Emmeline Fox | M E D I U M (spiritphotog) wrote in thisdarknight, @ 2016-07-05 08:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !locale: french quarter, adam fenn, emmeline rothschild |
want bliss, daylight savings won't fix this mess
Who: Emmeline Rothschild & Adam Fenn.
What: Emmeline sinks her claws into Savoy's new childe.
Where: The Bourbon Orleans.
When: Following this thread.
Warnings: NC-17.
Progress: Gdoc, complete.
The woman clinging to her side giggled and pressed lips into Emmeline's neck. She tilted her head back, knuckles rapping against the door to room 909.
It was strange how quickly she was falling into old habits. The church, David, and now this. She still fumed from the brief fight she'd had with her brother, though she knew the emotion was fueled by memories of how their last meeting had ended, and how much she wished she could change things even though her mind balked at the idea of apologizing.
She had never taken to the bloody violence the church offered its members as penance for their sins. Much as she was loathe to admit it, David had labeled her well -- weak, at least in the physical arts. Em had taken up a different role, one that helped heal in its own way. She had overseen the instruction and encouragement of neonate feeding, helping young kindred get on their feet when they were Embraced and brought into the collective arms of the church.
It was an easy in, now that she was curious about Savoy's newest childe. No one knew the French Quarter leader's reason for Embracing, though rumors were running rampant -- he was about to make a move on Meunier's territory, or perhaps Laveau's. He had done it as a precursor to accepting princedom from the Camarilla. And those were only the kind pieces of gossip floating around. There was no reason why she needed to know -- and for the most part, she didn't care -- and the only thing she could tell herself why she was in front of this door now was the simple fact that this particular neonate, Adam Fenn, provided more of a challenge than any other she might find wandering the streets of New Orleans simply by dint of who his Sire was.
She'd passed him as he exited the Bourbon Orleans earlier; descriptions of Savoy's new childe were abundant, talking about his clean, good looks and shy nature. He was handsome, attractive in the way that most Daeva were; nothing of note, and Emmeline had pushed the thought of him to the back of her mind while she stewed over her conversation with David. How quickly and easily he had made her feel small again. There had been an echo of something in his face, in his words, of the tender person that she knew he could be, but he'd shut that door just as quickly as he had the one into her old rooms in the basement beneath the church that night her mind had left her.
So she sought a distraction, and the first face that came into her mind was the neonate's. It had not been difficult to find an available blood doll, but the rest of her plan was a gamble. If it failed, she risked her safety and her daytime hiding place, but perhaps that would be a sign in itself that she should not have returned at all.
She knocked again.
The door opened at last, though only narrowly. Adam's backlit shape obscured a large portion of the room beyond. What could be seen offered little insight into the neonate before her: a scattering of mundane books, clothing draped across the desk chair's back, the muted television flickering unwatched images into the void. Otherwise there was nothing out of place, nothing to distinguish it from any of the numerous other rooms that lined the hallways.
Adam's blue gaze flicked from Kindred to kine, a shallow furrow creasing his brow. His hand curled around the edge of the door, pushing it open another scant inch. "Can I help you?"
Emmeline's face adopted a smile just as she'd heard his hand on the door; the blood doll wrapped around her canted her head up enough to curve her mouth as well, though hers was far more lecherous.
"Savoy sent us," Em said, her voice light and almost businesslike. "To help you. This would be better explained in private." Her brows rose, implying what was fairly already obvious. The discussion was not for mortal ears. Using Savoy's name in such a fashion was an egregious breach of custom, but Emmeline knew she had a few things in her favor: a busy kindred in a city like New Orleans would have little time to educate a childe. She simply had to hope Savoy hadn't already found someone else to teach the young man. The blond leaning on Em slid a hand up Em's stomach, fingers stopping just short of her chest as she toyed with a button on the crisp white shirt. Her eyes were latched to Adam's gaze.
"Um." Adam glanced down the hallway, visibly relieved to see it empty. Still, his voice stayed low, his hand firmly wrapped around the doorknob. Hunger gnawed at him, and the sight and scent and pulse of the woman before him threatened to undo his resolve. The door slipped incrementally wider. "He didn't mention anyone coming by. You sure you're at the right place?"
