There it is. Daisy lets Erin clutch at her wrist as tightly as she needs to. Daisy also finally feels the soft skin beneath her claws give the way it's supposed to, sharp tips digging in and a shudder running through Daisy at the blood hitting the air.
She carves a shallow trail into Erin's thigh before she reaches up to bring the drink down, other hand gripping Erin's chin without pulling free from her grasp. Clawed thump catching her lip.
"Don't you pass out on me, Erin. Not gonna claw you up more or fuck you if you pass out."
Daisy's tongue on Erin's thigh is admirable fucking encouragement to stay awake. It drags a surprised gasp out of her, makes her squeeze her legs together involuntarily. "Goddamn," she breathes, through a tight throat and the haze of pain and exhaustion. "D-daisy - I - are you still okay?"
"I'm fine," she says, and means it. The blood pounding in her ears is more lust than anything else, and what isn't is under control. Her complicated emotions are on a tight leash. "Worry about yourself. Okay?"
She leans down to kiss Erin—if it can be called that, it's more teeth than lips—and when she withdraws, there's more blood staining her teeth and lips. She only half licks them clean.
She has to drag her hand from Erin's grip eventually, needs it to bring the glass to Erin's lips whilst her other cups her jaw to make sure she doesn't lean back too far and choke herself.
Erin clings to Daisy while she drinks; there's a desperate greed to it, an eagerness to stay up, to stay awake, yes, but also the pleasure of obeying, of being in Daisy's power entirely. When she comes up for air there's only the dregs of the glass left, her cocktail mixing in with the blood on her lips, chest heaving as she takes deep breaths.
On impulse, Erin pulls herself closer and buries her face in Daisy's neck, biting in turn; not an attack, but a gentle press, a mark with those sharp teeth. Mine. My sovereign. My love.
It's almost a shame, really, that Daisy heals so fucking fast. She knows the second she feels the bite at her skin that any sign will be gone by the time Erin pulls away, all but whatever blood Erin leaves from her own lips.
But Daisy's breath catches, all the same.
The glass is lazily discarded, skittering off somewhere with clinks and clunks. Daisy pushes Erin back down to the floor, not shy about letting her claws catch the skin of Erin's shoulder and chest. She teases a nipple between her fingers for only so long as it takes her to grab the strap, before she needs both her hands to get the thing properly situated.
Erin stares openly, panting through the pain and the pleasure; she touches her oozing wounds, feeling the heat of her blood, before her hands go to her breasts to squeeze and play and smear that red across them for Daisy's delight.
Some part of her wonders if Daisy will leave the toy in her ass or if Daisy intends on fucking Erin there until she can't think...
But a good girl doesn't talk while her domme is deciding, does she?
Daisy does consider, for a moment, stripping out of her shorts, too, but in the end she doesn't bother. The strap is settled overtop her clothes. All she's removed this entire time is the cardigan still marking their presence on the bar.
She also considers, for a moment, removing the toy. Nimble fingers even slip to tease at it a little, as if she's going to, whilst her other hand is busy making use of the lube. But, ultimately, the fingers drift away, and Daisy effortlessly lifts Erin's hips from the floor just enough to give herself a better angle to fuck into her.
No words, just a low, almost curious little hum and keen eyes admiring the view.
Erin whines, trying to decide if she's too proud to beg. Her legs wrap around Daisy, her hips twitch; she's too keenly aware of how being behind the bar constrains her wings, how she's using them to help keep herself lifted. She needs it, so badly. So, so badly -
Daisy's lips quirk into a downright smug little smirk with just a flash of teeth. "Didn't even have to ask."
She doesn't make Erin wait longer than that. She thrusts into her, dragging Erin's body back to meet it with a sharp grip on her ass and hip. The whole time watching Erin with an odd mix of that predatory awareness and a much more human warmth.
Erin bites her lip, trying not to cry out or scream, to keep the faint modicum of privacy in case anyone is walking nearby -
And she fails. When Daisy's hips meet her, Erin's hands scrabble against Daisy's arms before clutching at her wrists, and she moans her lover's name, all resistance and self-restraint melting away. Here, right now, bleeding from all those tiny wounds and bereft of her Aura, Erin feels completely safe. Daisy will take care of her. She can let go.
Daisy never has done subtlety well, anyway. The volume, if anything, makes that smirk on her face even smugger, more pleased with herself, than it already was.
