Today’s prompt selection was: Outdoor sex, Humiliation, Intoxication. I had weirdly few options! Went for this, from a spooky-season-themed fanfiction (Overwatch) in which one character is a vampire. There is technically vampiric feeding, but it’s not really the focus of the piece? But I guess this kinda counts for tomorrow too (although not as much as tomorrow does, lemme tell ya).
Lena is a random server at an Inn. Amelie is a former countess, turned vampire. In this piece, she uses her powers to lure Lena back to her chateau, but doesn’t make it there before “deciding” to give in to her hunger. Feeding and sex in the forest result. If any of that – the compulsion, the biting, the blood, the sex – bothers you, please feel free to not read any further.
This story is set in a vaguely historical vaguely European setting.
If you want to read more of this, you can do so here for free at Ao3 (you don’t need to know any of the characters. It’s all AU). I will warn in advance (and warnings are on the fic, too), it gets very dark. Very traumatic. I personally do think it is worthwhile, however, these warnings are well-deserved.
Below the break is a newish vampire failing to withhold from feeding on someone, and then fucking her against a tree.
The server-maid followed her swiftly out through the doors, clasped hand-in-hand – hers was so warm, even through the gloves that Amélie wore, and she could feel the heartbeat through leather and skin. Her mouth filled constantly, she felt as if she might drown in her own saliva before she made it back to the Château, but she was determined.
Her hunger, however, won out over her determination.
As it so often did.
Halfway through the forest, hand in hand and laughing in the moonlight, Amélie suddenly spun to face Lena full on, eyes wide and wild with hunger and lust, and shoved her hard back against a tree.
“Oi,” Lena chuckled, grinning, “playing it rough, are we?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Amélie murmured, licking her lips and swallowing heavily, but there was nothing else to it. Why should she deny herself anything? Why should she delay? Just because the girl had a job, or a family, or a life – that sibling or parent or lover whose perfume she had smelled. Who cared?
Amélie certainly didn’t.
She was upon the girl in a flash, her mouth sealing on the soft pale skin of her neck – a high, keening cry split the night air, but it wasn’t one of pain. An almost-shriek of delight pealed like the parish bells from Lena’s mouth as her fingers clenched tightly in Amélie’s hair.
Her heart beat so quickly, so swift – she was the finest hare Amélie had ever laid eyes upon, and as was always the case with hares, there were two thrills to be had.
The coursing, and the capture.
Amélie groaned obscenely, muffling the noise in Lena’s neck as her fangs pierced skin and she gulped at hot, fresh, sweet, glorious blood. Her fingers, almost claw-like, dug into the tree and pulled her in with super-human strength, keeping Lena pinned tightly there, but the girl never even tried to fight it.
“Yes! Oh, god, Amélie!” The words came out squealed and high, twisted and desperate as Lena writhed beneath her, but not in any way as if she wanted to escape. “Y-yes, please-”
It took a moment, through the focus that she poured into her feast, to realize the other things that were happening – Lena’s hand, which had been in Amélie’s hair, had shifted away to the front of the Countess’ outfit and tugged now at the laces of her breeches. The girl’s other hand was locked around one of her wrists, and at first, Amélie thought it was some defensive or hostile gesture and she snarled and pressed Lena harder against the tree trunk.
The moan that ripped from the girl’s throat pushed away any thought that it was hostile or defensive or in any way negative, though, and then Amélie realized that the hand at her wrist was not trying to pull her arm free for escape. It was trying to pull her hand down.
The whole while, she continued to drink – gulping at first, for a moment or two, to slake her thirst and sate her hunger, but then as the sharpest of the pangs faded in the first few seconds, she began to take her time. She withdrew just slightly, not gulping directly from the vein but letting the blood well up on the skin and lapping it away with quick flicks of her tongue.
Lena reacted intensely to the change, an obscene and soundless noise leaping from her mouth as she yanked at the laces of Amélie’s breeches and finally got them free, and thrust her hand down into the garment’s depths.
The warmth between her legs was sudden from Lena’s hand, and Amélie instinctively shifted just a little, widening her stance to grant the girl better access. She was going to die, there was no sense denying her something she wished for – and besides, she seemed to know what she was doing. Her fingers curled deftly, stroking firmly against Amélie’s sensitive ridge, immediately setting to work – wasting no time with any teasing touch.
“Mmmm,” Amélie pulled back from Lena’s neck just enough to shift up, to nip at her ear as a drip of blood trailed down her chin. “Impatient, are we?”
