The following is poorly written smut. Physics and osteology/biology breaking smut. With poor logic and motivation.

It is advocated that you simply ignore it, and if you do read it, pay more attention to the locale than the 'characters'. I beg you.


The office was, spatially, a fairly large chamber that, in practical use, was extremely snug due to furniture and papers everywhere. A miniature library shot through with skeins and scrolls overflowed its tomes and books through multiple shelf walls thrice the height of a Jotun man and converged in concentric circles around the center of the square room, halved and quartered by aisled and pathways between them that were overhung by canopies of papyrus and tapestries. A single crazed assistant, once a prestigious Orc Librarian himself of note, could sometimes be seen crawling stealthily along the tops of the shelves surreptitiously and carefully filing the folios and pamphlets into precise order before his employer could once more bring the room into disorder with her many searches.

While herself a tidy individual, the pair differed on the laws of organization as to this point; she wanted indicators to where she could find what she needed when she needed it, and he in turn wished as many files undisturbed and safely ensconced away from prying hands as he could manage. She had a tendency to not use alphabetic or numeral systems, but rather to place everything by order of relevance- what she had to use often, and what she might need on occasion, followed by at the furthest reaches the things that were hardly ever needed but greatly so when they were. The Librarian, on the other hand, wanted a sensible system by which all of the books could be fit and placed… part of why he had been driven mad after decades of the silent war the pair waged without ever confronting or disagreeing with the other.

A table lurked in tableau within legspace of the large desk by the far windows. The table was rather smaller than the desk and plainer, being a six legged cherrywood dinner table coated liberally in light foods and cookwear, with the teapot today dripping red from a dutiful employee's slashed finger. The member floating in the pot did not appear to adversely affect the taste, but then, without the blood the employer herself would not have been able to taste the tea or the delightful little morsels served with it.

It really was quite good tea and chocolate; not enough to die for, perhaps, not quite enough to kill for, but certainly enough to maim for.

She did not make a habit of regularly maiming her workers, in fact like most sensible bosses avoiding it wherever possible as much as she avoided methods and machinations that would kill or harm them, but the man today had cut at the base rather than the very tip in confusion and the blade had quickly severed all but a skein of skin. She had sent him to a doctor immediately before shock could set in, and paid a rather large sum to his family from pity, but she had kept the finger. The blood was delicious enough to try to put her grief at Mr. Andrew's plight aside, though the Vampire knew well that she already regretted the incident.

The curtains, at least the real ones provided her by her own Masters among the World Government, lay shredded and well pawed on the floor from the urge to claw things. Their replacements were a series of marked maps sewn together and hung carefully into place, maps scrawled over and drawn upon with her plans for each area's improvement. As for the windows they covered, skylights might have been a more truthful term, for they were strips a meter broad carved ceiling to floor out of and out through the bedrock of the hill before being reinforced and sealed with enchanted stained glass; the Lady was fond of the colors of the filtered light, particularly the way they illuminated the maps of their cover.

One might have called the entire office her basement, if it had actually been connected to the smaller house in which she abode atop the self same hill, and had it not been built prior to it. As sparse as her living accommodations and accolades in her own private chambers were proved the opposite number of luxuries she kept at her workspace for guests, or required in the case of the library to finish her tasks. The massive desk she kept herself before the windows at the far end from the door was of living wood with sides covered into the shapes of tigerlillies and morning glories, dispatches and legislature caught at random upon their petals, with a more regal looking real orchid tentenumbro straining to peer over the paper piles upon the living aspen-ash.

An assembly hall would have had fewer and less comfortable chairs, let alone velvet floor and silken pillows graced with spells of cleansing and endurance- spells she was still paying for from her own pocket at the moment, having spent not a single besant of her citizens' coin on the improvements, expensive as many of them were. A map reader, an enchanted and currently-accurate astrolabe, several smaller desks of Black Pine, and a patternia of assorted tools and objects completed the room. A single door opened at the hill base out toward the village end, and only this door, made of heavy stone polished to a gleam like ebony or marble despite its humble granite nature.

