Taking N🎼tes: Major NSFW! Thanks again for the support everyone and sorry for the delay. I've almost got a routine down lol. Enjoy!
*~.Bound By Karma.~*
{10} The One To Dominate In Bed {10}
Fantasies torment Faelan like never before. She knows she should be paying attention to the doom and gloom plan that Harkon's concocting right before her fucking eyes with the imperious haughtiness of a thousand nobles, but all she can think about is fucking Serana right before his fucking eyes. The idea is tempting, but the bard knows Serana won't allow it. A shame. It'd make the court scandal of the century, to be sure. And the hottest fantasy.
Doesn't mean she can't try.
"Serana," she whispers behind the vampire, nearing so that her mouth is ready to sink in and sully that beautiful porcelain throat with bruises. Serana pretends not to hear her.
Or maybe genuinely doesn't hear, but that'll change soon.
Faelan steps closer, and a bit to the side, smirking when amber orbs flicker over to her before back to the pompous Lord. "I know you can hear me. And see me. I'm a vampire too, now, remember? I know what you're capable of." She deliberately positions herself so that she can at least be seen in the corners of Serana's eyes, and she knows she is in fact seen when the vampire sighs, crossing her arms, nails sinking into biceps. Faelan bends forward and rises on her toes to reach the Nord's height, mouth hovering over Serana's ear as she drawls every syllable in a low lilt. "Ser~an~a..."
"Sh. Pay attention." Short and curt, but the way Serana is pinching herself betrays what she's actually paying attention to.
"Go!" Harkon's voice booms and carries throughout the court. "Scour the lands, find the Moth Priest and bring him to me!"
"But first," Faelan murmurs, grabbing Serana's wrist to drag her off, who puts up startling little resistance. They round the corner and Faelan traps Serana against the wall, reaching up as high as she can on her toes so that she's able to kiss the vampire's throat. Faelan hisses when hands sneak under her blouse and nails rake down her stomach, hooking and aggressively tugging on her waistband.
"Moth Priest," Serana rasps, suppressing a groan when fangs scrape the junction of her nape and shoulder. "Faelan. Not here."
"Back to your chambers?"
"No."
Despite the words coming out of Serana's mouth, her hands are saying something different entirely. Yes. She keeps tugging on Faelan's leather leggings so that there isn't an inch of space between their bodies, their chests rising and falling erratically. The need is burning inside of Faelan and all she wants is to hear her name slip past Serana's lips, even if it's the quietest whisper, or at least mouthed as they struggle to stay silent.
Faelan pulls out all stops and pins Serana's hips to the wall as she kneels, untying the vampire's trousers and pulling the flaps apart. She looks up with a wicked grin that grows when Serana's head lulls back against the wall, eyes closed, lips moving in what seems to be a silent prayer, or maybe a hail of curses. The bard can't wait to hear her name echo in this majestic hallway. She eagerly pulls the underwear down enough to lean in and sneak her tongue along, humming, pleased to find Serana wanting this, even if she'll never be caught admitting it. Not verbally, anyways. She'll submit to pleasure soon enough.
Fingers tangle in Faelan's hair and twitch when she pulls the vampire's slacks down to the mid-thighs, enough room for her hand as she fingers and suckles.
"Someone's going to catch us," Serana gasps, though it comes laboriously in between pants and suppressed groans. She tightens her hold and her next protest dies when Faelan rolls the clit between teeth as she slides a finger inside the slick and blazingly hot core. Vampirism hasn't changed this part much, it seems. Does it change what lovemaking is like at all?
Only one way to find out.
"Faelan," Serana murmurs, and it's like adding oil to the flames coursing inside of the bard's veins. She shudders when she hears it again, and again, and louder, and needier.
Her elbow is tugged, and she bumps into someone.
"Faelan," Serana says impatiently.
The dream is shattered when Faelan looks over at the vampire beside her, rather than above her. She's pretty sure she looks as annoyed as she feels.
That goes for both vampires.
"What are you staring into space for? We need to move and find the Moth Priest before any of my father's lackeys do."
"You just ruined a marvelous daydream," Faelan grumbles, "You know, you're much nicer in my thoughts."
