[Sometimes being the owner of the dream has its perks, because one moment Tifa is that helpless prisoner in his arms and the next, she's standing in the middle of the room already fresh and cleaned.
Her hair is long and damp, the long black locks turning to waves as they cascade across her back. Her skin as well has the remains of what was a bath, the cotton of her white dress clinging to her as she hooks the corset, though everything is held together so delicately that it's a wonder any of it stays on at all.
The room itself is hot, a steam having settled in that makes her sweat, but there is only that familiar scent that hangs heavy through it all... that one of vanilla and starflowers that he will recognize as only hers.
And when he peers in or enters, he will find her standing in front of the tall vanity mirror brushing her hair...]
[The loud, heavy click of the door's lock makes her stomach flip, and she just listens to his voice and his footsteps draw near as she sets down the brush. She is a bit surprised when he stops behind her and she doesn't see him in the mirror at first... that is, she doesn't like that she can't see him. She'd given him some vampiric abilities, and this one she'd rather do away with, so there's a small ripple before his image appears in the reflection behind her.
And the sight makes her breath catch.
She hadn't seen him yet in that outfit—not since the first Halloween—and if he's watching her, he'll spot the way that she lets her eyes rove over him in the mirror, drinking in the sight of them together, her pulse racing ever faster.]
What's that supposed to mean? I... stumbled across this place trying to find my way back... I just wanted to get home, but then the storm came.
[There's a roll of thunder outside that makes her shiver.]
[Eustace had noticed his lack of reflection from before, so there's a somewhat surprised look when it changes. It also amuses him to see Tifa making her preferences known in this way.
Slowly he steps closer be up against her back, gloved hands sliding over her shoulders as he leans in, hands once more moving around her neck, thumb resting over the mark he left her earlier.]
Most would have been terrified. And most would be less bold to use someone's house as their own.
[He'll feel her pulse quick under his thumb as she slowly brings her eyes up to meet his in the mirror, her head tipping to expose her neck just a little more. There's the slightest bite to her lip as she tries not to smile too much at him...]
You don't seem so terrifying. [Her voice lowers, and there's a playful but fearful shift to her expression.] Should I be worried?
[She's held out long enough, hasn't she? She's been good, she can indulge in just a little bit, can't she? Especially when his hands press over her neck, making her throat dry up and tighten, and her body shudder as she presses back against him.]
What do you mean?
[Her hand comes to rest over his, guiding one further down, over her collarbone and laying it to rest at the curve of her breast where it meets her chest, making her arch her back. All this while watching his reflection. Watching his reactions carefully. Seeing what he likes, doesn't like, and trying to anticipate what he might do next.]
You've given me no reason to fear you yet. My... mother taught me never to judge.
[Or something. Her head is already swirling from the heat in the room (did it just get hotter?) and she's having a hard time remembering the plot of the book.]
[God... How badly she wants to turn around to face him, but she knows that the moment she does, it's all over. As soon as her lips crash to his, all of this? Whatever this is... it's over. She'd crash and burn, he'd make her fall to her knees the way that he always does, and all of this would have been for nothing.
Well, not nothing, per se, but can't a girl want to live out one of her (many) fantasies with her loving husband just a little bit? She considers herself lucky that they could even do it this way, with the full immersion and all.
Her gasp when he pulls her to him falls into a brief out-of-character giggle before she's biting her lip to stop it.]
Actually...
[Oh, she is being cruel tonight, isn't she...? She can practically hear the growl in her ears now, which doesn't help when she shudders at the thought.]
I'm... a little thirsty.
[And how convenient that there is some wine on the little cart next to the vanity.]
He's actually willing to drag this out longer for her little play...but he really isn't going to make it easy for her. He has to play in character after all.
What vampire is going to just let his prey make useless demands?]
[Her cheeks flush as his mouth descends on her neck again, and when his teeth sink in, her eyes flutter shut and she falls into a momentary fog of bliss, the sharp sting and the pleasure that follows it too much for even her.