The Employer who retained and made use of this office sat at the desk at the moment, a tall, young looking voluptuous woman of regal bearing with somewhat close cut hair (in the sense of being above the nape of the neck) and a long thick bang almost covering an eye. Her blonde hair dangled above her pale shoulders, and her dress of the finest black silk left those shoulders bare, along with a considerable expanse of a singularly admirable bosom. Her eyes did not match one another, one being of sapphire, the other of emerald, and both were focused downward at the moment on her writing under her fine eyelashes and eyebrows.

Lady Prince Kim Gray, one of the seven Majesties of the Vampires below only their Queen, Masque of the World Government, referred to far more often as C or C the Masque than the name of her birth before her death and Undeath so long before, were this blood drinker's common name and monikers.

The blonde woman carefully scribed words onto the page in the dark, eyes glowing down at her steady hands as she silently spoke through the word of the page into declarative laws and pleads and sympathies unspoken with her voice. Though someday they might be, depending on their reception and how well implemented they were- or ignored. Her long fingers moved the pen too swiftly for the eye to properly track, too softly these days to so much as ruffle the page, and so lightly that the Vampire's immense strength did not break the pen or the table. She swayed in place as she worked, humming to herself and conjuring joy in place of sorrow as much as she could manage, and peacefully strove with all her mind to improve her world.

She was so absorbed in her divesting work that she did not see or hear the single door open and close, nor detect the figure slipping behind her even before the door finished closing. Smell, sight, sound, the taste of the air and currents of the chamber, all failed even with her senses to warn her in her fugue-like state of almost-bliss. The Vampire gave a startled yell at the sudden sensation of warm hands on her half-exposed breasts, the sound starting as a angry roar and ending in a warbling mewl at the recognition of those familiar little brown hands, and struggled not to stop writing or flush as those cozening fingers fluffing her chest made themselves comfortable in her own white skin. The blue and green eyes alike half closed, partly from annoyance and partly from not-quite-unwilling pleasure at the stroking, though she tried to squirm free enough to preserve the dignity of her small black dress and  did not look back at the no-doubt happily leering woman behind her when she addressed Amila.

"Darling, I'm working," C's deep voice sighed, to which she could easily hear the quick nodding that made up her mate's reply. The way the way that brown hair kept swishing even when the head had stopped, the bones stirring the skin through the air, and the way Amila enthused the motion into moving almost her entire upper torso. The hands, however, plunged and nestled deeper into C's cleavage to another cry, as sharp teeth began to nibble the back of her dress off under C's shoulderblades. A warm thigh interposed itself onto her lap as the smaller woman laughed, making C close her eyes completely and intone, "Which means you can't do this."

Wriggling on the too-small chair and eventually somewhat  sitting on the Prince's slender back more than the wood, the smaller woman ignored this statement entirely as she made herself at home. Brown skinned Amila cheerfully proposed, "We could go out. Forget work. A nice date or something? Get you into a suit or a red dress and dance for awhile under the moon with some nice lambs to eat! Or music, or  skipping to the fun bits of taking off those-"

C gave an imperceptible flash of smile at this odd image before sternly shaking her head. "When I'm not busy I'd love to. Did you put the little ones to bed?"

Amila gave a low, keening whine. "You're always working!"

C gravely nodded. "Yes."

Amila reluctantly prodded C's back before resuming her attempts to cuddle. "Yes, I did put them in. I tucked them in with 'Sleep now, little lovely, All is now alright. Sleep now, little darling, and dream through the night' this time. Vinca wanted more story time and Solanum was out before I even finished kissing the others goodnight."

"Good," C purred, eyes brightening. She did adore her littlelings. "Good, that's wonderful. I'll check on them as soon as I can. Thank you, honey."

The purring ceased of a moment. C's shoulders tightened in realization as the flush came anyway, and she had to resist looking backward. Her hands slowed in their writing.

