julz🤍

Each child you passed as you walked to the end of the queue was louder and more hyper than the last and you grimaced and turned to Larissa with an apology on the tip of your tongue, only to find her smiling pleasantly at Alice as the little girl skipped beside her, divulging in great, trivial detail what she had already told you at breakfast about her Christmas wishlist. 

Of course Larissa was good with children — you couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t be, running a school, after all. Kids of all ages went to Nevermore, though you usually only saw the older students in Jericho. Apparently she was a natural even with the little ones, so much so that she hardly seemed to notice the din that the kids at the mall made, which was already starting to give you a headache. 

“Could you guys watch the kids for us?” Deanna asked, trying to put Ben down. He clung to her neck, his little face already scrunching up and turning red. She sighed, glancing at you pleadingly, though before you could react, Larissa was already reaching out her arms. 

“May I?”

“Yeah — please.” 

Larissa took Ben into her arms — he resisted at first, grabbing onto Deanna’s hair and letting out a wail, but she managed to pry herself from his strong, toddler grasp. Larissa clutched him to her chest and began to coo at him.

“Thank you, we’ll try to be back before you guys reach Santa.” Deanna grasped her husband’s elbow, lowering her voice. “Last minute presents.” 

The two of them disappeared in a throng of people, leaving you and Larissa with Alice and Ben. The former hardly noticed her parent’s absence, rocking on her heels and craning her neck to see Santa in a sort of feverish anticipation, while the latter was sniffling into Larissa’s neck, his little hands balled into fists against the front of her dress. 

To say you were impressed was an understatement — Ben was generally a pretty quiet child but once he started crying, it was nearly impossible to get him to stop. And he could be loud. But Larissa held him tightly, one arm under his bottom and the other hand at the back of his head, gently stroking dark curls as she whispered to him and rocked him back and forth. Bright blue eyes locked onto yours overtop his head, and you felt your palms turn clammy in an instant. Painted lips curled into an easy smile, and you felt your knees turn to something closely resembling jell-o. There was something dizzying about Larissa holding your nephew as if he was her own, something that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled back (at least, you hoped you did — you felt a bit faint all of a sudden) and were very grateful for the distraction when Alice tugged at your coat and asked you how long the queue would take.

“I don’t know, all these kids have to tell Santa what they want for Christmas, too.”

Her eyes widened in sudden horror. “Is he going to have time to give us all presents?” she asked anxiously. You crouched beside her, holding her by the shoulders in what you hoped was a comforting manner. 

“Of course he is. He’s been bringing kids all over the world their presents, for hundreds of years.” “That’s why it’s so important we leave out carrots for the reindeer,” Larissa supplied, and your head snapped up to see her peering down at you and Alice. “To give them the energy to fly quickly enough.”

Alice soaked in Larissa’s words, nodding gravely. She craned her neck again to look down the queue, and you stared up at Larissa, who winked at you. You swallowed thickly, rising slowly to your feet, your knees popping on your way up and making Larissa laugh. 

“I thought you were younger than I am, your knees are already giving out?” she teased.

“You have no idea,” you replied weakly.

The queue took ages and even when you reached the front, Deanna and Dan were nowhere in sight. Alice held onto your hand tightly, her grip strong and her expression grave, as though she was gearing up for the most important moment of her life. Ben was looking very sleepy in Larissa’s arms, his head resting against her chest and his eyelids heavy as Larissa shifted him subtly in her arms.

“You can put him down if he’s getting too heavy, you know,” you murmured. “He’s got legs, he’s old enough to stand for a minute.”

Larissa looked mildly offended. “No, he’s alright,” she insisted with a shake of her head, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “I don’t mind.” 

You rolled your eyes and let out a playful huff. “Suit yourself, just don’t complain when your arms are sore tomorrow. You shouldn’t let my sister’s kids wrap you around their little fingers like that, they’re spoiled rotten enough as is.” 

Larissa rolled her eyes right back, a witty retort no doubt forming on the tip of her tongue, though you’d never hear it — the elf standing at the front of the queue cleared his throat and approached Alice in that moment. 

“Are you ready to meet Santa?”

She nodded shyly, a look of trepidation crossing her face. You knelt down beside her, her hand squeezing yours in a death grip. 

“You’ll be okay,” you whispered encouragingly, trying to push her towards the old man sat waiting for her.

“Would you like your mommies to come with you?” the elf interjected.

