
“It’s not just about the orgasms.”
“But the orgasms are part of it, yes?”
Guillermo slowly nods her head.
This is just like Twilight, Nandor thinks, leaning back in to kiss Guillermo, soft and slow. A human and a vampire, confessing desire for one another - though I am feeling more like a Bella Swan, even though I am the vampire. So Guillermo is the Edward? Wait, this makes no sense - ach, focus, Nandor!
“What do you want from me, Guillermo?” Nandor mutters, kissing the corner of Guillermo’s mouth, then her cheek, then the spot where her jaw meets her neck. “No more secrets. You want to be a vampire? You want to be my sweetheart? You want me to eat you out again?”
“Right now, I just want you to keep doing that,” Guillermo admits, gasping as Nandor’s mouth continues a trail down her throat. “Mierda... and- and I wanna break my record.”
Nandor laughs low against her skin, a teasing nip right over her jugular. “Fine then, you want to break the record? We will break the record. No, you stay,” she says, pressing a hand to Guillermo’s chest when she sits up to follow Nandor, who is sliding off the bed. “I am only going to get something to fuck you with properly.”
Guillermo swallows audibly, flopping back against the pillows, mouth cut wide in a grin she can’t seem to contain. “Is it uh, the thing you always brag about?”
“My massive cock? Of course it is, we are trying to break a record here, Guillermo; we are going to do it the right way,” Nandor tuts, going to her knees and pulling a decent-sized tote out from under the bed. She pops it open and rustles through a mountain of toys; ropes and dildos and clamps and whips and all sorts of lovely things that they will definitely be using at some point. But for tonight, Guillermo gets the honor of being introduced to her pride and joy: a girthy, curved phallus, cherry red and firm. She’s dubbed it The Conqueror.
She has to dig a little more to find the harness, so she tosses the strap-on onto the bedspread. Guillermo clocks it, facial expression dancing wildly through a number of emotions, landing on the one where everybody ends up eventually: oh fuck, that thing is going inside of me.
Nandor smirks, tossing a ball gag aside to get at the straps she was looking for. She lifts the harness out, stroking the well-worn leather between her fingers as she stands back up.
“Here,” she says, sliding back onto the bed and holding the harness out to Guillermo. “I taught you how to dress me, once. It is only right that you learn how to do this as well.”
Guillermo takes the harness from her, fiddling with the buckles, squinting and twisting it around as she tries to understand the mechanics. “This might take me a few minutes. You could probably do it faster.”
“That is not the point though,” Nandor chides. She picks up the phallus and waves it teasingly. “If you want this, you’re going to have to earn it.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Guillermo says breathlessly, and gets to work.
Being a fairly intelligent girl - for a human, that is - it doesn’t take Guillermo long to figure it all out. Nandor lounges with her legs up, lifting them cooperatively as Guillermo slides her feet through the loops of the straps, going to her knees as Guillermo tugs the harness up her thighs. She enjoys watching how thorough and precise Guillermo is about the task at hand, as she is in any task Nandor gives her. Nandor slips the phallus through a hole in the middle of the front pouch, and adjusts its angle as Guillermo tightens up the buckles, ensuring a snug but not cutting fit.
Then Nandor pushes Guillermo onto her back, kneeling around her hips, hands settling against her waist. The tip of the phallus brushes up against Guillermo’s belly, and she swallows, biting her lip and blinking up at her mistress.
“I will go slow,” Nandor promises, lifting Guillermo’s hand to her mouth and kissing the knuckles. She would never be this gentle with another partner, but this is Guillermo, who pledged to put her trust into Nandor all those years ago, with the expectation that she would be rewarded for her faithful service. And now she’s putting her trust in Nandor to make this good for both of them. There’s no way Nandor is going to fuck this up. At least, not on purpose.
It’s easy enough to find Guillermo’s entrance - just follow the trail of ever-leaking fluids right back to their origin. Guillermo huffs as Nandor’s fingers press into her, only deep enough to provide access to her passage. Then it’s just a matter of guiding the head of the phallus down, nudging it between Guillermo’s lips and pushing in.
The slide is dangerously smooth; Nandor has to dig her fingernails into her palms to remind herself of her promise to not rush. Beneath her, Guillermo’s head is thrown back, eyes shut, groaning as she is filled, legs shaking and toes curling. Nandor’s cock plunges deeper, and Guillermo whines, one hand gripping Nandor’s hip, the other tearing at the sheets.
