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Nene has only just begun fingering herself open when she watches Hanako begin to backtrack — subtly at first, a few smiling comments of, “I could do that for you,” followed by increasingly frantic pulling at his binds. They’ve tied him to the steel bed frame with the very special, made-for-vampires rope she’d snuck out of the Minamotos’ hunting reserves, and Nene watches with no small amount of interest as Hanako yanks with supernatural force that would free him from any other material and gets nothing for his trouble but a creak of the bedpost and a hiss of pain.
Once that proves futile and Nene has moved ahead to finger number three, still kneeling above his chest, Hanako tries bargaining. “I know what I said earlier,” he starts, low and throaty and bursting with desire, “but maybe all these restraints weren’t actually necessary after all.”
His eyes gleam gold in the dark. “C’mon, Yashiro. Don’t my fingers feel better?”
And they do; that’s the worst part. Or at least, it had seemed that way in the minutes she’d gotten to experience them last time, before Hanako had lost out to his vampire instincts and bit her thigh right at the femoral artery, hard enough even through the plastic mouthguard to leave a huge, painful bruise.
Maybe it says something about Nene that that incident, not even counting all their close calls while making out or the near-disastrous time she’d tried to suck him off, hadn’t been enough to deter her from making passionate love to her vampire boyfriend. If anything, they’d only stoked that flame higher. Call it stubbornness or some weird danger fetish, but Nene isn’t backing down now.
Hanako, too, has been just as enthusiastic in every step of this process, if more cautious than her, alternating between telling her it’s a terrible idea and kissing her senseless. They’ve gotten better at that part without risking life and limb, at least.
Nene would lean down to kiss him right now were it not for the large muzzle strapped around his face — there, like the vampire-resistant rope, at his own insistence. “My fangs are the biggest risk to you,” he’d told her seriously, hopefully unaware of how hot it had made her. “I could really hurt you, Yashiro.”
She knew that, of course — knew it when she got involved with him in the first place, and certainly knows it now, literally dripping onto his bare torso as she pulls her fingers out of herself. “Are you ready?”
Reluctantly dragging his gaze away from her body, Amane’s voice is strangled when he meets her eye. “Of course I am.” Obscured somewhat by the muzzle, he grins, hopeful and sharp. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to let me go?”
They’d talked about this, too: no matter what Hanako says, no matter what he tells her, no matter how convincing or insistent he might be, Nene absolutely cannot free him. If he safewords, they can stop — but even then, she isn’t to let him go until things have calmed down, however long that may take. It had been the most important of Hanako’s conditions for trying to sleep together, and Nene intends to honor that.
It makes it easier to take pleasure rather than guilt in Hanako’s visible disappointment when she shakes her head. “You know the rules,” she soothes, patting his cheek over the muzzle and laughing when he pouts at her.
Hanako’s vampiric strength has honestly always been a little bit sexy. Nene isn’t an amateur, but it’s hard for any human to match up to a vampire in terms of raw physical ability, and Nene has watched Hanako force his way out of impossible situations, shred things with his claws, and rip things apart with his teeth in a way that she’d admittedly be hard-pressed to do even with a weapon. There’s a reason that hunters run in groups.
She’s never told him outright, “Hey, it’s kind of hot that you could tear my throat out right now if you wanted to,” but she’s wondered if he’s guessed it before, anyway. She wonders if it’s on his mind right now as much as it is hers when she traces a finger along the outer edge of his muzzle and watches him take a deep, stuttering breath into lungs that don’t need it.
“Do I smell good?” she asks, both genuinely curious and looking to distract him as she reaches clumsily behind her to grab his cock. He’s barely flagged; she strokes him back to full hardness, just as she had when she’d first tied him up, biting her lip when Hanako hisses at the contact.
“Do you really want to know?” he asks breathily, and she watches with no small amount of fascination as his hands clench and unclench into fists, nails half-transformed, long and sharp, in a way she’s rarely seen out of combat.
He has remarkable self-control; Nene wants to break it. “Yes,” she whispers, positioning herself above him and rubbing up against him, her clit making delicious friction against the underside of his cock. “Tell me.”
Hanako hesitates. Nene grinds against him more, bright red at the wet sounds it produces, and leans her weight forward on a wrist, dangerously close to his mouth. “Hanako.”
Obscured by the muzzle as he is, she can’t really tell — but she swears the sound she hears just then is his teeth snapping together. “You smell amazing,” he hisses, and it shouldn’t be so hot, the way he glowers at her. “I think I’d tear you apart if you didn’t have me tied up right now. Is that what you want to hear?”
A moan bursts unbidden from Nene’s mouth, and she watches Hanako’s eyes darken. “Yes,” she breathes, and then she’s dropping onto him in one quick motion.