She swallowed back her amusement. "It must have slipped his mind. We can always go away, but I think Megan here would be very disappointed." Wrapping one hand around the blood doll's throat, her fingers pushing up Megan's chin, she drew a fine nail down the column of pale skin. Blood welled up from the shallow cut that Em made and Megan shuddered from the small taste of her drug. Emmeline leaned into the woman and licked from collar bone up, sponging away the blood with her tongue. Licking her lips, she turned back to Adam for his reply. Fingers laced Megan's throat, cutting crescent-shaped wounds that promised more sustenance.
Adam's jaw was as tight as the hard line of his spine. He had cut his own tongue to bleeding, though he did not yet realize it. He sighed, resigned. "Yeah. C'mon in."
He turned away from the door, leaving it standing open. He busied himself with setting the small messes in the room to rights: plucking worn clothes from their perches on tables and chairs, stacking the books he had carelessly pushed aside. He freed up a couple of plush chairs in this way, then took a seat on the edge of the bed.
"Sorry about the place," he said. "I'm still kind of settling in. I'm Adam. Which... I'm sure you know."
"It's not a problem," Em replied as the two followed him into the room. Megan remained attached to the female kindred, but watched Adam move throughout the space. "I'm Emmeline, and as I said, this is Megan." The blond took the opportunity to unlatch herself from Emmeline and drift forward to Adam, putting her hands on both of his shoulders. Up close, she was incredibly pale; veins were pressed close to the top layer of her skin, though there were no bite marks or entry wounds that indicated the source of her anemia. A long slit was cut in her shirt, allowing bare flesh to be visible from her collarbone down to her breasts. Even in life it would have been quite a distraction; now, with new and far more pressing needs, it was almost paralyzingly so.
"We're here to help make sure you understand your new dietary needs. Have you had any practice feeding before?" Emmeline came up behind Megan and gently rested her hands on the woman's hips, pulling her back from Adam by a small increment. Megan's hands lingered by their tips on Adam's shoulders, before falling off the edges completely.
"Not really." Adam's eyes flicked up to Emmeline's. He would have blushed, and felt the telltale tensing in his stomach that typically preceded it, but he did not have stolen blood enough within him to do so. That, too, was a source of embarrassment. Discomfort was written in every line of his body. He gave a small, wry laugh. "Well, what practice I have gotten didn't go particularly well." He gestured to Megan, still looking at Em, unable to meet the blood doll's distracted gaze. "Obviously I'm back to being spoon-fed until I can get it together."
A sympathetic smile writ itself across her face. "We all have to start somewhere." She pulled Megan back against her body. "We'll begin with some basics. There are several points on the body that are best for feeding. The neck, of course, is the main area," she said, moving a hand over Megan's neck. The blood doll tilted her chin up, exposing her fragile throat. "It's best to avoid the carotid artery, here," her fingers pressed into the vessel, "until you feel comfortable enough controlling the blood flow."
Em's hand moved down, holding out Megan's hand to proffer a slim wrist, the pads of her fingers running over the woman's pale flesh. "The ulnar artery here is another choice. You can also feed from the elbow bend," her touch drew up, sliding over the curve of the blood doll's arm. "And of course, the femoral artery in the legs." Both hands moved down over the blood doll's skirt, pressing the cloth against the lines of the blood doll's body to outline her groin. She carefully watched Adam throughout the whole presentation, marking his reaction. "Do you have a preference?"
Again the neonate hesitated, his voice an uncertain stammer. "Uh. No." The response sounded more question than answer. He had followed every motion of his fellow Kindred's hands, a desperate thirst rising in him all the while. It took a moment, now, to collect his thoughts, to frame what he wanted to say. He pressed a hand to his nape, belatedly dragging his gaze up from the blood doll's legs. Megan, he silently repeated. She has a name.
"Is there…" Adam huffed a sigh, frustrated. "What's the safest? What… hurts her the least?"