"What a relief I'm nothing like whatever you've cooked up in your mind," Serana sasses back. Her heels snap against the floor as she takes the lead and walks away, and Faelan employs her overactive imagination to try to picture what the vampire's rump looks like, hiding beneath that bloody aggravating cloak. It's going to be the first thing that goes when Faelan drives Serana crazy enough to ever get anywhere near to being stripped down. One thing Faelan's sure of is how the vampire is a straight up magnificent walker, leading like a natural-born leader with all the confidence in the world, an undeniable sense of admirable assertive authority in her tone as she speaks over her shoulder. "Let's go get your friends."
"How can you ignore what's screaming inside? It's all I can think about." Faelan blurts, and she has her answer when Serana slows down to a stop, reluctant to turn. It doesn't deter the bard. "I need to have you." She glances around the court, but it's empty and her own keen ears pick up voices that are too far to discern what's actually being said. She lowers her voice and approaches Serana, stopping when the vampire looks at her with a strained smile.
"I'm not ignoring it. I'm just not indulging it. It's the only way to beat an illusion."
"It's not an illusion, or I would've sensed it and dismantled it by now."
"Don't be arrogant and oblivious, it's unworthy of you." Can that pass for a compliment? That's shocking. "This is no ordinary illusion trick, conjured by magic and mind. It's influencing our bodies in order to influence our minds in a more natural way, to make us believe we want it if it's all our bodies yearn for."
"How do you know? Did you read some sort of book while I wasn't looking, or is this the excuse you've made up to hide behind?"
Serana's eyes narrow. "I'm not hiding. And I know because before the turning, you would've never thought of me this way, nor I towards you."
"That's because Dibella's influence clouded us and prevented it, but now that's gone."
"Replaced by Molag Bal's influence instead."
"Last I checked, I want to make you submit to pleasure, not to me. I have no desire to dominate you, but every desire to dominate in bed." Faelan decisively comes closer, frowning when Serana takes a step back. "At least a kiss? You didn't enjoy it, before?"
"Neither of us are in our right mind, Faelan. Just... Let's wait a week, okay?"
"I'm going to explode before then," the bard groans exasperatedly, tugging irritably at her waistband. "I need to do something about this now or I'll snap and hump chairs."
Serana deadpans. "Please don't."
Her flat look only sparks mischief, and Faelan angles to tackle with a new and more diabolical tactic. "Maybe I'll even hump your father. Make love, not war."
Serana groans and walks away. "I'll kill you if you do."
"Ooh~ is that jealousy I hear?"
Sparks crackle and dance down the arm held out to the side in a frightening display as the vampire saunters down towards the dungeon, but Faelan fearlessly pursues with her mischievous grin aching her cheeks, despite Serana's menacing threat. "No, but you'll hear your cells frying soon enough, if you dare continue. And then I'll freeze you in a block of ice to help stop you from behaving like a wolf in heat."
Faelan stops in her pursuit, laughing nervously. It earns a raised eyebrow but she brushes it off and pretends to busy herself with tying her hair up, ignoring the dull ache of her shoulder. At least it doesn't hurt as much as it did before, but what happened to regenerating faster as a vampire? Maybe she hasn't fully come into her powers yet. The notion is becoming less... Disconcerting.
She isn't sure if that's a bad or good thing.
"I'm just saying, I'd be perfect for the charm offensive," Faelan offhandedly says to take the target off of her. She sniggers when it backfires in such a predictable manner.
"Like that assassin in Solitude?"
"How many times do I have to say it? No lady looks her best when she's being choked out." She grins devilishly and is delighted to be indulged by the vampire's roll of the eyes, accompanied by a groan before she even gets to land her punchline. "Shall we experiment and test this out for ourselves?"
"You're despicable," Serana grumbles. "The Gods must have abandoned Nirn if they actually chose you to be the Dragonborn."
Unfortunately, Faelan's not indulged further than that, and though she's tempted to be a pest to settle her nerves, they overtake her and get the best of her the second they enter the dungeon. Faelan composes her expression to come off stoic when they pass by the thrallmaster, and she takes her cue from Serana when the vampire tilts her head ever so slightly. The bard clears her throat and assimilates in a more assertive posture. "Prepare the prisoners and have them out by the docks in an hour. We'll be taking them with us for sustenance as we go out to search for the Moth Priest."
Whatever she's said, it doesn't seem to bode well for Serana, who's expression is just as unreadable, but her eyes seem to be screaming something at her. Has she made a mistake of some sort? She doesn't think so, especially when Rargal bows in deference and complies. Her stomach flops viciously when he takes a whip and chain off the wall.
