As the Vampire, Sasha Beauregard, sinks her teeth into Query's neck, flames erupt in the tiny dorm room. The power of Query's pleasure is overwhelming as she submits to the dominant seductress, giving in to her pleasure and releasing all the power of Hell in her veins.
In the aftermath, Query needs to put out the fire, heal her injured hoof, and find a way to face her hallmates after a disastrous and embarrassing day. She still has a Wraith for a roommate, an aura that makes her irresistible to every woman around her, and a desire to please anyone who wants to play with her. Surely this will go well.
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Queers & Queries By Trixie Adara Chapter 4
My orgasm spreads over my body in the same pattern that the flame devours the room. The Vampire jumps back and snarls in pain in surprise, but I moan as I sink against the wall, burning down the room and letting my body ride the eruption. In a flash, the door is unlocked, and the Vampire is gone. I brace myself, spreading my hands wide as the heat of my need becomes the heat of the room.
"Oh, fuck fuck fuck," I saw as my legs spread and I sink to the floor. The flames don't bother me. They're like the kiss of home as they wrap around me, spreading over the messy machinery of Finley's room. I closed my eyes and imagined the Vampire strong enough to keep her fangs in me. I know I'm a delicious meal, and I want to be drained. I need to be drained. There is something wrong with me, and the Vampire understands. She sees it. I may be a good girl, but I need to be Hers. I need to —
White foam spreads all over the room, covering me and dousing the flames. It's like the room came with me, cumming all over everything. It hits me as hard as the flames, and my body cools. The door flings open, and Nita Strongclaw and Sprig are standing there, Sprig with a faint green light covering her skin, and Nita with the arms of a bear with thick fur spread over her shoulders and tight stomach.
"Grab her," Sprig says in a calm voice. She steps forward and scans the room, looking for more things to rescue.
Nita doesn't need Sprig to tell her anything. Before the Dryad says much at all, Nita has me in her arms like a babe. Her touch feels like the opposite of the Vampire's. Despite my heat resistance, her touch warms me as she pushes into the hallway. Finley is already there, diving in after me and rushing into her room.
"Come on," Nita says. "Let's get you safe."
The hallway is crowded with monster girls trying to figure out what all the excitement is about. None of them are trying to hit on me now. They move out of the way as Nita moves with slow determination to the end of the hall and her bedroom. Murmurs follow me, but I'm too blissed out to care. Sure, I'm going to cringe at the memory of this moment for the rest of my life, but in the present, only the delicious soreness at my neck and the perpetual quivering in my thighs are real.
The door closes behind us, and Nita sets me down on her bed. "Hey, hey. You okay?"
"Mmmm," I purr.
"Well, that's perfectly normal."
I rub my hands over her forearms. The fur is soft and thick, like the perfect blanket. My whole body is still on high alert. Every light is too bright, each sound too loud, and each touch is too soft, sensual, cozy, and erotic and ...
"Fuzzy," I mutter.
"Oh, yeah. I'm a Werebear," she says. "But I guess you figured that out."
"Fuzzy bear."
"Do you have a fever? Is that what I'm supposed to check?" Nita puts the back of her paw on my forehead. "Fuck," she hisses. "So that's a yes?"
"So hot," I say. The room is swirling above me. I wonder where the Vampire is. She was so close. Why did she run away? It was just a little fire.
"Oh, wait. Could be a Devil thing."
"Might could be."
"Um ... water? Do you want to be cooled down?"
I grab her paw, lift up the bottom of my sweater, and place it there. "Want to be hot. Love being hot." I inch her hand closer to the waistband of my tights.
"Oh, woah. No." Nita yanks her hand away. I could try to fight her, but that would be like trying to wrestle with ... well ... a bear.
"Fuzzy bear," I say. The brightness of everything is fading. The light is blurring, and the dark and strong features of Nita smudge. "My fuzzy wuzzy bear."
"Officially not cute."
I roll over. "Like Fozzie Bear." Nita's bed is bare (hahahahahahaha), but it's almost as soft as her arms. The after-orgasm fatigue is hitting me harder than it usually does, but that's not strange. The Vampire fucked me harder than anyone has. And the glamour. Maybe the blood loss too. My body sinks into itself. My lover is going through the rooms of my mind cottage and turning off each light one by one until there is nothing but the softness on this bearskin rug (hahahahahaha) and the embers of the dying fire.