She sets her pace, knows well how to use enough of her strength to wreck someone without actually breaking them (knows well how much further she could always push it with some compared to others, remembers well the other monsters that walked away from Hunts alive and satisfied and aching). Knows the feeling of Erin's skin beneath her hands, knows the pounding beat of Erin's heart, knows the scent of her.
(There's only been one other woman she's known like this, only one other woman that she wanted beneath her as more than a conquest, only one other that the care they needed wasn't a fucking chore to tick off so she could get off.
Daisy's fingers twitch, and it's damn fucking lucky that she's aware enough of her own actions to keep her hands far, far from Erin's hair when for a fleeting moment, all she can imagine is the feeling of Basira's between her fingers.)
When one hand slips away from its hold on Erin's hip, she doesn't shake away Erin's grip, she... adjusts it. Locks their fingers together as she leans over Erin and guides the arm away so she's holding it loosely against the ground above her head. Teeth catch at Erin's lip, then her jaw, then her throat. And never once does Daisy's rhythm falter.
Erin squeezes Daisy's hand hard, trembling, so close. She gasps at the scrape of her lover's teeth, legs squeezing hard, every touch of those teeth making her buck, writhe -
And there is a barrier again, snapping into place beneath Daisy's teeth. Erin sucks in a deep breath of surprise, screaming something that might be - is - "Not yet, no!", but the sheer shock of her Aura's return is entirely too much for her poor body. She tips over her edge, shaking beneath Daisy as she cums hard.
Whether or not Daisy regrets leaving her clothes on for Erin to squirt on is up to Daisy, really. Erin is busy clinging to Daisy and breathlessly mumbling apologies every time she gets enough air to speak.
It's enough to startle Daisy, the sudden barrier against her bite, but not enough to stop her. She squeezes Erin's hand tight, other arm slipping to wrap around her properly as she cums and Daisy slows, bit by bit, to a stop.
She really doesn't care about the mess. The cardigan is long enough to cover it whenever they have to pass through the rest of the ship.
And in this moment, she's much more focused on hushing Erin's apologies, on nuzzling her face affectionately against Erin's throat and jaw. "It's alright, Erin. I still got you."
Slowly, Erin's breathing evens out, and then her body. She clings to Daisy, nestling against the hunter, warm, safe. Still a little ashamed that she ended like that, but surprise will do that to you, won't it?
At long last she nuzzles into Daisy's neck, leaving a soft kiss. She's going to ask, even though the answer is almost always no, even though she's spent and Done: "Do you want me to touch you, my sovereign?"
"Not this time," Daisy rumbles, already slowly moving to withdraw and get the harness off so it's out of the way. She finds the control for the vibrator and flips it off, carefully removes it. Sets both aside on a scrap of material from Erin's dramatic clothing removal, earlier, so they're not on the floor.
She reaches up into the bar to get napkins, only to look back and see the Aura is already doing its thing to the wounds. Still, she keeps some for cleaning up the blood it can't get rid of.
"Like I'm not thinking. Perfect..." Erin reaches up, brushing Daisy's face with her fingertips, her expression just so, so fond. "You're amazing, my sovereign, and...thank you."
Daisy's head tilts just faintly towards the touch, before, setting bloodied napkins aside, she shifts to instead settle beside Erin, her own touch tracing idly over where cuts used to be. "You wanted— feelings stuff. You able to do that without thinking?"
"Don't need to think. Know it like I know the reach of my sword and the sound of your footsteps, like I know when you're acting tough 'cause you're actually interested and when you're acting tough because you need me to stop." Erin breathes in deep, still nuzzling, enjoying Daisy's light touch, the scent of her body and the blood here in the bar. "...I know we're complicated, and you don't like Crabb, and there's shit that's gone down and will go down and you don't like being here and -" Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. "And you're worth it. I wanna call you mine, my sovereign. Can I?"
Daisy draws in a shaky breath, one that quakes just as much when she releases it. She doesn't know how to do this; it's like forcing an atrophied muscle through the steps of rehabilitation even when it burns like nothing else. She doesn't know how people give their hearts out, how they can stand placing their still-beating bastions of weakness in another person's hands and not expect them to crush it right there in front of you, so you can watch the blood seep between their fingers.
Only once has she ever taken the chance. Basira had her heart in her pocket before Daisy ever told her it was there. It lived there, it went where she went, it thrummed and thrived... and then it drowned in Basira's blood as Jenny slit her throat. And then she was home and, like every other part of Daisy, it withered in the coffin and never truly recovered.
