sink fast, let go (killing eve | anna/oksana)

[fiachairecht]

sink fast, let go. killing eve, anna/oksana. kissing practise, cannibalism vibes, what it means to matter. 661w, rated m. for a prompt at bring her bleeding heart to me 2020.

The first time — the first time Oksana bites her through their kiss, she looks up at Anna through her eyelashes, something like contrite. Something, Anna thinks, like what Oksana imagines contrition looks like, because God knows she's never seen Oksana try the expression on before.

"I'm sorry," she says, and her voice is soft, almost too soft to have come from the same mouth with all those sharp teeth. "I've never done this before, you know. I need you to teach me."

The words sink in Anna's stomach, shame strangling the — the thing that wasn't, couldn't be desire: first, Oksana's first, everything Oksana's demanding, taking, everything Anna's hardly even giving, her first.

But it couldn't be true. Oksana's too clever, too practised, knew too well what to say to get Anna to take her upstairs, let her sit in her lap. It's impossible, surely, that Anna could ruin the girl who'd already made her do these things.

And sure enough, Oksana laughs, still soft but bright enough to make Anna wonder exactly how much her expression had betrayed her. "Oh, no, not first forever, I'm sorry." This sorry Anna believes, almost despite herself — sorry that Anna is upset, not sorry because she's done something wrong. Oksana could not ever believe she had done wrong, "Just the first important one. Special one."

She loops her arms around Anna's neck, presses her face into the curve of her shoulder. Her mouth is hot, damp with breath and the faintest hint of blood, and Anna shudders at the sensation. It's too much, like everything is with Oksana, and Anna doesn't understand why she's still holding on to her.

She can still feel her pulse in her split lip, even though Oksana had tried to lick it better, sucking gently on it like getting rid of the blood would bring it all back to normal, like nothing had ever happened.

She should have cleaned it properly. The pain should have brought her back to her senses, reminded her that Oksana was barely more than a child and certainly not someone she should be kissing in her parlour.

All the pain has done is set a fire to the arousal already curling tight in her belly, make her fingers clench tight in Oksana's hair.

"Teach me," Oksana murmurs, rolling her hips insistently against Anna's. "Teach me, please, what it's like when it matters."

Anna has never taught someone how to kiss before. With the imprint of Oksana's teeth in her lips - with her own blood in Oksana's mouth — she almost thinks that this is the first time it's mattered for her, too.

It isn't. It can't be. And Anna is afraid.

So she leans forward, kisses Oksana again, the taste of copper slick between them. "We practice," she says, and: "We find out, together."

Because Oksana is beautiful, and Oksana needs her help, and Anna is weak, and Anna wants this too. She'll remember that, later: they both wanted this.

She'll remember it the first time Oksana lies down between her legs — the first time anyone ever puts their mouth on her that way, the first and only tongue to ever know this taste of her. She'll remember it when Oksana closes her lips around her center and sucks, when Oksana's teeth scrape along the tender flesh of lips and it's too much, too much, too much and all she does is press Oksana closer.

She'll remember it when Oksana looks up, eyes gleaming in the low light and says,"I could eat you, you're good enough to," and she'll remember that even though nothing about this is good it is the only thing she knows how to want anymore.

She'll remember that when she was pinned under Oksana's gaze, every part of her swollen with blood and aching, throbbing to be bitten, to be made more the way only Oksana can make her—

She'll remember that they both wanted this.

And that it wasn't enough.