"Don't harm them," she blurts, and the thrallmaster's brow arches inquisitively, a subtle bemused smile curling his lip. She doesn't need to look over at Serana to know she's made a mistake now. "I don't want them to slow us down and be bellyaching over their wounds."
"They won't if you enthrall them, milady. Shall I break their minds down so you can enthrall them now?"
"That's not necessary, I'm fully capable of doing such a simple task myself," Faelan spits hastily.
This is spinning out of control, and that much is evident by the way Rargal doesn't hide his smile. He gestures down the hall leading to the dungeon. "Then why not do so now?"
"May I remind you, Rargal: remember your place and think about who you are questioning." Serana clips brusquely, and the thrallmaster stiffens in his spot. "As she is directly sired by a Daughter of Coldharbor, she is well above your station. Do not test her patience, nor mine. Do as you're told or suffer the consequences."
Rargal bows his head and mumbles a bitter apology as he slithers away to the dungeon. She marches to Faelan and grabs her elbow, dragging her off and shaking her head when Faelan's mouth opens. She clamps it shut and unwittingly goes so far to hold her breath, her innards broiling with anxiety as horrible images of torture flood her mind with the chains and whip. She's offered reprieve when they seek the solitude of Serana's chambers and the air held hostage in her lungs swooshes out in a starved gasp.
"Thank you," she hisses hoarsely, doubling over with her hands on knees as she gulps for air. "I didn't know what to say, it was just getting worse and worse and—"
"Next time you can't afford to show kindness or the news will circulate," Serana sighs, "And father will be well aware of what we're actually doing."
"If he doesn't already," Faelan grumbles, "He would be a fool not to be suspicious of us. It pains to admit it, but he's proven himself to be no fool. Was all of that a mistake?"
"We don't have time to prove ourselves trustworthy to him."
"That doesn't answer my question, Serana."
"I... Can see why you did what you did."
Faelan laughs mirthlessly and sighs, slumping down against the wall as she buries her head in her hands. "Still doesn't answer my question, Reina."
"I can't say for sure if it was or wasn't, but one thing's for sure, you have to stop acting on impulse. Who knows how those two will react to being brought out there, under the pretense that they're our meals."
"Oh, I can see it all perfectly already. Galen is going to be screaming at the top of his lungs about us being bloodsuckers. Bogio is going to scream at us with his accusatory eyes."
"We don't know for sure. Maybe it won't be so bad."
"Glad one of us takes on the role of being positive when the other is lacking," Faelan chuckles, but it rings hollow in her ears. Her bangs gnarl between her fingers when a hand squeezes her shoulder. She's keenly tuned to the smell and the subtlest sounds of fabric crinkling, and the shadow disappears from behind closed eyes. Serana's kneeling with her. "I don't know what to do now, Reina. Even if they're brought out there, what am I to do if Rargal waits around to see how I deal with them, and make them come with us? I'm not going to turn them into thralls, even if it's, by some miracle, reversible." She lifts her head with hope. "Is it?"
"I'm not sure. I've never done it myself, and vampires in this court..."
"Typically don't," Faelan finishes lamely, dumping her head in her hands again. "They'd sooner cast them off in bloody gladiator arenas to kill each other for sport," she spits in disgust. "Then kidnap more innocent people and repeat the cycle. Fucking repulsive. And I'm one of them now."
Regret tumbles over her the second those words leave her mouth, and she feels Serana's hand twitch on her shoulder. She kicks herself when the hand slips away and sinks her fangs into her forearm, muffling in remorse. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"I know," Serana whispers gently.
"No, I—" Faelan sighs, exhaustion closing her eyes. "I was wrong. You have every right to be upset with me."
"I can say the same to you."
"Yeah, but... But you did it out of necessity. I understand that now. You did what you had to do and you were right to make that call. If you'd just let me die because of my own perception..." Faelan sucks in a deep breath. Her eyes begin to burn. "We don't know for sure, like you said. Maybe it won't be so bad. It's not so bad." If she says it enough times, maybe she'll magically convince herself someday. "So what if I have teeth sharper than I used to? So what if my eyes are different? That doesn't make me different. I just eat different things now. Deep down, Galen has to know that. He eats fucking dead peoples' penises for crying out loud."