It still feels as if it's there, sometimes. Or as if Basira's hands are buried in her chest, cradling her heart where it mourns.
But then there have been other hands, too. Buried just as deep, as if seeking the soul that must be in there somewhere amidst the grime.
It feels like being torn apart. It feels like being reborn. It feels like dying a thousand different ways.
"I—" she chokes out, not even sure how long she's been silent. "I-I don't know— I-I don't know if I know how."
Erin presses her lips to Daisy's cheek and wraps herself around the hunter, cradling, warm. Protecting her sovereign from a world that doesn't understand, and casts blame, however right it might be to do so.
Her voice is quiet, and it is gentle. "I know you're trying hard already, in ways you don't really talk about with me. Teaching Johnny, and trying to get along with Ylva and Valdis. Letting me be gentle with you when it feels like a trap, I know. I...I know. And it's selfish of me to ask, but...do you want to try?"
"I knew who I was loving when I got into this. And I'm still here."
For once, Daisy seems every bit as small as she actually is. She curls into Erin's body and huffs, faintly.
"I don't even know who you're loving."
Who the fuck is Daisy Tonner, anyway? She's been trying to figure it out ever since she was dragged from the choking embrace of Forever Deep Below Creation and feels no closer to having an answer than she did down in the darkness.
Alice Tonner died when she was but a girl. Daisy Tonner lives, but who is she? Because it's not who that name was claimed for, not anymore.
"Someone fierce, and brave," Erin murmurs. "Someone who's faced her demon and called it by its name, even when she couldn't fight back yet. Someone not happy to be among the damned, who longs for the world of light and laughter like I do. Someone funny, and warm in her spiky way." The tiniest kiss, atop Daisy's head; Erin's voice warms for this last one. "Someone Welsh, you were pretty clear about that one."
There's almost a laugh, low and quiet. Does that sound like her? She doesn't even know. She just doesn't know.
"Back when I was a little girl. I was— I was Alice. Alice Tonner. Then, this." She reaches back to guide Erin's hand to the still-thick starburst scar tissue, stretched and thinned by time and age and growth. "Doctor called it a daisy. Trying to make the nastiness pretty for the sweet little girl he thought I was, I suppose. He didn't know I'd been— excited, when I saw the bodies. Or that I already wanted to make Calvin pay."
Pretty little Alice Tonner, in her dungaree dress and flowery t-shirt and her pink scrunchie. Daddy's little sweetheart, so well behaved at home, such an easy face to use for her old man's hatred. Tripped and fell after being lured into misbehaviour by that rowdy Benchley boy, that's how they saw it.
"And I liked it. Liked that they didn't know. Liked being the pretty little flower that no one expected to break their jaw. So. I became Daisy."
"...I know, love. I. I know." Another kiss, pressed to Daisy's hair, a squeeze in the hug. "...I'm not gonna try to say it in words. Ask me, sometime, to dress up for you as Liz Malloy, and you'll get it. I know. It feels good, taking advantage of people. Safe. Powerful. Like they're so stupid and you're too smart to ever be hurt."
"Yeah," Daisy says on a breath. Her claws are tracing harmless shapes on Erin's lower back. Little flowers, funnily enough. "And I don't— I don't think Alice exists anymore. First Calvin killed her and then. I did too."
Alice died the day Calvin attacked her and Daisy buried her when she killed Calvin in turn. If Alice wasn't the one Jon pulled out of Forever Deep Below Creation, then there's no saving her. Daisy is all that's left.
Erin buried Liz Malloy. Daisy buried Alice. Two sides of a coin.
"Whatever's left— I still don't feel like I've figured that out. Guess you can see better than me despite the lack of eyes."
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hadnoright) wrote2022-11-01 01:56 am
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There it is. Daisy lets Erin clutch at her wrist as tightly as she needs to. Daisy also finally feels the soft skin beneath her claws give the way it's supposed to, sharp tips digging in and a shudder running through Daisy at the blood hitting the air.
She carves a shallow trail into Erin's thigh before she reaches up to bring the drink down, other hand gripping Erin's chin without pulling free from her grasp. Clawed thump catching her lip.
"Don't you pass out on me, Erin. Not gonna claw you up more or fuck you if you pass out."
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(Bit late to ask if this is too much.)
It's never too late, head voice.
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"I'm fine," she says, and means it. The blood pounding in her ears is more lust than anything else, and what isn't is under control. Her complicated emotions are on a tight leash. "Worry about yourself. Okay?"