"Oh shit. Is that fucking blood?" Nita grabs at something behind me, something on the bed. "Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Where are you bleeding?" She pats me all over, looking for the two perfect puncture wounds on my neck. I could tell her about them, but without the lights in my mind, each syllable would be like rolling a boulder uphill. Like Sisyphus. He's nice. Gives good advice. He tried to kiss me once, but I don't like men. Too scratchy. Not soft like my Fozzie Bear.
"Um, let me get Sprig. Or Finley. Or a fucking doctor." Nita's voice is far away, like she's falling down a well that certainly leads to a massive pile of blankets. She should pull them up to the fire when she's done. We can snuggle and turn off our brains. Wouldn't that be nice? Like letting a Vampire tell you what to do.
I close my eyes and sink into the darkness of my mind. It's quiet there, just the soft crackle of embers that always remind me of home. The rich and embracing smell of smoke and white-hot stone. The slow bubbling of the lava river just outside our house. The black skyline with streaks of gray like ribbons shooting over the sky. So soft and warm, like the earth herself is hugging you, bringing you into tight rolls of her hot flesh. And dark. No one looking at you. No one caring if your skin is lavender or your body has too many curves. And those are just the Devils wondering why you don't look like them or your mom. What about everyone else in the mortal world, all baffled by your hooves or spaded tail? All wondering what's wrong with you and your voice or the soft tug they feel in their bodies toward you. All the things that make me special make me defective, make me abnormal. There might be a spell to fix it — there has to be a spell to fix it. But what if I'm not smart enough to figure it out? What if a yummy Vampire eats me first and makes me her sex thrall and fucks and drains me nightly for the rest of eternity? Who cares about their body when it belongs to someone else? Once you're property, you're free right? Or that's just nonsense Devil logic, right? Lucy, all my logic is probably nonsense Devil logic.
I just need to sleep. I need to sink into the safe realm behind my eyelids and forget about the Vampire or the fact that most girls on my hall want to fuck and degrade me or that their first impression of me is someone who cries when her room changes, falls down stairs, fucks strangers, and starts fires. That's me. That's Query. I just let it fade to black. Like smoke, tar, and ink rolling over the canvas of reality. I'll just blot out the stars one at a time until the night sky is another blanket. Dark like a shadow, like a Wraith lurking in the corner of my imagination.
Pale white eyes.
Impossibly thin.
Crawling with cracking bones.
"This is more than you deserve," Impa says. "We both know what you were, what was traded. We both know —"
The nightmare flutters away like an Etch-A-Sketch image shaken. My eyes flutter open, and as the black dream is washed away, the bright world comes into focus.
"Query," a calm voice says behind me. A cool touch is on the side of my neck. "You were having a nightmare."
"She's hot, right?" Nita says behind me. "I mean, not like that, but —"
"I have to imagine any Devil would be hot." A pause. "Also not like that."
"Warm," Nita says. "They're warm."
"Yes," the calm voice — Sprig — says. "A high temperature."
"Fever high?" Nita asks.
"No." The coolness on my neck spreads, like ice has been injected into the veins of my neck and is spreading through my circulatory system. "She doesn't have a fever."
"Cold," I say. Cottonmouth makes my voice sound deeper. I hate it.
"Sorry, love," Nita says. "Sprig is just doing her paladin thing."
"Feels nice," I say. "Thank you."
"Of course," Sprig says. "How are you feeling?"
"Better now that I'm awake."
The soothing chill at my neck fades away, and strong hands slide underneath me and lift me up from the shoulder blades. "Let's sit you up," Sprig says.
It takes my eyes another moment to adjust to the light streaming in through the huge window, but I slide back and lean against the stone wall behind me. Their room — what could have been my room — is bathed in warm yellow light. The far side of the room is swimming in plants, and Nita has her bed in a corner with no sheets or blankets. It's like a prison cell and a greenhouse had a baby. The other corner of the room — the one I guess technically belongs to Nita — should have a desk. Instead, a litter of weights and other muscle building machines I definitely don't understand litter the space. Yeah. Definite prison cell vibes. The door is between Nita's bed and her workout space, but between me and the door are the two denizens of this strange space.