"I could have done without that image, thank you," Serana deadpans at the crack of a whip.
It's enough to draw a halfhearted laugh from them both, and enough to make Faelan's head rise again. The moment their gazes lock, the yearning inside of her intensifies. Her eyes are stuck on Serana's lips, and she nibbles on her own, burning under her skin. Her hand snaps around the vampire's wrist before she stands and runs away.
"Please," Faelan husks, "Just a taste..."
"We should get you some blood potions, the hunger is getting to you."
"That's not the taste I'm talking about and you know it." She crumbles when she looks up at Serana's eyes. "Please, Reina. I'll go mad if I don't. How aren't you feeling the same?"
Serana's gaze averts to the wall. She slips away and forces distance between them as she strides to her desk. Her confession, quieter than a mouse, thunders in Faelan's ears.
"I never said I'm not."
"Then...?"
"We're not of sound mind. You know that just as well as I do. Heed that rather than... The nagging desire."
Serana casually opens the drawers of her desk. When she leans over to look into them, something sickly hot jolts through Faelan and nestles deep in her chest, burning with frustration. She can't not heed it. She bounces up on her feet and closes the distance in swift and decisive strides, intertwining fingers with the vampire's hands from behind and pulling until she conforms to Serana's back. Faelan tucks her face in the crook of Serana's neck, whining pitifully when the vampire's rump presses firmly against her pelvis.
"You're driving me mad," Faelan grumbles, "Especially when you tease me like this."
The stupid cloak is the first thing that goes, abandoned on the floor. It'll be burned when Serana's not looking. Or smelling. Preferably passed out from a vigorous session.
"I'm not doing it on purpose." The quiet husk is almost deceptively innocent, and the way Serana's voice breaks, haggard and breathless, arouses Faelan more than a generous donation of supple flesh to appreciate. She leans forward and struggles not to burst in her skin when the vampire's body bends with her, and they stumble off balance, both reaching out with their one hand to catch the desk.
Breaths grow ragged as Faelan rises on her toes and sweeps Serana's hair out to the side, exposing her ear to sinful words and lips and fangs.
"We have to go," Serana rasps, but her hips say otherwise when they buck against the bold hand slipping down between her thighs. "Galen and Bogio—"
"Can wait five minutes."
Gods, she sounds so pitiful with how pleading her tone is. Faelan latches on to Serana's ear and blindly unties the laces to the vampire's trousers, sneaking down to touch through underwear that's on it's way to growing damper than it is. She squeezes her eyes shut as tightly as possible and tenderly bites down on Serana's shoulder to muffle her noises of satisfaction, proud to have garnered such a wanting reaction from the otherwise reserved woman. Why does she hold herself back? If they feel it, they should explore those feelings rather than hide away from it.
"There's no harm to make love. It hurts not to," she murmurs. "Let me please you, please. Let me free you. If you hate me tomorrow, so be it. I will endure my name passed with loathing, and the sting of your words. But today..." Hot fire surges through her when Serana's hips twitch against her hand, when she slides the underwear to the side, gliding a finger along a slick slit. It gives her no small measure of pride. "All I want to hear is my name passed with rapture, and to feel the sting of your nails."
"Fae... Lan..." Serana twists and her other hand slips away from the bard, holding on to the desk with white knuckles. Faelan adjusts and conforms closer, tugging on the lip of the vampire's trousers to give her wrist more room and angle to work with. She nips the corner of the red tunic and tugs it outwards the shoulder, exposing more skin to teeth. She nibbles on the meaty flesh, tough and toned muscle, eliciting something in between a gasp and a groan from Serana as she stands her ground.
"We can't."
"We can."
Faelan teases and slips the tip of her finger inside a wanting core, keeping her eyes open to study as much of the side of the face she can see. Every part of her is pathetically desperate that this isn't another daydream, but it all feels so real. The enticing musk of sex floods her nose when she pulls Serana's pants out for more room, until she retracts completely to turn the vampire around by her hips. Faelan gives no chance for doubt to fester as she kneels and pulls the slacks down, ready to make her daydream a reality.
