Chapter Text
“When I put you down, run.”
The comment brings an excited pink flush to your cheeks. You knew the extensive teasing of this evening would rile her up.
A night out at the opening of a new high-end art gallery had been the perfect snare for you to set your trap for your wife. As one of the most well respected art dealers in the country, Sevika’s presence was a given, and what luck that it was close by! You relished the idea of being able to return home after the event.
After you had wound her up to a pressure cooker of desire.
It was easy. Getting ready at the vanity in your large ensuite in only your undergarments, the black lace hugging your body perfectly and contrasting with your skin. Sevika picked out all your lingerie, and this set was no exception. The larger woman had walked in so she could spritz on her cologne and keyed in on your thigh high stockings immediately, stalking over to you and laying a heavy hand on your hip.
“Hi, baby.”
“Hello, princess. You look delicious.”
She had bent her head to kiss you, but you whipped your face around and all she got was your cheek.
“My lipstick. It’s perfect right now- you’ll just mess it up.” Sevika’s eyes darkened, and her grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. “Then just do it again,” she growled, but you presented your cheek to her once more. “Nope,” you replied, lips popping on the p. “Kiss my cheek and then let me finish.”
This was already a dangerous game, and you loved every second of it.
Your wife would never hurt you. Not in a million years. Would rather cut off her own arms and then set herself on fire than harm a single hair on your head.
And yet, Sevika has instincts that are not exactly…human. She isn’t exactly human herself, after all. You know that better than anyone. Those instincts demand that she feeds. That she takes, that she fucks. That she mounts you like an animal and consumes you from the inside out.
It took a while to figure out your boundaries and safewords. Limits and hard no’s, all of that. The two of you mastered it beautifully. Yours was a relationship of equality (outside of the bedroom) and respect, after all.
Oh but once you did master it-
When you’ve mastered her dropping into the base instincts and you just letting her, trusting her to take care of you- it’s transcendent.
You slip on the little black dress, vintage Versace. It stops just below the lace details on the stockings and you know she’ll be thinking about them all night. You’ve done yourself up just the way she likes- delicately feminine and irresistibly alluring. Hair in long soft waves over your shoulder, doe eyes bright, dark red lips pouty.
Sevika herself is looking absolutely irresistible, the dark maroon of her wool suit hugging her muscles just right, the white shirt carelessly unbuttoned low on her chest. You almost forget your resolve right there.
But no- you know what awaits you later if you can pull this off.
Your wife eyes you as you step into the foyer where she’s waiting, looking entirely too handsome with her hands shoved into her pockets, one leg crossed in front of the other. You do kiss her then, just a ghost press of your lips on to hers.
Enough so she can smell you, can hear the rapid beating of your heart. You brush your hair back over your shoulder so she can see the graceful curve of your neck, where she knows your pulse will be steadily thrumming for her.
It’s almost imperceptible, but you think you hear a low groan coming from her throat.
“Shall we, my love?” you ask, innocent and cute and entirely full of it. You hold out your hand so she can escort you to the car.
The gallery is only an hour drive from your home, and you spend every second of it flirting with her. You’re not stupid. Of course you’re not. She wouldn’t have married a woman who couldn’t hold her own against her. But she does go wild for someone soft, someone dainty- and that someone is you.
So you play it up just a bit. Twirl your fingers around a lock of hair, bat your eyelashes. Ghost your fingers on the hard mass of her bicep. Her jaw clenches when you lean towards her to fix her collar and your cleavage presses forward. You internally crow at the knowledge that only you affect her this way.
At the actual event, you do leave her alone. Just a bit. This is technically business after all. You watch her schmooze with the curator, the artists, the other dealers, the gallery owner. Whenever her eyes find you though- and it is often- you’re sure to do something quietly lewd that only she would pick up on.
It might be a caress of your collar bone (anyone else would think you had an itch), or maybe your tongue darts out to find the straw of your cocktail and sucks on it just a little too hard. Her eyes darken with each gesture.
You do eventually find yourself standing with her, gazing at an abstract painting while the artist waxes on about the meaning. It’s ghastly, you decide, but you don’t say that. You pick up on a few choice words they throw out, and run with it.
“You said it represented passion, then?” you say, eyes never leaving Sevika’s face. “I think I see it.” The artist nods vigorously, thrilled to have a willing audience.
