A spooky old château in the middle of the French Alps, at least a twenty minute drive out from the nearest village, isn't exactly where Lena expected to be spending her week off, but it's not as though she could choose where her car would break down. If she could, she would have chosen somewhere like a gas station, or a spa, or even a nasty pub - SOMEWHERE she might stand a chance of finding a jump, or a phone, or even just a power outlet, really - her mobile is dead, but she's got the charger for it, even got the car adapter, which would be a great help if her car had any juice left in it.
She glares at the beat up rental hovercar where it digs into the mud, silent and lifeless, before turning her scowl to the gray sky. Her fluffy ears flick back a half second before a crack of thunder seems to shake the earth, the sky practically turning white from the corresponding lightning flash.
Of course it's starting to rain, too. Never mind the forecast this morning calling for clear skies, Lena Oxton's day needs to be ruined.
This is the worst holiday ever.
She pockets the keys with a sour look and starts heading towards the manor doors, cursing the overgrown lawn, and the rain, and the car, and whatever brainless slag had the bright idea of vacationing in France in the first place. (It seemed a good idea at the time. She’s always been weak-kneed over the accent.) She's about to curse the darkened, empty manor as well, huffing as she approaches the sturdy looking entrance, when a light goes on.
The light right above the door.
She hesitates, several feet away from it, as a wave of unease washes over her.
Look, she's seen horror movies, right? Everything about this smells rotten and she knows it, and for once, she's not so certain she's the scariest thing out and about this evening. Another clap of thunder startles her out of her thoughts, and as another flash of lightning comes, quicker than the last, she decides she'd rather be dry than wet, dead or alive.
Plus, if the place has lights, it has power, and if it has power, she can charge her mobile. She just needs to find an outlet and survive for about ten minutes or so to call for roadside assistance.
That's all assuming she gets inside, though. She gives the thick wood and steel door a once-over, stepping under the eave to get out of the rain that's begun pitter-pattering along the stone of the walkway. There's no obvious bell, because of course there sodding isn't, leaving her to raise a fist in the desperate hope of knocking loud enough to be heard. The first two solid whaps make little noise, but she needn't have worried - the door creaks open under the force, apparently having been unlocked and slightly ajar for her already.
The feeling of unease returns. Her tail hugs close to her legs, ears practically flat against her skull.
She doesn't like this at all.
She pushes the door open and enters the dimly lit foyer, crinkling her nose at the musty, damp scent. The entrance hall is cozy for a château, dark despite the lit lamps bordering it, and oppressively silent. Lena clears her throat, squinting down the hall as her eyes adjust.
"Uh… Hello? Door was open, hope you don't mind me lettin' myself in!" she calls into the darkness, proud of how her voice doesn't waver.
This might reek of danger, but she's not about to be rude.
Lena flinches at another crash of thunder and looks back outside to find the rain beginning to pour down, frowning at the thought of trudging back out to the rental. She eases the door shut and turns back around, ready to call out to the occupant of the castle once more, and instead yelps in surprise.
There’s someone right in front of her.
She’s so startled by the sudden appearance that she drops her phone and immediately ducks down to get it, only to find it pressed against the side of the stranger’s boot. She nervously snags it and sits back on her heels as her gaze wanders up their body, an apology dying on her lips.
Her eyes slip up the boot, fancy black hide with silver trim and a garnet embellishment in the crimson cuff, and travel higher to meet riveted, tight leather trousers and the tails of a posh jacket. She hesitates before going any higher, dread pooling in her stomach, but clenches her jaw and continues working up - past the waistcoat and tie, as much as she might have a personal interest in lingering on them, past smirking pink lips, and up to meet amused golden eyes.
She about swallows her tongue. At least her murderer is hot.
"Um. Hiya," she croaks out.
"Bonsoir," the mysterious woman replies, voice low and silky smooth, and Lena feels it reverberate through her chest. She's suddenly very aware of her positioning, on her knees in front of this woman, and straightens up with a flush dusting her face, jabbing a hand forward between them.
She must look a sight with her ratty shorts and muddy trainers, jacket zipped up tight and fur all fluffed from static and fear, but it's the best she can do right now. She’s certainly made worse first impressions in her life.
“I’m Lena, Lena Oxton,” she begins, and feels her mouth start to run away from her. “I, uh, my car's gone and bought it just down the road here, and I came in wondering if I could juice up my mobile so I could give the rental company a ring and get it taken care of. Should be done in a zippy, promise." She pauses awkwardly. “The door was open.”
Her words, and offered hand, are met with a blank stare. She starts to worry that this stranger might not speak English when a black gloved hand delicately slips into hers.
It's cold. Somehow she isn't surprised.
"Amélie. Enchantée." The glint of slightly-too-long teeth catches her eye as Amélie introduces herself. Fangs, she faintly registers. Vampire. Lena struggles to remember if there's any lore about werewolves and vampires, praying she’s not about to become a snack.
"You need the telephone?" The English is careful, the woman clearly out of practice with it, but it breaks through Lena’s thoughts just the same.
"Err, just an outlet, really," she explains, presenting her mobile charger with a wiggle in her free hand. With a clearing of her throat, she withdraws from the handshake, eyes darting around nervously. “I’ll get out of your hair as quick as I can, promise.”
“Nonsense,” Amélie replies. “You are my guest now. Come.”