"If you say my name, call me by Lykos," she murmurs, offering no other explanation and delighted to see Serana look down out of curiosity. The bard knew there'd be no other way to force those eyes on her, otherwise, and she takes great pleasure in keeping a riveted gaze as she leans in for a taste. The strong slick musk is thick on her tongue and she grins devilishly when Serana gasps, her head lulling back as she holds on to the desk for dear life, the table creaking when her palm slaps over a little further. Another lick, and her elbows slam on the table, making Faelan wince for her.
"You okay?" Faelan husks sultrily, trying to tame her sinful grin before she loses the privilege of this for being too smug.
Tingles buzz down her spine at the next breathless gasp, and fingers tighten in her hair.
Yes.
Serana's back arches, her pelvis jerking forward. As much as it pains Faelan to say it, she wants to be sure there won't be any drastic regret. "Stop me if you want to."
"I don't want to, I-I mean..." A low curse of something along the lines of Oblivion slips past Serana's lips, and it honestly makes Faelan feel even dirtier than what she's actually doing, to pull something so scandalous out the precious princess' mouth. "I don't want to—" she hisses another curse in between, sounding more labored by the second. "—ssstop you."
"Good."
Because this is intoxicating, and influence or not, the bard's addicted already. Selfishly enough, she can't find it in her to care if whatever influence runs out and Serana hates her guts forever. Faelan's turned on just from the dark look she's getting, where the amber orbs glow with unbridled lust and screams that seem to promise punishment over this, rather than reward. She's not scared.
What's the worst a dainty princess can do? Even her cursing is innocent.
Serana pushes herself up on her palms again, but there's another resounding deep thud when her elbow connects with the desk and makes the wood creak loud.
"Try not to break your table, I'm not going to fix it," Faelan lilts in between bold licks and playful kisses to the vampire's mound. She's paid back dearly when the fingers in her hair tighten, and her own pelvis twitches instinctively over the low voice burning her ears.
"Less concern for the table, more concern for the woman on it."
Faelan chuckles, rising to a stand. She lowers on one elbow herself just to tease Serana, their arms brushing, their chests pressed firmly, and claims the vampire's lips. She's kissed back possessively, and groans in Serana's mouth when the tip of her tongue is suckled and nibbled between teeth. She seeks to regain the upper hand by slipping her fingers inside of Serana, swallowing a whimper as she warps to the body that arches back, nearly flat on the desk. The hollow behind the vampire's ear is deliciously sensitive, or so that is wagered when Faelan presses her tongue in and revels in the shiver she goads from it.
"Like this?" Faelan muffles as she latches on and sucks in the patch of skin, pressing up with her fingers and curling within. Her name—her name—is chanted, caught in choked moans tightening inside the throat, sometimes two full syllables, sometimes not even making it to the second letter. The way Serana's voice breaks beside her ear, the way her skin grows slick with sweat and gathers as a tang on the bard's tongue makes her guts clench when the rasping breaths turn into something primal and guttural.
Instincts take over and it's honestly an inspiration to watch the woman before her unfold and fall apart. One of Serana's legs falls wider, making her slacks ride up a bit on her thighs. It constricts how much room Faelan has left to work with, but it makes it all feel so much more firmer and warmer. Their hearts thunder as if in a race against each other, and she groans when Serana's fingers release her hair, desperately sliding under her blouse to rake nails down her back.
"Fucking yes," Faelan hisses, reveling in the stinging burn. "That's it," she coaxes, "Let yourself go and come undone."
Enraptured in the height of passion makes Faelan desperate to be acutely aware of every aspect of every moment, sharpening her senses and her memory in case if this will be the last in a good length's time. She focuses on what she sees, what she hears, what she feels, what she tastes, burrowing her face in Serana's neck and taking in a deep breath to drink in her scent, blotting everything else out until the world fades and all that exists is the woman moving to her rhythm on the table. She seeks out Serana's lips and swallows every low whimper and guttural moan, trembling against the vampire every time nails blaze up and down her back.
Something wet runs down her spine and it makes her want to burst in her skin, delirious and drunk off the smell of her own blood flooding the room. She grows desperate and rougher, chasing after Serana's release, focusing only on her touch and the reactions garnered from it.
Suddenly, Serana chokes, and her entire body stiffens. Not in a good way, Faelan wagers, and something deep inside of her screams to disconnect. She stops immediately, fingers still buried inside, aware of the way the walls flutter and hug her, staring and studying Serana's face as they both try to regulate their breathing. The stench of fear pervades the air, and Faelan's heart twists painfully when she's deprived of the glowing amber orbs, observing the flickers of agony tainting the vampire's expression.