Emmeline released her grip on Megan, letting the blood doll drift forward again. Megan put her hands on Adam's shoulders, smiling complacently.
"That will vary from person to person, but a combination of disciplines and practice will ensure that you feed safely from whomever you choose," Em replied. She moved forward, putting a hand on Megan's neck and pulling her hair back. "Megan is a blood doll, which means she submits to Kindred willingly. She wants this, Adam, so you don't have to worry about hurting her. For her, it's similar to a drug high. She's also very willing to help you relax." Emmeline gave Megan a small push, and the blood doll slid onto Adam's lap, her arms sliding around his shoulders. Her face drifted closer to Adam's, the tip of her nose brushing his.
Already his body stirred with a sensation at once familiar and not: something akin to lust, but different, too. His arms moved easily around her, as thoughtless and instinctual as when they had slipped around Jessica earlier in the night. The thought made his throat feel dry, made him look away from her mouth so close to his own.
"This doesn't seem… creepy to you?" His gaze moved from Kindred to kine; even he was uncertain to which of them he directed his concerns. His hands softened on her back, but did not fully retreat. He felt a lingering shame at that. "Can she even consent to this? Because it really doesn't feel like it. And being high definitely doesn't make it sound better."
Emmeline took a seat on the bed next to Adam, one knee hitched up on the comforter. "You're not kine anymore, Adam. You're Kindred. Lions hunt gazelle to eat, and the gazelle doesn't consent. But you aren't going to rip her apart; you're only going to take a little. You won't hurt her, you'll make her feel amazing."
Megan pulled her head back, tilting it to one side to let her blond hair fall away from her skin. Adam followed the gesture with darkly glinting eyes.
"When was the last time you fed, Adam?" Em put a hand to his shoulder, stroking down his arm in a comforting gesture. Concern laced her features.
"Last night." His hands fell to Megan's waist, his grip loosening all the more. He looked over his shoulder, focusing on Emmeline as much as he could. But Megan's body was warm and close, her pulse a nearly tangible reminder of what his new form required. He felt himself at the edge of a very slippery slope; the choice was less would he fall than how. His shoulders slumped. He hitched the blood doll up against his hips, feeling her body move so readily, so lax. He cleared his throat. "Vitae, not..."
"Not this." Em brought both legs to the top of the bed and knelt next to Adam. She could see his resolve weakening; all he needed was one more gentle push.
Her right hand went to Megan's throat, a sharp nail pressed to her anemic skin. With one quick motion, she cut a bloody line vertically down the blood doll's throat; the coppery smell hit the air immediately. Chum in the water.
"Drink, Adam. You need it, and that's all that matters."
He opened his mouth to protest but the words would not come. Instinct moved him toward what he needed even if the rest of him balked. With Em's voice in his ear and Megan's body on his, Adam leaned forward and pressed his lips to the wound.
The first taste of blood sent a warm shudder coursing through him. Vitae had been sustenance, satisfying in its way; it had not been this. With the tip of his tongue he traced down the cut Emmeline had made, sighing softly against too-white flesh as he did.
Megan shuddered, her neck arched as Adam leaned into her. Her hips ground into his, one hand gripping fingers into his back. She uttered a small moan even from just that one small touch.
"Bite me, please," she whispered, the first time she'd spoken at all throughout the encounter. Emmeline made no move to chastise her, instead fixated on Adam's mouth pressed to Megan's neck. She waited to see if the blood doll's goading would be enough, or if more measures were required. He did not keep her waiting long.
His lips parted on the girl's throat. The press of his teeth was gentle at first, hesitant; but at the first unzipping of flesh, the first droplet of fresh blood on his tongue, he was lost. His quiet moan was muffled by her skin, but only just. His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer as he pressed deeper still. Megan gasped, her back bowed as she pressed into his touch. There was a flicker of pain, and then nothing but waves of ecstasy starting at her throat and washing down through her. Her mouth trembled, her hand tightening its hold.
Emmeline did not watch the exchange untouched, either; a small pink tongue traced her bottom lip, one hand unconsciously grabbing the bedspread beneath her.
