perfectdevil | the city: inbox

[ She shrugs, amused by the peacocking. For all the '80s glam and glitz, there are these moments where he seems very old-world to her. ]

Well, I don't know, depends if I've fucked them or not, probably.

But I wasn't asking for fantasies about specific people. Unless it's me, I suppose. [ Great -- and dirty -- minds evidently think alike. ] I just meant acts, like. Or feelings. General ideas.

[ His eyebrows twitch a little at the idea of having these kinds of thoughts unmatched to the person performing them. Is that a regular thing for humans, he wonders; being able to desire something being done to your body by a nameless, faceless form that only comes into feature if you give it those qualities?

For someone as people focused as Lestat is, it seems strange, but pushing himself into unfamiliar waters is what this whole thing is about, isn't it? ]

It isn't necessarily a fantasy, but I haven't been touched intimately in centuries, and this particular human seemed very intent on getting his hands on me. Or, more accurately, inside of me. That is lingering in my mind.

Mmhmm?

[ She props her chin on her hand, a slight smile crooking her lips. ]

Can't blame him. I imagine you'd be a sight to see with a couple fingers in your ass and a couple in your mouth.

D'you think you like it because he likes it, or because you're interested in the idea?

[ Lestat is by no means a prudish man, but when she says that so.. easily, he can't help but blink a little in surprise. His mouth slightly open, his tongue suddenly feeling very wet against his fangs, he tries to keep his breathing steady. A vampire's vivid imagination and mental prowess has always been a blessing to him, but he's all too aware of how easily it could become a curse like this.

He wets his lips. ]

I already told you how selfish I am.

[ Her eyes flick to his mouth, and her smirk gets a little wider as she takes a drink. ]

Yeah. And it's fun being the center of attention like that.

And that could go on a long time. Your hands might start to get stiff, but that's what toys are for.

[ He could break this tension and tell her there's very little chance he could actually get tired - vampire powers and all - but the idea of being so weak with pleasure does have some merit. As does the next thing she says.

She might laugh at him again, so he shifts a little in his seat, letting his pupils dilate with hunger as he focuses in on the mental image from before. Hopefully he looks earnest enough that she'll go easy on him. ]

... Toys?

Someone could use a dildo. [ She glances at him to see if he knows the word. They've been around forever, and surely he's not that sheltered, right? ] They could hold it and fuck you with it.

Me, I like wearing them, too -- you can get harnesses for your hips that'll hold them in place. [ She sits back and gestures down at her pelvis, tracing the lines over her hips where a strap-on harness would go. ] So if you don't have a cock, or, say, yours doesn't get hard for some reason, you can still fuck someone like that.

[ Storebought is fine! ]

Plus, then you have your hands free to play with their hair, have them suck on your fingers, play with their clit or their cock ... If it were me I'd want to be able to see your face, but you're so tall it might be easier to fuck you if you were on your knees.

[ See, they don't have to talk about their fellow citizens. Constantine is fully capable of "yes, and"-ing these fantasies into something bespoke for the two of them. ]

[ He feels a prickle of delight that his prompting has had the intended effect as she starts to explain, with detail, exactly what she means. He's heard of the use of toys before, of course - he was a teenager for a good few years before his eventual death - but the nineteenth century wasn't exactly well known for its progressive masturbation aids. They certainly didn't have strap ons, he's sure of that much.

When her hand slides down across her body Lestat follows the path of her fingers like a snake waiting to strike once the mouse gets close enough, his silvery eyes almost glossy with interest. He thinks about the practicality of it, the idea of the fastenings pressing into his hardened skin, fitting over his dead appendage when the blood fails to make it hard enough. But, he can't deny how much better it is to imagine the squeeze of her beautiful skin instead, poised over him, armed with the tool to slide inside him and the knowledge of how to make it feel good. How badly he wants to dip into her mind and see how she pieces these things together - so bad he has to bite back at his lip at just the thought alone, his hands flexing as if resisting the urge to touch.

He's never imagined a woman doing that to him, because of the aforementioned lack of any community exposure with progressive thinking, but God, does it make his heartrate spike. ]

I see... You'd have me like a dog, would you? [ He prompts, but he definitely doesn't sound put out about it. In fact, he sounds pretty all about that idea. ] Bent over so you can wind your hand into my hair and have your way with me?

Well, your hair is so pullable. And that angle's good, is what I hear. I can't speak from personal experience, though, you'd have to tell me how it felt.

