WESSEX
Ok, look - even Wessex can’t fight for Edy’s blood and continue to try and make her come. They’re up against a table, right? Or Edy is. Something like that. So assuming it’s at a sitable height, yadda yadda yadda, and Edy is already leaning back to give the Ascended better access, Wessex pushes against the mage’s chest to try and get her down on the table, then moves to join her. Screw going for her bleeding hand. If she wants to be taken, so be it.
Assuming there’s no resistance, Wessex’s fingers slip inside her, searching for that inside spot which will make her convulse and cry out. And then she pulls at Edy’s shirt - up or down, does it really matter? - maybe even ripping it open, to find her breasts, her heart, the source of her blood. No, she can’t get to the heart, but there are plenty of feel-good places and veins close to the skin. Diving for a nipple, she foregoes any teasing play, sinks her fangs in right above the dark little nubs, and begins to drink.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
