Again, Ivy almost lost herself. This was good - too good - and once more the mere thought of pulling away was possibly the last thing that she wanted to do. She'd never imagined that Rachel might actually agree to this, let alone start it, and Rachel's rather forthright touches were pushing reality just that little bit further away.
Ivy ran a tongue over a sharp canine, feeling it itch in reaction to willingness. She had an excellent vantage point of Rachel's neck right now; the pale skin slightly flushed from a raised heart beat (and alcohol, no doubt). Ivy could practically feel the blood rushing in Rachel's veins, and she sucked in a breath.
It would be so easy. Rachel was too drunk, too lost in this, to react quickly enough. Ivy's fangs could be in her neck and tasting her before Rachel would be able to pull away - and she wouldn't want to, afterwards. So easy. Rachel wanted this, what they were doing, she must want to share blood as well, they were connected, permanently entwined-
By the Turn, what was she thinking?
With a quiet, almost whimper of a sound, Ivy pulled back and practically pushed herself off the couch. She was almost glad that she bumped into her table; at least she had something to hold onto. "I can't- you can't- this-" Ivy stuttered, breathing deeply to try get herself under control. You have no idea how much I want this, she wanted to say. "We can't do this, Rachel," she said instead, hoping her voice sounded firm enough. "You've had god knows how many glasses of tequila, this isn't real. It isn't what you want."
My reaction times were for shit, apparently - Jenks would never have let me live it down - because Ivy was up and talking before I even realized that her skin wasn't underneath my fingers. I let out a soft growl of petulant frustration and looked up at her. My skin was flushed, hair in disarray, lips slightly swollen from the kisses. "You don't want me?" I asked, head tipping to one side, completely unaware of how drunken little-girl-lost my voice sounded. I thought... Ivy was supposed to want this. I'd been sure of it. She was supposed to want me. This was not how this was supposed to go.
Moving forward on the couch, so I was leaning towards her, on my knees, I frowned at her. "Why not?"
That blood and sex were so completely bound together in Ivy's mind had not occurred to me. I was lost in the moment, in the now, and right then I just wanted to keep kissing Ivy. I wasn't processing anything further or more complicated than that.
Possible answers whirled around in Ivy's thoughts - Yes, you know I want you was the strongest, the most truthful, but where would it lead them? If Rachel tried kissing her again, Ivy didn't know if she'd be able to stop. No, I don't was probably the smartest option, and it might even be beneficial for their friendship if Rachel thought so.
But Ivy had never been great at lying about things that important.
"I think you need to sober up," she said softly, trying not to look at Rachel. Running a hand through her hair, Ivy let go of her death-grip on the table and moved the tequila bottle, storing it - hopefully safely - on the other side of the room. "I can get you some coffee, some water. You're going to have a headache the size of Texas in the morning."
All the righteous indignation of the well and truly smashed washed over me. Glaring, standing shakily, I blew a strand of hair out of my face. "For the love of the Turn, Ivy," I glowered. "Don't tell me what to do. You're not my mother."
I took several wavering steps towards her, swaying slightly under the mellow glow of way too much tequila. I got within a couple of inches, tipping my chin up to look at her. "Look, what's the problem? I thought you wanted this! God, Ivy." The anger and hurt in my voice was apparent, and I studied her under half-lidded eyes. "Just take me. Come on. Do it." A taunt, a challenge. Drink had made me bold, had erased my misgivings. "I don't want coffee. Or water." I moved forward, my hand going to rest lightly on her hip. "I'm drunk, Ivy. Take advantage of it." Because I knew it probably wouldn't happen again.
"Take advantage of you?" Ivy asked, particularly inelegant in her shock. That was probably the worst way Rachel could have put it; it made it sound like Ivy could just slip some roofies into Rachel's next drink and... well, take advantage. Ivy shook her head slowly in disbelief, cataloging Rachel's sway, her slur, her eyes - by the Turn, she was nowhere resembling sober.
Folding her arms over her chest, Ivy's features hardened as Rachel stood closer. "I don't think you know what you're asking," she replied, undecided on whether she should be stern or gentle. "I don't want to take anything that you wouldn't offer when you're stone cold sober."
She couldn't help the anger that was beginning to kindle - it was illogical, and aimed mostly at herself, but it made her voice grow cold. "Unless you want the full deal, Rachel. I can give it to you, you know. I could claim you, make you my shade, if that's what you want. Sex wouldn't happen without taking your blood, and your independence would be gone." Ivy was exaggerating, slightly, but her own disgust over her screwed-up habits meant it sounded a lot nastier. "No boyfriends, no sharing blood with anyone else, no life."