“Y-you’re the one who pushed me back against the-” Lena started, breathless, as Amélie licked away the bit of blood which had transferred from her lips to the earlobe she’d nipped at and then just waited there. “Against the- the tree here and- and- why’d you stop? Amélie, please, don’t stop, I want-”
With a laugh, Amélie leaned in and licked a stripe up Lena’s neck, starting down at her collarbone where some blood pooled in the natural well and following the thick red trails back up. The girl let out a rough shout at that, her hand dropping from Amélie’s wrist to her shoulder, gripping on tightly as if to ride out an approaching storm.
It was nearly the truth, as well, as Amélie continued to lap at the upwelling of blood and then to suck at her neck again. She could feel the woman’s heart begin to be affected – to slow from its frantic pace, and could hear some of the strength begin to sap from her pleasured cries.
There seemed to be no real downside, at first, but it was admittedly less fun than it had been. The fun is in the coursing, in the chase, and in the capture – the cleaning after the kill was simply work, and she’d already had her meal.
The final straw was when Lena’s strength began to flag such that her hand, desperately probing and stroking deep inside Amélie’s pants, began to slow.
Amélie growled, withdrawing from Lena’s neck – the girl whimpered, but Amélie pushed her shoulders hard back against the tree. “Focus,” she hissed sharply, grabbing at the wrist which plunged into her pants. “You are getting sloppy. And-” she sighed dismissively, tearing a section of Lena’s blouse free with one hand and holding it against her neck. “Hold this here. You are bleeding.”
“Y- oh, y-yeah, of course,” Lena muttered weakly, her head nodding a little and eyes seeming to unfocus as her other hand rose to hold the torn bit of fabric against her neck. “Wh-why’s, why’m I bleedin’? Wha-”
“Does it matter?” Amélie gripped a firm fistful of hair, pulling Lena’s head to gaze into her eyes with a frown and a shake of her head. “No, no it does not – ma chérie, I am so close, do not stop now, keep going.”
Lena took a breath, her eyes shifting as if she was drunk or had been awake and working for days straight without rest, but when Amélie hissed and leaned in and pushed her desires out through every extremity, Lena seemed to snap out of that trance and back into her right mind.
“R-right,” she nodded, her hand moving with renewed vigor as she shifted to plunge two fingers deep into the Huntress. “Just as you like, love – god you’re gorgeous.”
Amélie groaned softly, the sound shifting high and filled with desire as she rolled her hips forward against Lena’s working hand. “Call me Mistress,” she hissed desperately in a moment of intent.
“Whatever you want, Mistress,” Lena murmured swiftly, heatedly, intensely as she stared in awe at the beauty a few scant inches away from her face, holding the torn rag firmly against the side of her neck.
“Yes,” Amélie moaned, gripping at Lena’s shoulders as she leaned her head back to face up to the moon and the sky, “yes, what ever I want, that is right…”
The night filled with more sounds of ecstasy and lust as Amélie’s mouth pulled starkly open in the moonlight, the taste of blood still tangy on her lips and tongue as warm fingers plunged into her and she ground forward against a hot palm. She could feel Lena’s heartbeat, still, picking up again.
Perhaps, a meal might be enjoyed more than once – if one was careful, if one savoured it as one should do with wine. Besides, the blood never had kept in the jar.
Perhaps it would do to have a person around the Château, at her disposal for whatever she wished – for warmth, for satisfaction of this urge or that one, to sate one hunger or another. The Witch would always return, yes, but she would also always leave.
Perhaps, if she was careful, she might be able to course and catch this hare again, and again, and again…
Lena yelped in pain like a struck hound as Amélie’s fingers clenched in sharply on her shoulders, a high shriek heralding her orgasm before she shoved Lena back against the tree again and pressed a rough, almost desperate kiss to her mouth.
Amélie shuddered as she felt Lena’s tongue nick one of her teeth and slice open on it. and she dove after that taste, chasing it down with her own tongue and trying to leech everything she could until Lena was struggling to even breathe – but she could feel that even at that point the girl did not want to stop.
“You are coming back to the Château with me,” Amélie murmured heatedly against Lena’s lips, staring deep into her eyes. “You will not be leaving any time soon.”
“Of course, Mistress,” Lena nodded with a loose, almost goofy grin. “Whatever you want, Mistress.”
Amélie’s eyes narrowed into predatory slits, her lips curling to reveal a sharp and sharp-toothed grin, the bright red blood-stained lips standing out starkly against her pale skin in the moonlight.
“That is right,” she purred, stroking a fingertip down Lena’s neck, along the artery, feeling the pulse there – delicious, delectable, but it would keep. She would drink of the woman more later. “What ever I want…”
Leave a Reply