Book 5, Chapter 41

I squeaked. It was the most appropriate response I could come up with. Emma took it with a grin and straightened up so that she was standing at the bed’s edge while I lay there, mostly helpless. Then Emma undid the button and started teasing down the jeans’ zipper. Once that was done she folded back the fabric, exposing a wide vee of skin that jeans are supposed to cover. I didn’t protest, though. I kind of lost track of that complaint when Emma half-knelt, half-bent so that she could trail kisses over the newly revealed skin.

They kind of tickled.

They kind of burned from the jolts of pleasure that began coiling into a spring — a compression of want and need — somewhere at my very core.

Then Emma knelt down, worrying my pants down as she did. She pulled off my shoes; helped my pants off of my ankles. All she left me with were my socks. Technically, her socks. I kind of expected her to point that out, too. I was kind of anticipating whatever would happen after she did. After all, I hadn’t borrowed a bra or panties from her wardrobe and I’d dispelled Sebas’ glamour — after the pants were off, the socks were all I had left.

And apparently a pair of socks were a feeble enough defense that Emma didn’t care if I held onto them. Because instead of teasing me and pointing out that they were hers and undressing me the rest of the way, Emma start kissing me again.

She started just above those socks that I had started fixating on. Her lips pressed on the inside of my leg. Emma trailed kisses up the side of my calf; her hands encircled it, held it in place — caressed the side opposite her kisses.

They sent more jolts of sensation racing up to join the others in ratcheting my needy desire. Tickling, teasing, tormenting. Then, just below the knee, she hit a particularly sensitive spot. I twitched. Emma stopped. Then she did it again, and I jerked in her grip.

“That tickles,” I gasped in protest.

“Oh?” Emma asked. She leaned into the spot again, but this time instead of kissing she grazed her teeth along my skin. She turned her head slightly, letting them find purchase. Then, she bit.

I cried out. Emma let go and kissed the spot. I barely felt the kiss through the sharpness of her lingering bite, even though that brief flare vanished in seconds when my healing kicked in. “Better?” Emma asked.

“Oh, god yes,” I moaned. “More of that.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than I felt a surge of conflict over them. On the one hand: Oh god yes. More of that! But on the other: wasn’t I supposed to not be giving orders right now? Wasn’t Emma being the aggressive one this time? But then again: Oh, god yes!

My tumultuous conflict of ambivalent desires was ended by Emma turning her attention to my other leg. Only she was still working her way up, and had skipped the knee, which brought her kisses down on the inside of my thigh. Two kisses, to be precise. And then her teeth scraped down my skin and she bit again.

I cried out again. I felt so warm — almost feverish — and I wanted her so badly.

And she just kept teasing me. She continued working her way up the inside of my legs, but she alternated between them — and alternated kisses with randomly interjected nibbles and occasional bites. I think that if it weren’t for my supernatural healing factor, I would have been left with marks peppered all along the inside of my thighs to remind me that she’d been there for the rest of the evening.

And: Holy fuck, that thought was hot. Too bad I was one of the immortal undead. Maybe next time we could have a marker or something and she could circle or slash through each bite to leave me something to show off to Hans. He would be so jealous. Maybe. Or maybe he’d just nibble on me somewhere else.

And maybe I was trying to distract myself from what was happening to me in the here and now.

Whatever I was thinking, I lost it when Emma reached the junction of my legs. She nuzzled gently, then more fiercely. Her teeth — thank god — did not come back into play, but her tongue traced my labia, teased them open. I was forced to clench my fists in the bed covers to keep from jerking when she kissed me next. I bit down, my fangs piercing my lower lip, to keep from crying out when the tip of her tongue zigzagged between them.

Of course, she didn’t hold back. I had no problem hearing her appreciative “mmmmm” of pleasure over hearing my whimpers. Or the throaty half-growl that preceded her suddenly burying her face between my legs and her tongue within my cunt.

Despite myself I cried out again. I twisted at the waist, writhing from the sudden and unexpected invasion of my sex. Emma wasn’t limiting herself to just the tip of her tongue, now: she licked the length of my slit, then brought her tongue back down on my inner folds, using it to explore and claim her conquered territory.

I may have torn Megan’s bedspread when Emma’s explorations found my clit. I don’t know. I wasn’t really all that coherent anymore.