"Reina?" Faelan whispers hesitantly. "I... Don't understand. What's happening right now? Are you alright? Can you open your eyes?"
Silence, and Serana shakes her head. Her bottom lip disappears behind teeth. The smell of fear is laced with salt. Faelan panics and withdraws her hand. "Oh. Oh, no. Did I hurt you? Was I too rough? Did you stop wanting it? I didn't mean to keep going if you didn't want it anymore. Serana, say something. Open your eyes. Please. I'm sorry. I should've—"
"It's not you," the words tremble, coming out in a shattered croak. Serana collapses on the table, lazily pulling her slacks up. She hides her face behind her hands, palms digging into her eye sockets. "I knew this was going to happen. Part of me was still foolish enough to believe it wouldn't. I just..."
Faelan hovers above, caging Serana's head between her elbows as she studies every single hint as closely as possible. "What happened? Or is happening. What's got you anxious?"
Serana chews her lip. She shakes her head again.
Frustration is an understatement for how Faelan feels. She was supposed to free Serana and blow her away with the kind of rigorous sex most dream of, but seldom experience. She wanted, and still wants, to free the woman from her own cage, to lose her edge and the chip on her shoulders, to listen to what her body wants rather than what her mind says. The bard pushes off and reluctantly begins to thread the laces of Serana's trousers back in their loops.
Fingers encircle her wrist and tethers her gaze up, but the vampire's eyes are still closed, and that smell of salt is growing stronger. Faelan's afraid of going through with what she wants to do, and if it's the right thing, but she's never been good at thinking things thoroughly through. Despite what she was told earlier, she lets impulse guide her, twisting her grabbed wrist so that she can grab Serana back, hoisting her up in one sudden swoop. The vampire yelps on the way up, and crashes into a tight embrace. Faelan hides her face in Serana's neck.
"I'm sorry. Had I known it'd conjure demons, I wouldn't have subjected you to that. You've always worn that haunt in your eyes as if they never leave."
"They don't," Serana mumbles, reluctantly wrapping her arms around the bard. "I thought they would for that, to distract me and take me away from them, but..."
Nothing more needs to be said. Faelan slowly stitches a picture together of all that she has come to know so far. There's truth burning inside her chest, wanting to roll off her tongue, but she bites down hard to keep it to herself. That's far more intimate than any touch to the body could ever achieve. She should let go when Serana begins to pull away, but instead she locks down on her arms and grabs her wrists to make sure her link is unbreakable.
"You said your parents dragged you into worshiping Molag Bal, and earlier you spoke of me being sired by a 'Daughter of Coldharbor' when you addressed that Rargal guy."
Faelan knows she's on the right track by how rigid Serana gets within a breath.
"Don't—" she starts, but the bard doesn't let her finish.
"I don't know too much about the Daedric lords, or even most of the Aedric pantheon. I've only ever sought the repentance of Dibella. But I can think of some things of what the costs and consequences are when paying tribute to a Daedra known for domination and submission, and... We really aren't so different, after all. We're on the same septim, but on different sides."
"Faelan, please just... Stop."
"I wish only to share with you my story. I ask not nor do I expect you to share yours. It might make you feel... Less... Alone, I guess." Faelan shrugs. "I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, b-but..." She sucks her lip in, nibbling on the corner of it. For all her boast and skill as a bard, it's shamefully embarrassing that she can't express herself adequately. She falters and retreats in a shell, only to be nudged out of it.
"But?" Serana carries on, with hope and intrigue and curiosity taking away the pain in her tone.
"But I want to take precautions that you won't feel what I imagine you are." Faelan grimaces. "That barely makes sense."
"It makes sense," Serana rushes to comfort. "So... What's your story?"
Faelan begins to pull away, surprised to feel arms lock down on her this time instead. There's no hope of overpowering the taller Nord, and she strains to glance over her shoulder, smiling to herself when she barely catches glimpse of Serana grabbing her wrists to make sure her link is unbreakable too. Faelan hides her face in the vampire's bosom, her smirk growing into something mischievous when tension ekes back into Serana's body.
"M-must you do this? Why do you always have to retaliate?"
"I'm not retaliating. This is my comfort zone."