"Why are you naked?" C demanded, running a hand along that familiar pretty leg on her lag with mixed feelings of confusion, consternation, anger, amusement, and (though she was sure it was mostly residual hormones from the groping) some degree of longing. She heard Amila begin to pant and lap at the air as the weight pressed quite a bit more firmly into her back, two hard spots in soft mounds brushing over her spine, and shuddered a bit as she sat straighter with a sudden glare at this refusal to respond. Hot breath on her neck blew  some of her hair into coiled curves and out again as lips attempted a sloppy kiss.

C's fists balled. She frowned and sat forward enough that Amila gracelessly flopped over with a squawk, straightened, and then continued to write as she growled quite firmly, "Your breath smells of alcohol. You are drunk. Drunk! Get dressed and go to bed, lovely!"

Her voice softened slightly as she patted that thigh with her white hand. "I'll join  you when I can cuddle, and I do love you, but I'm so busy…"

With not a hint of shame the Faery Tale woman behind her reasserted her former position and began sucking on the Vampire's ear.

"I'm only drunk because I wanna, want to, do things to- with- you," hiccupped the wolf, own brown eyes focused with surprising sobriety on the blonde's hair as she distracted. "Dance with me, or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your silly papers all over. I only dran…k enou' to act on wharrywant… tch. What. I. Want."

With not a hint of liquor affecting her skilled tongue the woman leaned in and whispered into the Vampire's ear as the smell of alcohol vanished, already metabolized by that terrible system that could turn men and cows into suppers lasting less time than corn in a chicken's. "And. What. I. Want. Is. You. The Big Bad Wolf takes what she wants."

The brown skinned woman snuggled in almost gleefully and continued to nom at the ear, which was turning quite as pink as its owner was red for a variety of reasons. C set the pen aside at last and tried to turn, but the spouse hindered her with a clearly reproachful murmur the first attempt and a growling bark at the next few. There was a clear twinge of shamefaced embarrassment when the  Masque queried, "Did the neighbors see you come in like this?"

A laugh answered that question only with more questions.

"You cannot do this!" the aggrieved official protested. "You know better by now! Amila, get dressed, and go-to-bed!"

"Not unless you come with me!" Amila yelled back every bit as fiercely. Her hair bristled like the fur it could become as her brown eyes narrowed into gleaming gold disks and her soft lips filled with hard teeth. "I want to sleep with you, right, now! Even if it's just sleeping I'll be happier!"

"But you never even pretend to sleep for me, do you?" whined the wolf. "You can't lay down next to me for six hours of the day. You're always too busy working! I hate it when you're working!"

The Lady Prince drooped and dropped her eyes to the table. "I have to finish this. I can't do-"

"But I can do this?" laughed the little Big Bad Wolf in human form, pulling the bloodsucker completely out of her position and mounting her as the curvaceous slender woman sputtered like the teapot. Amila rubbed her kitty placatingly as her hips began to excitedly rock, taking C's pen away with her mouth and swallowing it whole as a defiant gesture before covering the fanged woman's mouth in licking kisses. C rolled her shoulders and swatted Amila, not nearly at her own real tectonic force, but hard enough that the yip was one of real pain and not play-slapping as the clinging body flew.

Gathering herself with an angry cat's composure, C gracefully extricated herself from her wife and stalked back to her chair. She cast a pitying look at the big brown sad puppy eyes the wolf woman was making and opened her arms wide after rearranging her dress to cover you again. She hid her own eyes behind her lashes as she apologized in her softest tones. "I'm sorry I hit you and I'm sorry I can't love on you right now. I'm going to finish this, but if you want to help me, we can get to your kissing sooner."

She returned to the heap and knelt, arms still out wide. "Shh, shh, you're right, I don't make enough time with you, I should never hurt you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love you."

There was already a welter forming, the weal dark and ugly on the caramel skin, but Amila grudgelessly sprang into the proffered hug and curled herself into the tall woman's curves in a manner more befitting a lap dog than a wolf. She mumbled into C's collarbone. "I probably deserved it."