If there was anything like a verbal bucket of cold water, Ivy had just tossed one on me. Stopping as if I'd struck a brick wall, I squinted at her, my cheeks reddening at the rejection, at the horror of her words. That was my worst nightmare. Ivy knew it, too.
"That's not..." I trailed off, swallowing hard, trying to force the slur out of my tone. Then, before any second guessing could happen, I pushed myself forward and met her lips in a long, lingering kiss. Sweet and soft and without any bite, literal or figuratively.
"You're an idiot," I proclaimed as I broke away, snatched up the tequila bottle, and turned to make my weaving way towards the door. "A stupid, stuck up vamp who only thinks about blood. I don't wanna be your shade, stupid. And if you tried, I'd kill you twice. That's not what this was, and you know it." I looked back at her, hip cocked, suddenly wise and insightful in my inebriation. "You're afraid. I thought I was supposed to be afraid, but it's you. Don't want to share blood. Other stuff, yeah, maybe, but I'm just drunk enough to think about it and you're trying to..." I couldn't form words about what she was trying to do, so I waved the tequila bottle wildly to emphasize my point. Then, nodding once and nearly falling down from the way the room tilted, I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to remember where the door was.
Anger and shame and embarrassment and fear would come later. Now I was just frustrated.
Completely mollified by the kiss, Ivy didn't even try to interrupt Rachel when she began speaking. Yes, she was afraid. She wanted this more than anything, enough so that a simple act like Rachel even having morning coffee with her felt like the most gracious act. But with it, came fear.
As she watched Rachel stumble and look for the door, Ivy stood still, touching two fingertips to her lips. If only she could separate love and blood, if she could put her fears to rest. Right now, in the face of knowing that maybe, maybe Rachel could love her back, those things didn't seem so hard.
But she'd think about that later. Sighing, Ivy reached out and lightly gripped Rachel's shoulder, stopping her from leaving. "Hey, you can crash here if you want. The idea of you staggering all the way back to your own room is... well, you'll probably end up unconscious halfway there."
"Don't want to crash," I reminded her, shrugging off her hand. "I wanted to sleep with you."
The hurt in my voice was only enhanced by the alcohol and I glowered at her. "You," one shaky finger went out to point at Ivy; I was so close I nearly beeped her nose, "need to learn to take advantage of sitch-- sitou-- of things when they come." Ha! Take that, drunken brain. "I am damn good in bed."
Then I paused. "And I so will not be unconscious." Sticking my tongue out at her, I wondered why, exactly, the room was swaying like that. Silly room.
"Right," Ivy replied, a hint of sarcasm entering her voice, her grip on Rachel's shoulder tightening in attempt to stop her swaying. "Drunken sex with my straight best friend was so high on my agenda today. Sounds like fun."
Rolling her eyes slightly, now quite detached from her earlier self-loathing words, Ivy gently steered Rachel towards her bedroom. She didn't want Rachel trying to walk back to her own room; the possibility of a drunken accident was far too high for her liking. So making her sleep in Ivy's bed seemed like the only better option. Even if the presence of her scent would linger for weeks.
"Nothing is going to happen," she said firmly, leaving Rachel at the end of the bed to meticulously fold down her sheets and remove some extra pillows. "You're going to sleep, and in the morning, you're going to tell me that you're never drinking tequila again." That was a bit of a stretch, but it was a reassuring thought.
Fine. Grumbling under my breath, I unceremoniously dropped the tequila bottle by the bed, silently cheering when it didn't spill. Then I tugged off my top and tossed it to the ground. Leather was not fun to sleep in. And if I wasn't going to get to do anything else...
"Drunken sex is fun," I informed Ivy, pushing my hair out of my face and moving to stand next to her, unbuttoning my pants and letting them slip down to my ankles, kicking them aside and gloriously unselfconscious in my intoxication. "And stop being so fussy. I'm just going to pass out in it. The queen of England isn't joining me." My expression brightened and I ran one hand lightly down Ivy's back. "You could, though."
Persistent, much? Some corner of my brain was telling me, though, that if we didn't do something, something we couldn't deny the next day, then all of this would get brushed aside and we'd be back to where we were. I didn't know why or how I'd come to this conclusion or even what it meant, but I did know that I didn't want that. For whatever reason, I didn't. But Ivy was fighting me every step of the way, and it was getting hard to remember what my purpose in coming here had been.