"Here," Nita says, handing me a gallon jug filled with water. "Drink something. I don't know how much blood you lost." A take the jug and almost drop it from the weight. I take a long sip and spill some of it on my sweater. I don't mind as long as we address the arid desert my mouth has become.
Sprig watches me, her body straight and unburdened with language. "A Vampire," she says. "You were bitten by a Vampire."
I nod. Words can wait. Water is good.
Nita rushes away from me and yanks the doors open. "Fucking. First day of school." She slams the door behind her, but Sprig follows quickly after. I stay put, drinking my water like a good girl —unf, those words — and overhear a hushed but angry conversation between Nita and Sprig. Well, not angry both ways. Sprig doesn't seem capable of it. I don't get all of it, but Nita's rant is something about bitches and controlling urges and obviously people want to bite her and making sure this shit doesn't continue and setting precedent and beating up the biggest bully.
Sprig comes back in the room, and Nita stomps in after her. Nita slams the door again and turns to me. "Which one?" Nita asks. "Is it Kelly or Sasha?"
Sprig looks at Nita. The perfect bright red brow above her right eye lifts in one smooth motion.
"Okay, fair. Kelly doesn't exactly give off first-day-of-school-predator vibes."
I laugh, spilling more water over my sweater. It feels better than the water or the cooling touch of Sprig's healing. It almost feels better than sex with that Vampire, but it is a different kind of better, a deeper kind.
"Oh, so there is life in her!" Nita says. She pats me on the back as though she thinks I'm choking. "Careful with the water there, sport."
"I'm fine. I'm fine." I smile, and the relief it brings is powerful enough that I need to close my eyes and sink back into my body. Like Mom says — `Living in your body.'
"I just can't believe there's a Vampire named Kelly," I say. "Doesn't exactly inspire Transylvanian terror."
Nita laughs with me, and Sprig even cracks a smile. It takes a minute or two, but the awkwardness between us melts a bit when they both sit on the bed with me, no longer looking down at their patient, but instead laughing about how Kelly must be a cheerleader who can only work night games and wants to be the lip-gloss popular girl to a bunch of lethal goth girls who hate her guts. Kelly must be the strange and unpopular person in her clique for the first time in her life. She's probably looking for a stud named Brad to turn and make her eternal partner of bubblegum night.
"Oh, your sweater!" Nita says, grabbing the thick cowl-neck sweater that should protect me from hot Vampire girls.
"I know," I say. "I'm a clumsy drinker. I'd make a terrible Vampire with —"
"Blood all over it." Nita tugs on the sweater and stretches it out so I can see the pool of black that has stained the baby blue, coating my shoulder and easing its way down my right arm.
"Fuck," I mutter. "This is my favorite sweater."
"No biggie," Nita says. "You can borrow mine." She slides off the bed and rummages around beneath us. She grunts and yanks out a thick box filled with clothes.
"The stench," Sprig says, "is vile."
"I didn't have time to wash it before I came." Nita looks up at me. "Don't worry, my sweater isn't in here." She dives back under the bed, only her feet sticking out and kicking the box of reeking clothes.
I laugh to myself, not sure what else to do. She's sweet and trying hard. And even Sprig in here alien serenity is working to make me feel welcome and safe. I definitely don't deserve it, but if it takes a Vampire attack to break the ice with my hallmates, I may need to hire Sasha out.
"Here we go," Nita says. She pulls out a black zip-up hoodie with a Nike logo. "This is the comfy one. Post showers only." It looks three sizes too big for her, which means it might actually fit me. She tosses it to me, and I catch it. My hands move on their own, grabbing the bottom of my sweater and preparing to lift it up and —
Sprig and Nita are still there, looking at me.
"Uh, I ..."
"Here," Nita says, extending her hand. "I'll wash your sweater. I gotta ask Finley about the laundry situation anyways." She kicks the box next to her. "Obviously."
