Wrapped in Red

by Andromanic

Summary:

Daniel is cruising for a Christmas gift for Armand.

Notes:

• For Th3Ant1chr1st.

In case you missed the tags, this is lesbian Armand/Daniel threesome with their prey. Sex starts two living people and ends with one, cause what's better than one corpse? Two!

Daniel is three sheets to the wind. The first sheet was a double vodka soda. The second a line of coke. And the third was holiday cheer. Clementina’s always had the best holiday parties; when your clientele was upscale femmes, you didn’t skimp on anything—the place was decked out to the nines and packed shoulder-to-shoulder. The DJ played upbeat Christmas remixes in-between the greatest hits of the decade. It wasn’t his usual haunt. Daniel preferred The Castro, even if it was mostly men, the sleazy gay bars had a charm that he enjoyed—the charm being that the bartenders poured heavy and didn’t ask him to pay his tab until the end of the week. But tonight he was on the hunt for a gift, and only the best would do.

Clementina’s was for lesbians that drank champagne and ate caviar, high-fashion-minded women who had kindly gift-wrapped themselves in tight red dresses and cheekily pinned red ribbons and bows to the bust of their dresses or in the up-dos of their well-teased hair. Rosy cheeks from rouge and red ears from one drink too many. The club was painted red, like rubies. Or blood.

His prey was an older petite bottle blonde that kept batting her brown eyes in his direction; her lacey black bra peeked out over the top of a crimson strapless dress that hugged the curves of her body. Her nails were neatly trimmed and painted a dark red that looked almost black in the club lighting.

Daniel moved closer to her and gestured to the bar. “Hey sweetheart, what are you drinking?”

She smiled, her glossy lips pulled upward. “You couldn’t afford it, love—but that’s alright, I’ve had more than enough to drink tonight. I was looking forward to a tall glass of water. Would you walk me to my car?”

Her accent was a smooth Southern drawl, the kind that implied private schooling and etiquette classes. Had she moved to San Francisco for lifestyle reasons, or was she merely on holiday? Did she have a husband waiting on her in Georgia or an empty luxury apartment with a view of the bay?

“I have a motorcycle; I could take you for a drive?” Daniel pressed the counteroffer; this would hardly work out if they ended up back at her place.

“I wouldn’t mind being taken for a ride, I suppose.” Her reply was demur, but her eyes trailed up and down his body with hunger. Daniel wasn’t sure what it was that attracted her. There were plenty of butches at Clementina’s tonight, most decked out in tuxes and three-piece suits. Maybe it was the way that Daniel’s trousers and jacket were clearly not from the same set but separate thrifted pieces. Daniel had found a fair number of businesswomen were attracted to lesser zip codes. A little rough trade to play with and discard at the end of the weekend.

“I don’t believe I caught your name,” She whispers in close to his ear as they exit the club.

“Daniel,” he answers honestly, because she won’t remember in the morning. Armand will make sure of it.

“How cute,” She laughs. “My mother calls me Theodora Grace, but you can call me Mama or Gracie.”

Daniel thinks that if she hadn’t been a gift for Armand, he really would have liked to know her. But maybe that made her all the better as a gift.

They walk down the street to where Daniel has parked his own gift, a vintage motorbike that had once belonged to Armand.

Gracie looked at him with a spark in her eyes and a wider smile than she’d given him all night. “This is a collector’s piece! How did you get your hands on something like this, darling?”

“A gift from a lover. I think she said it was a Motobécane 1938?” Daniel watched as his date ran her fingers across the leather seat.

“It’s very well taken care of! Motobécane? Is that French? It must be; I’ve never seen a bike like this. The French had many odd domestic motorbikes that never went overseas.” She cooed over the bike for a moment longer before gesturing to it, “Well, take me for a ride!”

Daniel almost felt bad.

He mounted the bike, and she climbed on behind him, her dress riding up as she straddled the bike and her naked thighs pressed against his legs. Daniel turned the engine and kicked the stand up. Gracie grinned against the back of his neck and nipped lightly, making Daniel shudder. He thought of Armand’s teeth and flushed red, warmth spreading through his body and his stomach twisting.

He sped down the street, his prey laughing joyfully behind him as they split lanes of traffic through San Francisco.

Daniel parked in front of his unassuming apartment building and led Gracie up the flight of stairs and into his studio. Armand stood, unsettling, directly in front of the doorway. Her curly hair was slicked back, and she was wearing a bathrobe. Water dripped down her skin in the V-front cut of the robe.

“Oh!” Gracie said, looking from Armand to Daniel and back to Armand.

“Gracie, this is Armand; she’s the original owner of the motorcycle.” Daniel placed the bait and prayed for an easy win. Armand could, of course, always just mind-control her, but where would the fun be in that?

Gracie blinked for a moment before she shrugged and stepped into the apartment. She let her eyes wander up and down Armand. “I’ll admit I thought this would be a one-on-one affair, but I’m not opposed to a meal and dessert as well.”

“Oh Gracie,” Armand smiled, “you are the meal!”

Daniel closed and locked the door to the apartment behind him. “Would you like a drink, Gracie?”

“I already told you, I’m looking forward to a tall glass of water. Why don’t you and Armand show me the bed?”

Armand gestured towards the futon, which, to Daniel’s gratitude, had not been folded back into a couch but was still laden with blankets and pillows to soften the frame that dug through the mattress.

If Gracie had any complaints about fucking on a futon that Daniel had found on the side of the street, well before he had met Armand, she didn’t make them known. She only smiled and arranged herself on the bed so she was lounging.

Armand followed after her. “Where did my sweet Daniel find you, then?”