"Maybe I should," Ivy muttered grumpily, trying to keep her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. It wasn't working that well, especially when Rachel was wearing practically nothing and insisted on touching her. For a brief moment, Ivy wondered if - somewhere, somehow - whoever was responsible for the tests of temptation was laughing at her.
Keeping up an internal mantra of 'don't stare', Ivy dithered. Should she join Rachel and get some sleep? It would be risking Rachel getting a bit too hands-on, but she was tired, and she didn't particularly feel up to wandering the castle in search for distractions. Nothing would distract her from the knowledge that Rachel was in her bed, anyway.
...It was getting really hard not to stare.
Resolutely, even though she was still in old jeans and a shirt, Ivy slipped into the right side of the bed and curled up on her side, facing away from the rest of the bed. She was tired, and even though she was still tense from this whole situation, the comfort of her own bed made her relax slightly.
"Now get in, and go to sleep," she ordered firmly, digging her face into the pillow and pulling the blanket up over her. "And do not vomit on my bed."
Hey! This was not what I'd met. Glaring at her back, I considered the situation a moment. Then, with a smile that was far too wicked, I tugged off my bra and panties as well. "Ivy," I said, insistently, crawling into bed beside her. "Ivy, look at me. Come on."
Because if she looked then...somehow everything would work out? Drunken logic was not my thing. Logic in general was not my thing, or else I'd not be offering myself up to a freaking vampire like a late night snack.
Ivy was most definitely not going to look. The quiet sounds of what had to be Rachel taking everything else off had made her quite determined to not react in any way.
"Good night, Rachel," she replied, though her tone turned it into a command. If she looked, it would mean Rachel would get bold again, and Ivy's defenses had very nearly run out.
By the Turn, tomorrow morning was going to be awkward.
Heaving out a huge sigh, I folded my arms and frowned down at her for a moment. Then, awkwardly - because it was hard getting dressed when you saw two of everything - I tugged everything back on as quickly as I could. Zipping up my pants as I walked, I huffed, "Night, Ivy," and made my way towards the door.
This was stupid. I was now horny as hell and twice as drunk. I was going to get laid tonight. I'd wanted it with Ivy, though I was most assuredly not examining the whys of that, but if she was going to be a stuck-up priss, then fine. I'd fine someone else.
When she felt Rachel's movements behind her, Ivy frowned and shifted slightly, turning her head to watch Rachel getting dressed. The sudden turn-about in her was surprising, though... maybe not all that unexpected. Despite the fact that she'd been resisting Rachel all night, Ivy almost wished she'd just come back to bed. It would have been difficult, but it would have been nice sleeping in the same bed as Rachel - something Ivy never really dared to hope would happen.
Sighing silently, she rolled back over, not watching Rachel find the door. Ivy absently wondered where Rachel was going, but upon further thought and possible theories, she didn't really want to know.
"Have a good night," she said quietly, not trying to stop Rachel from leaving. Ivy wanted to add something like 'Take care of yourself', but her tongue wouldn't co-operate. Rachel would be okay.
Halfway out the door, I remembered that I couldn't go see Dean. Fuck! Stupid demon - Turn take them all. And Ivy was acting like she was seeing me off for a run. No, worse. At least then she'd act like she cared. Now I'd practically thrown myself at her - repeatedly - and all she'd done is push me away.
Bubbling over with anger I didn't even remotely want to examine, I paused, hands on my hips and tequila bottle - the instigator for this evening's debacle - dangling from my fingers. My eyes narrowed and my voice, gently slurred by drink, came out harsher than I'd intended. "Have a good fucking night? That's it? Turn it, Ivy, what the hell are you doing? You put up those fucking secrets, you make me think..."
I gestured wildly with the bottle, splashing it everywhere. "Do you know how hard this... You can't..." Huffing out a breath, I glowered in frustrated silence for a long moment. Then, deliberately, I hurled the bottle to the ground, taking a childish, perverse pleasure in the crunching of glass against the stone. "I hate you right now." Suddenly I was back to being twelve years old. "You have no idea..." Falling quiet again, I simply stared at Ivy, unsure and fidgety and, oh yeah, drunk.
Again, Ivy almost lost herself. This was good - too good - and once more the mere thought of pulling away was possibly the last thing that she wanted to do. She'd never imagined that Rachel might actually agree to this, let alone start it, and Rachel's rather forthright touches were pushing reality just that little bit further away.
