[ Well, at least it didn't take much to jostle her memory! She really had forgotten after all that. Oh well.
Satisfied that he was having the right effect on her, he rests his thumb over the pulse of her neck. A little pressure just to get her riled up more! And he lets his face tense up into a very serious, stern, fate-of-the-multiverse glower from a foot over her head. ]
Yes. But I will need you to stay very, very still when I deliver the bite.
[ Well, he could probably pin her a bit, too - but the idea of Lottie presenting her throat and holding still for him was so wildly appealing in his hindbrain. He will have to be careful not to puncture anything important. ]
[ He'll feel her pulse run quick beneath the pad of his thumb, excitement making her heart work over time at the way he looks at her (vaguely mean, vaguely all business). And at the distance he's glowering towards her at? She tries her best to bite down her smile. ]
Should I put my hair up? To make it easier?
[ It's rapid fire, the way she hits him with question, after question, ]
Should we sit down? Do you wanna do it standing up? Here?
[ After question, thumbing at the zipper to his jacket and tugging it up, down, in her stupor. ]
You should find a place to sit for when your legs give out.
[ Well. He was being blunt about it. But he also knew the vulnerability was what enticed her to go through the trouble in the first place. And she was feeling quite excited, if the fidgeting and the heightened pulse were anything to go by.
Miguel has agreed to give her the doting of a lifetime - or his best attempt at it, anyway. He strokes her neck, following the line where the jugular sat beneath the skin. The pulse of the adjacent artery made it easier to do. ]
[ Jesus, thatβ should not have sounded as sexy as it does. She knows he's just being factual but she can't help the way she tries to swallow down her squeak, which only half works when he starts to stroke at her neck. Her brain feels empty and it's just filled with nothing but Miguel and his fangs, the hand at his wrist gripping his sleeve. ]
Yeah!! Let's go..
[ She says, but she doesn't move. Truthfully doesn't want to, because she wants Miguel to keep touching her, like this. ]
[ There's a few awkward seconds where he hums in agreement and waits for her to pull away. But Lottie just stands there instead, staring and holding onto his wrist. That bad, huh? He makes a mental note for this method being critically effective on Lottie.
Okay, well. To avoid the comedic pause getting too long, he will take action and scoop her small frame into his arms. It is his turn to dote and take care of her! And now their faces are very close together. ]
You okay? You're freezing up and I haven't even bitten you yet.
[ That bad. Bad enough to where her reaction to being carried in Miguel's massive frame is delayed, her gasp quiet and stare wide into his eyes (which she can now get a good look at, this close to him). Her cheeks burn, arms rushing to wrap around his neck as he maneuvers them from her bedroom to the living room, now cleaned up and brand new from their last tryst. ]
It's not freezing up, I'm just, [ Wanting him to keep palming at her?? With his big strong hands???? ] excited!! I'm really excited.
If you do begin to have second thoughts, you can tell me.
[ As fun as it is leaning into the scary hot vampire fantasy that bluescreens Lottie's brain, Miguel... had enough tragic relationships to really, really not want to fuck this one up. Even if they were just sexy trysts with no strings attached.
But she seemed to be into it, so he sits on her couch (mercifully, it is larger than the last one) and holds her gently. His eyes were still the soft wine-like maroon they always were as at the beginning of these visits. The duffle bag gets set on the end table, and he begins to mouth at her neck with his lips. His fangs had extended their full lengths, the sharp points grazing across her skin. ]
[ As always, she's blissfully unaware of the nuance. Willfully ignorant of a lot of Miguel's turmoil and history as Spider-Man outside of the obvious (because all of that isn't sexy and fully complicates things, may or may not ruin the easy and simple rhythm they have going, that she enjoys). She doesn't clue in to the way he worries over this, by giving her an out so close to the main event, but she does clue in to the way he looks at her. Telling her he cares, in so little words. ]
I know, [ So she nods, after he delicately perches her on the couch, treats her gentle in his arms. He dwarfs her entirely, even sitting like this, having to angle her head high to look at him proper. Her own brown hues flick up his way, speckles of excitement and nerves dancing at the surface.