I suppose you're used to having your mouth busy when you're intimate with people, right? Not a lot of dirty talk? But if I asked you to talk while I fucked you you'd do that for me.

[ A twitch of his expression; brows and lips tightening ever so briefly and then softening, his mouth parted. It's almost as if he could feel the sensation of having his hair pulled roughly backwards for a second, but that would be impossible, wouldn't it? ]

I would. If you gave me something good enough to talk about.

Ha! Brat.

[ Her tone is amused, almost fond. She knows that goading tactic intimately. ]

If you want an education in submission and multiple orgasms, we'll be here all week.

Well, only one of us could survive the other having multiple orgasms.

[ He smiles, and whether its because she sounds amused or because he's amused remains to be seen. Maybe both. ]

So I suppose you'd have plenty of time to give training me your best attempt. But I'm sure I don't need to tell you how difficult that would be.

[ A beat, a strange hungry flash in his eyes. ]

I'd like to make you work for it.

Of course you would.

[ Still amused, but more condescending now, like she's heard this all before. ]

Christ, you'd probably be insufferable, wouldn't you? Maybe I would have to gag you. If I were going to fuck you like a dog I suppose giving you a chew toy would be appropriate.

[ Boy she hopes that lands. Some people are really into debasement, some really aren't, and Lestat really seems like he could swing either way. She's running off vibes and lust, here, and trying to gauge his reactions when she pushes the boundaries. ]

How would you make me work for it, anyway? You're a foot taller than me and a fucking vampire. We're going to have to give you some kind of handicap.

[ Oh, it lands alright. Lestat is a proud man and doesn't take criticism well - if she was calling him stupid or pathetic, then he might have a problem - but this kind of talk is ticking all his boxes. Boxes he didn't even realise he had. ]

I don't know what handicap you could give me; I'm strong enough to break restraints, I am quicker and bigger and faster than you are...

[ He opens his mouth and presses the tip of his tongue to the point of one of his fangs in a similar manner to the way someone might scratch their head in thought. There is one handicap he has, after all. Quite a major one. ]

But then, I can't reach release the same way you do, it's not quite so easy for me. You see, I thought you were going to be the chew toy in all of this.

[ It's corny, but it's also. Not untrue. ]

[ Her heart rate picks up pleasantly at that. Listen, she's really enjoying talking about topping Lestat like their lives depend on it. That doesn't mean she's immune to the image of, once again, getting ravished by a vampire who is bigger, faster, and stronger than her. Especially one who's got a few hundred years of cunnilingus practice to catch up on.

Fuck. Should she have been reading more bodice-rippers all these years? The things you learn about yourself in the most unexpected places. ]

Well, sure, I assumed by the end of this, I'd let you have a drink. If you'd behaved yourself, at least.

[ He can hear her heartbeat so clearly from this distance, and doesn't miss the way it skips at his words. He wonders what part of it gave her such excitement - the thought of him bending metal cuffs until they burst from his wrists, snapping leather restraints, or the idea of something inhuman pinning her down with all its unnatural prowess? ]

If you made me want it bad enough, you could get me to do just about anything. Even behave.

[ Probably. Lestat had almost killed Reno with how worked up he'd gotten, but at least he knows the warning signs now. And at least he didn't kill him. Looking on the bright side. ]

I don't think it would be that hard. I remember how you taste. [ His smile turns more into a smirk then, curling slightly at the corner. ] I remember how you begged for it. I don't think I could forget.

[ Johanna swallows, which is probably audible to Lestat. ]

I think I swore at you, too, didn't I?

[ She tilts her head, momentarily distracted by curiosity. ]

If I cut a finger or something and fed that to you, would it feel like the bite? For either of us?

[ Lestat's shoulders shake in laughter, the memory of her frustrated ire enough to send him back to sensations of that time, and obviously with what he knows now he's wondering just how far they could have pushed each other if Lestat hadn't been so quick and so hungry to get what he wanted out of it. A lesson in that kind of self-restraint wouldn't go amiss if there were such sweet rewards available... ]

Ah, I'm afraid not. [ He's a little surprised by her question, but he can estimate why she might be asking. ] It's all in the connection between the beat of your heart and I; the pull of life into myself. I don't have to bite you, it could be a cut on your arm, a tear at your wrist... but it has to be something that will flow and not drip, something I can draw from you in mouthfuls. A cut to your finger wouldn't produce enough blood to do any more than tease me.