"Oh, uh, that's not exactly ..."
And just like that, all my warm fuzzies and comfort disappears.
"She's asking for privacy," Sprig says. She moves off the bed in a fluid motion, grabs Nita by the shoulders, and spins her around.
"Yeah. That." I find my hooves fascinating even though there's no eye contact to avoid. Sprig and Nita are both facing away from me, forced to look at the mini gym they've got set up.
"I've been in a locker room before," Nita says. "It's not like she's got anything I haven't seen —"
"Maybe the wizard hasn't spent a lot of time in a locker room," Sprig says.
"Um, yeah. No," I say.
"Well, that's clear as mud," Nita mutters.
"No locker rooms," I say. "And it's not just that. It's —"
"You don't need to explain," Sprig says. "Privacy is a right, not a privilege."
"Oh. Well, thank you." I can't imagine anyone feeling neutral about my privacy. It's not like my mom, dads, or Alma are exactly nosy people. They never had a problem giving me space or letting the door stay closed — though knocking seemed especially challenging for Mom this morning. But shouldn't other people — non-family people — feel offended if I want to keep something from them? Strange. Wonderful, but strange.
I wrestle my thick sweater off. I don't have a shirt on underneath it, and I don't need these two rioting to fuck me when they see my bra. That's not vanity on my end. Alma has almost foamed at the mouth for a chance to touch me when she's seen me without a shirt. Maybe Alma is a deranged sexual deviant with no self-control, but who else do I have to compare things to?
Nita's hoodie is warm and soft. It smells like her — like smoke and woods and honey and a rare steak. When she hears it zipping up, Nita tries to spina round to face me, but Sprig grabs her arm.
"Wait," the Dryad says. "Until she says so."
"Yes, Mom," Nita mutters.
"Um, I'm good," I say. "I mean ready. I mean, you can turn around."
When Nita turns around, she staggers back as though my skin color has changed — as though I could ever be so lucky. "Woah," she says. "It looks good on you." She inhales deeply, taking in my scent. I don't know why — it's perfectly normal for lycanthropes to smell things — but I blush again. "Like, really good."
"Um. Thanks," I say.
"Fuck," she says with a sigh.
"Aren't you warm?" Sprig asks. "I find being indoors stifling."
"Oh. Devil thing," I say. "Don't feel heat like other people."
"Oooh," Nita says. "Makes sense. Hell and stuff."
"Yeah," I say. "Hell and stuff."
"But that means you can wear whatever you want," Sprig says, "even in winter." I look down at the smooth and flawless green lines of her body. She is one smooth cut of green living wood, in workout clothes. I don't think Dryads care about modesty, but she looks like most blessed girls who can look good half-naked.
"I am wearing what I want," I mutter.
"Huh?" Nita says.
"I said I am wearing what I want."
"Leave her alone," Sprig says, batting Nita on the side of her arm.
"Oh, yeah, sorry." Nita furrows her brow. "Just look hot."
"I'm not," I say. "Promise." I hate that I want to calm her. Or rather that I need to calm her. I don't want anyone to worry about me or think I'm doing something wrong.
"It's fine," Nita says. "We can drop it."
The worst awkward silence I've ever experienced in my few years of existence descends upon us. I wonder how long they'll let me stay in their room. I think about my hoof and the need to go to the hospital. I recognize that I'm hungry and food would be good for all my blood loss. I think about whether or not they're actually worried about my clothes or warmth or body. I wonder if they're actually going to help me unpack and decorate my room. I think about Sasha and how I need to find her room number without letting Nita know that I'm —
"I'm hungry," Sprig says. "Let's go to the cafeteria."
"You get hungry?" Nita asks? "Like for food or mulch."
"I'm muscle, not wood," Sprig says. "I need food."
"I think I'll pass," Nita says. "It's too early for —"
"I heard your stomach growling," Sprig says, grabbing Nita's shoulder. "We should go. Eat."
Nita's eyes spread wide as the least subtle elbow nudge in history finally hits her. "Oh, right. Yeah yeah. Starving." She takes a deep breath, exhales, and the fur on her shoulders, forearms, and stomach fades away. Her claws recede and the vaguely ursine features of her face melt away. "Just too embarrassed to say anything, y'know?"