Without another word, the strange woman turns and begins to walk down the hall. It takes a moment for Lena to process the situation, but she quickly scrambles to keep up with her. They turn the corner into a modestly furnished study, fireplace quietly crackling across from a plush loveseat and landscapes covering the walls in between bookcases. A telephone rests next to a decanter of olive liquid on a desk in the corner, and Lena thinks she's never been so glad to see a power strip in her life.
Amélie leads her to it, reaching out to pick up the crystal decanter as Lena crouches down to plug in her cell.
"Care for a drink while you wait, chérie? Local génépi. Or wine, if you would prefer." The liquid swirls lazily in its prison as she offers it, but as tempting as it might be, Lena thinks she might need a clear head for now.
"Ah, no thanks, love. Alcohol doesn't agree with me on an empty stomach," she says as she stands, placing her still dead phone on the desk. It's plugged in now at least, sure to start back up once it gets enough juice, but the blank screen isn't reassuring.
She turns away from it and finds Amélie well in her personal space, somehow having moved closer without being noticed, nearly pinning her to the desk. Golden eyes bore into hers.
"You would like something to eat then, no? Do not make me into an awful hostess, ma petite caniche. We still have some time to wait."
"I could go for a bite, yeah," she weakly murmurs, cringing when the phrase registers. It's met with an amused smirk from Amélie, though it's gone almost as soon as it appears.
"Merci, mademoiselle. Just a moment. Please, relax."
Amélie backs away and gestures to the loveseat, inviting and warm in front of the fire, then leaves the study without another sound. It's just as unsettling watching it happen.
On the desk, her phone buzzes quietly as it finally powers up enough to display LOW BATTERY in flashing red. Lena sighs and runs a hand through her mop of hair, casting a glance at the sofa then back at the decanter.
She's going to be here a while, it seems.
Might as well get comfortable.
When Amélie returns, it's to the sight of Lena sprawled on the loveseat nursing a glass of the alcohol offered earlier. A perfect eyebrow arches in question as she sets a plate of assorted cheeses on the end table.
"Figured one glass couldn't hurt. S'good stuff." Lena tips her glass to her before taking another mouthful of the drink. Amélie grabs a glass for herself and settles at the opposite end of the loveseat.
"Bonne. Please, eat."
Lena peers at the plate to examine the assortment. None of them are immediately recognizable - some are sliced and some are cut into wedges - but all of them look delicious. Amélie even included some sliced bread with it.
She feels her mouth water.
"Awful kind of you to feed me," Lena says, picking up some of the softer cheese with the bread.
"Think nothing of it. You are my guest."
With her hands and attention occupied, she's somewhat unprepared for the black hide boot brushing against her bare calf as Amélie crosses her legs. When she looks to her with a questioning glance she's met with a challenging gaze, unblinking as she takes a swallow of her drink, seemingly waiting for her to say something.
It's fine. They're just two supernatural folks having a drink and getting comfortable. Amélie is just relaxing in her own home and Lena isn't one to deprive her of that. It's not like it's uncomfortable for her anyway. Lena’s completely fine with having the rough toe of her boot dragging against her like this.
They're nice boots, too - supple, quality material, knee length with a chunky high heel, though she doesn't understand the spurs - but she doesn't want to focus on them for too long; the silence stretching between them already feels suspicious to her nervous mind. She tears her gaze away and stuffs her face instead, humming appreciatively at the tang of the cheese.
"Good cheeses," she manages in between bites. Perhaps she was hungrier than she thought - when did she have lunch again? If she can't remember, it was probably too long ago. Certainly not since she left the airport earlier that day.
Her recollection is interrupted by Amélie’s smooth voice once more.
"You may stay the night, if you desire. It is late and the weather is… unfavorable."
As the word rolls off her tongue a boom of thunder follows as if to illustrate, muffled as it is through the walls. Lena finishes off her glass of génépi, smacking her lips as she thinks the offer over, and sets it on the end table.
Her plan had been to come in, charge her phone, call the dealer, and then sleep in her car while she waited for automobile assistance. Being offered a warm, dry place to eat and sleep was appealing, and not just because someone so attractive was extending it. She’d have to pop back outside for her things, but that could wait. It’s not like her car is going anywhere.
Her eyes slide back over to Amélie, still staring at her as she idly swirls her own drink and waits for a response.
"What do you get out of it, then? I don't fancy bein' a juicebox, if that's what you're after."
"I wouldn't think of it, chérie, but you are impure regardless." The toe of her boot glides along Lena’s calf slowly as she speaks, bright eyes focused for her reaction.
The words make her bristle even though she knows she should feel relieved. She's not impure. She's just… not all human. She's mostly human! Usually! And the other bits of her are just as good, and anyone who thinks otherwise can sod right off.
She's not sure yet how to feel about the boot teasing along her leg, but it can't mean what she thinks it means. Amélie is probably just trying to get comfortable and she's mistaking it. Yeah, that sounds right.
Ignoring it and making a cheeky comment seems like a good plan.
"Sorry to disappoint, love. Too gamey for your tastes?"
"How you taste is not the issue." Her eyes flick down Lena's body, a spark of hunger in them. "Too much of yours will make me ill. A pity. Je parie que tu goute douce, ma belle chiot."
Lena swallows the last mouthful of cheese - a sharp, nutty variety she couldn't name if you paid her to - and tries not to choke, a flush spreading along her cheeks.
Okay, maybe it does mean what she thinks it means.