“It’s clearly there” you continue, your hand sneaking into your wife's, caressing her middle and pointer finger. “It’s downright erotic, now that I know what to look for.” The artist exclaims happily, drawing Sevika into a conversation about aesthetic response and god knows what while you peer into your empty champagne flute.
“Excuse me while I get a refill,” you simper, squeezing her fingers.
What happens eventually is accidental, but could not have been more perfect if you planned it. The two of you are standing amongst some art critics, your wife chatting away, her arm tight around your waist.
Intent on touching up your lipstick, you rummage through your clutch, only to prick your finger on an open safety pin you must have forgotten about. The low hiss of pain escapes your lips, and Sevika’s eyes zero in on the drop of ichor on your fingertips in seconds.
“I’m fine,” you say, drawing the digit into your mouth and sucking on it. “I forgot I had a pin in there. Let me go clean up.”
She finds you in the bathroom. You knew she would. “Already cleaned it,” you say, waving the band aid in her face. Stomach thrilling at her flinty eyes, you lean forward, straining on tiptoe to reach her ear.
“Later,” you whisper.
The drive home is quiet, her hands gripping the wheel. You had traced your fingers along the inside of her thigh, but the burning look in her eyes had you keeping your hands to yourself.
The grounds of your manor house look ghostly in the moonlight, and a thrill creeps through your blood when she shuts the driver door to open yours. A squeal leaves your mouth when she scoops you up in her arms, only to quiet at the smoldering look she gives you.
And now you stand in the foyer once more.
“When I put you down, run,” Sevika says. You feel your breath coming in short pants and cling to her like a frightened school girl. “Where should I run?” you whisper, already trembling.
“Anywhere. Preferably towards the bedroom.”
“What happens if you catch me?”
“When I catch you? I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”
Then she seizes your jaw in her strong hand, gripping it so your head is immobile. Her mouth presses against your own then, her tongue invading your mouth without a second thought. Sevika kisses you hard, the hand still pressing you against her body gripping whatever flesh it can find. A wanton moan rips from your lips and-
Then her lips part from yours with a wet pop, and she sets you down.
Head spinning, your feet stumble on the floor, and you find yourself cursing your heels. “Go on, beautiful,” she smirks. “Run.”
Squeaking in alarm, you take off and head in the direction of your bedroom. It’s down a hallway, up a flight of stairs and a few doors to the right, but you think you just might make it. You kick your heels off as you begin to sprint, the cool wood of the floor slippery against your stockings.
“Better run faster, little girl,” a cool voice rings out from behind you.
You squeal in surprise. You’re only halfway up the stairs, how on earth is she that fast? Sevika looks as if she’s simply strolling towards you.
The both of you absolutely know how she’s that fast.
Her hand closes around your ankle from where she can reach it on the steps, and tugs. You pitch forward, hands slamming on the stair in front of you to catch yourself. “Ow,” you hiss at her, whipping your head around to glare.
A real noise of pain- fuck it hurts so amazingly good- leaves your mouth when she fists her fingers in your hair and yanks you backward, pressing you against her chest.
“You’re lucky I’m not taking you right here on the steps, princess.” Then she presses her face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, your smell drives me crazy.”
Sevika hauls you up in her arms, flinging you so she can carry you over her shoulder. You know what she expects, and you squirm and fight in her grip- only to still with a shriek when she viciously bites your hip.
The taller woman throws you down on the large four poster bed, eyes glowing. She goes to ruck the dress up over your hips, but you stop her.
By planting your foot squarely against her chest. “You know how much this cost?” you snap, one last gibe to pitch her up over the edge. “Actually, I know you do. You paid for it. Do not rip it.”
Your wife seems almost stunned that you would talk back to her now, and allows you to stand. Turning your back towards her, you wiggle your hips seductively. “You can unzip me,” you croon.
Strong fingers pull down the zip and the fabric pools around your feet. You swallow at the sensation of hands, hands much larger than your own, settling heavy on your hips. “Color?” her voice whispers, voice like gravel. “Green,” you exhale.
“Safeword?”
“Lamia.”
Then you find yourself being manhandled, and you go from standing to flung over her lap as she sits on the bed in a split second.
“Fucking brat,” she grits out, hand meeting your rear in a firm slap. A shrieking moan leaves your mouth, your torso raising to escape the burning sensation, but her other hand fists in your hair and shoves you down. “Take it,” she says darkly, hand raining down on your ass once more.