Sure, Miguel has done extensive testing, prepared for when things go wrong, and it isn't her first being bit by him. They've done this plenty of times, him holding her tight to make sure she doesn't squirm at the height of the night, his fangs penetrating the soft flesh of her neck. It's embarrassing, how much she's grown to like the feeling of his lips clamped down on her.
It's even more embarrassing when he mouths at her neck, his breath dancing on her skin so teasingly it makes a heat curl in her belly. The sharp points of his fangs get her blood pumping, skin getting nicked in the process as he explores a land well travelled, healed from the last time he sank himself into her.
Her hands clutch at the back of his jacket, fingers digging into the fabric, breath a little shallow against his skin. ]
[ Encouraged by the words, Miguel explores her a little more boldly. His hand wanders down her belt line to stimulate her between the folds. The arm holding her upper body gives her breast a light squeeze, playing with the nipple under the fabric. He wanted to give some pleasure first before the more painful event.
The bite was always a little messy. Miguel hadnβt developed his fangs purely from the spider-half, after all. Whatever primordial genetic code was activated by the accident mutated into something horrible and new. Arachnid venom embedded into more thickly-built mammal canines meant to rip, latch and hold onto prey that struggled back.
The pain is not insignificant when he punctures skin. There was always a good amount of blood, and truthfully, without the regenerative gel from his world, he would have wanted to wait longer between their meet-ups. But Lottie seemed to enjoy it, and didn't find it disgusting or monstrous. In fact, she craved it in a way he couldn't understand through the cloud of his own self-loathing.
And for what Miguel got out of it? Aside from pleasing her, he released a little of the deeply-repressed instinctual cocktail that came with his changed biology. A small twist of a pressure-release valve. He could feel the excitement building up in him at that thought, at the scent of her skin and hair, and the copper smell from the little cuts on her neck. But he is patient. He wants to get her worked up first, pausing the sharp kisses to look down with a heady concentration. ]
[ It's a distinct shift in roles, the way Miguel reaches out to slide down her belly and between the apex of her thighs. She sighs out, voice sweet, when he runs his fingers over her. She legs spread wider, subconsciously giving him more room to play with her as he pleases. And her body springs to life at that, the way he thumbs at her nipple, cups her breast, like he has all the time in the world. There's a growing wetness beneath the hand at her sex, enough for him to feel the beginnings of her slick through her shorts.
It's oddly intimate, how this all is, just for a single bite. This, the way they are now, provides a sense of awareness she usually isn't afforded when his limps do clamp down on her. Because of the pain, because of the guttural noises he makes when fangs puncture skin, because of the overwhelming sense of belonging she gets when he does it. And yes its messy, it's a mission to clean up her sheets after, but it's such a passioned moment that is always there, then gone once they both finish.
But how they are now, it makes her skin tingle, makes her gaze a little glassy when she meets his after he draws back. It feels like a treat, to be so functioning in the before. There's a rock of her hips against his hand once the depth of his gaze hits her, once she comes to that conclusion, Lottie reaching around to fumble at her neck where the warmth of his lips once were. She swipes up some of those beads of blood onto the pad of her fingertips, lets her eyes drop down to make sure it's there before she looks back up to him.
Flits her gaze, only for a moment, deliberately to his mouth, before raising her browsβ and those fingertips towards his lips. She's not fully aware of what it'd mean to bring the scent of copper so close to his nose, all the more pungent among the floral scents Lottie bathes in already. No, she's focused on whether he'll suck them clean or not. ]
[ The metal scent makes his eyes go vivid with rings of scarlet. For all that Miguel was terrible with words, Lottie having to really break him down to beg, he was great at picking up unspoken signals.