Adam saw none of this; his eyes were open, but fixed on the smooth column of Megan's throat. His body stirred beneath her, his hips subtly lifting against her as he mindlessly sought all the pleasure she readily offered. His hands circled her, palms sliding rough and demanding across the slope of her backside. Sharp teeth pressed deeper, opening the wound further, drawing a steady stream of blood into his hungry mouth.
The blood doll gave no fight; she was entirely lost to his spell, the endorphins racing through her form encouraging no resistance. She moaned again, a hand wrapping around his head to hold him close even as he leeched her life away. Distracted, Emmeline forgot to count the seconds as they passed, and nearly too late saw Megan's form begin to go limp. Straightening, she leaned forward and put a second hand to the back of Adam's neck.
"Adam, let go. You have to stop." Her nails bit into his nape, trying to call him back from the fugue he'd entered.
Her voice reached him as a distant call while he himself was in a dream; he heard it, but registered it only dimly, drowsily waking to the truth of her words. His small groan was as much from lingering pleasure as the frustration of being pulled from something so blissful. He pulled away, tongue laving the wound he had made, and cast a sleepy look to the kine in his arms.
"Sorry," he said, though it was evident she could not hear him. It made him feel the slightest bit better all the same. As he came out of his reverie, though, his old discomfort slowly banked: present, and waiting to flare, but tamped down for the time being. He moved Megan off his lap, laying her to rest somewhat more comfortably on his bed.
She gave no response, drowsy with blood loss and the remnants of emotion his bite had left in her nervous system. Her body and limbs fell to the bed, where she passed out, riding the high.
Emmeline watched, head canted to examine his gentle care of the blood doll. A few ideas toward Savoy's motivations crossed her mind, but there were no facts to base them in yet. Instead, she touched Adam's forearm to call his attention away from the peaceful-looking kine; Emmeline kept a close listen on her thready heartbeat, wondering how many more feedings the woman would be able to live through. "Are you alright?"
Adam shrugged. "Probably not." He slid the pad of his thumb over his bloodstained lips, swiping up what faint sheen of red remained. Shifting on the bed, he turned to face Emmeline more squarely. "This is kind of fucked up." An unsteady laugh fell from his twist of a smile. "And if nothing else, it proved I still can't control it. Same as before."
She reached forward, wiping at a corner of his mouth where a blood drop still remained. "Didn't you ever learn to ride a bicycle? Surely you didn't take the training wheels off before you flew down the street." Her fingers came back to her mouth, where she licked the blood from them with a deft tongue. He laughed quietly at the apt metaphor, but his eyes did not leave her slim hands.
"You need more time to adjust. You need more guidance." Part of her felt a little nauseous with herself at what she was doing, while another corner of her mind felt a dark thrill. She moved closer to him, eyes raking up from his mouth and the thick smell of blood still there to his sad gaze as her legs shifted over the comforter. "There are plenty of enjoyable things about this life." Her hand on his arm moved to rest lightly on his thigh.
"Oh, I'm sure," he said. He almost explained he would not have agreed without believing this was so, but more and more Adam was sure he had had very little say in the matter. His discomfort rose. He squirmed beneath the press of her hand. The small motion did not move him far from her touch. In truth, he found it unexpectedly comforting. "Like you said... I need time. And I've got plenty of that now, don't I?"
She smiled gently. "It's a gift that depends on what you make of it. You have to treat yourself gently, and not be so demanding." She inched forward, her mouth salivating from what she could smell from his lips.
With one hunger sated, another rose to the fore. His tongue touched corner of his mouth, to the place her fingers had earlier drifted. "I know," he said. "But…" He met her gaze, and kept his hands firmly on the bedspread below. "I'm Savoy's, and apparently that's a big deal. People will expect a lot. I expect a lot."
Her other hand drifted to his face, cupping a cheek. "A heavy burden indeed. I think you need some distance from it, for a time; some perspective. Distractions are helpful in their own way." She moved forward, a knee brushing his hand while her own passed over his lap to his other hip. Her lips brushed his, careful.