“Oh, we’re not–” The words died on your tongue as Alice nodded absently, eyes still fixed nervously on Santa, and suddenly the elf was jerking his head at you and Larissa, as if to say ‘the queue is long, get on with it.’

You glanced almost helplessly at over your shoulder, your eyes wide, but Larissa seemed to be taking everything in stride, following you and Alice over to Santa. 

Another elf helped your niece onto Santa’s lap and, after she stuttered out her wishlist, Larissa placed Ben on Santa’s other knee. The two of you stood aside, shoulder to shoulder, as yet another elf took a photo of your niece and nephew on Santa’s lap. You were starting to sweat beneath your coat, and Larissa’s body heat so close to you wasn’t helping the matter. Alice wriggled herself free from Santa’s lap the moment the photo was done and ran up to Larissa, tugging at her coat. You collected Ben and followed Larissa and Alice to a more quiet corner to regroup.

Would you like your mommies to come with you? And you hadn’t said anything, Alice hadn’t said anything. Even Larissa hadn’t said anything. The elf could have assumed that you were friends, or cousins, or anything really. But he assumed you were a couple. You supposed that was a good thing — if this stranger thought you two were a couple, surely your family was buying into the lie as well. A lie that was, slowly but surely, making you feel sick to your stomach. 

“Are you alright?” You jumped as Larissa’s hand came to rest on your lower back — your grip on Ben had tightened and he was starting to get fussy, and you hadn’t even realized, as deep in thought as you were. You met Larissa’s gaze, and you wished you hadn’t. There was a deep crease between her brows, her eyes were wide and imploring, swimming with concern, her lips turned into a frown. Her thumb ran across your lower back, back and forth and back and forth, as heat prickled at the back of your neck. Your stomach turned, you suddenly felt very ill. 

“It’s a bit hot in here,” you remarked faintly.

“It’s terribly stuffy,” Larissa agreed, though there was something in her gaze that you couldn’t quite place as she eyed you carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. She cocked her head to one side. “I’ll take Ben and wait with Alice for Deanna, you go outside for a moment.” 

You let her take your nephew in your arms, nodding as you turned robotically and headed for the nearest exit, her gaze burning a hole into the back of your head as you went. It was absolutely freezing outside, the wind was blowing snowflakes across the parking lot, but it did wonders for your nausea. Wiping your clammy palms on the sides of your coat, you sat down on a bench and waited for your family to come out and meet you.

Your family, and Larissa.

It was terribly selfish of you, you realized in that moment, to have Larissa keep up the charade for you like this. Instead of having a fun, relaxing Christmas, she was being subjected to all sorts of embarrassing family antics, Christmas parties with people she didn’t know, childcare for children who weren’t her responsibility. All because you had been too chicken to correct your mother when she thought you had gotten a girlfriend. 

Larissa seemed to be enjoying herself alright, but you had your doubts. At the Christmas party after you’d kissed her. When you were forced to lie in bed together the following morning. Listening to your mom go on and on about your ex. Those moments in which Larissa seemed distant — the same moments in which you felt like you wanted her near. 

And what made the guilt even worse? You were having the time of your life. You liked having Larissa around. You liked the way that she fit into your family, and into your life. You liked watching her dote on Alice, and on Ben, you liked watching her talk to your sister, or to your parents. You liked seeing her in your childhood home, at the kitchen table, drinking out of what had been your favorite mug a decade ago, as if she belonged there. You liked lying awake at night staring up at those old, faded glow-in-the-dark stars, listening to her breathe, knowing she was staring up at the same stars.

It made you sick to your stomach to think she didn’t like all of that quite as much as you did.

“There you are, you okay?” Your sister’s voice broke you out of your reverie — you hadn’t heard her approach, her children and Larissa in tow.

“Yeah, fine, it was just too stuffy.”

“Dan’s just loading the bags into the car, he’ll pull it around.” 

As you stood, Larissa came around to your side and placed a firm, steadying hand on your elbow. You smiled gratefully, almost in spite of yourself.

“Dan wanted to take the kids ice skating,” Deanna started. “Do you guys want to come or should we drop you at home first?”