"Y'know I understand a bit of French, yeah? Wouldn't go on holiday here if I didn't."
"You say this as though in warning." The smirk Amélie gives her from behind her glass makes her stomach clench.
Lena wets her lips, straightening as she attempts to steady herself. The alcohol and her words have left her warm and buzzing, and she'd like to make sure she's not just taking the piss out of her. "Just-- don't think 'cause I'm a tourist you can go saying naughty things in French with me none the wiser."
The chuckle she gets in response trickles down her spine, furry ears twitching nervously. Amélie moves closer on the sofa, leaning over her briefly to place her own drained glass on the end table beside hers. She's too close, the gust of breath from another laugh ghosting along Lena's cheek.
"Would you prefer I said naughty things in English then, pup?"
Lena feels the air rush out of her at once, speechless as Amélie rests her hand on her knee. Her body flushes hot in stark contrast to the cool black leather of her glove. To her embarrassment, her tail begins wagging against the back of the loveseat, landing with quiet thumps.
Before she has a chance to gather her wits and potentially form a coherent response, Amélie is speaking again.
"Such a crude language, but it is worth it to see that pretty flush of yours. I would hate for there to be a miscommunication."
"You're coming onto me," she finally breathes out, and immediately feels stupid for saying so. The hand at her knee trails light fingertips against her skin.
"Oui," Amélie confirms with a fanged smile. Her eyes are bright. "What are you going to do about it?"
The smart choice is probably to politely decline any sort of physicality with the vampire she just met (through breaking into her home), thank her for her hospitality, and leave. Her mobile is probably at least a little charged by now, so she doesn't really need to stick around, but... this seems like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
... It’ll make a brilliant story for later.
And she is on holiday.
She leans in and closes the rest of the distance between their faces to press her lips to Amélie’s.
They're cool and soft against hers, the press of her fangs distinctive enough to send a thrill through her. Amélie quickly responds to the kiss, free hand traveling up to cup Lena's cheek, a gloved thumb petting along the flushed skin. The hand at her knee squeezes as Lena's mouth warms hers.
Lena isn't content to just sit and be acted upon however. She moves to deepen the kiss, urging Amélie’s lips to open against her tongue as she presses her back against the loveseat, feeling smug with herself for stealing away the balance of power even if for just a moment. She mistakes it for being in control and finds herself unprepared for gloved hands dropping to her hips and yanking her into her lap.
She whimpers as her hips grind against Amélie’s front of their own volition, distracted from their kiss long enough for the pale woman to seize control of it. She nips and tugs at Lena's lower lip before soothing it with her tongue and Lena sighs into the kiss. She props herself up with one arm along the back of the loveseat and pets along Amélie’s shoulder with the other as her tail wags excitedly.
It's been a long while since she's had a good, proper snogging session. It's a little rough and awkward at first, fangs sharp against her tongue, but in just moments they’re kissing like they’ve done it for years. Lena gives a pleased hum and sinks against her comfortably, so caught up that she doesn't notice herself humping against Amélie until the vampire breaks their kiss with a purr, hands slipping lower to squeeze at her rear.
"Belle chienne surexcité," she murmurs, eyes glittering with amusement as they flit down between their bodies and back up. There's a faint bulge in Lena’s shorts, a soft, insistent pressure rubbing between them.
"Hell," Lena whispers as her hips twitch in response, blushing brightly in the firelight. "Um, sorry, yeah? S'been a while, and this is really bloody hot."
Amélie noses along her jaw to her ear, still groping her, thumbs brushing the base of her tail where the shorts split in the back. "I don't believe I was complaining, chérie. I like my puppy eager."
Lena whines and feels herself throb, tail wagging between her hands as she squeezes her eyes shut. She feels like a puppy against Amélie, eager and excited and recklessly horny, and in the grand scheme of things, she probably is, relatively. Who knows how old Amélie really is? She could be decades old. Centuries! A tug to her tail pulls her from her thoughts with a gasp, Amélie’s warmed lips kissing reverently along her throat.
She can feel fangs dragging along the sensitive skin, raising welts soothed by a tepid tongue.
"Perhaps I should show you to your room, ma belle?"
They don't head upstairs immediately - Amélie is far too distracted ravishing Lena’s neck, delighting in the bright red blooming under her skin, while Lena is far too distracted squirming breathlessly in her lap.
"You need to get off before I can lead you upstairs, chérie,” Amélie eventually murmurs against her pulse, kissing the red scrapes along her throat.
"I thought that's what you were angling for with all the necking," Lena teases back, even as she shifts off of Amélie’s lap. She grimaces at how tight her shorts feel. "Hate to make a mess of your parlor, though."
Amélie only tuts softly and grabs her by the hand to lead her through the drafty, darkened hallways and up a flight of stairs. When Lena glances out a full length window on the second landing, she can see that the downpour of earlier has lessened, rain now trickling gently down the glass. A bolt of lightning in the distance shows her reflection in the surface, flustered and pink as Amélie leads her upstairs.
They pass through a long hallway with heavy wooden doors bridging either side, lit by dull, old lamps glowing only just enough to keep her from tripping over her next step. They nearly reach the end of the hall before Amélie gestures to the last door on the right.
"The guest room," she stiffly offers, turning to face Lena with a carefully composed expression of indifference, dropping her hand from hers. "You may retire alone, if you wish. I want it clear that you are not renting my room with your body."
