[ A weak noise escapes her lips before she can even think to swallow it back down — a whimper at the fangs sinking harder than she expected, followed by a sigh as she leans in, tongue past Lauralae's lips to lick softly, slowly. Her hand finds the back of her neck, fingers splayed over dark hair, a brief squeeze around the nape. She's a little short of breath when they stop, resting their foreheads together, lids low and cheeks flushed. Cellar can't decide if she wants to hide how she's already indecent under her dress, a wet spot canceling any pretense of being normal about this. She probably wouldn't be, even if the runes hadn't marked it as a way out this trap. ]
cw: nsfw
Do that again?
[ Harder. ]