For a moment he did not respond. He held himself still, a rabbit spotting a fox. But something uncoiled within him then, and though he still did not touch her, he leaned slightly into her soft kiss. It had been too long, and his willpower was failing. What the sleeping blood doll had begun, someone conscious, consenting, and an equal might finish. He shifted on the bed, moving closer, one hand sliding over her knee, asking a question he himself could not.
The timid answer was all she needed; it was a careful balancing act, ensuring to not offend or frighten, lest he go running back to his Sire. Emmeline moved onto his lap, her hands cupping either side of his face as the touch of her mouth on his deepened. Tongue slid across his lips, tasting the blood there, urging him to open to her so she might taste more.
Adam drew her closer, his arms circling her as they had Megan before her. He felt a flush of guilt at this, but buried it beneath the parting of his lips and the press of her tongue. His fingers tightened on her skin, reassuring himself of her presence, of her response, of her apparent willingness to be here with him. The tense line of his shoulders softened; he slid his tongue over hers, tentatively tasting her. Her tongue flicked over his, moving around teeth as the coppery tang of blood pulled a groan from her throat.
Hands moved from his face downward, feeling muscles beneath cloth. Her fingers teased at the edge of his shirt, pulling it up enough to let the pads of her thumbs trace over his hip bones. A small roll of his hips canted him into her touch, encouraging.
He moved one hand to her nape, pulling her into his deepening kiss. The other reached for the buttons of her shirt, his quick work in undoing them belying his so recent hesitation. He pushed cloth from skin and cast her shirt aside, fingers splaying at her back the moment they returned to her.
She followed his lead, her hands pushing his shirt up and over his head; just as quickly as the liplock was broken it was found again, teeth nipping lightly at his lips before she focused her tongue on searching out every last drop of blood in his mouth that she could find. Hands returned to his pants, making quick work of his fly. One hand reached in beneath the cloth, nails sliding along skin as her fingers searched out his length.
Adam's quiet moan broke against her tongue. He pressed himself into her hand, his own sliding up to cup her breast beneath her cream-colored bra. No trace of Megan lingered in his mouth, and he was almost grateful for it; all was Emmeline, this new Kindred come to save him from his own incompetence. After one brief, tight squeeze and a pass of his thumb over her nipple, he moved his mouth to her jaw and his fingers to hitch up her skirt with naked impatience. The garment slipped up, revealing no underwear. Emmeline grasped his length, pushing his pants down enough to free him, stroking once, twice more. Her legs spread over his hips, and she guided him into her with the same amount of care she'd attended him with throughout the whole evening.
He drew a sharp breath against her skin. As he sank into her his hands moved over her, across the hard lines of her ribs and the ridges of her spine. He unfastened her bra and tossed that, too, aside, hungry for her naked skin on his. His mouth found the hollow of her throat, tasting her with lips and tongue as he moved slow and deep within her.
His touch was warm against her after his feeding, and every spot he moved against rose up to his inquiring grasp. Emmeline's neck arched, tilting back as her hips rolled on his. Nails on his shoulders bit into the skin, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold him there. Her mind was lost to everything but that moment, the exquisitely blissful absence of thought that she had craved. There was nothing but flesh on flesh, and she let her nails draw furrows from the small of his back outward.
Adam groaned at the sharp touch of her nails. His tongue traced slim tendons at the base of her throat. He gripped her tightly and held her close as he shifted on the bed, moving her beneath him. His jeans slipped lower on his hips, and one hand pulled away from her just long enough to shove them farther down. His lips moved to her breast, teeth skimming lightly across her nipple before he drew it into his mouth, sucking hard as he pushed deeply into her again.
The sweet, slow impalement combined with his mouth on her chest pulled a cry from Emmeline's throat as her back arched. Her hands latched to Adam's shoulders, his hips pushing hers wide. She curled a leg around his backside as he drove into her. His pace did not alter, but his strokes moved deeper, canting her hips upward to him with each inward thrust.