Lena blinks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the sudden formality. Apparently while she'd been ogling her bum in those tight leather trousers, Amélie had been feeling some misgivings, not that any showed on her face now. She only stands and waits patiently for Lena’s response.
"Oh! Well, good, I suppose." She looks from Amélie to the door, then back, rubbing awkwardly at her neck. "But if I wanna pick up where we left off downstairs?"
Pale pink lips twitch into a smile. "Then we can pick up where we left off downstairs, chérie.” Amélie gestures to the room once more. "After you."
The room is musty and dry, evidence of years of disuse coating the furniture. The only relatively clean space is the bed, which still throws up a cloud of dust when Lena’s back hits the mattress.
"Don't get a lot of company, love?" she coughs out with a grin, kicking off her trainers as Amélie closes the door behind her.
"This is not much of a tourist destination," Amélie responds, kneeling onto the bed between her legs. "And it is not often that prey wanders so willingly into my web."
She leans down to resume their kiss, hands busy tugging Lena's jacket down her shoulders. Lena helps to shrug it off, shivering in the lamplight once it's removed, and reaches to help Amélie with hers as she tugs off her gloves.
They don't bother keeping things neat and proper - the floor can hold their clothes well enough, and it's not as if Lena cares much about wrinkling or dust. It seems a shame to toss down Amélie’s jacket though - now that it's off, she can see the fine, meticulous webbing of the inner lining.
It doesn’t keep her attention for long.
Her normally dexterous fingers are slow and clumsy, fumbling at the clasps of the Amélie’s waistcoat as cold, pale hands slip under her simple black shirt and lift it past her belly, squeezing at the warm skin underneath.
"Hang on a tick,” she interrupts, “you've got more layers than me,” managing to undo the lowest hooks with some measure of finesse as she speaks. Amélie rolls her eyes and begrudgingly helps undress herself, fluidly unhooking the waistcoat the rest of the way and shrugging it off, leaving her in just a shirt and tie.
Lena takes a moment to enjoy the sight before curling her fingers around the tie and tugging Amélie back towards her for a kiss. Their lips meet with shameless desire, tongues slipping through their open mouths to pet along one another, slick and wet and warm. Lena can feel Amélie’s sticky gloss smear against her, the soft smacking of their lips as they kiss the only noise besides her own labored breathing, and starts working on unbuttoning her shirt. This particular article of clothing she has practice with, and within seconds she has it open and slipping off of milky shoulders while Amélie undoes her tie.
Lena is a little sad to see it go, but that's only until she sees the bra Amélie’s got on underneath it.
"Fuck, love, were you expecting this or do you normally dress for seduction?" Her fingers edge along the underwire, hesitant to touch the black lace barely covering Amélie’s chest.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Amélie says with a smirk, cutting off anything Lena might say in response with a firm press of her hand between her thighs. Lena moans, chest stuttering in surprise and hips lifting into the touch, hands falling to twist at the sheets as Amélie tenderly squeezes at her.
"Mm, tellement belle. Quelle autres genres de bruits pourrait-je te faire faire?"
"Keep squeezin' and I'm sure you'll find out."
The smirk widens as Amélie gives the bulge a gentle pinch through her shorts. Lena’s eyes squeeze shut as her breath leaves her in a pathetic whine, Amélie’s low chuckle burning her from the inside out.
"I could, but your shorts would not survive, ma chérie," Amélie drawls, eyes slipping down to the denim cutoffs. Her hand wanders all along the front of them, petting fondly at her thighs and groin before fingering the button open and slipping the zipper down.
Lena squints at the dark leather of Amélie’s trousers as she starts to wriggle her own shorts down. "How 'bout I take care of these while you take care of… those. Say, Amélie, how do you even get out of those pants?"
Whatever answer Lena was expecting, it did not include Amélie stepping back from the bed, hooking her fingers into the waist, and giving a powerful yank.
The form-fitting leather easily tears away, snaps at the sides and inseam popping free at the sharp, practiced tug, leaving Lena gawking at Amélie standing in front of her in just boots and underwear, neither of which she seems inclined to remove. And oh, that underwear.
There's no possible way someone just lounges about the house in knickers that sexy, all thin lace and suspenders and thigh high stockings. Lena glances down at her own, a simple pair of blue cotton boyshorts with an obvious wet patch where they tent, and feels herself blush. If it wasn’t for the hungry look Amélie is currently leveling at them, she'd feel self-conscious.
After a moment, her brain kicks back into action.
"… So do all your pants tear off or am I just lucky?"
"You talk too much, chérie," Amélie groans, kneeling back onto the bed and straddling Lena’s hips, hands returning under the loose undershirt she's still wearing to drag it off and push her onto her back. "Tu es une bavarde mignonne."
"Mum always did say I had a problem with keeping my gob shut," Lena chirps, grinning at Amélie as the material lifts over her head and leaves her topless: no bra - she's on holiday! - just smooth tan skin and soft hair covering her arms and chest.
Amélie runs a cold finger between her breasts, enjoying the goosebumps left in its wake almost as much as the way her pretty nipples pucker in response, and drags it down her stomach to the furry trail that spreads lower.
But before her fingers can dip under the waistband of her underwear, Lena gently catches her by the wrist.
"Wait. You, ah, y'know it's non-standard tackle, yeah? Not like a human's?" She chews nervously at her lip, but she meets Amélie’s eyes. With how comfortable Amélie has seemed handling her so far, she probably is well aware, but it doesn't hurt to make sure.