She gets him about half inside before she has to stop to catch her breath. Pleasure ricochets through her, making her limbs shake and her eyes close. Hanako is barely fairing any better; he’s very still but for the occasional tremor, and when she opens her eyes, she sees him through the gaps in the muzzle biting his lip until it bleeds.
“Is it good?” she asks, shocked by the sultry airiness of her own voice as she reaches down to rub her clit. When she clenches around him, he groans and thrusts up — but Nene lifts herself up and off of him immediately.
He lefts out a bitten-off groan of complaint and stares her down with inhumanly yellow eyes. Nene shudders — not with arousal instead of fear, but in addition to fear, the two combining into something that leaves her white-hot and needy.
It takes him a moment to gather his bearings enough to speak. Nene, very unhelpfully, takes to stroking him during this time, still touching herself, enjoying the way his eyelids flutter and his lip, already healed, gets bitten into again.
“Why are you asking?,” he replies shortly, yanking at his bonds again; they aren’t any more likely to budge than they had been when he’d tried the same thing last time. “You already know.”
Maybe it says something about her that seeing her usually sweet, protective, cheerful, control freak boyfriend in this state is turning her on so much, but that’s a thought for future Nene. “I just want to know,” she replies sweetly, scooting up his body to hover over his hips again. “I want to hear you say it.”
Hanako raises an eyebrow at her in an impressive attempt to seem not half out of his mind with desire. “If I say yes, will you let me go?”
“Who was it who said he’d tear me apart if he were free right now?” Nene asks mock thoughtfully, positioning Hanako at her entrance, taking a deep breath as she just barely prods him inside.
Hanako lets out a long, hissing exhale and stays perfectly still. “I could fuck you better if I were free.”
She pokes the tip of the muzzle with her finger, like bopping a dog on the nose. “Nice try,” she whispers, and then sinks back onto him.
He’s big, hard, throbs inside her in a way that makes her gasp. They moan in tandem as he finally bottoms out, Nene fully seated on him. She shifts her weight somewhat so that one hand can thumb at her clit while the other plays with a nipple, and even that much movement has her shuddering on top of him.
When she opens her eyes, Hanako is watching her — perfectly still, pupils narrow and pointed like a cat’s — and she feels more like prey in that moment than she has with him in a long, long time.
Though the muzzle, she can only barely see Hanako grin when he notices her looking. “You smell so sweet,” he purrs. “All your blood so bright on your skin — it’s so tempting, Yashiro. You have no idea.”
Nene moans and begins rocking on top of him, heat jolting through her when he makes a noise an awful lot like a snarl.
“If you let me go,” he breathes, “I’d treat you so well. You’d never know anything better; you’d never want anything else.” Nene moans weakly, and the bed creaks its complaints when he pulls fruitlessly at his restraints again.
“I’d treat you better than anyone else ever could,” he continues, rough with strain and smooth with charisma, “and I’d only bite you a little. You’d give me a taste, wouldn’t you, Yashiro? You’re a good girl.”
“No,” she gasps, fear pricking at her heart — but it’s exciting, that he wants to drink from her, and she’s certain by the way his pupils dilate that he must be able to hear her heartbeat speed, must be able to see how even more color spreads across her skin.
He groans throatily, almost animalistic enough to be a growl, and tilts his head back. “You’re really something,” he croaks, and she can’t quite see his face from his angle. “The good little girl wants the monster.”
The haze of her pleasure gets cut somewhat by concern at his words, and her brow furrows, mouth opening to reply — and then Hanako takes advantage of her half-raised hips to buck up into her, shoving his entire length inside of her.
Nene thinks she might scream as she loses strength in her body, weight dropping onto Hanako’s hips. This does nothing to slow his pace, though, and Nene simply tries to keep herself upright as Hanako bounces her in his lap, even with all of his limbs very thoroughly tied up. She hears another sound of snapping teeth, and forces her head up to find him staring at her with those sharp, slitted pupils again. Her heart stutters in her chest; and Hanako must be able to hear it, by the way his eyes squeeze shut a moment, desire so potent in his expression it looks almost painful.
“Hanako,” she gasps, hands on his chest as pleasure rocks her body so intensely that it takes everything she has not to collapse.
His voice when he speaks is nearly a growl. “Give in, Yashiro.”
An especially punishing thrust, and Nene is sinking down chest to chest with Amane, curling her fingers in his hair and holding on for dear life. It doesn’t occur to her until she hears his gasp that she’s just put her neck right next to his mouth.
“You’re cruel,” he croaks, fucking up into her even faster, even more forcefully. “You know what you smell like to me; you know what it does to me.”
She doesn’t, really; Hanako hasn’t spoken much about blood in general since they’ve been together. But she likes the desperation in his voice, the pained huskiness, and she grinds down, moaning weakly, to show her appreciation.