Your questioning gaze met Larissa’s, searching. She smiled, giving you a slight nod, though her brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t mind, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah…” You felt yourself blush at Larissa’s concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

When Dan pulled the car around to the mall’s entrance, you and Larissa climbed into the back while Deanna secured the kids in their car seats. Larissa was cramped in the back seat, her long legs bent at an awkward angle, her knee pressed against your thigh. Your fingers twitched in your lap, you wanted so much to reach out and touch her, to get closer to her… Screw it. You rested your hand on her leg, hesitantly, then watched as she covered it with her own. She smiled at you — a small smile, warm and comforting, her face at ease. You smiled back, that dizzy feeling from earlier returning, and rested your head against her shoulder, solid and grounding — you weren’t quite sure what had gotten into you, but you hoped she would attribute your physical neediness to not feeling well.

The back seat of your sister’s SUV was like a bubble of your own making. You could hardly focus on the conversation she was having with her husband, on the chatter of your niece and, to a lesser extent, your nephew, on the music playing on the radio. Instead, you felt a sleepy, dreamy sort of weightlessness with your head against Larissa’s shoulder, with her warm palm cupping your hand, the soft wool of her coat beneath your fingertips. You could feel every breath she took, the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume lulling you into a daze — every so often, when the car hit a pothole or turned a corner, your head bounced, bringing you even closer to Larissa, your hair grazing her cheek. And she sat there, looking out the window, her thumb brushing rhythmic strokes across your knuckles. It nearly made you fall asleep, and you were more than reluctant to leave the car when you arrived at the ice skating rink.

Inside, it took you twice as long as usual to lace up your skates — you were too busy watching Larissa help Alice with hers, knelt in front of the little girl, her nimble fingers doing up the laces carefully, pulling them tight, knotting them securely, checking the fit around each of Alice’s feet. She took your niece’s hands, helped her up, watched her like a hawk as she took a few steps to make sure they weren’t too loose. 

In that time, you’d only managed to lace up one of your skates halfway. 

“I guessed your shoe size, I hope they fit okay,” Deanna said, offering Larissa a pair of ice skates — Larissa looked up at her from where she was still crouched down, her eyes wide. 

“Oh no, I’ll just be watching.” She insisted firmly, a polite smile settling on her face. Alice scurried up to her as fast as she was able in her skates.

“You don’t wanna skate?” She looked like a wounded puppy, and Larissa glanced at you nervously. Alice followed her gaze, turning her puppy dog eyes on you. “Make Auntie Rissy skate with me.”

That nauseating, guilty feeling simmered low in your belly again when Alice called Larissa “Auntie Rissy”, but you ignored it this time, suppressing a smile at Larissa’s helpless expression — she was usually so confident and in control, and it was a bit comforting to see that even Larissa Weems wasn’t perfect all the time.

“If Auntie Larissa doesn’t want to skate, then we can’t make her,” you said gently. Alice frowned, turning to Larissa with a big pout that made you giggle. You smirked and added, “I don’t know how you can say no to her, though.”

“I can’t,” Larissa said with a resigned frown, settling on the bench and taking off her heeled boots. Alice squealed in delight, her entire demeanor changing in a heartbeat. You couldn’t help but laugh at your niece and, when you caught Larissa’s gaze again, she sighed softly — then her gaze fell to your skates and she let out a huffed laugh. “Don’t tell me you can’t tie your own skates either?” 

A crimson flush spread across your cheeks — you’d been distracted, and, as it stood, had managed to tie a wonky knot into one of them and were still playing absently with the laces of the second. “I can tie my own skates just fine,” you grumbled. Larissa chuckled softly, a smile returning to her face — the twitch of her lips made you feel warm.

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Last night, you bumped into Principal Weems on your little walk, as she’d been on her way back to her quarters after being out. It had been late, sure, but you hadn’t questioned it — the woman was allowed to have a life outside of Nevermore, after all. She’d invited you back to her office for a nightcap, you’d talked for a bit, laughed even — she’d insisted you call her Larissa and stop with the formalities, it had made you blush and stutter like a fool. 

She’d said you could come by again sometime if you still found yourself plagued by sleepless nights, that she often stayed up late working and could use the company. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t call on her again, she was probably just being nice, you didn’t want to bother her — but, well… why not?

Your feet carry you towards Principal Weems’s — Larissa’s — office and you knock gently, afraid of disturbing her. The door swings open at your knock, it hadn’t been closed properly, and you stare at it, perplexed.

“Larissa?” you call out, peeking your head into the office. 

Silence.

The room is dark, the last embers dying in the fireplace — clearly she’d already retired to her quarters. You should leave… but she should know that her office is unlocked, you have a feeling she wouldn’t like that. 