Emma came up for air. “So,” she breathed huskily, “How would you like it, Abigail?” I don’t even know how I responded. I knew from when vampire me went down on her that she liked pressure on her clit. I knew that I said something in answer to her — but fuck me if I knew what, or could recall it after it was said. I was wound so tight with want that I was only barely cognizant of looking down the length of my body and seeing Emma’s possessive eyes and hungry smile looking back at me from between my legs.

And then she ducked down again, and all I saw was her golden hair, and then I couldn’t even see that because she caught my clit between her lips and she sucked on it and her tongue flicked across it, faster and harder and faster and my back arched and I was staring at the wall behind me and I was screaming something and I didn’t know what it was because all I was thinking was fuck yes fuck me oh god yes yes yes yes yes!

When I came it was like a blossoming of relief that rushed out from my coiled, knotted, painfully wound desire. Except then it happened again. And again. And I was begging Emma not to stop except I didn’t know what I was saying because words were just another way to moan or whimper, and moans and whimpers were the only ways I had to plead for more.

The first orgasm was big. The ones after that were smaller, with less build up to each of them: like tiny aftershocks that came when Emma went back to kissing and nuzzling and winding me up, only to find her lips somehow at my clit again, making me cry out in ecstatic bliss.

When she was done, I collapsed on Megan’s bed. I had no idea how long Emma had spent tormenting me over and over again, but I suspected she’d been at it at least as long as I had been when I’d done the same to her. My back felt sore from spending so much time arched, even while I’d tried to writhe while also trying desperately not to pull away from her. The rest of me felt like it was just jelly in an Abby-shaped mold. I was slick with sweat and my heartbeat felt erratic and fast. My breaths came in shallow gasps.

The soreness faded almost instantly: yay, vampire healing. Were it not for that, I probably would have collapsed in exhaustion long before Emma had been done with me. The jelly-ness stayed.

Emma helped me pull my legs the rest of the way onto the bed, and then she joined me. She stretched out, naked and warm, along my side. Her arms wrapped around me and one of her legs folded over mine possessively. She nuzzled the side of my neck, then reached up with one hand and turned my head to face her.

She fluttered her eyelashes at me and made a tiny moue of innocence — but there was nothing innocent about the way she tilted her head to study my expression, or the way her lips curved, or the way she said: “I did tell you I wanted to fuck you, sweetie.”

Emma’s smile broadened at however my face responded to her reminder. I was still trying to put my ability to think back together from how everything had washed away in the cleansing release of orgasm, so I had no idea how that was. She leaned in and kissed me, though. I could taste myself on her lips and tongue. It should have been squick but it wasn’t. I just wanted to kiss her back.

I rolled toward Emma and got my arms around her. I kissed her eagerly, fervently — without reservation. I stopped when I needed to gasp for air in order to keep breathing. Emma needed the same, only for her it was an actual need. I kissed her again, and again, and then I started to cry. Because how on earth had she not dumped me for Megan? How had she possibly dared to risk staying with me after what she’d been through because of me? How in any world could she possibly think I deserved her? They weren’t great big sobbing tears, because I’d always been good at not giving in to those. But they were tears, and Emma noticed.

“Abby?” Emma asked. Her self-satisfaction quickly turned to alarm. “Sweetie?” Then, when I proved unable to reply other than clinging to her, a panicked: “Megan? Help!”

Megan? Oh. Right. I’d forgotten Megan had been watching. She was at our side in a heartbeat.

“It’s okay,” Megan quickly said. At first I wasn’t sure which of us she was talking to. Then I realized that it probably worked either way, and she was very possibly talking to both of us. “It’s okay,” she repeated soothingly.

I looked up: I could see Megan and Emma both. Emma looked at Megan, and couldn’t see me. But I could see Emma’s face: her eyes were wide; her confident aggression was gone and her expression begged Megan to tell her what she’d done wrong.

Except she hadn’t done anything wrong, unless you counted staying with me, which was probably dangerous and foolhardy and just a horrible decision. But I couldn’t tell her that because I wanted her to not break up with me. I wanted to tell her about how Hans had almost broken up with me, except it had turned out he’d just been about to tell me he couldn’t keep being my only donor, except I’d already expected him to dump me for days at that point and it had only gotten worse when I’d found out about all the stuff with him spreading his curse to someone else and… and…

And what I’d put Emma through had been so much worse. I’d told myself that there was a chance she would stay with me, because she was polyamorous and Megan had a crush on me — but I’d just told myself that to keep myself from thinking about the other possibilities. To keep myself from falling apart over that while I was still trying not to fall apart over Hans. But deep, deep down I didn’t think I’d expected her to actually keep me, too.