"You shouldn't put your hands on ladies' parts without their invitation or permission, yes," C acknowledged, "but when I mated you I gave you permission implicitly."

"I know you weren't trying to hurt me, because I still have a face," Amila laughed. "I'm sorry myself about the attempt at surprise sex, but it's mating season, and I love you so so much I haven't even eaten anyone in a month and a half just because you asked me not to, and I wanted more romantic but you were busyyyyyyy…."

She stopped to breathe, terribly guilting the Vampire, who slowly began to (quite out of her own normal behavior and personality) wibble at the thought she might well be neglecting her woman. Amila smelled the change in emotion and offered an unseen wolfish grin as she nuzzled her softhearted killing machine sweetheart's sharp chin, restraining yet another giggle of her own that the terribly powerful Masque was so very easy to play in bedroom matters. For a species that specialized in seduction and killing, the woman really wasn't that attuned, and it made her a fun partner for the Wolf.

Or, she reflected as the pair returned to the desk and she 'accidentally' knocked a stack of C's papers off the desk with her butt, settling as she scooted out of the warm embrace… or rather, in matters of the heart at large, C seemed to be very easily effected even after all these years as a monster in multiple senses of the word. As careful and competent as the Masque had to be, the Lady Gray underneath a trusting and helpful person, and Amila suspected the kitty was a Vampire in the first place from these signature weakness-strengths of hers. She quickly shared C's dismayed cry at the falling legislature and bounced off to retrieve it.

Not to really retrieve it; she had no interest in helping C work right now. Not if it kept taking those multi-colored eyes away from her, no sir, no sir indeed! But bending to retrieve the sheets she was able to present some deliberately provocative angles in seeming innocence to her blushing sucker.

The wolf was a consummate (and consuming! She laughed) actress as appointed in her tales; she could trick even with scent, and any lingering horny-smell would be ascribed to her statement of 'mating season' more than her own personal attempts to bring the Lady up to bed tonight. It was only a mild challenge to break her mate's faithful devotion to the task- the sole difficulty, as she saw it, was to make the Lady Prince think she wanted it, and Amila had the certainty of experience and mutual affection-turned-love to know quite soundly that she definitely wanted it. The wolf placed the paper on the table and pitched her voice sweet. "I didn't mean to get in the way, I never did, Honey. If the urges get too bad I'll just go to the Park and find a wild He-Wolf… I don't want to interrupt your busy work, sweetie."

She turned with deliberate lingering slowness and sauntered toward the only door, shoulders lows with sad but hips swinging expectantly, and heard on cue her Lady Prince mewl for her. She almost wasn't prepared for the speed with which the dangerous bombshell caught her up and seized her in a tight embrace that might have killed her, nuzzling with silky hair as the devoted Lady begged her lovely to forgive her and to stay. Amila responded by licking until her kitty purred in an entirely different fashion than she had at the news the children were safely asleep, then wormed her way into that tight little black dress, which quickly came off.

"Maybe just," C mulled, "maybe just a little session, and then a shower before I send you to bed."

She gave a slight cringe of fear, of what might or might not occur, with a tingling twinge of unanticipated eagerness. She knew better, she admonished herself, but... But surely with caution it wouldn't hurt, and then she could get back to her volunteered services.

Rak' the Librarian sealed the door, maniacally giggled to himself, and marked a scorecard before returning to his busy work. 'Wife, XXII; Masque, II."

I am on occasion a bitch in more than one sense of the word, thought Amila to herself in a snicker, but I know she needs this as much as I do. Look at her. Just look at my poor thing. I need to love on her more often even if she tries not to let me do it.