Her quarters are connected to her office by a door at the far end and you make your way towards it — you’ll just knock, politely explain that you found the door to her office open, and then leave again. Surely she’d be grateful that you told her. 

As you approach the door to her quarters, you find that this one is ajar as well — and, before you have a chance to decide whether or not to knock, the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard in your life reaches your ears.

All of the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks and you freeze in place — was Larissa masturbating? Having sex? There’s another moan, a little quieter than the first, but it sounds close, and you know you should turn around and leave but against your better judgement you lean towards the door and place your ear against it and it opens just a few inches more, so that you’re able to peer through the crack.

It feels like a hummingbird has been trapped in your chest, and even eating sand couldn’t make your mouth feel drier.

The door opens into a small sitting room, with a sofa that faces it, and sitting on that sofa is none other than Larissa herself — with a naked woman on her lap, whose back is to you. Larissa seems to be wearing lingerie, it’s hard to tell from the angle, but it’s more of her than you’ve ever seen before, her long legs spread to accommodate the other woman’s petite frame, one hand on the woman’s hip and the other hand disappearing between their bodies.

The two women are kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths. Larissa’s moans are the softer, quieter ones, and the sound makes it feel as though your whole body is suddenly on fire. Your lips feel chapped, you lick them in vain, you realize you haven’t been breathing. You know you should turn away, sneak back to your own quarters before you get caught, but your legs feel like jell-o and you’re certain that if you tried to take so much as one step, your knees would give out and you’d collapse on the spot.

Then Larissa breaks the kiss, nips at the woman’s earlobe — she tilts her head with a moan and Larissa opens her eyes and looks right in your direction and you almost do collapse on the spot, suddenly feeling more than a little lightheaded, your stomach sinking.

You brace yourself, ready for Larissa to stop everything, to come over and berate you, to unleash her fury on you and send you packing. Her eyes bore into your own, pupils so blown that barely a sliver of blue is visible, and you can’t look away no matter how hard you will yourself to. 

But nothing happens. Larissa’s lips stay firmly attached to the other woman’s neck, her shoulder flexes as her arm appears to move with even more urgency — it’s hard to see from where you’re stood but from the obscene noises that reach your ears, you can only assume that Larissa is buried knuckle deep in this woman’s cunt.

Obscenities begin to spill from her lips as she bucks against Larissa, none the wiser to the audience half-hidden behind the door. Her back arches and flexes and the tendons in her neck stretch as Larissa’s lips assault her pulse point, as Larissa digs her teeth into the smooth flesh, all the while keeping her eyes on you.

You can almost see a hint of a smirk on Larissa’s lips as she brings the other woman over the edge, holding her firmly against herself as she trembles and moans in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. It’s as if Larissa is getting off on having you watch her, her cheeks adorned with a rosy flush and her eyes hooded.

It’s almost too much for you to handle. This is so wrong, not only walking in on your boss during sex but staying and watching like a voyeur. You shouldn’t be here — even if Larissa hasn’t acknowledged you yet, you’re certain that you’ll be fired by morning, when she finally comes to her senses.

You stumble back from the door, moans continuing to spill through the crack. Your foot catches on the corner of a rug and you have to catch yourself on Larissa’s desk — the action snaps you firmly back to reality and you slip out of Larissa’s office as quietly as you can. 

Once you’re in the hallway your feet pick up speed, pure adrenaline carrying you back to your own quarters. You’re grateful that it’s the middle of the night and no one is around, surely people would question why you’re sprinting through the halls as if you’re being chased. You don’t stop until you’ve slammed and locked the door to your quarters behind you, and then your knees give out and you sink to the floor.

The thing is, you like Larissa — a lot more than you should. You probably shouldn’t have even taken the job in the first place, seeing as your crush started during your very first interview for the position. Until now, though, it’s been fairly easy to suppress your feelings. You truly don’t interact with Larissa that much, most of your time is spent with your students and working. Only now, you have no idea how you’re ever going to be able to face Larissa again.

One question gnaws at you, and the more you think about it, the more your stomach sinks. Why didn’t Larissa stop what she was doing? Why did she let you watch, why did it seem like she wanted you to watch? Was it because she has some sort of voyeurism kink? Or was it, perhaps, because she has some sort of feelings for you, too? 

You scoff at yourself — the thought of Larissa Weems finding you desirable is utterly absurd. Plus, if she did have feelings for you, why would she be fucking someone else? Tears begin to blur your vision, spilling down your cheeks, and you press your face against your knees, losing sense of time as you try (and fail) to reign in your emotions.

