Blood and Betrothal 2.0 (Leatrix Sage X Octopus Prince)

[OctopusPrince]

What a time to have a wedding. The human world was just on the precipice of discovering all of the things that went bump in the night thanks to an insurgence of Unseelie Fae trying to strong arm other supernatural organizations out of their lovely city, and of all the things she ought to be worrying about then, with her Coven, her witches, her territories and reputation, Malandra De Coursav was getting married. This had its purpose in the war to come, but it was funny, wasn’t it? The idea of having an elaborately orchestrated ceremony to show off the joined power of the largest coven on the west coast and the most powerful vampires in the country had been the last agreement she thought she’d make to save her skin, but here she was. Unfortunately, just signing a paper was not how things were done during these affairs- both vampires and witches had their traditions, and Malandra, being the heir to a demonic general beyond being a powerful witch, had standards to uphold if she was going to bind her very soul to a sentient leech.


That was the name of the game at this point really, sacrifices had to be made and Malandra knew well enough as a leader, as loosely as she wore that term these days, she had to be the one to lay the most on the line if she wanted anyone in her coven to be prepared to shed blood for their cause. That in its own right was still beyond their knowledge… she hadn’t really told anyone how bad it was getting out there, so rumors were flying about abducted witches, about enthralled humans, about the hunt that the Unseelie Court had set upon the city to claim the domain for their own. She liked to let her ladies do their own business for the most part, so pulling ranks had been... an unorthadox affair, to say the least. While she was still getting everyone on the same page about how they'd deal with this irritating fae scourge, she held her tongue on the details, of witches bodies with their organs carved out and their tongues branded with old celtic runes, of fae finding little groups of her witches in seedy clubs or apartment buildings and creating powerful warding barriers with their blood. The fae were quite frankly, getting on her last nerve-- she enjoyed a good blood bath like any demon ought to, but those were her girls. This kind of violence even in all the violence she'd known and caused in her life was unprecedented.


It was… odd, really… the ancient fae courts tended to keep their grapples beyond the veil. She didn’t pretend to know why their insurgence upon the more terrestrial supernaturals of the world had come with an overwhelming vengeance, but she was damn sure she’d find out along the way, and make it very clear, with her vampiric partner in tow, that the humans of the tall spiraling cities of steel and iron, the societies humans had built with all of their lights and cameras and military gusto, were the hunting grounds of her kin, not the damn dusty fae courts. Their time had long since passed, people weren’t wandering into the woods enchanted by singing voices or billowing spectres any longer-- it’d be nice, really, if fae in general would just shrivel up and die now that they’d been reduced to fan fare at best.


All they were good for at this point was decorative art on tarot cards as far as she was concerned-- they weren’t even considered frightening by humans anymore, made up with soft faces and pretty wings, holding orbs and sitting on mushroom heads. Fucking chumps, that’s all they were now. Vampires and witch craft at least still had some bite in the modern age. Well… Vampires were on the downward as well, really. Perhaps the vampire she was meant to wed would remind her why vampires were truly terrifying creatures of old-- that would be an exciting affair, especially at the wedding reception.

Malandra had a feeling that things wouldn’t go well. She wasn’t worried about getting on with her new spouse, this was a business matter and sure, she’d be happy to humor some sex occasionally, but they were doing this to bolster each other’s forces and forge an unyielding loyalty, not to hold hands and be best friends. And yet, still…. The fae were crafty, and she had a feeling that all of these traditions that were, ultimately, important, would also come to bite them in the ass when they were in the midst of forging their everlasting bond. It was a catch twenty two-- expose themselves to show truthful, binding loyalty to their mutual cause, or make some sort of non binding verbal agreement that couldn’t be trusted at arm’s length to avoid the fae managing an attack on them. When Malandra had been informed through a proxy that her future partner wanted to have the ceremony, it told her two things: that the vampire was gutsy, and that this might just work.

Malandra regarded herself in the mirror for the last time as some of her witches flitted around her making sure her garment and the ornamentation with it was perfect, her dress a deep black that glinted a deep red when it hit the light, pouring out from her hourglass waist like a bell and falling over itself in an elegant train at the back. She was quite pleased with the bustier aspect of the dress, full, plump breasts perked and swelling over an ornately beaded, heart shaped bust, and just for the sake of being tempting if nothing else, her throat was lined with an intricate chain of red rubies, cut like droplets.


She thought it poetic, if not a bit mocking, like drops of blood were hanging from around her throat to coax her new companion with the notion of partaking. She had never been bitten by a vampire before, even though she’d killed plenty in her day… with her demonic origins, she was curious what it might be like-- if it would give a vampire a boost of unique power of if they’d combust into flames like a roman candle. Over all she was lovely, even though she had gone all out for her wedding day, her lineage capable of stealing the finest features from her ancestors so that each generation was more beautiful than the last, her body a rubenesque fullness with dips and curves in all the most pleasing places, her eyes a brilliant, tawny gold lined by dark eyelashes, her face heart shaped and sweetly structured with a small nose and full, plump lips. From her head came a frankly unnatural loveliness. Deep red hair that fell into winding, wide ringlets spilling all the way down to her backside had at least for that day been braided and twisted up into a magnificent up do, some of the curls hanging free for the sake of a more whimsical, elegant look. Her veil, black chiffon, hung both behind her and over her face from a tiara of matching red gemstones, and beneath it all, just in case, she had lingerie she’d crafted herself out of black lace, as well as a very deadly, iron bladed knife strapped to her thigh.