...
She didn't even know how much she would like this, but she is toeing a very dangerous line right now. In many ways.
But wait—]
Ah, what's the meaning of this?
[When her eyes open, they're clouded over, her pupils already growing wider as she struggles to keep it going.]
[A dark whisper as once more those hooks are going to snap apart beneath his hand—]
If this is real or not.
[—before there's another bite, a harder one where his canines threaten to break the skin. His hand grabs the front of her gown and yanks it down, the sound of the fabric tearing exciting even him as her scent once more overwhelms him and his own reason starts to flicker. Even if she tried to protest now, he might not be able to comply, the taste of her skin and...something else sweet. Addicting.]
[The sound of her dress tearing seems to echo through the whole room, that alone sending a ripple of heat to pool between her legs, and as he pulls it down, it will reveal the lace that she had worn to bed, that was waiting for him when he walked out of the shower. The black feels so much darker against her pale skin, sheened lightly in sweat, glistening as her chest heaves for breath.
And she watches him in the mirror, watches as he sinks his teeth further. Watches as he tries to drink her up... watches as he quickly loses himself in this fantasy of hers, just like she is. It's so captivating, thrilling... a rush that Tifa has never really known until now.]
How did this happen...? How did I end up...
[She can hardly finish her sentence, the sight alone eclipsing her already foggy head.]
[As if in response to her continued protests, there's a low growl, a flash in his eyes.]
Give it up.
[Whether that's supposed to be in character or to Tifa herself, it's clear he's ready to continue where they left off back in the room. But he won't strip her completely yet. He can tell she's watching from the mirror, and as he threatened back in the hallway, he plans to make her a complete mess.
And he'd like her to see it.
So instead, his hands will just roughly go to their targets, one roughly groping her breast as pulls against the bra, the other plunging to between her legs.
[Her broken cry when his hands reach around her shatters through the room, and one of her own reaches out to grip the edge of the vanity, the table rocking slightly from her strength alone, as the other rests over his hand at her chest, guiding him into pressing it more firmly.
Roughly.
Just the way he knows she likes it.
She blinks her eyes open and swallows past the dryness in her throat, and he'll see how much she tries to fight it. Tries to fight that trembling in her fingers and the eager quiver of her thighs as she spreads them in invitation. In a plea when his hand doesn't wander far enough.]
But I can't...
[Is she still making a feeble attempt at acting the part?]
You're one of them, aren't you?
[Yes, she is, and she'll try to wriggle free. Feebly. Even if she wanted to run, her legs would not carry her far.
[And he does, every muscle that still works squirming into his hands, seeking the pressure and the contact, but it isn't until she feels his teeth on her neck again that she takes a sharp intake of breath, the shock and the heat of it both doing untold things to her. Things that she has never imagined she could feel before.
He always knew how to surprise her, always knew how to keep her on her toes as well as curl them, but this is on a whole other level. Having the setting, the clothes, and especially the sharpened fangs makes her lose herself.]
Eus—
[Lose herself so much that she forgets where they even are, but not enough that she forgets the things that she had wanted to do.
...
When she subtly kicks her foot out, there's a soft clatter on the floor, and out from under the vanity slide a pair of metal cuffs...... and if her face wasn't already red before, it is now.]
[He hears that slip, and he wants to make her break out of this "play," to hear her name cry out from her lips in that desperate, strangled way that incites those darker desires only she can pry out. More of herself is exposed, hand at her chest now beneath the lace, half of it pushed up by his movements...
When he hears that sound, eyes snapping to the handcuffs on the floor.
...]
Hoh.
[A low sound of amusement before his eyes go to hers. Slowly his mouth moves to her ear, one eye on the mirror's reflection to watch her.]
[She can hardly stand to look at herself, too embarrassed to see that he's already started to make that mess of her. How her lips are red and swollen even without the kisses that she so, so desires, as they fall open, how her skin glistens with sweat, how her hips slowly rock into his hand in their silent pleas.]
N-no...