Ivy ran a tongue over a sharp canine, feeling it itch in reaction to willingness. She had an excellent vantage point of Rachel's neck right now; the pale skin slightly flushed from a raised heart beat (and alcohol, no doubt). Ivy could practically feel the blood rushing in Rachel's veins, and she sucked in a breath.
It would be so easy. Rachel was too drunk, too lost in this, to react quickly enough. Ivy's fangs could be in her neck and tasting her before Rachel would be able to pull away - and she wouldn't want to, afterwards. So easy. Rachel wanted this, what they were doing, she must want to share blood as well, they were connected, permanently entwined-
By the Turn, what was she thinking?
With a quiet, almost whimper of a sound, Ivy pulled back and practically pushed herself off the couch. She was almost glad that she bumped into her table; at least she had something to hold onto. "I can't- you can't- this-" Ivy stuttered, breathing deeply to try get herself under control. You have no idea how much I want this, she wanted to say. "We can't do this, Rachel," she said instead, hoping her voice sounded firm enough. "You've had god knows how many glasses of tequila, this isn't real. It isn't what you want."
Reply
Moving forward on the couch, so I was leaning towards her, on my knees, I frowned at her. "Why not?"
That blood and sex were so completely bound together in Ivy's mind had not occurred to me. I was lost in the moment, in the now, and right then I just wanted to keep kissing Ivy. I wasn't processing anything further or more complicated than that.
Reply
But Ivy had never been great at lying about things that important.
"I think you need to sober up," she said softly, trying not to look at Rachel. Running a hand through her hair, Ivy let go of her death-grip on the table and moved the tequila bottle, storing it - hopefully safely - on the other side of the room. "I can get you some coffee, some water. You're going to have a headache the size of Texas in the morning."
Reply
I took several wavering steps towards her, swaying slightly under the mellow glow of way too much tequila. I got within a couple of inches, tipping my chin up to look at her. "Look, what's the problem? I thought you wanted this! God, Ivy." The anger and hurt in my voice was apparent, and I studied her under half-lidded eyes. "Just take me. Come on. Do it." A taunt, a challenge. Drink had made me bold, had erased my misgivings. "I don't want coffee. Or water." I moved forward, my hand going to rest lightly on her hip. "I'm drunk, Ivy. Take advantage of it." Because I knew it probably wouldn't happen again.
Reply
Folding her arms over her chest, Ivy's features hardened as Rachel stood closer. "I don't think you know what you're asking," she replied, undecided on whether she should be stern or gentle. "I don't want to take anything that you wouldn't offer when you're stone cold sober."
She couldn't help the anger that was beginning to kindle - it was illogical, and aimed mostly at herself, but it made her voice grow cold. "Unless you want the full deal, Rachel. I can give it to you, you know. I could claim you, make you my shade, if that's what you want. Sex wouldn't happen without taking your blood, and your independence would be gone." Ivy was exaggerating, slightly, but her own disgust over her screwed-up habits meant it sounded a lot nastier. "No boyfriends, no sharing blood with anyone else, no life."
Reply
"That's not..." I trailed off, swallowing hard, trying to force the slur out of my tone. Then, before any second guessing could happen, I pushed myself forward and met her lips in a long, lingering kiss. Sweet and soft and without any bite, literal or figuratively.
"You're an idiot," I proclaimed as I broke away, snatched up the tequila bottle, and turned to make my weaving way towards the door. "A stupid, stuck up vamp who only thinks about blood. I don't wanna be your shade, stupid. And if you tried, I'd kill you twice. That's not what this was, and you know it." I looked back at her, hip cocked, suddenly wise and insightful in my inebriation. "You're afraid. I thought I was supposed to be afraid, but it's you. Don't want to share blood. Other stuff, yeah, maybe, but I'm just drunk enough to think about it and you're trying to..." I couldn't form words about what she was trying to do, so I waved the tequila bottle wildly to emphasize my point. Then, nodding once and nearly falling down from the way the room tilted, I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to remember where the door was.
Anger and shame and embarrassment and fear would come later. Now I was just frustrated.
Reply
As she watched Rachel stumble and look for the door, Ivy stood still, touching two fingertips to her lips. If only she could separate love and blood, if she could put her fears to rest. Right now, in the face of knowing that maybe, maybe Rachel could love her back, those things didn't seem so hard.
But she'd think about that later. Sighing, Ivy reached out and lightly gripped Rachel's shoulder, stopping her from leaving. "Hey, you can crash here if you want. The idea of you staggering all the way back to your own room is... well, you'll probably end up unconscious halfway there."