She leans down to kiss Erin—if it can be called that, it's more teeth than lips—and when she withdraws, there's more blood staining her teeth and lips. She only half licks them clean.
She has to drag her hand from Erin's grip eventually, needs it to bring the glass to Erin's lips whilst her other cups her jaw to make sure she doesn't lean back too far and choke herself.
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On impulse, Erin pulls herself closer and buries her face in Daisy's neck, biting in turn; not an attack, but a gentle press, a mark with those sharp teeth. Mine. My sovereign. My love.
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It's almost a shame, really, that Daisy heals so fucking fast. She knows the second she feels the bite at her skin that any sign will be gone by the time Erin pulls away, all but whatever blood Erin leaves from her own lips.
But Daisy's breath catches, all the same.
The glass is lazily discarded, skittering off somewhere with clinks and clunks. Daisy pushes Erin back down to the floor, not shy about letting her claws catch the skin of Erin's shoulder and chest. She teases a nipple between her fingers for only so long as it takes her to grab the strap, before she needs both her hands to get the thing properly situated.
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Some part of her wonders if Daisy will leave the toy in her ass or if Daisy intends on fucking Erin there until she can't think...
But a good girl doesn't talk while her domme is deciding, does she?
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Daisy does consider, for a moment, stripping out of her shorts, too, but in the end she doesn't bother. The strap is settled overtop her clothes. All she's removed this entire time is the cardigan still marking their presence on the bar.
She also considers, for a moment, removing the toy. Nimble fingers even slip to tease at it a little, as if she's going to, whilst her other hand is busy making use of the lube. But, ultimately, the fingers drift away, and Daisy effortlessly lifts Erin's hips from the floor just enough to give herself a better angle to fuck into her.
No words, just a low, almost curious little hum and keen eyes admiring the view.
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"Please," Erin begs. "Pleaseplease -"
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Daisy's lips quirk into a downright smug little smirk with just a flash of teeth. "Didn't even have to ask."
She doesn't make Erin wait longer than that. She thrusts into her, dragging Erin's body back to meet it with a sharp grip on her ass and hip. The whole time watching Erin with an odd mix of that predatory awareness and a much more human warmth.
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And she fails. When Daisy's hips meet her, Erin's hands scrabble against Daisy's arms before clutching at her wrists, and she moans her lover's name, all resistance and self-restraint melting away. Here, right now, bleeding from all those tiny wounds and bereft of her Aura, Erin feels completely safe. Daisy will take care of her. She can let go.
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Daisy never has done subtlety well, anyway. The volume, if anything, makes that smirk on her face even smugger, more pleased with herself, than it already was.
She sets her pace, knows well how to use enough of her strength to wreck someone without actually breaking them (knows well how much further she could always push it with some compared to others, remembers well the other monsters that walked away from Hunts alive and satisfied and aching). Knows the feeling of Erin's skin beneath her hands, knows the pounding beat of Erin's heart, knows the scent of her.
(There's only been one other woman she's known like this, only one other woman that she wanted beneath her as more than a conquest, only one other that the care they needed wasn't a fucking chore to tick off so she could get off.
Daisy's fingers twitch, and it's damn fucking lucky that she's aware enough of her own actions to keep her hands far, far from Erin's hair when for a fleeting moment, all she can imagine is the feeling of Basira's between her fingers.)
When one hand slips away from its hold on Erin's hip, she doesn't shake away Erin's grip, she... adjusts it. Locks their fingers together as she leans over Erin and guides the arm away so she's holding it loosely against the ground above her head. Teeth catch at Erin's lip, then her jaw, then her throat. And never once does Daisy's rhythm falter.
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And there is a barrier again, snapping into place beneath Daisy's teeth. Erin sucks in a deep breath of surprise, screaming something that might be - is - "Not yet, no!", but the sheer shock of her Aura's return is entirely too much for her poor body. She tips over her edge, shaking beneath Daisy as she cums hard.
Whether or not Daisy regrets leaving her clothes on for Erin to squirt on is up to Daisy, really. Erin is busy clinging to Daisy and breathlessly mumbling apologies every time she gets enough air to speak.
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It's enough to startle Daisy, the sudden barrier against her bite, but not enough to stop her. She squeezes Erin's hand tight, other arm slipping to wrap around her properly as she cums and Daisy slows, bit by bit, to a stop.
She really doesn't care about the mess. The cardigan is long enough to cover it whenever they have to pass through the rest of the ship.