Fae still hadn’t figured out how to deal with iron, poor, simple, old fashioned fools. At least vampires for all their old ways had learned how to adapt, to fit in and make themselves useful in the world. It was her genuine hope that with this union, she, her spouse, vampires and witches together could crush the fae court into what humans thought it was these days, nothing but a myth, a fairy tale with nothing behind it but old dead dreams.


There was a low drone from the unholy place where they would wed letting her know it was time to walk the walk after all the talking they’d done to get this contract on the road, so she blew her witches a kiss, most of them teary eyed and proud as they saw her out of the room, making her way to the arching doors on tall heels and with calm, deadly steps. There’d be some words said, some promises made, a soul contract that would drag her into a very long life with the vampire she was meant to wed, and perhaps, there’d even be a kiss, but what she was looking forward to most was what might come after, the blood that might be shed and the chance to see just what vampires could do when they had witches at their aid instead of at their throats. After all, vampires and witches especially in this area had been warring for territory and power for nearly a century. If not for the fae kicking the door in on their usual 9 to 5 battling, this agreement would’ve been laughed and thrown to the wind never to be considered again. But these were pressing times. Vampires were being drained of their power and ancient knowledge, witches were being hunted and slaughtered, used in ritual and possessed by thralls. All of that couldn't be tolerated any longer on either side.The enemy of her enemy, was a friend. Or rather, a wife.

 

[LeatrixSage]

A pair of lithe bodies were entangled in a collection of arms and legs and shifting muscles. Sweat slicked skin made it a requirement to hold on tight, and each would dig their fingernails into the other to find purchase as they moved together. On top was a blonde man, his shaggy hair damp from the morning’s activities and the appetites of the woman that growled under him. He chuckled at her ferocity, earning himself a vicious bite. Her tiny fangs cut grooves into his chest just above his heart, and then her talented tongue cleaned the blood away. Her mark soothed his spiteful, possessive need, and as Ivy Lioncourt stretched out beneath him, Markus Ainsworth buried himself into her quivering body. He watched with rapt focus, his hands holding tight to her sweat-slickened hips, as she writhed in time with the convulsions of her moist walls spasming around his cock.

He held her there as long as he could, knowing distantly that it might be the last time. Markus was loathed to be done, to have to leave her embrace and allow this farce of hers to take place. Like it or not, their time was ending, and when Ivy’s orgasm had passed, Markus dragged her tight against his chest and pumped into her with a new desperation. Her kisses shared his urgency, and she slung to him when he finally buried himself within her and unleashed torrents into her willing body.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” he growled some time later, when the world had rightened itself and his heartbeat had returned to normal. She went stiff in his hands, and he cursed as she crawled off of him.

“You know that doesn’t change anything,” she sighed as she walked away from him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand. It hurt her, too. More than she could ever afford to tell him. But, this was what was needed, and so it was what would be. “Too many of us have been picked off by them as it is, far more than the witches have ever managed,” she was reciting the same old arguments, and while Markus rolled her eyes at her, he knew he was speaking for her one piece of mind, not his.

“We adapt, or we die,” he muttered, hating that his advice was coming back to haunt him.

“Exactly,” Ivy called from the bathroom. She was cleaning herself up. After all, she was getting married in an hour. It wouldn’t do to stand at the alter with Markus’ cum still inside her. Even if it did have a perverse appeal. Ivy wasn’t capable of such a disgrace to tradition, it simply wasn’t in her. She could love the man she wanted, but she could not stain the ceremony that would follow with callousness and spite. If Ivy was anything, she was the leader she had been bred to be. The Lioncourts were a family of living vampires that had long been led by Luzige, an ancient even among the undead. Traditionally, he chose who they married, and who they sired, and one among every generation was his. When Ivy’s mother had come to her first death early, Luzige had chosen her to take up the mantle as his warden. Through her he could feel emotion, witness the sun, enjoy color and music, all things lost to him now that he was a soulless undead. From him, she took strength beyond that of normal living vampires, along with his powerful senses and supernatural abilities. The trade was that he owned her, completely, and she had paid dearly for disturbing his well lain plans.

Markus was supposed to be her mate. He was her senior by nearly a century and had watched her grow up, but it had been planned even before her birth that she would be his. When she had been young, she had resisted, believing what she felt for the man was some kind of trick. Time, however, had taught her differently. And now, she had blundered many centuries worth of planning, and all Luzige’s efforts to craft a vessel strong enough to out-last the burden of his demands. She has convinced him, however, to allow this on the promise that she would still beget at least two children by Markus. It wasn’t classy, but she could make it happen.

All of that had to be put aside for the time being. Lean, and lanky Ivy had to focus on dressing and brushing her hair. The black and red motif as common place – gothic vampires being as stereotypical as possible – but the dress slacks, button up shirt and jacket didn’t help her already lean frame. Ivy wasn’t thin, exactly, she was muscular and healthy, but what curves her body had vanished under the sharp lines. And yet, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she was surprised to find she still looked feminine, even if there was a certain coldness about the outfit.

