fire black on your tongue

by lovelit

Summary:

Tana had intended to show the world pretty much everything, she really had. All the awful parts of sweating out the cold, not least of all because she’d been pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to operate the camera well enough to actually control that, most of the time. So she’d had plans for a 24/7 livestream, only breaking at those times when she actually had the energy and enough functioning brainpower to crawl over to the camera and turn it off for a little while. 

But there are some things that Tana doesn’t quite want to show the entire internet, for all that she’s pretty sure Gavriel wouldn’t necessarily care one way or the other.

Notes:

• For liesmyth.

Tana had intended to show the world pretty much everything, she really had. All the awful parts of sweating out the cold, not least of all because she’d been pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to operate the camera well enough to actually control that, most of the time. So she’d had plans for a 24/7 livestream, only breaking at those times when she actually had the energy and enough functioning brainpower to crawl over to the camera and turn it off for a little while. 

Of course, Gavriel’s presence had changed things. Not that he had seemed to mind being on the camera, apparently fully content to set himself down in elegant lines that didn’t match the dingy basement and read to her, as casual as anything, while Tana screamed and seized and thrashed around in her pile of blankets. She’d had the vague sense of him speaking to the camera sometimes, too, when she was too gone into the cold to fully understand words, although that could just as easily have been a fever dream.

But there are some things that Tana doesn’t quite want to show the entire internet, for all that she’s pretty sure Gavriel wouldn’t necessarily care one way or the other.

Like this: Gavriel’s head between her legs and his hands holding her desperately shaking thighs apart with bruising force as he licks at her clit with dainty, teasing licks that are doing nothing more than making her shake with arousal just as much as from the infection in her veins.

The first time he’d done this, he’d called it a distraction. Which Tana had been all for, because the cold had been agonizing that day, her muscles all tensing and cramping and her throat raw from screaming. It had quickly become apparent that it wasn’t a distraction, though. Because it doesn’t actually distract from the sensations, the way that Tana had hoped it would. 

Instead, it narrows every sense she has to the sensations, narrowing her focus down to her own body but not down so far as to only feel what Gavriel is doing between her legs. The pleasure is there, but so is the cold, like pinpricks of ice inside the heat in her muscles, and she shakes and arches and tries to twist herself away from the pain that’s impossible to escape and push against his mouth for more of the pleasure that’s not enough to chase it away all at the same time. Throughout it all, Gavriel holds her in place like a vice, so that she can only have what he gives and not all that she would take if she could.

(More pleasure. His blood. A way out of this basement. Tana doesn’t want to be a vampire, but she would take all of those things greedily and possessively if she could.)

The first time that Gavriel had done this, Tana had ended up screaming until she could taste blood in the back of her throat, her hands scrabbling at the blankets with enough force to tear some of the thinner ones. She’d begged him to stop, when she could form words, had howled and sobbed and told him truthfully that it was too much even as, in some greedy and desperate part of herself, she’d hoped that he would ignore those pleas just as easily as he’d ignored every plea to be unchained and let out of here.

Gavriel had paused only once, lifting his head to watch Tana’s face for a few moments that had felt altogether too long. 

And then he’d smiled, beautiful and breathtaking and terrifying all at once, and spoken slowly and clearly so that she could just about comprehend the words even in that tortured moment, “Tana, my sweet Tana. Your screams truly are always sweeter than another’s cries of love, but this — these screams are all the sweeter for being both. Won’t you let me hear more of them? If I cannot bite you, at least allow me to drink down my fill of that sweet ambrosia.”

Tana had begged, then, please stop and please never stop and just please, please Gavriel. It had come out of her with no real thought, no real control, because Tana hadn’t known what she’d wanted except that she did want, so much that it was as unbearable as the cold and had become, in some awful and wonderful way, its own part of the cold. Her desperate, incoherent pleas had only made Gavriel’s smile widen, and he’d leaned back down and nuzzled at the inside of her thigh for a few short and endless moments before finally, too soon and not fast enough, he’d returned his tongue to her clit.

It’s been like that since then, every time Gavriel has turned the camera off and settled between her legs. Tana begs for more and begs him to stop in the same breath, and Gavriel only smiles against her heated skin at the both of them and gives her precisely what he chooses to. It’s always too much, and always never enough, and she thinks he knows that and relishes it.

This time, though, Gavriel for once gives her something truly more, and presses two fingers inside of her where she’s wet and open beneath his attentions.

He waits, of course, until she’s begging for him to stop. She doesn’t want him to stop, and they both know it, but to be given more when she’s already wracked with such pleasure and pain at once makes her arch and scream and kick out desperately with the leg he’s had to let go of to do this. 

Tana feels him huff out a laugh more than she hears it over her own desperate noises, and a moment later he sits himself up enough to truly see her as he fucks his fingers into her, slow and torturous. She’s clenching around them already, even without the attention to her clit now that he’s sitting up, and she sobs when he spreads them a little inside of her. 

“Please, stop,” she sobs out. She’s not sure when the word stopped meaning anything, except that it had been somewhere during the first time he’d gotten between her legs. It bleeds out of her anyway, though, as meaningless a sound in her mouth as all the wordless howls and screams and sobs. She doesn’t want him to stop. She thinks he might like that she begs for it anyway.

Gavriel watches her like that, his eyes too bright for the dingy room. And then he tilts his head and smiles at her, all beautiful and wild and mad, and slides his two fingers out slowly before fucking three back into her with bruising force.

She’s going to really feel that, she thinks, when the pain of the infection banks and rolls enough for the pain he’s caused to become greater than it. Right now, though, the cold in her veins is surging and so that bruising force is only like the crest of some great wave, sending her up and over and plunging down into an orgasm that seizes all the lungs from her air and means that for once since they’ve been down here, the only noise she can make is a tiny, keening whimper.

She makes that noise again when Gavriel pulls his fingers out, slow enough that she comes around them all over again and then clenches desperately around empty air once they’re out. She makes a similarly winded noise when she finally manages to force her eyes open, unsure when exactly they’d closed, and finds Gavriel sitting there and licking his fingers clean in apparent satisfaction.

She’s too exhausted to do more than watch him, the aftershocks of her orgasm starting to fade into the fine, jittering tremors of the infection, but Gavriel doesn’t seem to mind at all. He only licks his fingers clean with exacting precision, as dedicated as if it were her blood on his fingers rather than anything else, and then flashes her a grin that shows fangs.

“Shall we return to your waiting audience?”

Tana’s tongue feels too sluggish in her mouth to make words right now, but she manages to jerk her head in something in the vicinity of a nod. Gavriel responds by reaching out to brush her hair away from her face, his hand lingering long enough that he has to yank it back, laughing softly, when she turns and tries to bite his wrist without thinking.

“Not today, my sweet Tana,” he says softly, as he’s pulling himself up fluidly and moving over to the camera again. “You still have many days left as only my lady before we may look at embracing you being the tiger.”