Hanako’s pace stutters and then picks up again, harsher than before. “Is that what you want, Yashiro?” he asks, feral and raw. “You want me to drink from you? You want me to sink my teeth into your neck and take what I want while I fuck you?”
Nene shudders, picturing it: Hanako unrestrained and wild with lust and the scent of blood, fucking her mercilessly with his fangs in her throat, lapping up any extra that escapes down her neck while making her come over and over again. A moan forces its way out of her mouth at the thought, and she feels her peak approaching ever faster, spurred on by the feeling of Hanako inside her, the friction of his movements against her clit, and the seductive, heady danger to his words.
He shoves himself fully inside her and then stills. “Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me you want it.”
Too far gone with desire to be stubborn, Nene answers immediately. “I want it,” she babbles, tripping over her own words, tears pricking at her eyes. “I want you to drink from me, I want you to fuck me, I want you to kiss me with my blood still in your mouth so I can taste it — ”
“You want to let me go?”
Fear stabs ice-cold into her heart, stoking and accentuating the fire in her veins. “I can’t,” she sobs, grinding down on him. “You know I can’t.”
Hanako takes a long, stuttering breath in. “I know,” he says, low and dark, and then he’s thrusting into her again.
Any vestiges of composure Nene had been grasping at slip away, and she lets herself let go, curled over Hanako and trembling as he brings her closer and closer to that edge. Judging by the way he shakes underneath her, he can’t be that far off, and even in the state she’s in, Nene preens at the fact that she’s the one to have so throughly broken Hanako’s fervent self control, to have reduced him down to steel-edged words shaking with want, so lost in the feeling of her that he can do little more than fuck her.
It doesn’t take long to get here there again. Nene’s fingers curl into Hanako’s hair as she edges closer, closer, closer; and Hanako groans into her ear and redoubles his efforts. “Hanako,” she’s gasping, trying to warn him or maybe just wanting him more, closer still, “Hanako, I — I’m — ”
When she looks up, Hanako’s pupils are blown wide, and his fangs have elongated so far that she can see them gleaming through the gaps in the muzzle. She pictures those fangs puncturing her skin, pictures what would happen if she took the muzzle off right now — and that mental image, that daydream, is what tips her over, leaving her shuddering and gasping as she cries into his shoulder.
She’s only just coming back into her own head when a harsh thrust from Hanako makes her cry out. “Yashiro,” he breathes, raw and desperate, and then, “I’m sorry, just a little longer, just a little — ” He bites his lip, blood blooming under his teeth and running hypnotically down his chin.
Nene wonders what his blood tastes like, too, as she forces herself onto her elbows to look at him. “It’s okay,” she whispers, shocked by how fervent her own voice is as she starts rocking her hips to meet him. “Let go, Hanako.”
His hips meet hers with such force she might have toppled off of him were she not steadying herself. “You feel so good,” Hanako is gasping, urgent and pained and quickly unraveled, “you smell so good, I’d do anything to taste you, anything — ”
Impulsive and stupid with desire, Nene lunges up to grasp one of Hanako’s hands and drags one long talon across the center of her palm. The cloying, metallic scent of blood bursts into the room, and Hanako’s breath shudders violently, eyes swinging open, frantic pace slowing to a grind.
Before she can doubt herself, Nene puts her hand above Hanako’s face and squeezes it into a fist, blood dripping down, down, down to land on and between the metal of his muzzle. His eyes are wide, bright, and dangerous, and he doesn’t blink even as a drop lands heavy and scarlet on his lips. He maintains eye contact with her as he licks it off, and Nene watches his eyelids flutter as he shudders.
Their slowed pace is interrupted by a harsh thrust. Nene moans, falling forward again, and Hanako prods the muzzle as best he can against Nene’s sliced palm, spreading blood across and through it and pain spiking deliciously up Nene’s spine. The whole while his hips are moving, pace stuttering as he comes nearer and nearer to his peak.
“Yashiro,” he mumbles, rough and half-crazed, delirious with pleasure and bloodlust, “Yashiro, Yashiro — ”
Nene tangles her non-bloody hand in his hair again and cries, “Hanako,” and he’s pushing into her once, twice, deep and harsh, before shuddering into release.
She’s still catching her breath a few moments later when he begins grinding into her again; and with a jolt of mixed alarm and want, she realizes he’s still hard. “I want more,” he whispers, and she can tell even without looking that the expression on his face must be something hungry and inhuman. “You’ll give me more, won’t you?”
He punctuates his words with another thrust up before she can reply. Nene shakes, clinging tight to his shoulders, and he chuckles cruelly. “You’re the one who told me to let go.”
Blood in the air and a dangerous glint to Hanako’s sharp-toothed smile, Nene shivers.
It’s shaping up to be a long night.