“Clementina’s, but enough about me—where did you find that motorbike? I’m a collector. Is it French in origin? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I did buy it in Paris,” Armand answered, letting a flit of a Parisian accent slide into her voice. “I lived there for a long while. It’s vintage. I’m afraid I don’t remember much of the night I bought it; it was so long ago. Did Daniel take you for a ride around the city? Your hair is a mess from the drive. Let me help you take it down.”

Gracie sat up and turned so her back and up-do were facing Armand, who began to skillfully pluck pins from her hair. They were both so beautiful to look at, like a painting of intimacy.

“Daniel, come join us,” Gracie demanded, and Armand nodded her agreement. So Daniel did as he was asked, like a good boy.

He slid in front of Gracie and laid his hands on her waist before bringing his lips down to hers; the gloss she wore was sticky against his mouth and made him all the more hungry for her kiss. He slid his tongue against her bottom lip, teasingly. She nipped at it with her tip in return, and Daniel couldn’t help the full-body shudder that ran through him.

“Daniel likes it when you bite,” Armand whispered into the shell of Gracie’s ear.

“I can tell,” She replies, pulling away for a breath, “You’ve got your baby well trained, don’t you? I need a butch like that.”

Daniel glowed under the praise and moved a hand from Gracie’s waist to Armand’s shoulder, pushing back the bathrobe. Armand rolled her eyes but shrugged her shoulders in a way that let the robe slide down her body, revealing her plump breasts and dark brown nipples.

Gracie pulled at the hem of her red dress, which had ridden up to her navel—revealing black lace panties—and slid that over her head. She shook out her hair, now free of pins. They were contrasting art pieces in the gallery of Daniel’s mind. Gracie, with her pale skin and red flush, wrapped in black lingerie and expensive perfume. Armand, bronze- and gold-skinned, nude, with her silk robe draped on the bed in a pool around her, smelling like Daniel’s shampoo.

“I must have done something really good in a past life to deserve this,” Daniel said, “because heaven and hell know I’ve been a real son of a bitch in this life.”

Gracie snorted, “You’re funny, kid. Why don’t you be good now for Mama and use your mouth for something other than one-liners?”

“You better do as she says, Daniel.” Armand replies as she unfastens Gracie’s bra, “You wouldn’t want to disappoint us.”

Daniel slid down on the bed so his face was level with Gracie’s panties; he kissed the small bow at the top and then around her thighs, licking and biting between each kiss. He glanced upwards to see Armand pull the bra from Gracie’s chest and cup her heavy breasts.

“No one told you to stop, Daniel,” Armand chided, “eat your dinner and I’ll eat mine.”

Armand bit her neck, fangless. Gracie moaned and laced one of her manicured hands into Daniel’s hair and forced his head down towards her crotch. He quickly got the memo and licked against the dark and wet lace that covered her cunt.

He felt for the hard nub that peeked out, sucking on the lace against her clit. She let wordless praise escape her lips in soft sighs and groans as Daniel kept a consistent and heavy suction against her, breaking it up with quick flicks of his tongue. He pulled at the edges of her panties, but before he could try and pull them down, Armand’s sharp nails appeared, and she ripped through the underwear, pulling it from the delicate skin. Gracie’s hands grasped the blanket’s beneath them, and she gasped for air.

“Those were expensive,” She said, though it didn’t seem like she was complaining, only letting Armand, or perhaps really Daniel, know that there was something valuable wedged between them.

Daniel kept his head down, not that he had much of a choice with the grip Gracie had on his hair, and breathed in the sweat and shea butter body oil trapped between her legs as he spread his tongue out flat, letting Gracie grind against the wet muscle.

She cried out in pleasure, thrusting her pelvis into Daniel’s face, and as her moans grew and became a gasping breath, Daniel knew without looking that Armand had sunk her teeth into that pale neck. He lifted his chin, moving to suck on her clit as he pressed two fingers against her opening. Her cunt sucked his fingers in with ease as he crooked them forward, searching and then pressing against her G-spot as her wet panting grew more erratic.

“Fuck, I think I’m going to cum.” She gasped, “Don’t stop!”

Daniel glanced up again, Armand’s face buried in her neck and a single rivulet of blood cascading down Gracie’s neck and pooling between her breasts as Armand’s long and graceful fingers massaged them, pulling at her pink nipples. Usually Armand didn’t make any kind of mess when she was feeding, but then again, usually her prey was writhing wildly in her arms.

Armand reached down with one of her hands and helped Gracie, whose grip had started to grow weak in Daniel’s hair, push his head back down into her cunt.

He refocused on lapping at her clit and fucking his fingers deeper into her cunt. Her legs crossed against the back of his neck, and he moaned as the points of her heels dug into his back. He was soaking wet and desperately trying to find friction against the bedding.

Suddenly, Gracie started to thrash, bucking her hips against Daniel and crying out. Her heels dug further into his back, scraping at his skin and causing beautiful stinging pain. He couldn’t breathe; he wasn’t sure if it was Armand or Gracie holding him down anymore, or a combination of their strength. His head started to go fuzzy, and his cunt ached. He gasped for breath but found no air as he was pressed into her cunt, and then he was drowning. His lungs filled with liquid as Gracie squirted. His vision went black.

He blinked a moment later, gasping for breath. Gracie lay still between Armand and Daniel. His head was swimming, and his finger was still inside of her.

“Do you think you can make her cum again?” Armand asked, a hint of teasing in her voice, though Daniel wasn’t sure why. He had made Armand orgasm multiple times in one session plenty of times; why would Gracie be any different?

He took it as a challenge and, before fully catching his breath, shoved his face back into the hot, wet pussy in front of him. Armand laughed joyfully and laced her hand into his hair again, pushing down. Daniel didn’t question why the pain from Gracie’s heels had let up off his back; Armand could put fresh scratches down his back in the morning. She would open them up until they were dripping with blood and then lick them clean.