And I really hoped that Megan was listening in on my thoughts, because I knew there was no way I was going to be able to explain all of that. Because when I tried, all I whispered was: “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Emma looked back at me and her face was stricken. I was listening, Megan thought to me. I’m sorry, I didn’t put it into words. But I shared it.

“Oh, Abby,” Emma breathed. I could feel her leyline tremble as her aura resonated with mine, and I remembered that the fear of abandonment was one of her most deep-seated traumas. And here I was: in tears because I’d been thinking she would do that to me. What kind of monster was I, to be accusing someone of doing, being, the one thing they were most afraid of? Even if just in my deepest, darkest thoughts?

“No,” Emma said. Her voice took on the firmness of conviction. “You aren’t bad. And I’m not mad that you thought I might act like that. Because you know I wouldn’t do that to anyone! Especially not…! But you were afraid, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned while dealing with my depression over Salvatore it’s that fear and depression and anxiety — they lie. They tell you that things are possible that you know aren’t. They tell you that the worst possible thing you can imagine is real and imminent, even if it’s utter bullshit, and they tell you that so loudly that you can’t ignore them. I get it.”

Emma cupped my head to keep me from turning away from her. She made me look at her so that I could see the earnestness of her words. “And Abigail… if you were afraid that I would do something horrible, that doesn’t mean you think I’m a bad person and it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for thinking it because that fear has nothing to do with reality and you know that, even if you can’t do anything about feeling it. And I know that, too.”

My lip started to tremble again. I didn’t know what to say or think. I didn’t know how she’d come to mean so much to me, so fast, and I couldn’t imagine how I could mean enough to her to be worth the risk of staying with me.

Except, despite my inability to make words, Emma started to smile.

Megan must have still been sharing.

“Abby,” Emma said softly. She ran her thumb over my cheekbone, brushing away a tear that had started trailing down toward my ear. “I know we’ve only known each other for a little while, but… I mean, I know you. And you know me. I don’t care that it’s only been a week. We’ve shared parts of each other’s souls, Abby. So I… I can say with unassailable authority that I know you and I love you. And even if you don’t recognize what it is, I know that you love me. You’ve done the impossible to protect me, Abby. That takes love. And I won’t ever abandon you. Because I want to see how that grows, and where it takes us. Okay?”

I nodded feebly. “Okay,” I said. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, I added a quiet: “I love you, too.” It felt good to say. Weird, but good. What do I even know about what love is? a part of me protested.

Not much, the more rational part of me answered. But if Emma and Megan agree, then I can trust them.

Besides: it felt right to say.

Emma gave my cheek a kiss, then settled down so that she was laying alongside me again. Megan snuggled up on the other side. Sandwiched between the two of them and depleted from unexpected emotional exhaustion, I let my eyes drift shut so that I could just enjoy the warmth and weight and presence of them.

It was better than any number of blankets and quilts I could possibly burrow under. I was being smothered in warmth and love by people I loved back. So of course, it should probably have been no surprise that despite my best intentions to just soak up the sensation and comfort, at some point I fell asleep.

Midnight Moonlight, Book 5

23 responses to Book 5, Chapter 41

  1. thorbjorn42gbf

    That went from sexy to cute very quickly 🙂

  2. Syndic

    Well, going in reverse from yesterday’s comment, today we have:

    so mmm 😉

    and then so happy! 🙂

    With a bit of very real-feeling emotions in between. Thanks for another great chapter 🙂

  3. DocteurNS

    Awww~ The rulers of the Underworld are such mushballs…

    And back on the subject of virginity, I must ask: just HOW effective is that vampire healing thing? Because I remembered a funny detail about a certain redhead in that True Blood series…

    • Eren Reverie

      Heh. I’m actually a really bad genre researcher: I only saw about a season and a half of True Blood, and haven’t gotten to read the books. I haven’t read twilight, either, and I only read the one Anne Rice book back in highschool. I did like Ivy from the Hollows series, but I’m a couple books behind on that by now, too…

      I did watch a couple of seasons of The Vampire Diaries after I wrote book 1, (I started about halfway through book 2, actually) just to see what other people were doing with the genre. I almost did a spittake when I found out the main character vampires were the Salvatore brothers.