He licks some drops off her fingertips, gently taking them into his mouth to savor the taste of her. He holds them between the loose scissor-lock of his fangs, gentle but pointed, and he sucks them clean with a low-lidded, affectionate expression. Even in a night like this where he was the one up top, pleasing her is what kindled a fire in him.
His fingers finds the button of her shorts and undoes it with a flick, ready to go a little deeper. The size of his hand makes for quite a large intrustion, stretching the fabric as he slides underneath to find her clit nestled in her folds. Now he could apply some more direct pressure over the sensitive nerves with his fingertips.
His other hand releases her breast to tilt her head to the side, leaving the skin of her neck taut. He frees his mouth with a little accidental nick of the hand from his fangs, and bends down to breathe over his chosen spot. Taking in the floral and blooming sexual scent of her, and releasing the hold his own carnal urges, just a little, he ghosts his teeth over the base of her neck.
Four pinpricks of pain radiate outwards as the fangs puncture into her flesh, increasing sharply once he flexes his jaw and sinks them in deep. The possessive growl in the chest follows the flow of blood onto his tongue. And then he expresses the venom - a careful, limited amount - but well enough for her to start to feel its effects within the minute of it flowing in her blood.
All the automatic functions of her body, the pleasure and sensation of her skin should remain mostly intact, but her limbs will start to numb over. Coordinating words and moving her eyes will suddenly feel impossible, though her throat could still make some form of noise. The sharp pain of the fangs and neurotoxin will numb over, mercifully, though they won't be entirely gone. ]
[ Miguel is truly everything, right now. She thinks of how hot he looks, mouth so eagerly taking her fingers in, eyes so beautiful. And all thought leaves her mind, really, when she feels the hot, wet and warm that is his tongue at her digits, imagining what it'd feel like to have him nestled between her thighs doing the very same thing. The sharp points of his fangs only adds to it allβ the element of danger, that Miguel uses these fangs for a real practical purpose on enemy and foe. Yet here he is, looking at her with a gaze so burning all blood rushes south, being careful not to get her fingers caught on those sharp canines.
Lottie moans at the sight, the sound pitching up when she feels his bare palm snake down her belly and settle at her core. She has to spread her legs wider to accommodate, being reminded so viscerally the difference between them as he stretches her shorts taut to fit himself inside. She whimpers hotly, rutting her hips with a bit more purpose once his thumb is nestled at her clit. She throbs beneath his fingertips, slick and wet from the eroticism of it all.
She doesn't even mind when he cuts her fingers, it only adds to it all because this is so very hot. One hand grips the base of his neck, while the other presses atop his hand, forcing him to press down harder in time with those four pinpricks.
It'sβ it hurts. Feels like the pain she'd get when he'd pull her hair too tight at her request, the kind that teeters on the edge of pleasure. He breaks skin, all four of his canines digging into her neck, his tongue lavishing at her, mixing saliva and blood on her milky skin. But that growl. She's pressed so tight against him she can feel the rumble, can practically taste the words mine, mine, mine fluttering in the air.
By the time his venom kicks in, she is cruelly almost there. So frustratingly close to orgasm and she can no nothing about it β the dizzying pace of her hips at his hand slows, a little unsure of herself as limbs growing heavy (numb?). She'd be a liar saying that this wasn't scary in some way, but she feels her safest in his arms. And, luckily still functional enough to slur out (whether it's understandable, who knows, but her affectionate and needy tone remains the same): ]
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no subject
Satisfied that he was having the right effect on her, he rests his thumb over the pulse of her neck. A little pressure just to get her riled up more! And he lets his face tense up into a very serious, stern, fate-of-the-multiverse glower from a foot over her head. ]
Yes. But I will need you to stay very, very still when I deliver the bite.
[ Well, he could probably pin her a bit, too - but the idea of Lottie presenting her throat and holding still for him was so wildly appealing in his hindbrain. He will have to be careful not to puncture anything important. ]
no subject
Should I put my hair up? To make it easier?