He moaned against her breast, his tongue laving her peaked nipple, his hands clutching at her hip and the nape of her neck. He held her close, pulling her gently into each slow press of his hips. Her nails drew lines down his back, blood welling over his still sun-kissed skin. The leg around his backside tightened, encouraging his motions, while her hands moved back to his head.
Pulling gently, she directed his mouth back to hers, his body crushing down atop her on the mattress. He followed as she led, parting her lips with the press of his tongue, spreading her legs wider with a sharp buck of his hips. The soft lines of her body beneath him and the blood-limned marks on his back from her hands goaded him on; his pace quickened, his hands tightening on her. His nails dug shallowly into her as his knee shifted on the bed, brushing against the sleeping blood doll's leg.
Em's legs slid down to allow her hands to grasp his backside, all but lost to her growing climax. She clenched around him, her tongue sliding over his as she moaned into his mouth.
Adam answered in kind. He shuddered atop her as she drew tight around him, pulling him with her to the very edge. He drew away slightly, his parted lips hovered over hers, a ghost of a sigh passing between them. He buried himself in her, holding her close as he came. Her nails dug into his skin a final time as her muscles rioted, her body finding the sweet release it had been worked into a fervor for. When her eyes opened again, they studied his face as her hands unlatched themselves from his back.
One reached to cup his cheek, running a thumb along the bone. She said nothing, but her question was clear in her movements.
He tipped his head into her touch. He kissed her once more, then lifted himself from her and laid down beside her. The blood doll's leg brushed his own, and she stirred in her sleep; Adam looked to her for a moment, then turned his focus back to Emmeline.
"Um… thanks." He chuckled, too sated to sound anxious. "If that's not an awful thing to say right now."
Em shook her head, rising to a sitting position to pull fingers through her hair. Her skirt bunched around her middle. "It's not," she replied, throwing a smile back at him. A hand came down to rest lightly on his stomach. "I get to enjoy myself too. But now I should make sure she's alright." She tilted her head toward Megan, but her eyes didn't leave Adam. "Is there anything else I can help with?"
"Uh." The faint flush that rose to his cheeks was not one of lingering lust; he seemed embarrassed, and once again uncertain of himself. "I guess not. Are you staying here at the hotel?" His flush deepened. "I mean, if I need to find one of you again. If my next attempt at feeding goes as badly as my first one."
"We both do, though she's not mine," Em replied. She rose from the bed to collect her bra; looped straps moved over arms as she continued. "The hotel supplies blood dolls for those who need it. Did Savoy not tell you?" She cast a quizzical glance at him as she clasped hooks behind her back and moved to get her shirt from the foot of the bed.
"He's offered…" Adam pushed himself up to sit, hitching his jeans back up around his waist. He pulled a hand through his hair. "I haven't really gotten comfortable with the idea of ringing up and ordering in, so I haven't made use of that…" He cleared his throat, uncomfortable again. "Service."
Emmeline's smile grew amused as her fingers made deft work of her shirt buttons. "Hopefully in time you'll get used to it, but until then, I'm here. Room 709." She passed a hand over one of Adam's feet as she approached Megan's unconscious form. "It'll be educational for you, and fun for me." In answer, Adam smiled sheepishly.
She moved her hands to Megan, gently rocking the blood doll. "Time to get up." The woman's eyes fluttered, and she looked lost for a moment. She smiled once Emmeline came into view.
The Kindred helped the woman to her feet, where she hung off of Emmeline's slim form in the same manner as a windless flag off a pole. Emmeline seemed to have no issue with the woman's weight, and to all appearances looked like a girl giving a drunk friend help back to her room.
Adam slid off the side of the bed, stepping around the pair and moving toward the door. He rested his hand on the knob. "Thanks again," he said. "I really do appreciate the help. If there's anything I can do…" He smiled, a self effacing expression on his boyish face. "I mean, I'm sure there's not. But the offer stands." He opened the door for her, standing politely aside.
Em could barely contain her amusement, but she managed it. Half carrying Megan, she approached the door.
"I'm sure I can think of something. 'Bye," she replied, moving through the door and slowly down the hall, in a much better mood leaving than she had been in upon entering.