She can't help but have the idle thought that any feed during sex would no doubt amplify the sensations of both — and for a fleeting moment, almost as long as it takes for him to announce he's concluded, she finds herself irredeemably curious about what the experience would feel like, but dismisses it even more quickly than the length of her mind even so much as harboring the idea.
That would be the shortest road to turning this arrangement into something she cannot afford to keep, and he's already shown such promise in agreeing to her various conditions and stipulations that it would be a shame to dissolve things now. She'd also be irritated by having to begin the search for a submissive all over again.
When he releases her, she manages to keep her footing, her fingers still twined through his, though there's a hard swallow that follows when his tongue slides over her skin one final time, and it is her instinct to stiffen when he brings his thumb to the wounds he's left behind. She can't necessarily feel the skin knitting back together, but the throb of fresh pain there has disappeared, and she knows if she reaches up to verify it she'll find nothing but unblemished, unbroken smoothness beneath her fingertips, as though he had never fed from her at all.
"That's a helpful trick. Though I imagine it draws less attention to your existence if there are less people walking around with identifying marks on their throat." It's easier for her to default to a more matter-of-fact view about it all, afterward, rather than adopt some level of sentimentality or emotion — to treat it like the sealing of their arrangement, as mentioned before, at least until they can venture to the appropriate offices together and sign whatever contracts are required. For that, she'll wait until he's regained the use of his sight so he doesn't feel so beholden to relying on her out in the open.
He's careful to school his tone when he answers, not wanting her to know just how much satisfaction it brings him to feel her small reactions to each and every move he's made. Contrary to how she's restrained herself, he'd love to know just what pleasure a feed with sex could be for both of them. Given half a chance, he'd make good on that.
"Naturally. And, depending on where the feed was taken, it's handy to make sure our victim doesn't accidentally bleed out later. Even a small nick to the wrong artery could be problematic, after all."
She can attempt to distance herself, but trust him to bring it back to something more personal again. "Some people do like wearing the marks. I'm always happy to accommodate that. But I didn't think you would be one of them. That's not the kind of contract you're intending us to sign, is it?"
She hasn't actually inquired about his age, but it speaks to at least some longevity if it's learned to exercise enough restraint in not only taking the minimum of what's required without draining the person he's feeding on — something that even master vampires on the Continent seem to struggle with, based on the number of bodies that pop up when one of them gets sloppy — but knowing where is best to feed from to avoid any unfortunate messes to clean up. Then again, she can't help but think about whether the learning curve was a particularly steep one in that instance.
And she doesn't bristle, necessarily, when he makes mention of leaving his mark behind on her, but there might be a noticeable stiffening in her posture, even if he can't visibly note it. She's worn physical reminders from lovers before, but only of her own volition; most of them she takes pains to heal quickly afterward, without leaving so much as a faint bruise behind.
"It isn't," she answers, a bit more brusquely than she might initially intend — but how much has she already broken as far as her own self-imposed rules are concerned, by even letting him drink from her to begin with? By permitting him that close to her, and learn her taste for himself? "Though it seems that type of arrangement will benefit us both, in the long run. I won't presume immediate renewal when the three months are up, however, unless we're both content with the way things have been."
If she ever does decide to ask him about that learning curve, she'll have to be prepared for an ugly answer. That's a tortured part of his past he wishes he could forget yet never has, as long as he has lived.
She's close enough still that he can feel her tense. Now, he knows he's made the right judgement of her. That's gratifying in its own way. He likes the confirmation that he can still read certain things even if his sight is gone.
"I agree." He finally draws completely back from her, and aims his face in the approximate direction of hers. "We'll see how things stand after three months. Living in the same apartment, I'm sure, may reveal traits that we can't yet know of each other. For now, I am safe from immediate danger, thanks to you. And I will take the time until we have formalized the paperwork with the city to think if there are any provisions that should be clarified. I'm sure you will do the same."
With the distance between them asserted, it's only a matter of returning to a more composed state — even if her skin thrums with a different awareness than she possessed when she first entered the apartment, as though she is more primed to pay attention to his exact movements now.
It's fortunate that he can't witness the expression on her face, though she's schooled her features into something much more impenetrable once more — and with the wounds at her throat healed, it's almost as if it never happened, save for the part where she now knows the sensation of his bite, and he now possesses the knowledge of what her blood tastes like. (She has half a mind to ask whether hers is different from any others he may have fed on here already, but dismisses that idea just as quickly.)
"You have all that you need, then, before we arrange a meeting to have the contract officially drawn up." Meaning his appetites have been sated, at least for the time being, and he won't be inclined to force himself to rely on anyone else's generosity while he's still somewhat incapacitated. She senses that it would be a greater insult if she attempted to coddle him, or tend to him in any significant manner, so she doesn't try to feign sympathy. If he has any more requests to make of her, she's certain that he'll voice them one way or another.
"I do." His tone is back to being detached and matter-of-fact.
It was bruising enough to his pride to have to ask this much of her and to reveal his weakness. She's right that he would be insulted if she now tried to coddle. Even if that may be some small part of her role now that he's secured in a contract with her, in blood if not in legally binding ink yet. It should be a relief. He won't be sent to the zoo. But a part of him still feels as if his humiliation is now complete just as this city intended. They win. This time. Still. It always could have been worse.