Luzige was grinning behind her eyes, and Ivy felt his lips on her cheek as surely as if he had been standing there. He of course couldn’t step foot on hollowed grounds, but he could watch the ceremony through her eyes. She thanked him for picking out the clothes. It was something she had been utterly unable to do. In the end, a simple suite did feel like the best choice for her. Still, there was a sense of loss over the fact that she wouldn’t be wearing a gown to her wedding.

It seemed as if she blinked her eyes, and then she was standing at the alter and waiting for the witch to make her appearance. Markus stood off to her right, as curious as Ivy as to what this woman looked like. They didn’t have to wait very long. Flaming red hair caught her attention first, gold and copper strands that seemed to throw off their own light. Following one of those curls down a smooth cheek brought Ivy’s eyes to a latticed necklace with a scattering of rubies that looked like drops of blood. One could say the peace was lewd to vampiric tastes, and while Ivy frowned, Markus sniggered.

The woman was… stunning. Tall heels brought her eye level with Ivy, but Ivy was wearing a thin pair of dress shoes, flats, and she had the feeling to woman would barely reach her shoulders when she was barefoot. Where Ivy was a lean predator, the little witch was a siren, soft curves and smooth skin that begged to be touched. Some words were said, some promises were made, the beginnings to a contract that would be sealed in private at a later date, but Ivy’s attention was entirely diverted by the woman that would be her wife. Her stood her enemy, in all her glory, and as the words were spoken that made this woman hers, Ivy felt a grasping sense of greedy possession well up within her.

It’s just instinct, she told herself resolutely. It was just the bond of sire and ward settling into place, nothing more. Ivy ignored it as she took the woman’s hand to slip a silver band onto her finger, promising to protect and provide for the woman before she took Ivy’s hand to make similar proclamations and return a ring for a ring. With so little, they were bound, the ceremony a blend of traditions to bind them body to body and soul to soul. It was guess work. The last time a vampire and a witch had been bound was a story so old that even Luzige thought it was a myth, just a stupid legend. But, if the legend was true, then the little witch Ivy had just bound herself to may the very thing that saved them all.

 

[OctopusPrince]

For the wedding between a vampire and a demon heir, Malandra had to admit that it was all rather boring. There was an initial thrill in seeing her wife at the end of the aisle, wearing a well tailored suit and a stoic expression, but beyond that, the words were said, the tingling sensation of a binding promise washed over her senses, and it was done. Well it seemed done. Malandra had to admit that it felt like her skin didn't quite fit right now that she was bound to the vampire--like her power was being stretched like taffy both between her and the other woman, and towards something else, some one else. Probably her sire, Malandra reasoned, familiar enough with vampires and their hierarchies, as well as able to feel the resonant power of her new wife in that closeness to guess that she was born of an impressive line and bound to some darkness lurking spook that could take quite a hit and walk away unscathed. She liked that-- they had better odds at winning if they were both hard to kill, and Malandra already knew from experience that she wasn't one to stay down for long.

The witch looked up at her now and forever partner as her veil was passed back-- and because it was appropriate and she was curious, she tipped her head up, tipped on her heels to the balls of her feet, and closed the space between their mouths. No one had said anything about a kiss, but well, it was a wedding wasn't it? And while Malandra had a feeling someone so lovely had to have a beau somewhere biting their knuckle over her marrying someone else, she wasn't about to concern herself with the feelings of ants. They had made the agreement as such that she'd be staying in one of the well organized and hidden in plain sight skyscaping apartments the vampires used as a strong hold and headquarters, and Malandra could only assume that given vampires and their love for ranks and control and possession, she'd be under this woman's watchful eye most if not all of the time. She didn't care really if her wife had other lovers about-- vampires were different, had intrinsic, instinctive needs that if not sated could become quite volatile, but she'd sooner marry a toad and call it a success for the war than not be on the list of this woman's sexual prospects. They were married for life, so she was going to get laid.

She let the kiss linger, her hand rested gently upon one of the vampire's shoulders-- Ivy, her name was-- Ivy Lioncourt. It suited her, as far as Malandra was concerned, a clean cut, sharp, old fashioned name. Nothing like Malandra's own, that sounded exotic with purposeful deceit, her ancestors witches of the "New World" with the occasional delicious tryst with her demonic kin. It was rare for demons to breed with the witches they were bound to, but Malandra had been of a lucky bloodline, and had inherited all the benefits of an unholy union. The difference in their power was blatant in the way it hummed on the air, Ivy's a spaced out, controlled, but powerful and consistent pulse of energy that gave warning of her strength without revealing the fullness of its danger, while Malandra's resonated like a sinister, burning hot beacon. Witches could feel it off of her, if they were relatively attune, so she had a feeling as she drew back from her bride that she and every other vampire in their ceremony were probably caught by a deadly, territorial itch. Problem number one. The last thing she needed was for the union to end with her gang piled by a group of instinct crazed vampires, though... with Ivy Lioncourt as her mate, perhaps they'd be too reigned in by her own power, too loyal and well trained to act on what their instincts reasonably told them; that Malandra was a high priority threat that needed to be eliminated.