A gentle knock at your door rips you from your misery, and you realize that you’re still sitting on the floor. Your knees pop as you stand and you quickly wipe at your eyes with your sleeves, trying to make it look like you haven’t been sobbing. Your heart hammers in your chest as you reach for the door handle, wondering who could be calling on you — perhaps another teacher who heard you crying? Or maybe a student needs help?

Oh. 

Oh. 

It’s Larissa.

She stands tall in front of you, looking down at you in a way you’ve never seen before. She doesn’t appear to be angry — on the contrary, there’s a small, playful smile on her lips and her cheeks are flushed a gorgeous shade of pink. She’s dressed, though a bit haphazardly, and a few baby hairs peek out of her updo at her forehead.

“I thought you’d still be awake,” she says, her voice a low purr, and you’re certain your face is as red as a tomato, a lump growing in your throat. You wonder if she’s being sweet on purpose to lull you into a false sense of security, but you quickly shake the thought from your head — that isn’t like her.

Your voice fails you so you nod meekly instead, and that little act of submission turns Larissa’s smile into a smirk.

“Are you alright, darling? You don’t look very well…” Her tone is light and teasing but her eyebrows crease a bit as her eyes track the dried trails of your tears down your cheeks. You nod again, wiping at your cheeks with your sleeve, certain you’ve never looked more pathetic in your life.

“I’m fine,” you lie, the tremble in your voice giving you away, and Larissa cups your cheek, her thumb grazing across your lower lip and sending a spark down your spine — your accompanying shiver doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Was that a bit too much for you, my dear?” she coos, and your breath stutters in your chest as images that you’re trying to suppress come flooding back to you.

“I-I just…” You don’t know what to say. Is Larissa looking for an explanation? An apology? Why did she follow you? Why is she touching you?

“I’m not upset with you, darling,” she reassures you, her tone soft. So you’re not in trouble, but this is uncharted territory all the same. She takes a step towards you, backing you into your quarters, and closes the door behind herself. “Why don’t we have a seat, hm?”

Her gaze flickers to your bed and you can only nod dumbly as you let her lead you towards it with a hand on the small of your back, taking a seat beside you. Her thigh is touching yours, her body heat radiating off of her, and you swear you can smell the sex on her, and it’s making it hard to think.

“Why did you come to my quarters?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep again,” you admit quietly, clasping your hands in your lap and looking down at them to keep yourself from doing something you’ll regret. “Larissa, I-I swear, I didn’t mean to walk in on you, it’s just your office door was unlocked and I–”

“I was hoping you’d come by tonight.”

Larissa’s admission knocks the wind right out of you, and you can’t help but to look up at her, struck dumb by the amusement on her face. “Y-you were?” You hate how breathy your voice has gotten, a spark of hope and something more primal sprouting in your abdomen, but your brows knit together in confusion as you try to make sense of the situation you’ve found yourself in. “But what about that other woman?”

“Just a friend,” Larissa says casually, shrugging. 

“A… friend? Does she know you’re here?”

Larissa smirks. “She does.” Her gaze drops slowly, deliberately to your lips, turning your core to molten lava.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Larissa mocks, and your face turns crimson. She reaches into your lap and takes your hand in her own, stopping your fidgeting. “Tell me you want me to leave and I will.”

“I… can’t do that,” you admit, unable to hear your own voice over the hammering of your heart in your ears.

At that, Larissa takes your hand and places it on her own waist, then kicks her heels off and adjusts herself on the bed so that she’s slowly pushing you backwards until you’re lying flat on your back and she’s hovering over you. “Do you want this as much as I do?” she asks, her gaze flickering between each of your eyes, and you almost don’t answer because you’re so distracted by how soft and right her hip feels beneath your hand. 

“I don’t know how much you want this…” You swallow thickly and Larissa chuckles, the sound like music to your ears. “B-but yeah, I want this.”

Larissa shifts her weight onto one arm, her other hand running through your hair until it reaches your jaw. She hooks one finger below your chin and tilts it up, pressing her lips gently to yours and pressing the length of her body against you.

Her lips are just as soft as you’d pictured them to be (and it’s something you’d daydreamed about often) and your heart is beating so fast you think you might actually be having a heart attack. It takes you a moment to start kissing her back and, when you do, you reach up tentatively to cup her cheeks. The action spurs Larissa on and she flicks her tongue against your lips, silently begging you to part them — you do, without a second thought, unable to stifle the moan that rips from your chest as her tongue tangles with your own.