Reply
The hurt in my voice was only enhanced by the alcohol and I glowered at her. "You," one shaky finger went out to point at Ivy; I was so close I nearly beeped her nose, "need to learn to take advantage of sitch-- sitou-- of things when they come." Ha! Take that, drunken brain. "I am damn good in bed."
Then I paused. "And I so will not be unconscious." Sticking my tongue out at her, I wondered why, exactly, the room was swaying like that. Silly room.
Reply
Rolling her eyes slightly, now quite detached from her earlier self-loathing words, Ivy gently steered Rachel towards her bedroom. She didn't want Rachel trying to walk back to her own room; the possibility of a drunken accident was far too high for her liking. So making her sleep in Ivy's bed seemed like the only better option. Even if the presence of her scent would linger for weeks.
"Nothing is going to happen," she said firmly, leaving Rachel at the end of the bed to meticulously fold down her sheets and remove some extra pillows. "You're going to sleep, and in the morning, you're going to tell me that you're never drinking tequila again." That was a bit of a stretch, but it was a reassuring thought.
Reply
"Drunken sex is fun," I informed Ivy, pushing my hair out of my face and moving to stand next to her, unbuttoning my pants and letting them slip down to my ankles, kicking them aside and gloriously unselfconscious in my intoxication. "And stop being so fussy. I'm just going to pass out in it. The queen of England isn't joining me." My expression brightened and I ran one hand lightly down Ivy's back. "You could, though."
Persistent, much? Some corner of my brain was telling me, though, that if we didn't do something, something we couldn't deny the next day, then all of this would get brushed aside and we'd be back to where we were. I didn't know why or how I'd come to this conclusion or even what it meant, but I did know that I didn't want that. For whatever reason, I didn't. But Ivy was fighting me every step of the way, and it was getting hard to remember what my purpose in coming here had been.
Oh, right. My best friend was in love with me.
"Maybe you should drink some tequila."
Reply
Keeping up an internal mantra of 'don't stare', Ivy dithered. Should she join Rachel and get some sleep? It would be risking Rachel getting a bit too hands-on, but she was tired, and she didn't particularly feel up to wandering the castle in search for distractions. Nothing would distract her from the knowledge that Rachel was in her bed, anyway.
...It was getting really hard not to stare.
Resolutely, even though she was still in old jeans and a shirt, Ivy slipped into the right side of the bed and curled up on her side, facing away from the rest of the bed. She was tired, and even though she was still tense from this whole situation, the comfort of her own bed made her relax slightly.
"Now get in, and go to sleep," she ordered firmly, digging her face into the pillow and pulling the blanket up over her. "And do not vomit on my bed."
Reply
Because if she looked then...somehow everything would work out? Drunken logic was not my thing. Logic in general was not my thing, or else I'd not be offering myself up to a freaking vampire like a late night snack.
Reply
"Good night, Rachel," she replied, though her tone turned it into a command. If she looked, it would mean Rachel would get bold again, and Ivy's defenses had very nearly run out.
By the Turn, tomorrow morning was going to be awkward.
Reply
This was stupid. I was now horny as hell and twice as drunk. I was going to get laid tonight. I'd wanted it with Ivy, though I was most assuredly not examining the whys of that, but if she was going to be a stuck-up priss, then fine. I'd fine someone else.
Maybe Dean was in his hut...
Reply
Sighing silently, she rolled back over, not watching Rachel find the door. Ivy absently wondered where Rachel was going, but upon further thought and possible theories, she didn't really want to know.
"Have a good night," she said quietly, not trying to stop Rachel from leaving. Ivy wanted to add something like 'Take care of yourself', but her tongue wouldn't co-operate. Rachel would be okay.
Reply
Bubbling over with anger I didn't even remotely want to examine, I paused, hands on my hips and tequila bottle - the instigator for this evening's debacle - dangling from my fingers. My eyes narrowed and my voice, gently slurred by drink, came out harsher than I'd intended. "Have a good fucking night? That's it? Turn it, Ivy, what the hell are you doing? You put up those fucking secrets, you make me think..."
I gestured wildly with the bottle, splashing it everywhere. "Do you know how hard this... You can't..." Huffing out a breath, I glowered in frustrated silence for a long moment. Then, deliberately, I hurled the bottle to the ground, taking a childish, perverse pleasure in the crunching of glass against the stone. "I hate you right now." Suddenly I was back to being twelve years old. "You have no idea..." Falling quiet again, I simply stared at Ivy, unsure and fidgety and, oh yeah, drunk.
Reply
Leave a comment