      So, the long and the short of it is… I do not get your reference. Sorry! 😛

      But since it has come up so much in the comments so much, I do expect some talk about the ‘archaic heteronormative’ definition of virginity (and how it applies to the current state of magic in general and to some of the characters in particular and especially to the feeding habits of the Chupacabracorn) will come up in the books at some time — probably not this one, since we’re coming up on the end,, but eventually.

      SIDE NOTE:
      For those who are interested, right now the only thing I’m manging to read as it updates is Price which is a rather dark — though without the Worm-esque global doom levels — superhero serial. Of course, once I work my way through the archives Heretical Edge may be joining it.

      • DocteurNS

        Bah. True Blood is just soft porn with a bullshit plot anyway. There’s just a funny detail about a girl who is turned vampire while still a virgin, and… well… her healing kept… re-virginizing her… as in… it hurts every time… (though being male myself, this is very second hand knowledge)

        • Eren Reverie

          Yeah… That’s what I was guessing you were getting at. Well, anatomically speaking I am, unfortunately, about as directly knowledgeable as you, in a personal sense. However, having done a bit of research into the matter for reasons unrelated to this story, I can say that I’m pretty sure what that means is actually that the character’s partners were doing it wrong.

          (That said, if anyone has annecdotal experience, or has studied the subject in some way: feel free to enter the discussion. I acknowledge that I am not some sort of expert — just that I’ve looked into some of this before. and I’ve done some refresher reading when people started speculating about it in regards to the story.)

          Okay, semi rant answer time:

          There are a ton of really stupid myths out there about the hymen, virginity, what it is and how it is lost. Things which really mess with people’s understanding of stuff like that, but that I’ve never heard of being addressed in sex ed. So, here goes.

          First off: the idea that the hymen exists as some kind of ‘seal’ is total bull. In the very rare cases where a completely intact hymen naturally exists, the unfortunate individual has to go through a surgical procedure called a hymenectemy to produce an incision in the mebrane — otherwise there would be no way for menstrul fluids and such things to exit the body. Not a pleasant thought.

          So, by nature, the hymen in most cases already has an opening from the begening.. Rather than being ‘popped’ it stretches — and sex isn’t the only way this can happen. It can stretch because of sex or masturbation, yes, but it can also be stretched by things like riding a bike or dancing. Now, sometimes it tears, which is the cause of the blood behind the whole ‘popped’ myth. This can happen by those same causes as stretching does, but people always think of it in relation to first time sex, which, yes, is often the case — particularly if the person it belongs to ins’t relaxed, or if their partner is too rough. However, it is also entirely possible (and from what I’ve read, as long as the partner is consciencous and careful, significantly more likely) that women can have sex for the first time without experiencing pain or blood — the whole ‘bloody sheets hung out the window to prove a mairrage is consumated’ thing is another really nasty myth with no good reason to exist. To partially quote and partially paraphrase Michael Castleman of Psychology Today, pain and bleeding durring a woman’s first time can most likely be attributed to ‘mechanical, non-sensual’, ‘piston-like’, and insufficiently lubricated sex.

          I suspect that a lot of the reason that the idea of a ‘first time’ always involving pain and blood exists has to do with popular education on the matter, as well as all the cultural baggage I see around the ‘archaic, heteronormative’ idea of virginity (which really seems to have absolutely no basis in any sort of medical phenomen — which is at least part of why the definition is so frought with complications when people start really thinking about it seriously). Anyway, where I grew up at least ‘sex education’ was all about abstinance, not having babies and avoiding STDs. The anatomy portion of it focused exclusively on reproductive aspects, thus almost entirely neglecting mention of the hymen despite the huge cultural significance ancient, uneducated dead guys who were worried their wives had partners before them have made that membrane have for women today. There was absolutely no conscideration fiven for what was good about how sex could feel, or for debunking cultural falsehoods and stereotyped myths that had been accepted as common knowledge. And certainly no mention of things like: Consent is vital. Take things slowly with your partner until you know what they like. If something is uncomfortable, there is a reason, and it should be addressed (like — but certainly not limited to — going slower, engaging in more sensual foreplay, or using more lube). And, of course: It should not hurt unless that is your kink, and it is hurting specifically in the way that fits that kink, and on purpose.

          Any other way? Something’s wrong and that needs to be addressed by the people involved.

          • DocteurNS

            That’s enlightening. New things are trully learnt in the most unexpected ways…

            Well, anyway, I don’t think anyone really will bitch much about the strict anatomical correctness of vampire physiology.