It’s easy to get lost in a woman like Larissa. Her mouth is hot and wet and tastes like red wine and lipstick, and her body is warm and soft and smells like tuberose and vanilla. She’s got a way of enveloping your senses so that nothing else exists in that moment apart from her, and you’re powerless to stop her — not that you would ever want to. 

She bends her leg and intertwines it with yours, sliding her hand along your jaw and into your hair, her fingers curling behind your ear as she deepens the kiss. The most sinful little sighs and moans spill from her mouth directly into yours, making you soak through your underwear faster than the best audio porn you’ve ever heard.

You think you might be having the same effect on Larissa, because you feel her shudder against you, her hand tightening in your hair as her knee inches towards your center. “I like the way you taste,” she mumbles against your lips, her tongue delving deeper into your mouth. 

“Same,” you murmur, rather pathetically, and Larissa chuckles, nipping playfully at your lower lip — then her knee presses against your core through your trousers, making you gasp. Your head falls back against the pillow and Larissa takes the opportunity to cover your neck in kisses and little bites. Her knee grinds against your cunt and, from this angle, you feel the warmth radiating from her own crotch against your thigh. “Larissa, p-please…”

“Please? Please what?” she teases, pulling back just in time to watch your face turn red, your lips parting but no words coming out. “May I take this off?” she asks, giving the hem of your shirt a gentle tug, clearly realizing she’s not going to get a coherent answer out of you, and you nod eagerly. 

Larissa’s hand is warm against your stomach and your abs contract as her fingers slide up your torso, pulling your shirt along with them and revealing more and more of your body to her. She pushes your shirt over your breasts and you help her to tug it off the rest of the way, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Your bra soon follows, Larissa’s fingers getting to work on the clasp and wasting no time in getting you naked. Her lips replace her hands, nipping at the swell of your breasts, leaving little red marks and tiny bruises, marking you as her own.

“Aren’t you just stunning?” she murmurs as she kisses her way down the center of your abdomen, her hands molding against the curve of your waist, her breath tickling your skin and making every hair on your body stand on end.

You start to squirm as she gets closer and closer to the hem of your trousers, and you feel her smirk against your lower belly as she hooks her fingers beneath the waistband and starts to tug, her lips following your trousers as they get pulled down, then discarded. 

“You’re so wet,” she coos — your cheeks are aflame as you shift your hips slightly and feel how you’ve soaked through your underwear, and then Larissa speaks again and you feel you may combust on the spot. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, darling, you’re not the only one…”

Larissa sits up, unbuttoning the front of her dress — her breasts spill out of their constraints and you realize she’s come here without a bra on. You shiver. She frees her arms from the dress and tugs it down her body, over the soft swell of her lower belly, her hips, shifting to the side to pull it down her legs and toss it aside, along with her underwear, which join the heap of clothing on the floor. In the dim light of your bedroom, you can see her pale inner thighs glisten with the evidence of her arousal, the smell of her growing stronger with no more barriers in place.

“Now, where were we…” she teases, lowering herself again so that her face is level with your cunt. She presses her lips to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need her most, and you struggle to keep yourself from bucking your hips against her face. You pray she doesn’t notice this but of course she does — she chuckles, her breath hitting the cool, wet spot at the center of your underwear and making you clench. “Patience, darling.” 

“S-sorry,” you mumble, fisting at the sheets to have something to do with your hands, to keep yourself from squirming and fidgeting as Larissa pulls your underwear down your thighs and then wraps her arms around them, giving you a little tug to get you just where she wants you.

A moan spills from your lips, so guttural that you hardly recognize it as your own, as Larissa runs her tongue up the length of your pussy. She mumbles something about how you taste but her voice is muffled against you and you can’t really focus on what she’s saying anyway as all the blood in your body rushes to your cunt.

You feel your knees bend of their own accord, your body opening itself to Larissa, seeking more of the pleasure she’s giving you. Her tongue dips inside of you, deeper, deeper, fuck, her tongue is long, she fucks you with it nice and slow, thorough, taking her time. When she moans it seems to vibrate throughout your entire body, you bite down on your lip so hard that you draw blood.