"Oui. It is not a problem for me." She smirks as she glances down between them at the straining fabric. The wetness has spread all along the front now, leaving them embarrassingly damp and dark, and, at Amélie’s leer, twitching.
"Alright," Lena says, cautiously releasing her wrist. "Have at it, then, I s'pose."
Instead of lunging straight for the prize as she expected her to, Amélie leans down to briefly plant her lips against Lena's once more, hand trailing back up to softly pet at her chest.
"Relax, chérie," she whispers in between pecks to the corner of her mouth, cheek, and jaw. "You are much too tense. This is just some fun, no?" Her lips brush over her neck again, still a splotchy red from earlier downstairs, and she gently kisses at her throat.
The tenderness leaves Lena unprepared for the way her hips then press down into hers and begin to roll, warm lace grinding against her messy cotton in swells.
The air rushes out of her in a wheeze.
Her hands fly to Amélie’s hips, squeezing tight as they drag along hers again and again, helpless to stop herself from responding in kind as her tail sweeps along the mattress.
"You may touch me, if you were uncertain," Amélie murmurs, nuzzling at her cheek as her hips slowly rock. "However you would like."
She hadn't noticed her own hesitation, but with the less than subtle nudge of encouragement, Lena’s hands slip lower to cup her rear at last, puffing out a breath as it pulls her harder against her.
"That's it," comes the silky purr in her ear, "touch me, chiot."
There's minimal fabric covering the soft skin, most of it wedged between full cheeks. Lena finds Amélie’s mouth with her own as she gropes and kneads, one hand eventually traveling up her spine to undo her bra in an easy, practiced motion. The lacy cups fall away, tossed aside in an instant. A moan passes between them as bare skin presses to bare skin at last.
Amélie is a bit chilly compared to her raging warmth, but Lena likes it. Pressed so close like this, she's bound to start warming up anyway.
The hand returns to its place on Amélie’s bottom with a firm squeeze, answered by another moan as their mouths open to each other. Lena can feel herself unsheathing further, the tip of her prick edging out from underneath her waistband and wetly teasing between their bellies with every roll of their hips.
It's tempting to just stay like this, but she knows eventually it's going to start to chafe.
She breaks the kiss reluctantly as her fingers toy with the lace of Amélie’s panties, grinning and panting quietly. "So do these knickers tear away too?"
Amélie chuckles, shifting to get up. "They can, but only once. Let me."
Lena feels a pang of disappointment as she gets off of her lap, but it's quickly eclipsed by a bolt of heat as Amélie turns and slowly bends to begin undoing the clips of her garter. She sits up to watch, not noticing how her jaw hangs open as long, thin fingers slip under the scrap of lace and lazily peel it down.
Her brain short circuits a bit.
Wet, echoes faintly in her head. Pretty. Pink, wet, soft, wet, wet, wet, wet.
Her nails dig into the sheets as Amélie steps out of the underwear, legs parting. Pale hands slowly drag up the sides of her boots and along her inner thighs.
"Like what you see, chérie?" Amélie’s teasing voice greets her, two of those spidery fingers slipping between her legs and spreading.
"Nnhhn," comes Lena's best attempt at a response as she throbs harshly. Pre-cum leaks onto her furry belly, not that she notices.
Amélie takes her momentary silence to redo the suspenders holding up her stockings before turning once more to face Lena.
"I'd take off the boots, but it seems like you like them on."
Lena’s reply is a squeak, face a guilty, bright red as she continues staring with wide eyes. Amélie keeps herself trimmed neatly, an appealing thatch of dark hair framed by thick thighs.
"Fuckin' hell," Lena finally whispers, to Amélie’s amusement.
Amélie gets to her knees next to the bed and Lena feels her heart jump into her throat as cool, slim fingers finally return to the waistband of her underwear. There's no hesitation as they slip under and tug, dragging the ruined cotton down and off at last.
Lena, unsurprisingly, feels pretty exposed like this. It's been quite a while since she's been naked in front of another person - the last was a sweet little environmentalist she met through work about five months ago, bless her - and her flush spreads down to her chest as Amélie takes her turn to stare, cold hands spreading her thighs wide as she leans in. Lena whines, just a little, as she feels intentional breaths on her sensitive bits.
"Mm, magnifique," Amélie whispers, and with only a quick glance up to Lena to make sure she's watching, she leans in and runs her tongue from sheath to tip of the throbbing red flesh. Lena isn't given a chance to even breathe before lips are closing around her and suckling, slowly bobbing lower and lower down her length.
"You don't--" Lena starts, concentration broken as golden eyes sweep back up to meet hers and soft lips reach the fur of her sheath. "You don't have to do that," she tries again, voice cracking and eyes squeezing shut as Amélie sucks, hard. When she opens them, dazed, Amélie only raises an eyebrow, lazily lapping at the underside of her shaft.
"Just. Just sayin', for the record and all," Lena mumbles, covering her hot face with her hands. "I'm not gonna stop you if you're havin' fun, 'm not mental."
Amélie pulls away slowly, relinquishing her length with a pop. "Merci bien," she says drolly, then gives the tapered tip a kiss before letting it fall back against Lena’s stomach. She dances the fingers of one hand up Lena’s thigh, resting her cheek against the other, eyes intently focused on the twitching length. Her fingers brush against it, lightly dragging a nail up the underside, before wrapping around it with a firm squeeze.