“You think you’re so clever, huh princess?” she husks, slapping the round cheeks repeatedly. “Think you can get away with fucking teasing me all night, winding me up like I’m some sort of idiot? Did you really, truly think that I would let you get away with it? That I’d let you walk all over me?”
Her hand yanks your head up. “Answer me,” she barks, hand stinging the red skin of your ass. “No- I-” you stammer, gasping as she strikes you again. “You what?” she simpers, rubbing the sore flesh before hitting it again. “I knew you’d- you’d punish me,” you moan, squealing as she pinches the heated area. “I wanted it.”
“Oh babygirl, I know you did,” she coos, hand connecting with your backside once more. “Give me more.”
And you do. Sevika makes you count each spank, not relenting for a second. Tears course down your cheeks, and you’re sure you're equally drenched down below. You can feel it gathering in the fabric of your panties.
The older woman seems satisfied at your shriek of “twenty-five!” and stills, hand rubbing the skin she’s painted red. “Sweet girl” she croons. She pulls you up to sit in her lap, licking the tears that coat your face. “Such an obedient girl for me. You’re not done, though. Strip” You stand on wobbly legs, pulling off the bra and panties. A low noise resonates from her chest when you go to remove the thigh highs, and you wheel around.
“Are you growling?” you gasp, hands on the fabric. “Leave those on,” she spits, and pushes you back on to the bed.
Sevika grabs you then, pulling you up the mattress with her strong arms. You watch through lidded eyes as she pulls her belt from the loops in her trousers, and begin to pant excitedly as she presses your hands above your head, tightening the leather around your wrists and binding them together.
Your wife sets about undressing herself and you watch, desire coursing through your veins, as each bit of glorious skin is revealed. When she’s bare in front of you, you crane your neck up, hoping for a kiss.
She only chuckles darkly. “Oh, pretty little thing,” she murmurs. “Gonna have to work harder than that.”
Her strong fingers run over your body, stirring you into a tizzy, and you gasp when she pinches a nipple. Hard. Those same fingers run up your chest, your neck, your jaw, and then they’re at your mouth. “Suck,’ she says, and you open pink lips to take the two digits into your mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me baby,” your wife instructs. “You’re gonna want them dripping.”
Sevika presses down further into your mouth, and you gag a little. She tuts. “Come on, sweetheart. I know you can do better.” She presses her body against yours, grinding into the cradle of your hips with her own. Exactly where you need her, and exactly not enough. “You and I both know you can take a lot more, don’t we?”
You nod as best you can around her hand, cheeks flush at her words.
“Mhm, that’s it. You love this, don’t you? Being used like my toy? Say yes. Say you love it.”
Sevika pulls her fingers from your mouth, and you gasp. “Yes,” you rasp. “I love it.”
“Love what, babydoll?” she croons, lips just a breath away from your own. “Tell me.”
“Being- ah- being used like a toy. Yours.”
“Good girl, good girl,” she praises, and then she kisses you. Kisses you till your head is spinning, till you’re choking on her tongue, till you can feel arousal puddling down the curve of your ass as she grinds into you.
“Oh sweet girl, are you drooling?” she asks, lips parting from yours, a string of saliva connecting you. You are. You hadn’t even realized. “Mine too,” she murmurs, and presses your mouth open with her fingers.
Your wife lets a strand of spit fall from her mouth into your own, and then swipes it around with her fingers. “Just a little more, you can take it. Can’t you?”
You nod. You might be so aroused you can hardly think, but you’ll take anything she gives you.
“Color?” she whispers in your ear. It’s green. Always green, and you tell her so.
The first touch of her fingers between your legs shocks you like a livewire, and you moan, wanton and loud. It feels amazing, it feels perfect- but nothing further than that. She simply circles her fingers around, playing with the slick there.
“Oh, princess,” she murmurs. “You’re making a mess.”
“Please,” you beg weakly. “I need you.” Your hands strain, futile, against the belt. “Yeah,” she whispers, lips pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “How bad?”
“So bad.”
“Bad enough to say sorry?”
“Wha-”
“Sorry for teasing me?”
“Yes,” you stammer, hips jumping as she sucks a bruise to the tender column of your neck. “Yes, yes- I’m sorry. Sorry I’m sorry for teasing Sevika fuck me please-”
And a garbled moan leaves your mouth as she shoves her fingers inside you without fanfare. “So wet,” she grunts, questing deep inside you. “Feels so good, baby. So good for me.”