[Though, her protest is playful, squeaked out of her in a voice that is barely heard over the roar of her blood in her head, and her own brand of dark heat simmers in her eyes when she lifts her gaze to his, lips quirked into a shy grin.
Another rattle of chains as she nudges the cuffs closer to him with her foot.]
[She tries not to let that sound of surprise escape her when she's scooped up and thrown to the bed, nor the fit of giggles that she knows is blooming in her chest, wanting to break free, but the tension in the air doesn't allow it. It suffocates it all out of her instead, leaving her only with the burn of anticipation between her legs as she clambers up to the head of the bed looking like that rabbit caught in the big bad wolf's trap.
Oh nooo~ whatever will she do!?]
I promise I didn't mean to come in here... or look around... I just...
[She doesn't even know what she needs to say anymore, or what she could say. Any word that isn't his name is just a jumble on her head, tangled on the tip of her tongue.]
I was curious! I... really should be going now...
[Except she isn't going anywhere, as she lifts a hand to gather her skirt in a fist, the other wiping the sweat away from her collarbone as she forces herself to not shy away and to look at him.]
[As Eustace watches Tifa scramble back, his eyes just carry that dark gleam. And slowly he begins to first unfasten his cloak, the large fabric slipping down the back of his shoulders.]
Still you protest...
[Then comes the tie, handcuffs swaying with a loud clink as the slender fingers holding them slip through the knot to pull it away with ease until that falls, shirt loosening.]
But I can already see... [A slight sneer as his eyes drift to between her legs, her scent already filling the space between them as if beckoning.] What you really want.
[The end of the bed dips as one knee drops on it, hand rising to his mouth to grab the tip of the glove with his teeth and yanks it off.]
So go ahead and cry.
[And then the other glove is pulled away and tossed to the side with its partner.]
I'll have those, too.
[Her tears. Always so sweet like nectar from a newly bloomed flower.
And in the next moment, with the assistance of that vampire speed, he's on her. His hand slams against the headboard as he looms over her, a strange darkness falling over them as the candles flicker briefly and a few go out, darkening the room further. In this dim light, his eyes seem to have an odd glow... But that could just be the ambient effect of the setting. At the very least, it adds to the illusion, that desire burning clearly as he lowers himself to her.]
[She becomes so hyper-aware of every movement, every sound that he makes, right down to the very low timbre of his voice, almost like her bones mean to absorb the vibrations of it when each one passes through the air. She's zeroed in on him, every sense heightened to the point where it's overwhelming.
She purrs at the heavy sound of his cloak falling to the floor, watches him with parted, hungry lips as he tugs away each of his gloves, rolls here head back at the sound of the chains rattling, her body arching in invitation when the bed dips beneath that shift in weight.
They have done a lot of different things together, tried so much that Tifa never imagined herself ever humouring, but she isn't sure that she's wanted him as much as she wants him now. Though, that seems to be the way—with each night they spend together, every moment of intimacy only makes that feeling grow, and this is no different.
It startles her a little when he suddenly appears over her, and when the candles go out, he'll see that spark of eagerness, that flash of the thrill that he lights. The bite of her lip as she tries to stifle her smile.
Her head lowers to the pillow, her hair spilling like ink behind her, the contrast against her pale skin making that flush in her face and her neck all the more delectable to one like him...]
And what is it that you want...?
[Her voice is so sickly sweet, hushed with a breathless exertion that she's never known herself to feel.]
[A smirk forms as he's now right over her, face close but still too far for her to reach.]
Raise your arms.
[Yes. He's not only going to not answer, but he's also going to make her "help" with this. Though they both know it's only because he quite enjoys commanding her, just as she enjoys that thrill of following his orders.]
[There's another spark in her eyes, an eager bite to her lip, and slowly... so painfully slowly, Tifa stretches her arms above her head as far as they will go in this position. So far that it forces her body to bend and arch, spreading herself open further for him. She can feel the lace strain against her, trying to hold together as best as it can...]
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