And in this moment, she's much more focused on hushing Erin's apologies, on nuzzling her face affectionately against Erin's throat and jaw. "It's alright, Erin. I still got you."
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At long last she nuzzles into Daisy's neck, leaving a soft kiss. She's going to ask, even though the answer is almost always no, even though she's spent and Done: "Do you want me to touch you, my sovereign?"
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"Not this time," Daisy rumbles, already slowly moving to withdraw and get the harness off so it's out of the way. She finds the control for the vibrator and flips it off, carefully removes it. Sets both aside on a scrap of material from Erin's dramatic clothing removal, earlier, so they're not on the floor.
She reaches up into the bar to get napkins, only to look back and see the Aura is already doing its thing to the wounds. Still, she keeps some for cleaning up the blood it can't get rid of.
"Mm. How're you feeling?"
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Daisy's head tilts just faintly towards the touch, before, setting bloodied napkins aside, she shifts to instead settle beside Erin, her own touch tracing idly over where cuts used to be. "You wanted— feelings stuff. You able to do that without thinking?"
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Daisy draws in a shaky breath, one that quakes just as much when she releases it. She doesn't know how to do this; it's like forcing an atrophied muscle through the steps of rehabilitation even when it burns like nothing else. She doesn't know how people give their hearts out, how they can stand placing their still-beating bastions of weakness in another person's hands and not expect them to crush it right there in front of you, so you can watch the blood seep between their fingers.
Only once has she ever taken the chance. Basira had her heart in her pocket before Daisy ever told her it was there. It lived there, it went where she went, it thrummed and thrived... and then it drowned in Basira's blood as Jenny slit her throat. And then she was home and, like every other part of Daisy, it withered in the coffin and never truly recovered.
It still feels as if it's there, sometimes. Or as if Basira's hands are buried in her chest, cradling her heart where it mourns.
But then there have been other hands, too. Buried just as deep, as if seeking the soul that must be in there somewhere amidst the grime.
It feels like being torn apart. It feels like being reborn. It feels like dying a thousand different ways.
"I—" she chokes out, not even sure how long she's been silent. "I-I don't know— I-I don't know if I know how."
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Her voice is quiet, and it is gentle. "I know you're trying hard already, in ways you don't really talk about with me. Teaching Johnny, and trying to get along with Ylva and Valdis. Letting me be gentle with you when it feels like a trap, I know. I...I know. And it's selfish of me to ask, but...do you want to try?"
"I knew who I was loving when I got into this. And I'm still here."
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For once, Daisy seems every bit as small as she actually is. She curls into Erin's body and huffs, faintly.
"I don't even know who you're loving."
Who the fuck is Daisy Tonner, anyway? She's been trying to figure it out ever since she was dragged from the choking embrace of Forever Deep Below Creation and feels no closer to having an answer than she did down in the darkness.
Alice Tonner died when she was but a girl. Daisy Tonner lives, but who is she? Because it's not who that name was claimed for, not anymore.
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There's almost a laugh, low and quiet. Does that sound like her? She doesn't even know. She just doesn't know.
"Back when I was a little girl. I was— I was Alice. Alice Tonner. Then, this." She reaches back to guide Erin's hand to the still-thick starburst scar tissue, stretched and thinned by time and age and growth. "Doctor called it a daisy. Trying to make the nastiness pretty for the sweet little girl he thought I was, I suppose. He didn't know I'd been— excited, when I saw the bodies. Or that I already wanted to make Calvin pay."
Pretty little Alice Tonner, in her dungaree dress and flowery t-shirt and her pink scrunchie. Daddy's little sweetheart, so well behaved at home, such an easy face to use for her old man's hatred. Tripped and fell after being lured into misbehaviour by that rowdy Benchley boy, that's how they saw it.
"And I liked it. Liked that they didn't know. Liked being the pretty little flower that no one expected to break their jaw. So. I became Daisy."
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"Yeah," Daisy says on a breath. Her claws are tracing harmless shapes on Erin's lower back. Little flowers, funnily enough. "And I don't— I don't think Alice exists anymore. First Calvin killed her and then. I did too."
Alice died the day Calvin attacked her and Daisy buried her when she killed Calvin in turn. If Alice wasn't the one Jon pulled out of Forever Deep Below Creation, then there's no saving her. Daisy is all that's left.
Erin buried Liz Malloy. Daisy buried Alice. Two sides of a coin.
"Whatever's left— I still don't feel like I've figured that out. Guess you can see better than me despite the lack of eyes."
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