The she fucks you hard, just like she said she would.
Your entire body burns, her words ringing in your ears. You’ll be her good girl- as long as she never stops. You need her to fuck you more than you need air.
She finds your clit with her thumb and you keen into the humid air of the bedroom, head thrashing against the sheets. “Pretty baby,” she coos. “Look at you. You look so good, getting fucked stupid on my hand.”
The low tone of her voice has your veins buzzing, and she chuckles darkly. “Oh sweetheart, I can feel you getting tighter on my fingers. Don’t you dare come.”
She smirks evilly at the whine that leaves your mouth. “Mmm, poor thing. Oh honey, you don’t get to come that easy. Even when you say sorry, even when you beg so pretty like you just did. You have to work for it.”
Her breath is heavy in your ear, your eyes rolling back to your head. “Gonna give me what I want, baby girl? You can come if you give me what I want.” You nod. “Color?” she whispers once more and you whimper green.
“Just a little taste first, then” she croons.
The first slice of the vampire's teeth against your breast is exquisite agony, and your orgasm blossoms within you as you feel, rather than hear, her groan against the flesh there. Spasming around her fingers, you come, hips rucking forward against her own as she presses into you firmly. She’s swung one leg over yours, and is grinding hard down into your thigh.
Your wife doesn’t stop her onslaught, dragging her mouth from your tit with a groan. The red liquid around her mouth sets you trembling. You’re not even sure if you’ve stopped coming. “Exquisite,” she rasps, kissing up your chest. “Give me one more.”
“I- I don’t know if I can,” you stammer, and she grins wickedly. “I know you can. Come for me. Now.”
So you do, eyes rolling back into your head as you pulse rhythmically around her fingers, her thumb pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing slow circles into the bundle of nerves. It’s perfect, it’s so good you can barely breathe and then-
And then her teeth find your neck and sink in.
You shout your pleasure towards the ceiling, white flames of release licking over your body. Your orgasm is all consuming, and you’re only dimly aware of her thrusting against your thigh and shaking above you with a vicious grunt, heavy swallows coming from where she’s connected to your skin with her mouth.
Seconds pass, hours pass.
Sevika kisses you all over, her lips leaving tacky lip prints of blood on your cheeks, your neck, your collarbone, your chest.
“Sweet thing. My baby. You did so well for me,” she whispers. You whine in distress when she pulls her fingers from within you, and she shushes you, hand smoothing back your sweaty hair from where it’s plastered against your forehead. “Shhh, pretty baby. Take it easy, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” She unbuckles her belt from your sore wrists and holds you close.
You clutch her tightly against you, arms and legs wound around her muscles, the weight of her body keeping you from floating off of the bed. Eventually the feeling begins to return to your limbs, and you beam up at her.
“Hi, handsome,” you rasp, kissing her gently. “I love you.” She returns your smile, enraptured, “I love you too, sweetheart. Oh, my beautiful girl.”
The two of you hold each other, and when your breathing has finally evened out, she rises to stand. “Let me get you a drink,” she says, pressing you back into the sheets.
It’s a bit of a dizzy process when you rise to drink the water she brings you, and she pulls you against her chest. “Took a little more from you than I normally do, baby” she murmurs. “Sorry.”
You know she’s not sorry.
“I loved it,” you snort, nudging her with your elbow. “Can I have some of those?” you ask, pointing to the treats she brought along with the water.
Sevika feeds you the chocolate truffles, then carries you to the bath. You can imagine how it looks, the larger woman holding you like she did when she carried you inside on your wedding night, though this time your skin is covered in gore and bodily fluids. Like, and you flush at the thought, a succubus and her innocent maiden.
It’s not so far from the truth.
(Though no one but you may know it, Sevika is far too nice to really be a succubus.)
Later, all clean and tucked amongst fresh sheets, you’re dropping off to sleep when a thought occurs to you, and you snort with drowsy laughter against her chest.
“What is it?” she asks, voice thick with tiredness. “That horrible painting,” you giggle. “The one that represents passion?” Your wife chuckles, your head moving with the rise and fall of her chest. “We probably should buy it, huh princess?” she asks, wrapping her arms tighter around you.
“Not for us,” you tell her. “I want it hung in the fucking Louvre.”