[ Which. Isn't a bad idea. ]

Are you worried about me seeing something else in your mind?

Mm-hmm. That's good to know.

[ The question actually surprises her. She'd been thinking of what kind of leverage she might have over a vampire, what she could offer as an incentive for playing nice. It's really just blood, but she figured there had to be a way to use it without succumbing to that delicious drowning feeling of being bitten. ]

I'm -- I hadn't thought of that.

There's a lot of shit in there I don't care to talk about.

[ He stops lounging and instead leans in to her a little more, as if he's about to tell her a secret. Really, he's just taking the bottle so that he can refill her cup. ]

I'm very strong mentally, stronger than I sometimes realise; I cannot avoid the swoon, but I think I can lessen what I see. Look away, so to speak. During the visions I mentioned, the man I was involved with wasn't touching me, and I found it hard to stay connected to the here and the now. Perhaps with that link, I would be able to stay more aware of my body, rather than lose myself to the swoon and the visions.

[ A little shrug, and he redeposits her bottle on the table for her, looking at her through his lashes. ]

And you, chérie, you're stronger than you seem, too. I think at the very least, you could try to control what opens up during that moment. Show me whatever you'd like, like I've been shown so recently; drown out everything else the connection could give to me. You know what it feels like now, you know how it leaves your brain empty when you succumb to it, but I think you're clever enough to overwhelm me in the same way with the power of your determination. [ A little shrug. Then, cheekily: ] Perhaps you could even show me the practical use of these toys you were talking about.

[ It's a charming little chivalrous gesture. She smiles, nodding her thanks when he puts the bottle down, and cradles the mug to her chest as if it was full of something warm and comforting, instead of cheap bourbon.

Using the link deliberately is certainly compelling. Not simple, depending on what other activities are at hand. She remembers her first encounter with Armand, how she intended to do just that and show him something enjoyable when he bit her. The fact that he saw something sweet with Kit instead of, who knows, her last view of Rachel as she lay dying, or her last fight with Kit, or some violent exorcism, seems like more luck than determination. It's not like she'd been in any condition to focus on anything other than Armand's fingers inside her, in her mouth, and his voice in her ear.

But she was also chasing a particular kind of oblivion with that personal ad, and she got more than she could have dreamed of from both Armand and Lestat. If she weren't literally begging for someone to help her turn her brain off -- if the lead-up was more that gorgeous focus of pulling someone else out of their brain and into their body -- it would be different.

She takes a sip of bourbon, licks her lips, and says slowly: ]

Do you want to take a peek right now?

[ She reaches a hand across the table towards him, lets it rest there, palm up. ]

[ Lestat isn't even sure if what he's talking about is entirely possible, but he does know damn well that intention and sheer determination go a long way when it comes to these matters of the mind. That's how a person closes their thoughts off, after all; they simply imagine a door and close it, or they resolutely think of something intricate and expansive, with too much detail to allow any other thoughts to slip through. Lestat has read about it, even if he hasn't experienced too many gifted minds himself-- if only David were here, perhaps he'd have some insight.

When she reaches out her hand like that, Lestat falters just a little. Is this some kind of trick? Is she trying to make him slip up and confess that he was just here for a bite, or to get into her head again like the unforgivable creature he is, even if that's not true?

Ultimately, his curiosity wears out; at least like this, not lost to the bite, she can control what he sees and herself so much better. She can have the control she so desperately wants and loathes to have, she can remain herself until the very moment she no longer wants to. Lestat can give her that, at least.

Of course he wants what she's offering, and so he moves to get closer. But instead of coming around to kneel by her chair or asking her to stand or.. well, anything normal, he unfolds his long legs enough that he can shift to sit directly on top of the low coffee table; his dextrous fingers plucking up the cold bottle of bourbon and resting it between her legs, while he props his foot up on the chair she's sitting in. The way he looms in, hair tumbling off his shoulders as he cranes his neck closer, head toward hers, could be seen as some strange display of power, but the way he moves between them like some kind of jungle cat, limbs elegant and measured, makes it seem more like he's some creature led only by instinct and curiosity about what she has for him.

He takes up her hand and shows her just the slightest flash of his fangs before he presses his mouth to her wrist and kisses her pulse. ]

Of course. I want it all.