"Tiens, tiens… you are a big girl, no?" Amélie grins from between her spread thighs, slowly beginning to stroke her. She notes the twitch running through the hot flesh at the praise. "I cannot wait to fit this all inside of me.”
Lena peeks between her fingers down at Amélie, letting out a weak moan. "Probably gonna knot before I ever even get inside you at this rate, love, so I dunno about all that."
Amélie practically purrs at that, leaning in to fit her mouth around the tip once more, tongue sweeping along the leaking slit. "Fuck," Lena whispers again, hips twitching as she reaches out to rest a hand on the back of her head. Amélie starts sucking her deeper, swallowing her down easily even as she fully unsheathes in response.
She feels herself prod the back of her throat and then press further, jerking against Amélie’s mouth as her sudden moan reverberates through her. Those dangerous yellow eyes give her a wink as she swallows her to the base, nuzzling at damp fur and kneading at Lena's thighs.
A small wave of panic washes over Lena as she realizes the base of her cock is starting to throb. She feels Amélie’s fangs nudge at the sensitive flesh, sharp little pricks that make her breath catch in her lungs.
"You might wanna back off before those chompers of yours get stuck," she says, chest fluttering when Amélie lets out another soft moan in response.
It’s difficult to tell exactly, but it seems as though Amélie pouts as she backs off. It's actually kind of cute - Lena's never met someone so happy to have their mouth on her knob before. Her length flops wetly against her hip as Amélie releases it, mottled red and pulsing as a river of pre-cum dribbles from her. Lena shivers at the look she gives it and hurries to catch her attention before she lunges for it again.
"Hey, back up here for a bit?" Lena asks, patting the space on the bed next to her and squeaking as a cool nose nuzzles at her furry balls anyway. It’s followed by warm lips and then Amélie relents, straddling Lena’s lap and looping her arms around her neck.
"Like this, little pup?" she breathes against her lips, rocking her hips down to grind her wet slit against firm, excited heat.
Lena whimpers, reflexively cupping her tight rump and squeezing, but leans them back onto the mattress with a wolfish grin. "Was thinking a bit higher up, actually," she says, punctuating it with a lick of her lips.
Amélie kisses her, temporarily leaving her breathless as her tongue slips against hers, the taste of her strong on her lips, then climbs up her body to straddle her face. Long fingers tangle in her hair between fluffy, perked ears as Lena rests her hands on Amélie’s thighs, pulling her down onto her mouth.
She starts with soft, sloppy kisses, dragging her lips against Amélie’s folds and burying her nose in damp, tickly hair, savoring the pleased sigh she lets out in response as much as the heady taste of her arousal. She lazily nuzzles at her slit, opening her mouth to slip her tongue through soft pink lips and grunting out a moan as Amélie bears down on it.
She quickly loses control of the activity.
Amélie tugs at her hair, grinding herself against her face and moaning at the slick slide of Lena's tongue against her clit. Her hips move with seemingly no regard for her comfort, barely giving her a chance to breathe as she rides her face.
"Good dog," Amélie pants out, whimpering as her tongue presses past her entrance. Lena’s tail thumps happily against the bed at the praise despite the hot flush it brings to her face; Amélie’s free hand cups a warm, freckled cheek with a smirk even as her hips twitch against her mouth.
"You like that, no? Being called my good little puppy?"
Lena whines, squeezing sharply at Amélie’s thighs as her syrupy words trickle down her ear, hips bucking against air. "Such a good girl, letting me use your pretty mouth."
She lets out another pleased sigh, meeting Lena’s eyes with a smolder.
“Aime-tu ça, que je sois assise sur ta face, chérie?” she quietly asks, grinding her hips in a slow circle against her hot, wet mouth. “Aime-tu comment je goute, ma petit chienne?”
Lena whimpers her assent, feeling more pre-cum drool onto herself at the low, teasing French. Her lips close around Amélie’s clit, sucking and lapping at the engorged little bud as wetness smears across her chin and thighs squeeze around her head. Her nose is full of her scent, mouth watering from the taste of it, every sigh and gasp sizzling as they hit her ears.
“Utilise tes doigts,” Amélie suddenly demands with a groan as she leans forward over Lena's face, “je veux prendre ta queue en moi après ça.”
Lena gives a responding twitch at the words as she obediently slips a hand underneath Amélie, petting at her slick folds and sliding a finger inside of her. She huffs, pressing her own thighs together as warmth and pressure greets her, strong walls squeezing tightly around her already. Another finger quickly follows, scissoring inside of Amélie as she continues humping Lena’s face.
"That's it, bonne chiot, stretch me," she says, crying out as a third works into her. They curve against her front wall on every thrust, forcing weak moans from her that quickly rise in volume.
"Plus fort," she gasps, mashing her clit against Lena’s lips and tugging sharply at her hair. "Mon Dieu, Lena, plus fort!"
Lena's fingers dig inside of her roughly at the plea, no longer thrusting but forced deep and rubbing mercilessly while Amélie jerks against her mouth.
She lets out a surprisingly breathy squeak as she cums, shuddering on top of Lena's face. It's the most flustered she's seen Amélie all night; face dusted a light pink, pouty lips parted, elegant brows drawn together. She nearly looks sweaty.
When she goes limp, resting her face in the crook of her elbow, Lena slowly eases her fingers out one by one, gently petting and kissing her folds as she calms down.