“It’s so- so big, Mistress,” Guillermo moans. Nandor can look down and watch the way her body clenches and releases around the intrusion, the silicone slick with shining wetness when Nandor slips it just a bit out, only to thrust further. The back of the phallus is curved, and it pushes up against Nandor’s own body with a pleasant pressure. If Nandor wanted, she could adjust it so that her folds were pushed aside, the silicone rubbing up against her clit. Maybe later. Her own pleasure isn’t the current focus, as evidenced by Guillermo’s encouragement, rolling her hips and pleading, “More, please... keep going, w-wanna feel it split me open...”
“Greedy,” Nandor accuses, stilling as her hips press flush to Guillermo’s, fully seated inside of the girl. Maybe she can’t feel the way Guillermo’s walls wrap around her cock, but the visual of her familiar’s trembling’s thighs, sweat dripping off Guillermo’s curls, biting her fingers and rocking onto the firm rod- fuck that’s nice.
Laszlo can have his stupid fucking pornos. Nandor has everything she could want right here.
Nandor shifts, going to her hands and knees to stretch herself over Guillermo, cupping her jaw in both hands and kissing her deeply. Guillermo moans into her mouth, gasping, “Nandor, move,” and Nandor does, jerking her hips back and snapping them forward. She swallows Guillermo’s shaking sob, grabbing her wrist and pinning it to the bed before the woman can get her nails into Nandor’s hip. Guillermo makes a half-hearted effort to pull away, but Nandor won’t let go. Her free hand cups the back of Guillermo’s head as she thrusts again, never giving her a second away from Nandor’s insistent kiss.
There’s something different this time - besides the massive cock - in the way they move. Nandor wants to take her time, to go slow, draw it out. Thinking about this ending, the after... even with Guillermo’s reassurance that this is about more than orgasms, what if she changes her mind? What if she regrets this? And who is the she in this thought- Guillermo or herself?
Yes, vampires and familiars have spent millennia dancing this dance, and maybe Nandor was foolish to think she was above this all. Sex doesn’t have to change everything, but with Guillermo, it will. What will they be on the other side of this?
“Mistress...” Guillermo’s heel nudges against Nandor’s spine as Nandor’s hips snap, over and over and over and over. “Hey- mistress?”
“Hmmm?” Nandor pauses, realizing that Guillermo’s expression, while still heated, has an air of curiosity it didn’t before.
“You’re not here - you went somewhere else.” Guillermo reaches up, tapping her finger against Nandor’s forehead. “Everything okay?”
“I... well, that is to say...”
She can’t explain it, this tight knot in her gut, this urgent feeling, like if she doesn’t stake her claim, if she doesn’t convey... something to Guillermo, all of this will slip out of her fingers, like blood out of a hemorrhaging vein.
So Nandor kisses her again, cradling her scalp, and when she opens her mouth to say something, the only thing that comes out is, “Mine.”
Guillermo makes a confused sound that quickly dissolves into groaning encouragement as Nandor grabs Guillermo’s hip and slams her cock deep into the other woman, once, twice, three times.
“Mine,” Nandor growls again, fangs scraping dangerously across Guillermo’s lower lip. She bites down, just hard enough to break the skin, savoring Guillermo’s little squeak of pain, and as the blood wells up, she licks and laps it from her familiar’s mouth, intoning over and over, “Mine... mine... mine...”
“What- what are you...”
“Mine,” Nandor hisses, nails digging into Guillermo’s hip. She grips the hair on the back of Guillermo’s scalp, tugging her head back so their eyes meet. “Understand?”
Guillermo spends a long moment searching her face. Too long.
Nandor worries she’s gone about this all wrong, but then Guillermo nods and says, “Yeah. Okay. Yours.”
Their mouths crash back together. Nandor lets go of Guillermo’s hair, wriggling that hand down between them to feel the place where they meet; silicone slick and warm, but not as warm as Guillermo’s skin. It’s easy enough to slide her thumb a little higher, swallowing another one of Guillermo’s moans when she finds the right spot, and starts to firmly, persistently swirl. Guillermo’s voice breaks as her hips buck up, a cracked falsetto sound that goes straight to Nandor’s gut, arousal flaring insistently.