Just thinking of it all, of what ought to be done to make this ridiculous idea work was tantalizing for Malandra-- it'd been a long time since she'd bother to really put her mind to strategy. She hadn't had to in many years, vampires killed witches, witches killed vampires, it was the way of things, and she didn't show any attachment to her coven enough to stop that almost natural cycle of death between them. After all, it would do no good to seem weak, to show favoritism... That had been the downfall of their last coven master in a way-- the man she had called her lover, her last love, she hoped. Malandra was sure Ivy was nice. Certainly a fine lady full of intriguing loveliness...but marriage and love were not mutually exclusive. Malandra had a feeling that if the man she'd loved last could wrap his hands around her neck to try and sacrifice her to some old god after telling her he loved her, this vampire could do far worse even with their spiritual bond as a deterrent. This wasn't for her own gain in that way, as much she was already entertaining consummating their marriage later that night-- they could have sex, and power, and dominion over the Unseelie Court if they played their cards right... but not love.

Malandra smiled, something sweet and suspicious at the same time as her pretty red lips curled, and she reached her hand up to gently wipe away a smear of red lipstick just on the corner of Ivy's mouth. It was funny, and fitting-- vampires with their red and black and blood sport. The splotch was gone though, Ivy's alabaster skin restored to perfection. Malandra noticed, just then, at least up close, that Ivy wasn't wearing any make up at all-- she was handsome all on her own, but had she not been required to preen before the wedding-- perhaps it was some tradition Malandra was unfamiliar of, to come so plainly to one's own wedding. After all, the suit was nice, but Malandra was already curious what her wife might look like in a dress, in many dresses in fact-- she could think of a dozen she'd sewn up in her shop that she might have her wife try on for size, if the suit gave any hint to her proper measurements.

Ivy Lioncourt and Malandra De Coursav, forever and ever, 'til death do they part. Hopefully that would be a long ways off.

 

[LeatrixSage]

The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, not exactly, but it did raise Ivy’s hackles in a way that made her fangs ache. She knew it well, the less than subtle movement of the unique energy wielded by witches. It wasn’t entirely unlike the leyline currents that Vampires – the ancient dead in particular – drew heavily from to sustain their auras and allow the links they forged with their living kin. It was, however, different. A witch’s soul generated its own force, or so was the standing theory, where vampires were leaches in every way, even to sustain their living soul. Ivy had watched plenty of them die, saw the light within them dim to nothing as the life left their eyes, but she’d never fed from a witch. The temptation was there, even standing before a legion of vampires and witches that were looking to them for how to behave, to do exactly that.

Malandra, however, was unique even to her kind. She wasn’t completely witch, and she wasn’t mutt that was a result from breeding with humans to inflate their numbers, either. Unless Ivy missed her mark – which she rather doubted in the extreme – there was something demonic about her little wife. The scent of it increased when the woman tilted her head back and raised up on her toes. It was unexpected, and Ivy’s body tensed just before the witch’s lips slanted across her own. Ivy wondered absently if the woman had someone else in her life, a lover or a pet, while the witch’s kiss lingered. A delicate hand settled on her shoulder in a feather-soft touch that spiked her blood with adrenaline. It was stupid to think this entire thing had been arranged just to assassinate Ivy and cripple the last standing family of vampires in the city, but witches sometimes did things that made little sense to vampires, and the fear was hard to ignore. Not that a coven leader like Malandra would need to touch Ivy to kill her, it just made it a lot easier.

The vampire shivered with adrenaline and anticipation, and when she felt no hostility forthcoming, she extended their chaste kiss into something headier. Her tongue wriggled against the woman’s lips, seeking entry, and dove passed them eagerly when she allowed it. Ivy was exploring, testing the boundaries to see where the witch would stop her. The vibrating power that radiated off the woman was equal parts irresistible and infuriating, and it dug up the instinctual need to force her submission. Ivy nearly growled under the weight off it, and then gently set the woman away from her before it got the better of the vampire’s reason. Now wasn’t the time for that, not under the watchful eyes of the slew of witches that stood ready to unleash hell at a moment’s notice.

Mal smiled up at her, something curious in her dancing eyes as she reached up to delicately brush her fingers over Ivy’s lips. Ivy caught her hand to glance curiously at her finger tips. The red lipstick she had cleaned away was on them, and she smirked at the little spot of color. Ivy watched the witch curiously as she nipped at her finger tips, careful not to cut the delicate digits on her sharp teeth, and then gently licked them to clean away the little smudge of color. The exchange was strangely fitting, and Ivy used her hold on the witch’s hand to turn her about so that she faced their now shared subjects. It stuck her as presenting a new Queen to her people, and Ivy grinned at the sight. In her minds eyes a very different scene played out, one where she presents the witch naked in all her glory with a beautiful collar about that slender neck and a leash securely wrapped around Ivy’s hand. The fantasy began was an amusing thought but ended with a very really lust making her eyes heavy-lidded.

“Shall we then?” the question was rhetorical, but she asked it all the same as she tucked Malandra’s hand into the crook of her arm. “Dinner waits.”