"Oblivion take you," Serana curses softly, and Faelan laughs, infecting the vampire with her mirth. She loves the deep rumble of Serana's chuckles vibrating through her.
Every time silence falls between them, it almost seems to pull them closer. That's how Faelan feels anyways. She turns her head so that her ear is pressed to the vampire's chest, more than painfully aware of the painful discomfort. But she's never postured as anything but selfish, and relishes in the sound of the heartbeat thudding against her ear. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, grinning when one wooshes out of Serana, in sync with her.
"As you know, I said I chose Dibella to protect myself from my parent's mistake. Choice. I'm..." She chews her lip hard enough to threaten to break skin and bleed. It's a dearly sore spot, and a terror that will never cease to torment her. Especially now that she's no longer protected by Dibella's divine providence and grace.
Realization hits her like a landslide.
Arms tighten around her when she jumps and crawls in her own skin, wanting to get away from Serana. She pushes away, looking up at the vampire. "You have to let go of me. I'm not safe. I'm a danger to you." She pushes harder, but Serana keeps holding on, arching her brow in confusion.
"What are you talking about, Faelan?"
"It's not the influence, not the only one affecting me, I mean. Dibella's gone. I'm not safe to you anymore. Your body must've picked up on that, and that's why you got anxious and—"
"What? No. Trust me, it's not because of you, and now you're not making sense."
"Dibella protected me from being like my parents," Faelan blurts, and her throat suddenly tightens as her eyes burn, when the confession slips out as a mere husk of a whisper. "Of being like my father. Of taking that choice away from you. I did it, I was exactly like him." She struggles harder, then ducks down and wedges a healthy distance between them as she takes a few steps back. "I pressured you. You've kept saying no all along, and still I..."
Nausea slams her gut and she recoils, repulsed with herself. Serana's words are lost to the high-pitch ring that begins to buzz, drumming louder with a crescendo of dizzy spells. Faelan rushes for the door, ready to pass out. She needs to get out of here before she does. She's not safe to be around. She's going to hurt Serana the way he hurt m—
"Lykos!" Serana grabs her shoulders, spinning and pinning against the door before she escapes. "Snap out of it. You're not... Whatever you think you are, right now. You're not like that. Even I know that."
Lykos. If only she knew the gravity and weight that name carried. It's a curse and stain on the soul. Faelan stares, stumped, then laughs, but it's bitter and vengeful and empty. It's been the only comfort, to make light of the pain and belittle it so it doesn't hurt so much. She hugs herself, gluing her gaze to the floor out of shame, noticing all the little scuff marks of the door and the intricacies of the artistic hand that carved the wood. She slumps to sit down and looks up at Serana with a pitiful smile.
"Join me?"
Serana frowns, hesitance and sympathy in her eyes. She slowly kneels. The silence between them pushes them farther apart, now, and Serana crosses her legs as she scoots back to lean against the wall. She sighs and closes her eyes. "You weren't like him, you know."
Faelan studies precariously, idly rubbing her thumb against the floor for the sensation to ground her. "Are you telling me or yourself that?"
A sorrowful smile twinges the corner of Serana's lips, and with a heavy heart, she injects false levity in her tone. "Both."
Faelan draws her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them. She can't stop her gaze from wandering down the vampire's curves, and forces her eyes shut. "When I said why we have been drawn to the gods we have come to worship were not so unlike each other, I didn't actually want to be proven right, Serana. This is the one time I don't like it."
"I don't like it at any point in time," Serana quips playfully, but solemn.
It's getting harder and harder to keep the air light between them. It's suffocating, and Faelan can't find it in her to actually tell her story, even when she knows the vampire has likely pieced it all together already, just as how Faelan's got a guess herself of what trauma Serana has suffered through and survived. The bard weaves together scraps of courage to open her eyes, and is rattled to find Serana staring back at her, calm, and wearing a melancholic smile as if it's natural to her.
"That's the worst thing to be a natural talent at," Faelan blurts, puzzling the vampire, but she offers no explanation as she crawls over on hands and knees. She steals a kiss, though fear pries her away. Her hands tremble as they come up to frame Serana's jaw, but they're caught and lowered and tugged until she flops forward, awkwardly crashing into Serana, who seeks and steals a kiss of her own. Many of them.
"This is a bad idea," Serana whispers in between kisses. Faelan nods.
Neither of them stop.
"A really bad idea," Faelan murmurs, Serana nods.