*Here is a perfectly logical place to stop reading. Or for me to stop writing. Nothing terrible and broken here, but the plot and good detail are all set in. But if for whatever reason you feel like poking that insanity, tis below, below, where rotten tales go.*



She ran her hands silkily along the soft smooth surface of the large round breast. She played with it, fondling the nipple and squeezing at the pale malleable flesh around the pink protrusion. The blonde's moan aided in reaffirming Amila's resolution as much, honestly more, than her own loving lust was- she needed to do it, because her self-overworking mate definitely needed this to release.

The Lady spent her time, efforts, and care for others as often and as much as she could' therefore, someone had to ensure she was cared for. MINE, thought Amila protectively and clenched before stroking again. Even if Gray was allowed to think *she* was the one giving pity sex as a marital duty and a real love somewhat neglected, Amila would ensure the brilliant silly had some fun, whether with her children in one sense or her mate in this one.

Having dispensed with the dress, the wolf nosed at the Vampire's belly button to a coo and set her teeth on the normally unseen silver panties under the black dress, as the taller woman's head began to loll and her feet to move. Amila's sharp teeth and smooth red throat made quick work of this deterrent to her pleasures before she began to lap at the Undead's surprisingly warm lower lips, pressing her mate's milky pillows together with her elbows as her fingers continued to ply and play, and the wolf's own eager hips worked at C's leg just under the knee in a dry hump until she managed to force the round ball in. C gave as normal and disgruntled a sight as she could manage with the wild stimulation, then growled at perceiving why she was bare below. "MUST you really eat all of my possessions?"

Are you trying to hurt her? A doctor had asked that on hearing of the odd capacities of the wolf. You shouldn't fit a fist in a woman most of the time, certainly not a leg for god's sake! Isn't that painful? Throats and genders don't take that kind of solid easily.

Amila did not appear to be in pain from her awkward amusements with the knee.

"Only the ones that keep you from paying attention to me~," sang the brunette monster, punctuating each word with a stroke, lick, tuck, plump, or rub. The purrs lead her to believe the actions at least were definitely appreciated, even if the statement or intentions were not. Then Gray stopped, a final, wary tone in her voice.

"Mating season or no mating season, I told you I don't want more children. We're already busy with one litter, and pregnancy would most definitely slow my efforts down on work. Amila, don't you- AMILA!" C hissed, eyes slitting down. "No, no, no, no, NO! OFF!"

The brown skinned woman gave a whine from her position atop the currently-prone blonde with her legs up, but ceased humping the leg length (she had gotten in, with her typical body bending Hunger, about half the length of the thigh and calf either way) with her own womanhood unsatisfied. She retaliated by running her hands down her mate's length and her tongue up it, filling the moist space with both unmercifully wriggling sets of lacquered fingers to cries as she simultaneously began to contentedly suckle the left mammary. C's own hands betrayed her and pulled Amila closer until both sets of skin seemed almost ready to meld, moan-purring and giving a very real smile for a change at the warmth, smell, and curves of the small Big Bad Wolf.

"Yes," defied Amila verbally, after she teased the startled woman into lactation and licked the taste of both lover's skin and milk from her greedy mouth, "Yes, yes, yes?"

She gave a swallow as the formal one tried not to begin to happily pant among her other sounds. The blonde shook her head, then gaped at a particularly rough motion and the wolf appearing to attempt to ingest her chest as a whole this time. Certainly she made the most of it that her mouth could, were it not a maneating maw. C pulled the other hips to a safe distance where she thought the fluids could not reach her and slowly sucked the wolf herself to make her appreciations known.

"This came a long way from… 'leave me alone or I eat you', on your part," the loved on loved one murmured quietly, and Amila snorted. She repeated the sound louder, slapping C's arse, as the other mock complained, "I can scarcely get you off of me-e-e-e"

The last word cracked and broke into separate syllables, each on a different startled octave upward, as Amila pried physical sensation and substance into a stuttering series of climaxes from her. The wolf's teeth, jaws, and hands receded for a merciful moment as the brown woman studied her soaked fingers. "How much blood will you need to replace this?"