            It’s just that that plot twist in True Blodd is so silly…

          • Guess I may as well weigh on on the edmucasiun.

            You’re mostly right, though not entirely. There are plenty of cases of sex pretty much requiring a painful penetration (or pre-intercourse surgery, that too)- though that is certainly the rarer event. Still, there’s no sense in shaming girls (or their partners) for being the unfortunate 6-7% (As opposed to blue eyes, which are 8%) of girls who fall into this classification.

            While you can certainly do the psycho-social song and dance and make it into some kind of sexual equality argument, I prefer the simpler answer: if it bleeds, it leads.

            The fact of the matter is, rupturing a hymen during sex is extremely rare. Far more likely to happen due to injury (gymnastics, horseback riding, or just an unlucky fall)- really, anything that hitts a man’s groin enough to make him feel like he’s about to throw up? Likely to rupture a hymen if it were a girl to experience the same type of injury.

            Naturally, any sex that’s not horribly violent won’t be so painful. But as often as girls experience the accident version, on top of those roughly 6-7% who have little choice but a painful first time, it adds up to a plausible anecdotal myth.

            After all… horror stories always spread faster than “that’s a myth and it’s really not bad at all” stories. Look at the reputation Pit Bulls and Rottweilers suffer amongst non-dog-lovers. Despite them being some of the best family dogs on the planet.

            I invoke a similar phenomena for the painful hymen myth. It, much like vicious pit bull attacks, is a thing that does happen. Just far more rarely than the collective consciousness would have you believe. And for the exact same reason.

          • Eren Reverie

            Thanks for contributing. And you’re right: there’s no reason to shame anyone for being one of, or partners with, the rarer cases where pain is unavoidable. In that case I would still think it is some thing that would necessitate the individuals involved adressing the matter, though, if for no other reason than to confirm the issue and reafirm consent, and/or determine if other options for sex exist (such as, for non-reproductive intercourse, non-penatrative stimulation). I do know that there are conditions that make penetrative sex painful every time, and people in that situation do not deserve to be shamed for it by any means.

            I think you’re likely right about the origin of the commonality of the painful hymen ‘rupture’ myth coming about from it being a horror story — but I also think that the pretty narrow education available for sex (at least that I’m aware of in the United States) and the cultural drive to discourage young women from having it contribute significantly to that myth’s prevalence. After all, if no one is trying to debunk it and people are putting pressure on women in regards to their first times, it makes a lot of sense that the horror story versions would spread even faster and further.

            I do think that the other half of that myth — and the part that people seemed to think pertained in regards to potential story development — can be blamed almost entirely on social conditioning, though. (I’m refering to the idea of the hymn as a seal, here, indicating a person’s status as a virgin) That isn’t to make any sort equality argument out of it, though:
            Anyone who is hurt by something — or is even uncomfortable with it — should have the right to say ‘stop’ or ‘slow down’ and determine what is done about it. And their partner/s should respect that. If ‘what should be done’ is for some reason unagreeable to the other partner/s, then that needs addressed, too, or whatever interaction is being discussed shouldn’t happen.

            I’m all for it being safe, sane and consensual for all parties involved in any interaction — not just the sexual ones. 😉 (barring things like involountary incarceration of criminals, of course… Although that’s a whole ‘nother debate, heh.)

            Side note: I read the cannon story last night. I was hoping those two would start a relationship! Yay!

          • It was pretty well ordained by the plot, so yeah.

            I also may have mentioned you in the notes of my last chapter. :p

          • Eren Reverie

            An early post and a recommendation for Et Alia? Double win!

          • Just popping in here (haha) to say I love this discussion so much, and to recommend my favorite non-fiction author on the subject, Emily Nagoski. <3

      • Muh ears! Zey burn!!!

        Also, you’ll be glad to know my smut chapters don’t involve huge amounts of absurdly unrealistic pain. Though there is telekinetic blanket foreplay, which is probably less realistic. :p

        • Eren Reverie

          Hi there! Sorry about the ear flames. Also, I’d been sticking to the cannon chapters, but I may have to re-evaluate that…

          • I’m not complaining.

            Also- the sexy time with the blanket *is* a canon chapter. It’s just not in the core story. The other two bonus smuts aren’t canon, however.

  4. Micha

    Wait, Abby can sleep? Not just go dormant?

  5. I really like this chapter because Abby finally catches a F#@KING break and deals with some of the crap we’ve been seeing for 4.5 books.

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