Getting down the aisle and out the doors proved to be more time consuming than Ivy liked - particularly with the possessive weight of Markus’s own hunger beating at her back. When they finally emerged, it was to dive immediately into the waiting limo that would drive them around a bit to allow everyone else time to get to the reception before them. The human driver was neutral, and for the first time, the pair would be able to speak face to face without the weight of negotiations or their perspective people. Talking, however, was the very last thought on Ivy’s mind as she reached out to drag the gorgeous little witch into her lap.

“I love the dress,” she confessed even as she pushed the material up the woman’s legs in a greedy attempted to get her cool hands onto the witch’s vibrantly hot skin. “And the necklace,” she smirked, as she admired it, and the flawless skin beneath it. “I’d like them both better off.”

 

[OctopusPrince]

Well wasn't this nice-- Malandra wasn't entirely sure what had stoked the fire in her new wife so abruptly, but she could take a guess at it given the way their bond, newly formed, began to vibrate with their conjoined power. Posessiveness, that's what it tasted like from Ivy's kiss still tingling on her tongue, and as she was whisked into the limo and into Ivy's lap, she had no complaints about that. It would be an entertaining task to navigate the possessive, protective instincts of a vampire lover, but she'd certainly had harder trials in her life, and the cool, pleasant feeling of Ivy's hands up under her dress made it well worth the effort. It had been enough in the first place, that kiss on the alter, but the way this vampire had teased at her fingertips as if she knew that was a weakness for Malandra was enough to have her fully on board with some salacious activity before the reception. Could vampires detect such things? Was it part of their bond? She was intensely curious.

"I'm glad you like my taste-- I have to say I wasn't expecting a suit, but it's well tailored. I could do better, but I certainly--" She gasped out a moan between drawling, flirtatious words," would prefer you less dressed as well." She caught Ivy's chin to pull her into another kiss, lowering her hand to tug loose the tie around Ivy's neck. She bit at her wife's lip in a tease, a provocation she was sure would be met in kind as she deftly unbuttoned shirt buttons without needing to see them, getting a handful of the woman's breast in her palm and kneading until the nipple was lightly pinched and tugged between her thumb and index finger. The driver had the sense not to interrupt their enticing exchange, and Malandra let out a low, sinister laugh as the partition between them and the driver began to give off a mechanic whirring as it rose and closed them off from the driver's view.

The binding of their souls and energies seemed to strangely add to the physical touches they shared, and Malandra, though thoroughly enjoying herself, was minutely distracted by it. She could.... Feel-- what Ivy was feeling, the heady, intense pound of her instincts, though at a distance enough to identify that it wasn't coming from Malandra herself. Malandra liked the feeling, but she wondered what resonated from her across the gap, how her own lust and intrigue and amusement might pang through Ivy's senses. If anything the vibration of Ivy's instincts to claim her aroused her more, one of her heels landing in the seat across from them as she parted her legs to let Ivy touch her, already wet and hot underneath a pair of barely there lace panties.

If not for the fact that the reception stood as an opportunity for their forces to familiarize themselves with each other, to get a proper party in where for once in a century there wasn't hostility abound between them, Malandra would suggest they skip it all together. But she wasn't about to miss that interaction. She needed to keep her eyes on the witches and vampires alike, to make sure everyone played nice and there wasn't any ritual sacrificing or communal blood letting going on that wasn't... well, consensual. Honestly, she'd be absolutely delighted if their reception turned into a blood soaked orgy, but well- that might have to wait until they'd been working together a little longer.

She broke the kiss, breathless and grinned, gold eyes showing off her nature when rather than being blown wide with arousal, her pupils had contracted into slits, a sort of glow resonating from her irises. "I can feel your instincts egging you on, Ivy. Am I provoking you, sweet heart? Should I quiet down a little, or does it turn you on that I'm giving you an adrenaline rush?" She was flirting, but in the same pass it was a genuine question-- she hadn't bothered in ages to mask her power in any way given that it was better people know she was lethal from a mile off, but if her wife was going to be incensed by the intensity of it, she would attempt to compact her deadly aura so her wife could think straight. This would be a fun little game though, unfurling her power when she wanted a rise out of her wife, when she wanted to coax on this feral, possessive nature... she'd have to be careful though, she already knew that much.

 

[LeatrixSage]

Ivy found herself grinning when the woman in her lap gasped out a little moan while she tried to flirt. One some level, she was aware that the forming connection was to blame for what they felt. It wasn’t exactly unexpected – at least, not on Ivy’s side of the equation. Malandra was not the first, Ivy was the sire of many, and the instinctual drive to claim what was hers was expected. The witch’s eager response, however… that she hadn’t imagined. Instead she had envisioned horror, repugnance, or at the very least as general distaste for physical contact. What she had instead was an eager and willing body squirming in her lap.

The woman drew her into another kiss and ivy growled beneath it. The little witch’s fingers tugged her tie loose, and then sharp teeth caught Ivy’s lip. The vampire tugged her head back, her tongue sweeping over the little spot of pain as she measured the witch in her lap. Those deft fingers were making short work of the buttons of her shirt, and by the time one of those hands closed hot and greedy over one of her breasts, Ivy had changed her mind and brought a hand up to cup the back of the woman’s neck and yank her down for a deeper kiss. She sucked the little witch’s tongue into her mouth hungrily, and in one gentle bite, pierced Malandra’s tongue as well as her own. Blood welled immediately from the tiny cuts and mixed as they fed off of the shared high.