“Mistress, I- I don’t think I can last too much longer,” Guillermo gasps.
“Already? Humans usually can’t go off this fast,” Nandor says, driving faster, thumb so wet it’s slipping and sliding erratically over Guillermo’s clit. “Is this normal for you?”
“Nothing about this is normal for me- fuck!” Guillermo jerks up, pressing her face against Nandor’s neck. She mouths at the skin with heated breaths, begging, “There, keep going, please don’t stop!”
“I have no plan to.” Nandor is true to her word, never ceasing or changing her rhythm, content to go with the flow if it will lead to the desired outcome. When Guillermo starts shaking non-stop, her breath stuttering in cute little hiccups, Nandor knows she’s almost there. “Come on, Guillermo, be good for your mistress. You want to please me, don’t you?”
“Yes... yes... yessssss!” Guillermo breaks, muscles seizing as Nandor thrusts in to the root, burying herself as Guillermo comes apart. Nandor holds her tight, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she writhes through the orgasm.
Four times tonight, this has happened, and every time Nandor wonders how she got this lucky.
“Alright?” Nandor asks as Guillermo slumps back against the bed. Her familiar nods tiredly, hands creeping up to grip the buckles of Nandor’s strap on, and she starts loosening them. “What are you doing?”
“Help me,” Guillermo drawls, apparently having ideas. Nandor indulges her, raising an eyebrow when Guillermo stops her from pulling out. “Not that, just- here.” Guillermo slips the harness down Nandor’s hips, and she wriggles up and out of the thing.
Then Guillermo is guiding Nandor to scoot up the bed, farther and farther, pulling Nandor’s knees to rest on either side of her head. She grabs Nandor’s hips and tugs down, lifting her head at the same time, mouth finding its intended target.
Nandor groans and bows forward, catching herself on the headboard, a little shocked but even more pleased. Guillermo stares up at Nandor with adoration as her tongue goes to work, licking and thrusting and doing everything Nandor taught her before. This impulsive behavior, combined with the knowledge that her cock is still inside Guillermo, still spearing the woman open as she reverently and dutifully pleasures her mistress - all of it together is too much.
Nandor comes hard and fast, almost cracking the headboard between her fingers. Usually her orgasms are diminishing returns, but this one nearly knocks her out with its intensity. Apparently she really gets off on the idea of Guillermo’s face buried in her cunt.
She collapses to the side, gasping and swinging her leg over to avoid kneeing Guillermo in the face. “That fucking tongue of yours is going to be the second death of me,” Nandor complains, tone annoyed but grin wide.
Guillermo wipes her chin off, biting back a smile. “It was good, Mistress?” She reaches down and tugs the Conqueror out of her body, tossing it aside with a grunt.
“Very good, Guillermo.” Nandor slides down, deciding that Guillermo’s breast looks like a very comfortable pillow, and she will be taking advantage of it. She presses her face against the skin and sighs; soft and warm and attached to her favorite familiar - yes, this was the right call.
Guillermo’s arm comes up to tuck around Nandor’s side, her eyes closing as she lets out her own satisfied sigh. “Looks like we broke the record.”
“Your record,” Nandor points out. “Not mine.”
Guillermo quirks an eyebrow, eyes staying closed as she asks, “So what would it take to break your record?”
Nandor slides up a little and whispers something in Guillermo’s ear.
Guillermo’s eyes pop open. “Jesus fucking Christ, Nandor!”
Nandor hisses. “Ow! Watch it!”
“Sorry. Uh, we might need to work up to that.”
“Oh, we are going to work up to a lot of things. I have a whole toy chest that I’m not letting go to waste.”
Guillermo studies her face for a moment, and then asks, “So... yours, huh?”
Nandor scowls. “Yeesh, Guillermo; don’t let it go to your head. You were already my familiar.”
Guillermo smiles. “And now I’m your... what, exactly?”
“You’re about to be my next meal if you don’t drop it,” Nandor huffs. “Less talking, more body pillow.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Guillermo says, although her tone is patronizing, highly disrespectful. Oh, Nandor is going to have to re-teach this sassy little familiar a thing or two about who is in charge in this relationship.
Looks like the toy chest will be getting regular use again. Nandor has a few other friends besides The Conqueror to introduce Guillermo to.