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It's not like she wants to marry Noé, or anything. She's still not sure which of the earthly delights she wants to partake in the most. She was born into a family where anything goes — were she born a human, there would be less options to choose from. Sometimes she feels like she should take more advantage of the fact, instead of still fooling around with the boy who won't even kiss her at twenty years old. At that age, Veronica had already been to bed with every vampire girl who could be convinced.
Jeanne could probably be convinced. She's fun to flirt with, and to tease. Anything beyond makes Domi freeze with inadequacy,
What's wrong with keeping Noé as a plaything for a little bit longer, anyway? He'd grown up into a fine man. If she could only ever look at him, never touch, she wouldn't complain. His white hair against the dark skin of his face; his blood-stained, plump lips; his muscular arms, straining against the bonds tying his wrists to the headboard. She's not called de Sade for nothing.
They're friends, and friends have fun together — this is nothing but the sharing of blood with extra steps. To kill time. Because they're both frustrated. Because they like each other.
"Domi." Noé's lips part. He keeps turning his head around, to the left, then to the right, as if he could see past the silk scarf around his eyes if he tilts his head just right. She's made sure that he can't. "What are you planning to do?"
His serious, flustered expression makes it seem like he understands the weight of what they're doing. The tone of his voice, playful and confused, sounds like this is nothing out of the ordinary. Here comes Domi, to put a collar around his neck and walk him on a leash. Hilarious. If she knew what these games meant to her, she could begin to guess what they were to Noé, but the only person who seems to have a clue is the human man that he's in love with.
But they'll keep doing this, because Noé trusts her. Because she doesn't have anyone else to do this with.
"Nothing you wouldn't like, mon cheri," she presses her finger to his lips. Soft. Sweet. It would be so much sweeter to kiss them. "Now tell me, is there anything you'd like?"
If his eyes were uncovered, she could watch them turn cloudy now, glaze over with thirst. Noé swallows.
"I'd like to drink your blood, please."
"There's a good boy."
"But how am I supposed to bite you like this?" He struggles against the bonds tying his wrists, like it's an inconvenience, not a feature.
"Don't you worry about a thing." She runs her fingers through his hair, drags them along his jaw and delights in feeling him shiver. "I'm going to give it to you."
She pulls out a small, ornate dagger that she normally never gets to use. It was a gift, she can't remember from whom, an impractical little toy. She can't imagine what one could use it for other than something just like this.
The cut across her upper thigh swells with blood, and Noé's hands twitch in his bonds. Listening to tales of Veronica's exploits has its perks, after all. If her sister is to be believed, plenty of their kind play like this. The wound is too small to leave a scar on a vampire's skin — fun-sized, just for a few sips.
She presses on both sides of the cut and dips her index and middle finger in the blood that trickles out.
"Open wide."
Noé doesn't need to be asked twice, and Domi places her bloodied fingers on his wet, pink tongue. He closes his lips around her digits with a satisfied groan.
A soft gasp escapes Domi when Noé begins to suck on her fingers. So trusting, so helpless, so thirsty; his pretty face is soft and relaxed as his tongue twirls around her hand. In a moment of chilling realization, she understands exactly why her sister is the way she is. This is lust, this is sex. This is beauty. How silly of her to think she'd be more immune to it.
She removes her fingers from Noé's mouth with a wet sound. It's like he doesn't want to let her go quite yet.
"More," he whimpers. His lips are stained crimson with the blood he sucked from her fingers. "More, please."
Tiny rivulets of blood roll down her thigh and onto the sheets. She catches the drops with her hand to penetrate Noé's mouth once again.
More. She wants more, too. His quiet moans of thirst, of desperation, make the throbbing between her legs impossible to ignore.
She pushes her fingers in, in a sudden, violent movement, when he doesn't expect it. They hit the tender, soft flesh in the back of his throat. It spasms against her fingers as Noé gags, and the shiver that runs through his body shakes them both. Domi withdraws her fingers, allowing him to catch his breath, only to shove them right back in, into that delicious, slippery skin of his soft palate. He jerks forward, his body fighting the intrusion, choking.
"That's so mean, Domi," he protests when she removes her hand, his voice a little whiny, a little hoarse. The voice of a man who would take this and more just for another taste.
"Poor dear," she sighs, catching a droplet of her own blood with her thumb. "I'm so cruel and you're so brave. Here's your reward."
She rubs her thumb over his lower lip, watching it stain a darker shade of red. His tongue licks circles into it, getting under her fingernail, before he begins sucking on her thumb, as well.
"More," he begs, in this deliciously coarse voice, dripping with need. "Domi, please. Don't leave me hanging anymore."
Who's left hanging here, she wonders, gathering her blood into her fingers. She watches him out of the corner of her eye; his body going lax in its bonds, soft white curls falling over the makeshift blindfold. His broad chest rises and falls with deep, shaky breaths. Because she made him choke? Because he craves her blood? Because he wants her to escalate this?
The twitching heat between her thighs becomes unbearable. She's staining her underwear and hopes that the smell of her blood will mask the scent of her arousal — just in case they're still friends.
Maybe next time, she'll go further. Maybe next time he'll kiss her, without waiting for her next move, or ask her for more than just the blood. This time, she watches him suck her fingers, willingly at her mercy, and wonders if it's possible to actually go insane with lust.
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