Somewhere in the back of her mind was the shadow of Malandra’s essence. She tasted it in her blood as surely as she felt it taking form. Whispers of impressions, flashes of emotion, bursts of the seething, natural fount of energy. It was taking form slowly, much more slowly than what she was accustomed to, and it created a drawn, tense anticipation of knowing the woman’s mind more intimately. The witch laughed as the patrician whirred closed, and Ivy felt her amusement break through like a single, clear note ringing out about a den of chaotic noise. It wasn’t a smooth knowing like it was between Ivy and any of her wards, but it was seemingly more intense a connection.

The little witch spread her legs in a silent offer that lost her one of heels, but neither of them paid it any mind. Ivy wasn’t about to deny the woman, and her hands slipped up the inside of her thighs to let her thumb slip beneath the edges of her lace panties. One found the eager little button of her clit already hot and swollen and feathered slow circles around it while the other softly stroked the woman’s damp lips, enjoying the vivid arousal. Centuries of blood shed seemed to vanish behind the weight of Ivy’s need to bend the beautiful woman to her will, to hear her beg, to feel her submit to her will. Malandra’s inner strength and eager response to Ivy’s touch only seemed to make it worse.

The kiss ended when Malandra pulled away, and the vampire was taken aback by the golden, cat-like eyes that were glowing at her in the dim light in the back of the limo. The witch asked her questions, and Ivy grinned at her taunting way of teasing her. It was a relief to know that she understood what she felt, and what it meant, and the last vestiges of gauged restrain began to leak away as Ivy relaxed back to enjoy the sight of the wriggling woman in her lap.

“Both,” she answered after a moment of consideration. “You are provoking me,” she growled as she shifted her hands – reluctantly – away from the warm center of Malandra’s being to gently, but resolutely, push the woman back until her dainty little hands rested on the seats behind her. “That provocation turns me on,” Ivy went on as she took away the woman’s other heel and tossed it carelessly aside. The witch knew, she understood, and that part of her that was eager to tare the woman’s dress to shreds and devour her was desperate to use that was justification to do whatever it wanted to her. The sane, sensible part of her wasn’t reluctant, but watchful, and wanted to take its time with this new experience.

“Does what you feel frighten you?” she asked as her hands slipped beneath the woman’s hips. Ivy lifted Malandra effortlessly, and she paused to admire the unique beauty of her arousal slickened lips behind the thin protection of lace before she flattened her tongue against the fabric and licked. “Or is playing with something deadly what makes you so wet and eager?”

 

[OctopusPrince]

Malandra caught herself easily as Ivy tipped her onto the seats across from them, letting another chuckled curl from between her lips as Ivy tossed away her other shoe, her foot sliding along Ivy's shoulder to rest the crook of her knee upon that powerful curve. She held herself aloft on her elbows and tangled her hands in the thick, piled skirt of her dress, tugging it up so she could see Ivy as she listened to her vampiric wife's assertion that both of her theories were true. The chaotic, tangled pulse of their energies began to heat as Malandra felt Ivy's intent before she acted, her thighs quivering a bit as though Ivy's mouth had already touched her before she had even come close enough to do so.

She bit her lip and rose her brows at the first question, the mere idea that she'd be frightened of anything a vampire could do laughable as far as she was concerned, but all at once her amusement was stolen from her, swallowed by pleasure as Ivy's tongue slid over her, temptingly separated by the fabric of her undergarments but certainly firm enough to make the witch arch and press her hips forward in yearning. The second question came and Malandra hummed, tipping her head where it rested against the seat back, her dark, wild hair already trying to escape from its up do, curls pooled along her collarbone and shoulders revealing the heavy rise and fall of her breath.

"I do enjoy most dangerous things, Ivy," She admitted, licking her lips to still find the coppery taste of their mingled blood there. "To have a pretty, dangerous creature be mine body and soul was enough to have my interests aroused from the moment I saw you. But that is rather a sentiment, more than anything else-- what you're feeling is quite a bit different from a mere a sentiment." She purred, able to feel, still at a blurry sort of distance the raging eagerness to conquer that Ivy's instincts conjured in her. She could almost taste it on the air, that need, and while it was born both of their bond and Ivy's more keen knowledge of the danger of witches, the ability to sense her magic especially so close, Malandra felt the need to provoke it and see it to its fruition-- better she let this woman claim dominion over her sexually than it come to blows later on...though that would be entertaining in its own right, she realized.

"The last time I was afraid I can hardly remember," She lied, raising her brows at Ivy and pressing her heel provokingly into Ivy's back. "If your instincts call for you to assert yourself, who am I to stop you? Just mind the dress." She mentioned, as though she had caught up part of Ivy's thought to shred her garment apart and leave her completely exposed. They still had the reception to go to, after all. "Have your way with me now, and I'll make it up to you when we get home," She said so sweetly, the words obviously barbed to provoke her wife all the more to give in to her instincts and lay claim to her prize. Malandra had a feeling after all, that this wouldn't be a once and a while thing, this determined nature to be superior.