I kick my injured hoof up. "You two go without me. I can't really —"
Sprig bends down and touches my hoof. A pale green light spreads over her body, and the ivy tattoos on her arms and legs shift and grow as the same peppermint coolness spreads over my hoof that had recently healed my neck.
Sprig smiles, stands up, and says, "There. No more excuses. Come on."
"Thanks," I say. I've never seen healing magic before. Sure, I've had a potion before. But Devils aren't known for stitching life back together, and Bo specializes in the arcane. Maybe Dad has healed before, but that's mostly with laughs and tasty food. "Maybe I should rest and —"
"I'll carry you if I have to," Nita says. "I could use the workout to blow off stream."
"Steam," Sprig says.
"Stream of steam," Nita says. "Much steam."
I try to imagine Nita carrying me over her shoulder across the castle, and while that sounds like a delightful fantasy, I think I'd be the laughingstock of the castle if I fell down stairs, was seduced by a Vampire, and carried like a sack of potatoes to dinner all on the first day. Besides, I don't think Nita can lift me. I'm sure most girls love being hoisted up by a lover and feeling like they're made out of air, but I'm definitely not made out of air. Maybe butter from all of Dad's healing magic.
"I can walk," I say. "Do you two know where the cafeteria is?"
"Fuzzy Bear does," Sprig says at the same time that Nita says, "For sure."
Nita looks and smirks at Sprig. "Fuzzy Bear?"
Sprig shrugs. "Just trying it out."
"It's cute," I say.
"To food!" Nita says as she grabs me by the shoulder and lifts me to my feet. Hells, the girl is strong. "And it'd definitely not cute," she adds as she pushes me out the door and closes it behind her.
"I kinda like it," I say.
"See?" Sprig says. "She's got good taste." She reaches behind her and a vine creeps under the door, slithers up the frame, and wraps itself around the handle, locking it.
"Though it's not as good as Fozzie Bear."
"Gaaaaaaaaaaaaawd," Nita says as her shoulders slump. We walk past the crowded hall of my new nosy neighbors, all wanting to know how the Devil started a fire or why I'm so hot or if Nita and I fucked since I'm in her hoodie or a dozen other vaguely lewd things people think when I'm around.
In one room, Sasha is sitting on a soft velvet chair and sipping a steaming cup of blood while a skeleton adjusts her blackout curtains to make sure not a drop of sunlight reaches the candlelit room. In the corner, an adorable Sprite with pink hair is cowering, her tiny wings fluttering nervously.
"One second," Nita says, wheeling around and marching towards Sasha's room.
"Nope," Sprig says. She grabs Nita by the waist and lifts her up. Nita's limbs flail as she protests, but Sprig doesn't put her down. "Food before revenge."
Nita squirms in Sprig's arms and tries to break her hold, but Sprig acts like Nita is nothing more than her own cute Fozzie Bear.
"But I must," she says.
Flex.
"Avenge."
Strain.
"My."
Struggle.
"New."
Grunt.
"Friend."
When she says it, purple flames flicker over my horns and the hallway disappears. For a moment, I wonder if I've slipped into one of my nightmares, as though Impa is going to step out of the shadows and talk about Mom and my grandmother and the deal that cost us everything. Or maybe Sasha is going to reach out for me as we walk and pull me into her bedroom, biting me again but this time with a hazmat suit so she can devour me through the burn. Like she's about to call me her good girl, and all the pesky anxieties that plague me will fade away as I sink to my knees and let life be all about performing as Sasha's plaything.
But it's more like the opposite of those feelings. Sasha and Impa make me feel like I'm falling into darkness — totally out of control and doomed. When Nita refers to me as her friend, I'm still falling, but this time I'm falling up. I'm sinking into the bright and cold blue sky of a vibrant Material Plane and beyond that are the stars of worlds beyond that. There is something new and exciting, exhilarating and terrifying, energizing and uplifting about being someone's friend. And though I know I'll over-analyze it in the future and doubt it minute to minute, for this first pure moment, there is nothing but a limitless horizon in front of my spirit.
Friends.
I have friends.
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