[ It's rapid fire, the way she hits him with question, after question, ]
Should we sit down? Do you wanna do it standing up? Here?
[ After question, thumbing at the zipper to his jacket and tugging it up, down, in her stupor. ]
no subject
[ Well. He was being blunt about it. But he also knew the vulnerability was what enticed her to go through the trouble in the first place. And she was feeling quite excited, if the fidgeting and the heightened pulse were anything to go by.
Miguel has agreed to give her the doting of a lifetime - or his best attempt at it, anyway. He strokes her neck, following the line where the jugular sat beneath the skin. The pulse of the adjacent artery made it easier to do. ]
I suggest the couch.
no subject
Yeah!! Let's go..
[ She says, but she doesn't move. Truthfully doesn't want to, because she wants Miguel to keep touching her, like this. ]
no subject
Okay, well. To avoid the comedic pause getting too long, he will take action and scoop her small frame into his arms. It is his turn to dote and take care of her! And now their faces are very close together. ]
You okay? You're freezing up and I haven't even bitten you yet.
[ time to head over to the living room. ]
no subject
It's not freezing up, I'm just, [ Wanting him to keep palming at her?? With his big strong hands???? ] excited!! I'm really excited.
no subject
[ As fun as it is leaning into the scary hot vampire fantasy that bluescreens Lottie's brain, Miguel... had enough tragic relationships to really, really not want to fuck this one up. Even if they were just sexy trysts with no strings attached.
But she seemed to be into it, so he sits on her couch (mercifully, it is larger than the last one) and holds her gently. His eyes were still the soft wine-like maroon they always were as at the beginning of these visits. The duffle bag gets set on the end table, and he begins to mouth at her neck with his lips. His fangs had extended their full lengths, the sharp points grazing across her skin. ]
no subject
I know, [ So she nods, after he delicately perches her on the couch, treats her gentle in his arms. He dwarfs her entirely, even sitting like this, having to angle her head high to look at him proper. Her own brown hues flick up his way, speckles of excitement and nerves dancing at the surface.
Sure, Miguel has done extensive testing, prepared for when things go wrong, and it isn't her first being bit by him. They've done this plenty of times, him holding her tight to make sure she doesn't squirm at the height of the night, his fangs penetrating the soft flesh of her neck. It's embarrassing, how much she's grown to like the feeling of his lips clamped down on her.
It's even more embarrassing when he mouths at her neck, his breath dancing on her skin so teasingly it makes a heat curl in her belly. The sharp points of his fangs get her blood pumping, skin getting nicked in the process as he explores a land well travelled, healed from the last time he sank himself into her.
Her hands clutch at the back of his jacket, fingers digging into the fabric, breath a little shallow against his skin. ]
no subject
The bite was always a little messy. Miguel hadnβt developed his fangs purely from the spider-half, after all. Whatever primordial genetic code was activated by the accident mutated into something horrible and new. Arachnid venom embedded into more thickly-built mammal canines meant to rip, latch and hold onto prey that struggled back.
The pain is not insignificant when he punctures skin. There was always a good amount of blood, and truthfully, without the regenerative gel from his world, he would have wanted to wait longer between their meet-ups. But Lottie seemed to enjoy it, and didn't find it disgusting or monstrous. In fact, she craved it in a way he couldn't understand through the cloud of his own self-loathing.
And for what Miguel got out of it? Aside from pleasing her, he released a little of the deeply-repressed instinctual cocktail that came with his changed biology. A small twist of a pressure-release valve. He could feel the excitement building up in him at that thought, at the scent of her skin and hair, and the copper smell from the little cuts on her neck. But he is patient. He wants to get her worked up first, pausing the sharp kisses to look down with a heady concentration. ]
no subject
It's oddly intimate, how this all is, just for a single bite. This, the way they are now, provides a sense of awareness she usually isn't afforded when his limps do clamp down on her. Because of the pain, because of the guttural noises he makes when fangs puncture skin, because of the overwhelming sense of belonging she gets when he does it. And yes its messy, it's a mission to clean up her sheets after, but it's such a passioned moment that is always there, then gone once they both finish.