Malandra could feel in their bond the many extending stands of Ivy's wards, and somewhere beyond it a deeply powerful and secret bond that would not reveal itself to her just then but that she could guess led out to her own sire, some powerful, deadly thing that she hoped never to meet with any luck. If anything, this need would manifest itself in multiple forms, sexually just being one of them. Malandra was flexible about seeing which ones she'd except, where she'd allow Ivy to have complete control and what she'd have to fight her wife for dominion over. This instance however, was not one she planned to fight, not with Ivy's head between her legs and her sex aching for attention. No, at least this time, she'd happily left Ivy be the boss.

 

[LeatrixSage]

“Yours?” Ivy hummed the word, the taste of it making her snarl, but she offered up little other protest while Malandra answered her questions. Indeed, she was right, what they each felt was very different. Ivy didn’t simply want dominion over the little witch’s body, even if it was something of a salve for the deeper instincts that demanded to be fulfilled. However, the languid lassitude that had been settling over the vampire while she licked contentedly at the lovely saliva and arousal slickened lips of her new wife’s bright pink pussy faded when something that rang out as a lie passed between them. Ivy wasn’t able to put her finger on where the lie was, but she felt the mistruth as if she had spoken it herself. The slow, content swipes of her tongue stopped and Ivy measure whether or not she should care if the woman lied to her. They weren’t a love match, chances are the never would be, what did it matter if the witch thought she could lie to her?

Ivy frowned as she shifted one of her thumbs to rub circles around the beautiful engorged clit that crowned her slit. It mattered. It was stupid, but it mattered. Now, however, wasn’t the time, not when the woman was obviously hearing the less than polite notions already dancing around Ivy’s thoughts. She laughed when the little witch told her to mind the dress. Her barbed little comments and the slight flex of her abilities was enough to set the vampire’s fangs on edge, and yet she turned her head away to look out the tinted windows at the dark world that was passing by outside. Like a cat offered a treat, she was deciding whether or not she wanted it.

“I suppose you do need the dress,” Ivy sighed as if the compromise was nearly more than she could bare, and then chuckled as she bit into the lacey fabric that protected her goal and ripped it to shreds. “When you wear a dress or a skirt, you will never wear panties, a thong, boy shorts, anything, I want access to you whenever and wherever.” The vampire croaked out her orders breathlessly before her lips closed around that tender bud she had been teasing and sucked. She had to adjust her hold on the woman to free one of her hands to slide a pair of slender fingers into the hot, moist core of her. The little spasms of her body made her slick wall clamp down around her fingers, and Ivy purred as her tongue lashed out to slide between the little nub and its hood before it danced circles around the witch’s clit. Her fingers curled to rub slowly against the rigid flesh over that sweet spot within her, and Ivy took her time with her assault. They had some time to waste, and she wasn’t in any hurry.

The little witch’s acceptance – at least for the time being – of Ivy’s need to possess her eased the desperate, hungry need to bend the woman to her will. And yet, the ease with which she had allowed it raked her nerves in a way Ivy didn’t entirely understand. Even while she happily drank from the core of her being, Ivy found herself wish the little witch would put up a fight. Maybe some other time she would, for now, Ivy would settle for exercising her ability to make the lithe creature writhe and scream.

 

[OctopusPrince]

Malandra quaked, her head tipping back as much as the seats would allow because heaven above and hell below, Ivy certainly knew how to use her mouth. When Ivy's fingers found their way inside of her, she gasped if only because the pressure quickly spilled into a surge of pleasure, particularly when Ivy found her gspot and decided that needed as much attention as every other point of contact between them. The witch caught her lip between her teeth to quiet herself only to release it and a sultry, high pitched moan, her fingers clenching the fabric of her dress enough to nearly puncture the fabric with her sharpened nails. She felt the energy still firing between them, and found Ivy's emotions and thoughts fluttering through her synapses like an electric current.

What an intriguing creature-- it felt different on a genetic level and of course it was, but that in itself was fascinating and foreign given that both of their kind had taken forms that looked so very much like humans, so similar externally for all of their internal differences. What Malandra felt that she latched on to however, was a tingling inclination that Ivy wanted her to be less... something. She turned the sensation over once, and again, and a third time, the study of it broken up by the fantastic feeling of Ivy's mouth and fingers working over, but then she discovered it amidst her pleasure-- Ivy wanted her to fight, to be a little less accommodating. Interesting.

Malandra weighed the idea-- she would've thought, what with Ivy's instincts and commands and superior position in her hutch of vampires, that resistance would be the last thing she'd want, let alone tolerate, and yet, it was there, an inclination that probably came as an after thought more than anything else. Malandra had no reason to be afraid of Ivy's reaction-- even in small quarters like this and with Ivy's superior physical strength, if things broke out into violence she could manage her own safety... so she decided, for the sake of excitement and indulgence, to humor her vampiric wife's odd and momentary longing for resistance, to slide her foot surreptitiously up from Ivy's back and onto her shoulder before slamming it full force against her, shoving her wife back against her seat and away from between her legs. She kept her foot planted against Ivy's shoulder and collarbone, raising an impetuous brow at her even with her flushed cheeks and dilated, cat like eyes giving away her pleasure.