When she sits back on her knees, running a hand through the hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail, Lena presses a wet kiss to the inside of her thigh, then sucks hard and nips to leave a dark red mark.
When she shifts off of her, raising an amused eyebrow at the new hickey on her inner thigh, Lena sits up and shrugs with rosy cheeks, grinning at the wetness that drips down Amélie’s thighs as she stands.
"Ah, oui. I simply require a fluid break." Now that she mentions it, Lena notes she does look a bit peaky - out of the heat of the moment, her complexion has faded to a sickly pallor, the bags under her eyes more pronounced. Lena nods, subconsciously reaching between her legs to stroke her sheath as she licks her fingers clean, and flashes her a reassuring grin.
"Take your time! I'll clean up a bit while you're gone. Loo's the other door, yeah?" she asks, nodding at the door opposite the one leading to the hall.
Amélie licks her lips, eyes following the movement of Lena’s hand with keen interest while her own reaches for the doorknob.
"Oui. Don't have too much fun without me, chérie. I will be sad if I do not get that knot tonight."
Lena huffs around her damp fingers and squeezes at herself as Amélie leaves, the sound of her chuckle echoing down the hall.
Once her legs stop feeling like jelly, Lena pads into the attached bathroom to clean up. It’s nothing extraordinarily fancy: plain white tile, simple tub and toilet, a mirror above the sink. She washes her hands and face with cold water, patting at her cheeks to soothe the flush that she’s sure hasn’t gone away since she stepped into the manor, then turns on the hot water just long enough to get it warm and give the exposed part of her willy a good splash.
She maybe gives it a tug, too; the warmth of her hand feels nice and she’s calmed down enough to be almost fully sheathed again, not that she thinks Amélie would have any trouble coaxing it out once more, or would mind doing so.
Lena splashes a little more water onto her stomach to take care of the messy pre-cum drenching her fur, grumbling good-naturedly.
“Figures, I go getting myself all sticky...”
The hair at the back of her neck stands on end only seconds before cool breasts press against her back, equally cool hands settling on her shoulders as she jumps. Her eyes snap up to the mirror, but it only shows herself, wide-eyed and alone.
“Bonsoir,” Amélie’s husky voice purrs into her ear, hands slipping down her arms and up her chest. Lena shivers and watches in the mirror as her nipples are pinched by unseen hands.
“Hullo,” she says, once her heart climbs out of her throat. “Bit spooky how you creep up on me like that.”
“That’s the point,” Amélie responds, nuzzling and mouthing at her ear. “Did you still want to keep going, chérie?”
One hand slips down her front to pet along her sheath, running light fingers along the jutting peep of red flesh. Lena’s hips jerk into the touch.
“Fantastique.” Amélie nips at the scruff of her neck and backs away, though not before playfully flicking Lena’s tail. “I will be waiting.”
She takes a moment to remember how to breathe before she shuts the water off and follows her back out.
When she re-enters the room, she finds Amélie sprawled on the bed with one knee propped up, idly rubbing between her legs and looking straight at her.
“There’s a water on the table for you,” she sweetly informs her, casually nodding to the bottle as if she’s not touching herself. Lena’s hand shakes as she grabs for it.
“Thanks, love,” she mumbles, not taking her eyes off Amélie as she unscrews the cap and takes a drink.
After their little break, she certainly seems refreshed - her eyes are bright and her skin has some color - Lena thinks she knows what kinds of ‘fluids’ were consumed in her absence. As long as it isn’t hers, she doesn’t want to think much about it. She’s just glad Amélie is looking better.
She drains the water and sets it back down, blushing as she continues to watch Amélie paw at herself. Does she climb up next to her? Does she keep watching? She can hear the soft wet noises her fingers are making and it’s making her fidget.
“Come here, silly girl,” Amélie finally teases, taking pity on the nervous girl and spreading her legs wider with a beckoning finger. Lena eagerly obliges, licking her lips as she climbs onto the bed. Amélie’s free hand cups the back of her neck and pulls her down to steal a kiss, while the wet fingers between her legs turn to cup Lena’s sheath.
Her hips jolt at the touch. She moans against Amélie’s lips, wet tip brushing against damp hair and nudging at slick skin. Her body presses down onto her, chest to chest, belly to belly, mouth to mouth. A booted calf hooks around her hip, hugging her even closer.
“Inside, ma caniche surexcité,” Amélie murmurs against Lena’s mouth, stroking at her sheath with a soft peck.
With the hand lining her up, all Lena has to do is push her hips forward and she’s inside of her, oh bollocks, she’s so tight. It’s the loudest thought Lena has at the moment, whining against Amélie’s lips and squeezing at her thighs as she enters her. As if spellbound, her pelvis rocks up in short thrusts on its own, more and more of her quickly extending length pressing into Amélie, to her appreciative sighs and groans.
Each thrust sees another inch sliding out from her sheath and burying into Amélie, spreading her pink lips with every pump of her hips. Lena buries her face in the crook of her neck as she tries to keep them slow and even for Amélie’s sake, until a low growl of “accouple moi,” accompanies a sharp bite to her ear and an encouraging swat to her ass.
Lena feels her face burn and her hips immediately pick up in response, wildly bucking into Amélie as she lets her instincts take over; she bites at her shoulder and holds her tightly by the hips, slamming her swollen red length into her as deep as she can get it, as fast as possible. Amélie arches under her with an uncontrolled moan, digging her nails into Lena’s back as her heat surges into her at a punishing pace.
