Femslash February 2021: "Red"
Day 1! Cross-posting all my FF2021 shit across all my social media platforms, because why not? As always, I don't write for "fandoms" and all of my stuff is usually based on my tabletop NPCs or characters - all of which are original. This one involves an ol' Polish kindred goth and her young, eager-to-serve ghoul.
Content Warning(s): Blood drinking
Her long, skinny fingers tripped over one another as she played her original composition - The Midnight’s Cry - on the piano. No one but an expert would notice her mistake but it was enough for her to acknowledge the gnawing rage of the Beast at the back of her thoughts. The Beast that was always at the back of all kindred’s thoughts. She laid her ashen white fingers against the keys and waited. It would do no good to take a deep breath. She had to center herself, focus, ten times harder than any living mortal.
A light, pleasant clapping came from her doorway. Daniella - Oliwia’s ghoul. She must have assumed that was the end of the song. Somehow the praise was enough to raise Oliwia’s spirits. She lifted the piano key cover and lowered it over them, finished playing for the night. Daniella took it as a sign to walk into the room and start speaking.
“I purchased everything you needed and delivered those letters. Everything should be ready for the soiree this weekend.”
“Thank you, Daniella,” Oliwia said slowly and deliberately. Her heavy Polish accent and the fact that English was very much a newly-learned language meant that it pinched like an ill-fitting pair of heels and much like with her piano playing, Oliwia couldn’t stand a mistake no matter how small or unnoticeable.
“I apologize for having you run to and fro during the hours I am awake, but I do appreciate your dedication.”
“Anytime you need it,” Daniella said quickly.
“Be careful what you wish for. I always have more for you to accomplish.”
“... and I’m happy to do it.”
“So long as you do not disregard your coursework and studies, I see no reason not to give them to you.”
“Always. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t,” Oliwia said.
“Is there anything else I can do for you before you rest, then?”
Oliwia smiled fully; it was thin-lipped, her square jaw and high cheekbones all the more resembling a malnourished supermodel in heavy gothic makeup than a violent creature of the night.
“It is that time of the month, is it not?”
Daniella didn’t answer. She looked bashful instead, towards the ground. Her cheeks grew a shade of darker brown out of embarrassment.
“The week of. I didn’t want to-...”
“You have been feeling it?” Oliwia asked.
“Yes,” Daniella said in an excited huff. Her heartbeat was hammering in her chest. Oliwia could hear it. She was simultaneously turned on, hungry, and nervous. It was a raucous cocktail of emotions that almost made her want to go feral. It was the tempestuous call of Oliwia’s vitae, and the thought of getting more.
The cold, dead flesh of Oliwia’s hand cupped Daniella’s cheek, the pointed and black lacquered nail gently dragging beside Daniella’s lip.
“My sweet girl. With all you do for me, why do you not ask if it tortures you so?”
Daniella couldn’t think of an answer to her domitor. She simply stood, enjoying the icy touch of her benefactor and her beautiful amber eyes staring right back at her as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered. This powerful, gorgeous woman that chose her.
Oliwia frowned, her hand drawing away from Daniella’s face. Instead she took her ghouls hand and brought her over to an elaborately decorated black sofa with plump cushions. Oliwia swept her skirt from underneath herself and sat down, drawing Daniella in as she did. Daniella sat awkwardly, like a wounded animal offered succor who was too afraid to partake in such generosity.
“Sit. Be comfortable.”
The order from Oliwia was a siren’s song and Daniella untensed almost immediately. Oliwia moved both of her hands to her lap, still staring directly at Daniella. She looked not unlike a porcelain doll; unmoving, unbreathing, with no need to blink or gesture beyond speaking. A true picture of undeath in all of its uncanny habits or lack thereof.
“I know a hunger far more demanding and consequential than yours, my sweet Daniella. You were resolute to not beg for it and for that I seek to reward you. I have grown very fond of you as my assistant and I hope to see you continue such work as you succeed during the waking hours. Let me reinvigorate you so that you do not suffer during the sunlight, and to show my appreciation for your hardwork… and affection.”
Oliwia raised one hand and brought it back to Daniella’s face. Daniella looked like a deer in headlights. Oliwia leaned in close and craned her neck to press her icy lips to Daniella’s. It tasted like death in every way that it could; it tasted better than any kiss she had ever had before. The gentleness of it was almost threatened by Daniella’s mortal urges, her own hands moving to rest on Oliwia’s clothes, one boldly placed upon her breast.
“No,” Oliwia whispered gently as she removed Daniella’s hand. She offered no explanation, but such a simple word seemed only boundary-setting than chastising as Oliwia pressed her lips against Daniella’s again. After nearly a minute, she pulled away with a calm smile.
Daniella’s lips were stained with the same dark, black lipstick that Oliwia always wore. Oliwia lifted her hand and wiped it away from Daniella’s lips, ever the doting domitor to a ghoul so dutiful.
“Madam Oliwia-...” Daniella attempted to start. The intimacy of such an act, the closeness of it after yearning for Oliwia for almost a year was intoxicating. She was lightheaded, out of breath, drunk on the taste of Oliwia’s lipstick the gentleness from someone so powerful, that could drain her dry of blood within a minute.
Oliwia said. She held out her bare, pale forearm towards Daniella and dragged her nail against the skin above her radial artery until it broke the flesh and then the vein itself. Daniella watched, practically entranced, knowing full-well what this meant. Thick, dark red vitae globbed out. Daniella could almost smell it in the air.
Sweeter than any wine. More filling than a banquet feast.
“Drink,” Oliwia said.
Oliwia’s pale wrist now had an inch-long trail of bright crimson vitae on it. It took only a moment for Daniella to throw herself upon it, both hands grasping Oliwia’s thin arm as she sucked as much up as was offered, moaning and practically writhing in place as she did so. Oliwia lowered her head down and kissed the top of Daniella’s thick, brown curly hair and swept it aside and over the other shoulder.
Daniella would become nigh-drunk off of the empowering vitae. It would keep her ageless for another month. Stronger. Healthier. Perhaps most importantly to Oliwia: beside her domitor whenever she desired.