She didn't need to say anything-- instead there was a tensing of the cord between them like she'd pulled all of the comfortable, relaxed slack in and sent a vault of challenge across the line. If Ivy wanted to get between her legs again, she'd have to try quite a bit harder, and Malandra was already attempting to calculate what Ivy might do first. She could certainly grab hold of her ankle and force her foot out of the way, or she could grab and yank Malandra towards her, rendering her in a very difficult position to get out of. She quickly moved to avoid the risk she'd left open with her ankle and landed herself above Ivy's lap on her knees, one hand coming up to viciously catch a handful of Ivy's hair while the other plunged, slithering easily to maneuver past all fabric in its path until she felt the warmed, soft lips of Ivy's own sex.

She rubbed her middle finger against Ivy's clit. She panted, because this was quite dangerous, and there was no telling between her own violent nature and Ivy's raging instincts when sexual play would teeter into violence, but she couldn't find herself truly caring even as her body flooded with adrenaline and her heart thundered in her breast. She kissed Ivy hard, able to taste herself there and determined to take advantage of the few seconds she had advantage, if only because Ivy could not have anticipated her behavior.

Well-- if things went south and her dress got shredded, if Ivy grew angry for her impertinence, she'd let Ivy know that she'd asked for it in the first place, because she had. She'd thought it, wanted it, and what kind of wife would Malandra be if she didn't answer those callings with vicious determination? She hummed into Ivy's mouth as a twinkle of magic spilled over her, just enough to turn her sharp, pointed nails into short, safe curves before she mimicked her wife's action and pressed two fingers inside.

 

[LeatrixSage]

There you are.

Ivy was viciously callous when she wrapped her fingers around the woman’s arm and yanked her hand away from where it played between her thighs. It wasn’t that she didn’t welcome the stimulation, but rather that she needed a cool head if she meant to be anything other than slobbering mess of instinct driven madness. Particularly since she was now certain her little wife was hearing her stray thoughts loud and clear. Her other hand wrapped tightly around the witch’s neck to make sure there was not tempting flesh for her fangs to nibble on. The kiss she indulged. She enjoyed the bruising impetus behind it and the trickle of magic that made her hackles rise.

“That’s enough I think,” she murmured on a husky breath as she pressed the woman back. Ivy’s eyes shined silver as the moon while she studied the little witch. For all her preternatural strength, one good shock of that trickling energy that pulled through her would make it damn hard to keep a good hold on the creature that writhed in her lap. Slowly, a wicked grin turned the corners of her lips upward. She hadn’t seen that little maneuver coming, and the woman was fast, even when compared against Ivy herself. Her shoulder even ached a touch. It was strangely reassuring that the woman could fend for herself, and deeply exciting to know that subjugating the creature wouldn’t be as easy as petting her into submission.

Ivy’s eyes jumped from Malandra to the window that was closed between them and the driver. She would very much like to tell him to keep driving a little longer, but sadly, they were already slowing down.

“We’ll have to finish this discussion later, I think,” the vampire purred as she made herself set her wife gently away from her, and then began fixing the woman’s skirts back into place. “Do you think you can contain yourself long enough to make it through a dance and a meal without begging for more?” she was teasing the woman, but Ivy was distracting herself first and foremost. When she was done setting Malandra back to rights, Ivy sat back to fix her own clothes just as the limo came to a stop.

The situation was not at all what she had expected it would be. First of all, she hadn’t imagined sex to be on the table. If anything, she had anticipated a generally harassing pain in the ass that was civil because she had to be. Given a witch’s tradition of betrayal and backstabbing for power, she supposed there was still the very real possibility that the woman that was no her wife might very well be looking for a soft spot to stick a blade. She’d have to keep an eye on the woman, and on her own thoughts in the meantime. Until she was certain there wasn’t some secondary game taking place behind the scenes, there was very little poking around that she could safely allow.

“Ready?” the car door opened, and Ivy lifted her attention back to the woman, her own eyes already settled back down to their normal grey. She didn’t wait for an answer but climbed out of the limo to reach back and help Malandra out. They had reserved a hall at a human hotel. It went against her grain, but it was neutral territory. Witches had thrown up numerous wards that made her skin crawl, but so had her kindred set up their own unique protections. While she doubted the fey would care much about this little event beyond the annoyance of their enemies working together, she would much rather be in a building built from iron rather than from steel. Steel was useless, it was too pure. Iron, however, with all it’s flaws and impurities, was so human and imperfect that it remained the best poison against the fey and their ilk.

A dozen minds opened up to Ivy was she walked the witch inside the building. Each brushed her thoughts briefly to acknowledge her, feed her information, and then moved back to their task. She shared the ritual with her wife, let her see the glimpses of images and feel the snippets of thought as they came and went. Except for Markus, that she jealously kept to herself.

“It looks like we might actually be able to enjoy a pleasant meal after all,” she was talking to keep her thoughts away from the taste of the woman that still lingered on her tongue. “What did you pick, the chicken or the steak?”