“Yes, that’s it,” she huffs against a fluffy ear, scratching hot red lines over Lena’s shoulders. “Bonne fille, bonne chiot, Lena, such a good puppy.”
“I’m gonna--” Lena gasps, hips stuttering against hers as her cock throbs and thickens, beginning to swell at the base. The next few thrusts are slower as it grows, still able to work in and out of her, if only barely.
“Merde, breed me, little Lena,” Amélie moans, tossing her head to the side and rolling her hips to encourage her to bury it in her.
Lena lets out a growl of her own and sits up, lifting the leg hooked around her hips to her shoulder and spreading Amélie wide. “Nothin’ little about this knot, love,” she huffs out, grinding the swollen flesh purposely against her clit as she nuzzles at the ankle of her boot with a smirk.
Amélie whines at the tease, clenching desperately around Lena’s length as her eyes squeeze shut. “Mon Dieu, Lena, noue moi s'il te plaît!”
It’s only a little bit too big now, barely fitting through her entrance at the widest point as Lena fucks her with it. With a final sharp thrust of her hips and a hiss from Amélie, she pops it inside at the last possible second, moaning as it swells to seal her up and pulses of runny heat begin spurting into her.
“Oh merde, Lena, good girl, bonne, bonne fille.”
Her praise trails into French much faster than Lena’s comprehension can follow, but the soft, pleased tone is still evident, as is the pretty flush of her face and the desperate clench of her walls around her cock. Lena pants wordlessly against Amélie’s boot herself, hips twitching and tail beating loudly against the mattress as she cums inside of her.
She’s cumming inside of her.
She can feel the warmth steadily filling Amélie as it thunders out of her, sealed up tight with her knot so not a drop can escape, and she struggles to catch her breath, suddenly dizzy with the knowledge. Her free hand pets at Amélie’s folds, previously left abandoned in favor of gripping at Lena and the bedsheets, thumb circling the swollen, twitching clit and dipping lower to feel where she’s knotted.
“Howzat feel, gorgeous?” Lena mumbles against the hide of her boot, dragging her now-slick thumb back up to tease at her clit. Amélie’s hips jerk at the touch, the movement tearing a whimper from her as it tugs at the knot.
“Magnifique,” she gasps, nearly a sob. “I’m so full, Lena.”
She feels Amélie’s inner muscles tense and spasm around her in waves, unable to squeeze her out and helpless against the steady squirts of cum she’s flooding her with, and moans against her calf in response.
“Not too ‘little’ then?” Lena cheekily asks, still thumbing slowly at her clit.
“No, mon Dieu, you are so big I can barely twitch, chérie.”
Amélie runs a hand through her hair and cracks an eye open to peer between them, letting out a low moan at the sight of Lena’s fur pressed right against her sticky, flushed skin, her thumb rolling against her clit.
Both eyes open and slip up to take in Lena’s freckled pink face subconsciously nuzzling at her boot, smiling smugly down at her. Amélie purses her lips and arches a sharp brow.
“I was right about the heels though, no? Give them a lick, chérie, unless you would prefer to keep drooling over them.”
It knocks the smug look off Lena’s face, but luckily there’s another, smaller smug look underneath it that she rubs against the black hide.
“They’re nice boots,” is all she offers in defense, kissing down to the heel. The action forces Amélie’s knee nearly to her chest, spreading her wider with a muted whimper as Lena drags her tongue along the sole, eyes meeting hers in a lingering look.
“Such a good girl,” Amélie purrs, reaching down to cup herself and rub gently at her tender lips and clit, pressing Lena’s hand to her. She can feel the pulse and throb of it inside of her, knot gloriously tugging at her entrance with every shift of their hips, distracting with equal parts pain and pleasure.
Lena slowly grinds her hips against hers, digging her swollen length against slick, trembling walls as warmth continues to spill out of her in gradually slowing pulses, and kisses softly at the toe of her boot as the heel digs at her chest in an altogether not unpleasant way.
“Come here,” Amélie eventually murmurs, sliding her foot to Lena’s side and reaching out for her.
“Y’wanna snuggle?” Lena asks just to make sure, even as she carefully settles on top of her, head resting comfortably on her shoulder.
Amélie huffs and rolls her eyes, but her arms slip around her back to hug her closer, one hand gently tangling in her hair to scratch lightly at her scalp and behind her ears. “You are warm,” she says, as if that explains anything, and tries not to smile at the way Lena’s tail nudges at her knees as it wags.
“Mm, alright. No complaints from me. We’ll be tied for another ten minutes at least, twenty if you don’t want me to give a helping tug.”
It’s met with a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment as Amélie pets at her hair and stares off into space. There’s a moment of pause where Lena feels her eyelids droop until she hears Amélie speak again, quiet and close to her ear.
“This has been nice,” she whispers. “It’s been a while since I have indulged like this. Merci, ma belle.”
“Aw, thank you, love,” Lena mumbles back. “Not every day I get to shag a gorgeous vampire, and it definitely made up for the shit luck I had earlier.”
There’s another peaceful silence for a moment. Lena remains throbbing inside of Amélie, though the pulses begin to weaken as time passes. She almost doesn’t hear her when she speaks again.
“... Do you think you could go again tonight?”
Lena laughs, nuzzling her face against Amélie’s neck, and gives her hips a squeeze.
This is the best holiday ever.
“Yeah, I think I could manage it. “