"Thank you, Yennefer." He no longer has the right to dismiss her, but there is finality in that thanks. And he stays silent after. Nothing more needs saying at this time as far as he's concerned.
She doesn't necessarily acknowledge his thanks beyond anything but a brief hum, but she does acknowledge it, and a brief turn of fingers by her side, along with some quiet murmuring, is enough to open the portal from which she had come through before — the same one that leads back to her apartment, in the Up.
She doesn't extend an invitation to him to join her, not yet, thinking that that might be perceived as further attempt to satiate him, but chances are he'll be able to sense that she isn't planning on leaving this room by mere door, not if the sensation of wind licking at the portal's edges is any indication.
"Until we speak again, then," she responds, and casts one final glance back in his direction before stepping through, the portal remaining open only for a few more seconds before it, too, winks out behind her.
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no subject
That would be the shortest road to turning this arrangement into something she cannot afford to keep, and he's already shown such promise in agreeing to her various conditions and stipulations that it would be a shame to dissolve things now. She'd also be irritated by having to begin the search for a submissive all over again.
When he releases her, she manages to keep her footing, her fingers still twined through his, though there's a hard swallow that follows when his tongue slides over her skin one final time, and it is her instinct to stiffen when he brings his thumb to the wounds he's left behind. She can't necessarily feel the skin knitting back together, but the throb of fresh pain there has disappeared, and she knows if she reaches up to verify it she'll find nothing but unblemished, unbroken smoothness beneath her fingertips, as though he had never fed from her at all.
"That's a helpful trick. Though I imagine it draws less attention to your existence if there are less people walking around with identifying marks on their throat." It's easier for her to default to a more matter-of-fact view about it all, afterward, rather than adopt some level of sentimentality or emotion — to treat it like the sealing of their arrangement, as mentioned before, at least until they can venture to the appropriate offices together and sign whatever contracts are required. For that, she'll wait until he's regained the use of his sight so he doesn't feel so beholden to relying on her out in the open.
might be good to wind this one down
"Naturally. And, depending on where the feed was taken, it's handy to make sure our victim doesn't accidentally bleed out later. Even a small nick to the wrong artery could be problematic, after all."
She can attempt to distance herself, but trust him to bring it back to something more personal again. "Some people do like wearing the marks. I'm always happy to accommodate that. But I didn't think you would be one of them. That's not the kind of contract you're intending us to sign, is it?"
no subject
And she doesn't bristle, necessarily, when he makes mention of leaving his mark behind on her, but there might be a noticeable stiffening in her posture, even if he can't visibly note it. She's worn physical reminders from lovers before, but only of her own volition; most of them she takes pains to heal quickly afterward, without leaving so much as a faint bruise behind.
"It isn't," she answers, a bit more brusquely than she might initially intend — but how much has she already broken as far as her own self-imposed rules are concerned, by even letting him drink from her to begin with? By permitting him that close to her, and learn her taste for himself? "Though it seems that type of arrangement will benefit us both, in the long run. I won't presume immediate renewal when the three months are up, however, unless we're both content with the way things have been."
no subject
She's close enough still that he can feel her tense. Now, he knows he's made the right judgement of her. That's gratifying in its own way. He likes the confirmation that he can still read certain things even if his sight is gone.
"I agree." He finally draws completely back from her, and aims his face in the approximate direction of hers. "We'll see how things stand after three months. Living in the same apartment, I'm sure, may reveal traits that we can't yet know of each other. For now, I am safe from immediate danger, thanks to you. And I will take the time until we have formalized the paperwork with the city to think if there are any provisions that should be clarified. I'm sure you will do the same."
no subject
It's fortunate that he can't witness the expression on her face, though she's schooled her features into something much more impenetrable once more — and with the wounds at her throat healed, it's almost as if it never happened, save for the part where she now knows the sensation of his bite, and he now possesses the knowledge of what her blood tastes like. (She has half a mind to ask whether hers is different from any others he may have fed on here already, but dismisses that idea just as quickly.)
"You have all that you need, then, before we arrange a meeting to have the contract officially drawn up." Meaning his appetites have been sated, at least for the time being, and he won't be inclined to force himself to rely on anyone else's generosity while he's still somewhat incapacitated. She senses that it would be a greater insult if she attempted to coddle him, or tend to him in any significant manner, so she doesn't try to feign sympathy. If he has any more requests to make of her, she's certain that he'll voice them one way or another.
no subject
It was bruising enough to his pride to have to ask this much of her and to reveal his weakness. She's right that he would be insulted if she now tried to coddle. Even if that may be some small part of her role now that he's secured in a contract with her, in blood if not in legally binding ink yet. It should be a relief. He won't be sent to the zoo. But a part of him still feels as if his humiliation is now complete just as this city intended. They win. This time. Still. It always could have been worse.
"Thank you, Yennefer." He no longer has the right to dismiss her, but there is finality in that thanks. And he stays silent after. Nothing more needs saying at this time as far as he's concerned.
no subject
She doesn't extend an invitation to him to join her, not yet, thinking that that might be perceived as further attempt to satiate him, but chances are he'll be able to sense that she isn't planning on leaving this room by mere door, not if the sensation of wind licking at the portal's edges is any indication.
"Until we speak again, then," she responds, and casts one final glance back in his direction before stepping through, the portal remaining open only for a few more seconds before it, too, winks out behind her.