"I may need a nibble," the red faced Terran confessed, fangs scraping a lustrous lip. She looked at the mess they had made and swore, dress and hair in disarray, undergarments sundered, papers askew, body akimbo, uncomfortably wet herself from her excitements and rather drained. The furniture would clean itself, but she would half to bathe and acquire new clothing. With as much poise as she could muster she writhed free of the hot body atop her, stood on slightly shaking knees, made her way to the table, and drank the teapot down to the severed finger.

Brown hair stroked her belly as Amila gave a yawn, uncaring, and smacked her lips as her hands- wet with her saliva now rather than the fluids- clasped her hips. "I'm hungry."

C made a waving hand at the chocolate without and the wolf scowled, for those of lupine or canine kind and chocolate have a sordid history often ending in the death of both.

"I'm hungry!"

This incongruous statement, while typical of the Big Bad Wolf and in fact the integral character trait from whence its power and dread arose, threw the currently fuzzy minded Masque for a moment. Blonde eyebrows rose in arches as C finished the wolf- to the wolf's quite apparent quivering pleasure- cleaned herself and Amila alike up the best she could without proper facilities (she kept meaning to install a restroom, but it slipped her mind, particularly since she did have a shower up the hill and being undead did not require waste-disposal methods the living did), and attempted to redress without comment. C gave a displeased hiss at finding her lover chewing on one of her heels with the gleaming black shoe clasped between currently furry paws, the wolf having changed to her more literal form when the human one was satisfied.

Housebreaking a magic wolf had not gone well. The wolf sternly advocated 'outside' at every occasion, ignored conventions and practices of the indoors, and openly laughed away any attempt to tame her. C wasn't sure it could be done.

"We can't go dancing as you like, if you eat all my shoes," C bartered, trying to retrieve the object against the wolf's half hearted growl. She tapped her bare foot slowly. "May I please have that back? I don't want to be rough with you, of all people…"

"I'm hungry," Amila reasserted loudly, wiggling forward until the cold wet nose and warm fur of the wolf shape met the toes of the Vampire's foot. She licked expectantly, testing. "You wouldn't take me two mouthfuls."

"And who would take care of you and the kits if you did eat me?" C inquired, part logically, part curiously, and with very little real fear that Amila would ever indulge this little recurring fancy of hers. The wolf had quite a number of chances during their nigh two year relationship. "Who would you try to love next? You know I care about you."

The wolf pulled C down, crawled atop her, and stared hard into her eyes before rolling over again in human form and eyeing the ceiling defensively. "I'm hungry for more than physical hungry. I'm HUNGRY. That's what the Big Bad is."

C tentatively arranged herself around the wolf and stroked Amila's hair. "What are you hungry for?"

"You," the wolf responded, then thought. "Lots of things. Sex, knowledge, power, wealth, beauty, admiration, being a better parent to a lot more children, revenge, brilliant creation-"

"Not big dreams at all?" C wryly choked, kissing the smooth skin. The wolf shook her head and smacked her lips, wiggling until she was comfortable on C's pillows. She waved a hand.

"Any hunger around that people have. To be the best is a big one. You're hungry not to be lonely, and you're hungry to help, hungry not to have to hurt, hungry to be a good mommy and lover," Amila sniffed. "I like your hungers more than just eating people on my own, but if I left or I did eat you, I guess I would go with whatever Hungry person smelled good to me. Unless I died again- I die a lot, but the Big Bad Wolf always comes again in a different story."

Both ignored for the moment the fact that the Wolf had left the Story entirely during the Book's events and that her version of immortality was no doubt no longer in operation, or existence.

"Are you hungry to help me?" proposed C. "Two sets of hands might make up this little deterrent, pretty."

It might be easier just to eat her, Amila's rebellious belly encouraged loudly in growling form, but both women ignored it and Amila's mouth opened with a different answer. "These are all your projects, not assignments, right? I know you're helping people, but come with me to check on the kits and kiss them. Come sleep at night, even if I'm the only one of us sleeping. I'll help during the day."

C strove to decide.