But how they are now, it makes her skin tingle, makes her gaze a little glassy when she meets his after he draws back. It feels like a treat, to be so functioning in the before. There's a rock of her hips against his hand once the depth of his gaze hits her, once she comes to that conclusion, Lottie reaching around to fumble at her neck where the warmth of his lips once were. She swipes up some of those beads of blood onto the pad of her fingertips, lets her eyes drop down to make sure it's there before she looks back up to him.
Flits her gaze, only for a moment, deliberately to his mouth, before raising her browsβ and those fingertips towards his lips. She's not fully aware of what it'd mean to bring the scent of copper so close to his nose, all the more pungent among the floral scents Lottie bathes in already. No, she's focused on whether he'll suck them clean or not. ]
no subject
He licks some drops off her fingertips, gently taking them into his mouth to savor the taste of her. He holds them between the loose scissor-lock of his fangs, gentle but pointed, and he sucks them clean with a low-lidded, affectionate expression. Even in a night like this where he was the one up top, pleasing her is what kindled a fire in him.
His fingers finds the button of her shorts and undoes it with a flick, ready to go a little deeper. The size of his hand makes for quite a large intrustion, stretching the fabric as he slides underneath to find her clit nestled in her folds. Now he could apply some more direct pressure over the sensitive nerves with his fingertips.
His other hand releases her breast to tilt her head to the side, leaving the skin of her neck taut. He frees his mouth with a little accidental nick of the hand from his fangs, and bends down to breathe over his chosen spot. Taking in the floral and blooming sexual scent of her, and releasing the hold his own carnal urges, just a little, he ghosts his teeth over the base of her neck.
Four pinpricks of pain radiate outwards as the fangs puncture into her flesh, increasing sharply once he flexes his jaw and sinks them in deep. The possessive growl in the chest follows the flow of blood onto his tongue. And then he expresses the venom - a careful, limited amount - but well enough for her to start to feel its effects within the minute of it flowing in her blood.
All the automatic functions of her body, the pleasure and sensation of her skin should remain mostly intact, but her limbs will start to numb over. Coordinating words and moving her eyes will suddenly feel impossible, though her throat could still make some form of noise. The sharp pain of the fangs and neurotoxin will numb over, mercifully, though they won't be entirely gone. ]
no subject
Lottie moans at the sight, the sound pitching up when she feels his bare palm snake down her belly and settle at her core. She has to spread her legs wider to accommodate, being reminded so viscerally the difference between them as he stretches her shorts taut to fit himself inside. She whimpers hotly, rutting her hips with a bit more purpose once his thumb is nestled at her clit. She throbs beneath his fingertips, slick and wet from the eroticism of it all.
She doesn't even mind when he cuts her fingers, it only adds to it all because this is so very hot. One hand grips the base of his neck, while the other presses atop his hand, forcing him to press down harder in time with those four pinpricks.
It'sβ it hurts. Feels like the pain she'd get when he'd pull her hair too tight at her request, the kind that teeters on the edge of pleasure. He breaks skin, all four of his canines digging into her neck, his tongue lavishing at her, mixing saliva and blood on her milky skin. But that growl. She's pressed so tight against him she can feel the rumble, can practically taste the words mine, mine, mine fluttering in the air.
By the time his venom kicks in, she is cruelly almost there. So frustratingly close to orgasm and she can no nothing about it β the dizzying pace of her hips at his hand slows, a little unsure of herself as limbs growing heavy (numb?). She'd be a liar saying that this wasn't scary in some way, but she feels her safest in his arms. And, luckily still functional enough to slur out (whether it's understandable, who knows, but her affectionate and needy tone remains the same): ]
Miguel, please.. Close.