vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[ the cool air of the room touches her. she shivers.

what lays beneath is nothing he hasn't seen before; there's only only blood this time. spreads her legs, pulls her knees up until she's completely and utterly nude. becoming aware of the bedspread. ]

Oh, there should be towel.

[But it’s the addition of blood that makes it all the more taboo, and the promise of a mess that underlines that notion. For as fastidious as Henry Creel likes to be, this is not an instance where he cares enough to find a towel.

His hands wander up to her knees and spread her more, giving him room to draw closer, to really see the glistening between her legs.]

What for?

[Bedsheets can be washed.

He doesn’t give her time to reply. One hand swoops down, warm and sudden, to cup her cunt, massaging in to feel her folds move against his fingers.]

For—hhhhmmm.

[ nevermind. he feels so warm against her and protects her from the unkind coolness of the room. already, she's wet. of course she is. even without arousal she would be; but arousal is there, too. he will find her as perfectly soft as ever, and her gaze on his face keen and sharp. he is under her assessment now. ]

[Though it's difficult to not simply peer down at where he touches her, her expression as he does so is more compelling. He meets her gaze, senses an assessment there. Does she expect for him to eventually balk at the idea of what he's doing? That the blood will be too bothersome, that the mess will put him off?

Surely not, though as to prove to her this unspoken point, he nudges at her opening with the pad of a finger, and gives no real warning before he slips a long digit in. It’s easy, when she’s like this.]

I like the idea of having proof of you in my bed for a little bit, anyway.

[ it's so easy. she touches his wrist, slides her fingers up it, up his sleeve. ]

Oh, but... You are going to stain your pretty clothes.

That doesn't matter. My clothes, the bed sheets... That can all be washed.

[Not the first time he's had blood on him, after all.

...Though, ideally, he removes his shirt at some point, but he wants to finger her first. Wants to feel her softness on the inside, how slick she feels, how much of her blood comes away on his fingers when he finally retracts them.

But not yet. One more finger... slips in, and he pushes in deeper.]

[ she's flooded with a sudden deep desire for him. his curiosity, Mammon, she wants to encourage that. squirms little as he sinks a second finger inside, stretching her, despite his request that she not. it does feel good. ]

I want to kneel and feel you behind me.

[His fingers slide out, then drive themselves right back in. Again, unceremoniously. It isn't so much punishment for her squirming, but it isn't not a reaction to it.]

Is that what you want?

[He grins, faux innocence.]

What you want will have to wait, Sprezzatura. I want to make a mess of you first. I want to taste you.

[ here, she inhales tightly and touches his wrist again. ]

Not too harsh. I am aching already.

Poor Sprezzatura.

[He coos her name, crooking his fingers inside of her just because he can, but the gesture isn’t harsh.

And then… slowly, very slowly, he slides his digits back out, eyes finally flicking down to watch. Predictably, they gleam streaks of red.]

[ mmh. well, if he's going to take his time... she sinks back onto the mattress, stretches her arms up above her head and lets them lay there crooked on the pillow above her. a part of her mind still on the sheets, the sheets... but not for long. and not very much.

already pulling out. is he really...? ]

[Is he really what?

Is he really bringing his fingers to his mouth, sliding them past his lips, sucking them off for a preemptive taste of her, not breaking her gaze?

Yes.]

[ ffffuck.

almost a subconscious mirror, she's brought her own fingers to her own mouth. but she bites down on the thumbnail while Henry sucks himself. heat flashes through. her heart seizes almost painfully. the brief and vivid fantasy plays of his fingers in her ass and his tongue in her cunt—sheer devotional overwhelm. and, Mammon, to think of all the things a respectable woman oughtn't do.

well. respectable women don't have Henry Creel, do they?

she starts rubbing her tail between her cheeks. and... laughs! ]

Oh, you are strange.

[Her laughter is contagious, as always, sparking delight in him that has nothing to do with the physical, pressurized heat coiling in his groin. He sucks the last remaining coppery tinge from his two fingers, pulling them away from his lips slowly. They glisten with his saliva once they're free from his mouth.]

Am I? Just because I appreciate every part of you?

[He hasn't the keen taste for blood like he did when he was affected by the paintball game, unable to tell the difference between the blood he sampled from her neck versus the kind that bleeds from between her legs, but it's not unpleasant. It's warm, slick blood. It's her, and that's all that matters.

His clean hand finally works at the buttons of his shirt. And the other slips in towards her cunt to repeat fingering her a second time. In deep, fingers crooked slightly, feeling and stretching dimly.]

I was just getting a taste of what was to come, anyway.

[ shouldn't she tell him that usually there isn't much blood-drinking involved in eating out a woman on her period?

... no. no, why would she think that? why discourage him from appreciating every part of her? Mammon, has anyone else ever done as much?

he sinks back into her with a squelch, he's undressing now, but she's fixed on his face, his mouth, his eyes. ]

You are sure you are not still half-vampire after all?

[He's going to learn it first-hand today. Sprezzatura's done an awful lot to expand his horizons these days.

His smile tilts into a little smirk, amused, and his hand works his button-up open. Of course, with his other hand and its fingers seated inside of her, he can't quite remove it yet.]

If I am, no one's told me.

[nah he's a different kind of undead, girl]

[ but she can admire the pale expanse of skin now exposed, note the way her mouth seems to water, and how she throbs around his working fingers. he's a very beautiful man.

the want rolls off her in waves. ]

Touch yourself for me.

[His fingers slide out to the middle knuckles, only to enter her again. Just to feel it, the slick friction, collecting more crimson on his skin.]

Are you making requests? I thought you wanted me to do whatever I wanted.

[lol

We all know what comes next-]

Ask nicely?

[ lets her legs fall open a little more ]

Do as you wish.

[as expected

He removes his fingers again, just so he can work to shrug off his shirt. The material is stained in places with red in the interim, but he doesn’t care.]

What’s it going to take to make you ask something of me so sweetly, I wonder?

[ Mammon, she wants to touch. reaches for him, but without sitting up, still laid out and spread with her cunt beginning to glisten more wetly with blood and desire ]

I wonder...

[Topless, the shirt tossed aside, he works open the vee of his pants to give his bulge more leeway. But little more than that — a tease for her, because he reveals little, and he doesn’t touch.

Instead, he leans forward, hands sliding up the back of her thighs, and takes in her scent with a smile.]

Desperation? Or me spoiling you more?

[Mwah. A soft, soft kiss against her wet cunt.]

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