"Do you plan to stop?"
Faelan shakes her head. She closes her eyes and smiles when she can feel Serana smiling in the kiss. Her wrists are pulled until she comes up to straddle the vampire's thighs, wrapping in another embrace as their arms loosely hook around the other's shoulders. Though Faelan is positively thrilled to be doing this, her mind won't stop screaming for continuously falling for the same trap. She abruptly breaks the kiss and rests her forehead on Serana's shoulder, gulping air to try and slow her roaring heart.
Serana's head tilts, resting against the side of Faelan's, and her hands fall to the hips, drumming idly. That's what the bard should be doing. Faelan sighs and dips down, pressing her mouth against the vampire's shoulder, muffling her words. "We should be so turned off right now, with the mess tormenting our minds."
"We should also be going outside to meet up with Galen and Bogio."
"Why do you have to turn me off even more?"
Neither say anything more, and silence stretches between them yet again, giving both emotion and thought time to nurture, or fester. Faelan knows they need to move, but she doesn't want to. There's a strange comfort, no matter how uncomfortable this is, in how they're both just sitting there, enjoying the weight and presence of the other. She sighs and forces herself to push away, at least enough for her to be able to meet Serana's eyes again.
Peculiarly enough, the vampire seems to have some light red dusting her cheeks.
Faelan smirks mischievously. "You're blushing. Is it because you enjoy having me on top, or on your lap?"
Serana looks off to the side and subtly tries to clear her throat with a cough. She chokes on it instead, but recovers quickly.
"That was the most graceful choke I'd ever seen," Faelan hums her tease, hooking her arms around Serana's shoulders. The vampire's eyes glint dangerously as she smirks back.
"Beats yours in Solitude."
The bard laughs. "You're never going to let me live that down, will you?"
"Not a chance."
Faelan lowers until their chests press firmly together, resting her forehead on the vampire's. Despite everything that's already happened between them, this still apparently unnerves Serana in a highly amusing way. There's no way Faelan's going to be bested in a battle of teasing. She licks the top of Serana's lip, flicking across to trace the outline, but backs away in the slightest increments whenever the vampire leans up to try and close the distance between their mouths. Faelan dips and dives over to suckle on Serana's ear lobe, grinning madly when she goads a gasp choked out beside her ear.
"I can't wait for the day we both break past our barriers," Faelan whispers. "Because hearing you, unrestrained, is easily going to be my new favorite hobby."
"Influence," Serana groans brokenly. Unacceptable.
"Say my name," the bard pleads, trailing kisses down to the neck. She hisses when nails sink into her hips and burn. It brings awareness to the dull aches throbbing all the way up along her back from the nails. She's nudged away when Serana turns her head, paying back the favor as she kisses Faelan's throat and suckles in a patch of skin, experimentally nipping. It sends an intense wave of ice-hot electricity shooting down her spine, buzzing between her legs, and she whimpers when Serana wedges a leg between her thighs. Faelan chuckles breathlessly, head falling on the vampire's shoulder. "So the princess has naughty ideas too, hm?"
"I'm not a princess," Serana grumbles irritably, pulling on the bard's hips to drag her up along the thigh.
It takes embarrassingly little time to work Faelan up, and soon her pelvis shamelessly shifts back and forth, seeking more delicious friction. She climbs and climbs and climbs, until suddenly it all stops, and she can almost hear Serana's smirk as lips spread against her neck.
And she shoves Faelan right the fuck off her lap.
"Wha—?!" Faelan crashes on the ground, and she's left bewildered, gaping like an utter fool while Serana stands calmly, all daintily brushing off imaginary dust and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her clothes.
"It's been a lot longer than five minutes," is all Serana offers before she leaves with her head held high, and the haughtiest smile the bard has ever witnessed.
Faelan grins, looking back at the table as the silence now brings her ever closer to the presence no longer here. There's an ache between her legs that cannot be willed away, and the bard shamelessly heads over to the bed to remedy her little problem. She's a patient woman. She doesn't mind waiting on Serana even if it's to have just one glorious moment of the vampire experiencing herself the purity of pleasure. Every turn Faelan's pushed, testing how far Serana's willing to go, and she's stood her ground, pushing back in delightfully sinful—yet still innocent—little ways.
"Beginning to think you're the one who's been wanting to dominate in bed, Reina..."