It’s clear now why that other woman was moaning so hard — Larissa knows just which buttons to press. Your thighs are already trembling as she thrusts her tongue inside of you, and then she circles your clit with her thumb and you see stars. You want to watch her so badly, you’ve fantasized about this moment and, if the last thing you ever saw was Larissa’s silky blonde hair bobbing between your thighs, you’d die the happiest person on the planet. But it’s so hard to keep your eyes open, every muscle in your body clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm just a little while longer.

You don’t consciously remember moving your hands but they’re in Larissa’s hair now, gripping so desperately that you’re probably hurting her — though, if you are, she doesn’t let on. She doubles down, letting you push her head against your cunt, her thumb against your clit, and you finally can’t take it anymore — your body tenses as your orgasm washes over you, the most satisfying release you’ve ever felt.

Larissa stays in position as you ride out your high and even after, gently and thoroughly cleaning you up with her tongue until you whine and twitch away from her, too sensitive to continue. She releases your legs from her hold, crawling up your body and lowering herself beside you, curling one arm around you and pulling you into her side. You rest your head against her chest, your breathing slowly synching with hers, her heartbeat helping you to regulate your own. You’re sweaty and your cheek sticks to the top of her breast but she doesn’t seem to mind, just runs her fingertips up and down your arm as you come back down to earth.

“You said you wanted this,” she says after a while, her voice quiet and contemplative in the silence of your room.

You grunt in response, still feeling a little dazed.

“Since when?”

A blush spreads across your face, you’re sure Larissa can feel the sudden heat from your cheek against her skin. You can’t believe you’re about to confess to Larissa how long you’ve liked her — but then again you can’t believe she’s just eaten you out either. “I think since I first met you, actually,” you murmur, preparing yourself for a negative reaction.

Larissa laughs, her chest rumbling beneath your head. “That’s quite a long time… though my answer wouldn’t be much better.” That alone makes your heart pound but then Larissa continues speaking and your ears start to ring. “Though I think if I’m being honest, I want a little more than just this.” 

“What do you want?” you whisper, trying desperately to keep your hope at bay. You steal a glance at Larissa’s face and, even though it’s hard to tell from the angle, you swear she has a small smile on her face.

“More than just sex, I mean,” she starts, her fingertips still tracing patterns against your bare arm. “I’d like to take you out, get to know you better… spoil you a little, perhaps.” There’s a trace of teasing humor in her voice, mixed with a vulnerability that you’ve never seen from her before. You nuzzle your face against her neck, your heart in your throat, your voice hoarse when you reply.

“That’s what I want, too…” 

Larissa presses her lips to your head and hums softly. “Then I suppose I’d like to know if you’re free this Friday evening, and if I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes, Larissa…” You prop yourself up so that you can look her in the eye. “Yes, I would love to go out to dinner with you.” Pausing, you reach out to tuck a strand of Larissa’s hair behind her ear, your cheeks warming and your heart thrumming in your chest as you prepare to be brave. You take a deep breath. “But… for now… let me return the favor?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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Larissa’s vampiric tendencies tend to get the better of her when it comes to you, specifically. She simply cannot get enough of how you taste, how your heart races like the wingbeat of a bird trapped in your ribcage. Rabbits and the mice that scurry in the dark deep corridors of Nevermore are never enough to satiate her hunger for you. You allow her to be messy, to take. She can lose the control she so carefully masquerades with when she’s with you, especially when she’s got you in her clutches.

She’d hold you gently while she bites you, moaning at the taste of your blood, licking away every drop like you’re a precious, fragile morsel. She’d wipe her bottom lip with her thumb and kiss you after, and you can taste the metallic sanguine residue on her tongue… “you did so good, you always do.”

Larissa is good at concealing what she wants from you at times despite her needs. You won’t know she needs her fix until she needs it and you are helpless lying in her arms as she bites. She is not cruel, no, not at all. In fact she asks, always asks, always to get that satisfying yes from you. The love is mutual; she loves to take, and oh, are you eager to give.

She’d praise you after every bite… soothing coos after the sting of her teeth penetrate your skin. “Such a good girl, always my good girl”… until one day she doesn’t praise. She doesn’t wait, and it’s some sort of feeding frenzy, her eyes seem to almost glow a soft gray hue and in the darkness you can’t help but come closer, until she grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you in. She doesn’t waste any time, her tongue searches longingly for the spot on your neck that pulses the strongest before her fangs plunge deep into your throat. She’s frantic, fangs aching with a biting need as she holds you. And when you try to push her away she’s not quite done with you… she’s never done with you. Not her special girl.