[ He really does a good impression of humanity most of the time, and then he moves like that, and the feeling of being inside the lion's den crawls back over her. She's very still as he settles himself, though obviously not as still as he can be. Not quite the stillness of a rabbit in front of a fox -- maybe that of a fox in front of a tiger. Something with teeth that hasn't decided whether to bite or run.

Her pulse is a steady, quick drumming against his lips. Johanna pulls the bottle closer out of the way, and then -- just tries to think loud. She doesn't expect she'll be able to tell when Lestat looks, or what exactly he'll be experiencing, so she keeps her eyes on his face as much as possible while she creates the fantasy in her head.

It blurs from image to image like a pornographic montage, visuals switching perspectives, filled with as much imagined physical detail as she can manage. Lestat between her legs, cool fingers slipping inside her while his tongue laps at her clit. Lestat on his back, Johanna straddling his waist, his arms laid back over his head and golden curls tangled around his face, her hand on his throat, her cunt grinding wet and hot on his stomach, his silvery eyes watching while she takes as much pleasure as she wants from him. Lestat on his hands and knees arching his back while she holds his hips and fucks him hard with a cock strapped to her pelvis, each thrust making him shake, each thrust sending diffuse pressure and pleasure through her belly.

Lestat on his back again, but this time with his legs spread. Johanna fucking him again, but this time holding his jaw in one hand, rubbing a thumb smeared with blood across his lips. She doesn't imagine him begging -- she just imagines him wanting. ]

[ On the contrary to what Johanna expects, when she watches Lestat dip into her mind there comes the ever so slight unfocusing of his eyes - or perhaps it's the opposite, perhaps it's more honing in, looking with deeper and more staggering intensity, into her soul rather than simply into her eyes - as they turn molten, the silvery colour swimming into something darker, more heated.

He keeps his lips to her skin as he watches her thoughts unfold for him like the petals of a blossoming flower; his breath turning deeper and deeper, his mouth falling open, each exhalation hot against her prickling flesh.

The sight of her stretched out for him bleeds into her using him for her own gain, and Lestat can feel his limbs seem to tighten as instinct tells him to grab and hold and refuse to let go. His flesh would be so hard beneath her, so hard and so cold, unlike anything she's ever felt against her, would it drive her mad? He wants to dig his glass-like nails into the skin of her bare hipbone and see how the blood rushes to the surface to meet him, but before he can bask in the thought of it his senses are assaulted with the feeling of hot, carnal desire pooling in the pit of his stomach...

He's feeling what she would feel in this situation, that much is clear; the heady ache of pleasure as she fucks her toy into him, but an ache in him too from the lack of stimulation targeted enough to get you there while you enjoy the work nonetheless. That he's a selfish partner should be no surprise, but the way she shows him this without knowing what being full would feel like is akin to torture.

Which is what he thinks before he sees her final scene of course, and he takes in a shuddering breath to behold it, watching each detail come into focus like the brightness of dawn washing over dusty library walls. He's sure he can almost smell it, the blood, smeared between them and used as a tool to drive him crazy, to placate him while she fills him with her cock... He opens his mouth against her wrist and licks a long line over her pulse, then moves up toward her hand and sucks one of her fingers into his mouth. God, it's all Lestat can do to stave off how much his fangs feel like they're burning, how staggeringly fast that scene turned this from a tease to something he'll think about again and again and again. ]

[ Something is certainly happening. It's mesmerizing to watch him react, and some of those details sneak into the fantasies: the speed of his breathing, the look in his eyes.

Then his tongue is on her skin and she gasps, losing her hold on both the imagery, and the defensive cloud she's been trying to keep between her mind and Lestat's since they met in the liquor store. Her thoughts are roiling with lust, remembered sensations of other lovers -- the memory of Lestat saying they died with that thought on their mind and an accompanying lightning flash of alarm -- and a surge of that stomach-dropping feeling you get at the edge of a cliff when you think I could jump, there's a word for it in French-- ]

Do you want to bite me?

[ Her voice is rough, low. She tries to marshal her thoughts back to fantasy, thankfully finds one without too much trouble. Lying with her head in Lestat's lap, holding a vibrator to her clit with one hand while he holds the other to his mouth, ready to feed. In the fantasy she pants and squirms in anticipation. In the coffeeshop she's practically holding her breath, only inhaling to speak. ]

I'll need to hear you beg for it.

Edited 2023-10-31 05:29 (UTC)

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oh hey does this thread need a nsfw warning

..... good point! take this as our nsfw warning o9

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