"Push like this, see?" The princess demonstrates, and the weight of her body rocks the two of you forward.

"Oh God, do I ever. So… pink." Your nails are sunken into her thighs, keeping her in place. The pressure isn't enough to break skin, but the deep, crescent-shaped indentations left behind suggest otherwise.

"Mmm, you'll be glad once it's all over. Just trust me. Are you okay?"

"Well, you are pretty heavy— hey!"

"Excuse me? You're not the one doing all the work." She rocks again, this time covering more ground than the first sway.

"Well, excuse me," you hiss playfully, "you wanted to show me 'how it's done.' My ego's kind of bruised; I thought I was doing a decent job." You feign offence quite well, pout and all.

"I just think I can do better," she pants her muse. "Nails, nails, ouch. You're clutching too tight."

You ease your fingers up so they pad lightly over her soft flesh rather than stab. "Well, maybe if you'd just let me transform into my tentacle—"

"We do not need to get any messier than we already are. We can get the job done just fine like this."

"Just— ah! Slow down, will you? You're getting it all over me."


"My legs are sore. I told you to loosen your grip." She rubs over the ten depressions with flushed fingertips.

"Didn't want you to fall. Carpet's not that soft either, y'know?"

"Did I do okay? I mean, I know—"

"You did great. Really. It's been almost an hour, how are your arms?" The princess extends her slim wrist towards you, and you gladly massage the muscles. You have to give her credit; she did do all the work.

"Just as sore."

You kiss the inside of her clammy palm; she smells of a hard day's work. "Ready for round two? I'll be on top this time," and she looks horrified at your suggestion.

"You're too heavy for me. We're not both vampires." She returns your kiss by peppering one on your brow.

"Clearly. No sane vampire would do this," you scrutinize. Your eyes travel from the pink of her face to the fresh pink on the walls, newly coated and just a smidge darker than her complexion. You're still in utter disbelief that she managed to coax you into agreeing to paint your walls at all, even more so with a color that didn't exactly scream 'Vampire Queen,' or 'Daughter of Hunson Abadeer, Lord of the Nightosphere.'

There's one area just behind the ladder leading up to your room that's noticeably off, the one spot you did do. Miss Priss didn't exactly like your paint job, so she offered to do the rest of it, hence the pain in her arms and the ache in your shoulders; you even carried the girl so she could reach the spots she wouldn't normally be able to without your floating ability, or a ladder at least.

You stick your tongue out, just to reiterate. "So pink."

"Then maybe, as queen, you should redefine what exactly a 'sane vampire' would do, because clearly…" She trails off and gestures to the work you've dedicated the afternoon to finishing. "Besides," she looks back at you and smiles, squeezing your hand, "I'm sure only a sane vampire would date the princess of the Candy Kingdom."

You hum lightly, clearly pleased, floating to help her to a stand. "I'll get the paint."