Characters: Polly, Mal, Mr Perks, Betty, Gummy Abbens, Cousin Vlopo, OCs
Pairing: Polly/Mal
Rating: E

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.
Note: Written for Cheesemongers July '06 challenge 'Skirts and dresses: AU'.
It’s porn.
There’s a *lot* of sex.
If you’re easily distracted, and somewhere where getting distracted is a problem, you might want to save this for later.

Beyond Redemption
by Amazon Syren

     The war was over.
     There were odd notices — ‘news papers’? — being circulated from Ankh Morpork which, apparently, was now Borogravia’s friend. Stories about a pale, spindly woman on a white horse, and a ‘sergeant of women’ named Magda Halter, were flying all over the place.
     Privately, Polly thought the ‘of women’ was a bit much. I mean, if she was a sergeant, just call her a sergeant and be done with it, yes?
     She could just picture some pimply private saluting madly and shouting ‘Ma’am! Yes, Ma’am! Sergeant-of-Women Halter, Ma’am!" and trying not to trip over all the words.
      Even more privately, she sometimes pictured the madly-saluting private addressing a certain Sergeant-of-Women Perks, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen.
      You’d have to be mad or desperate to join the army.
      She was just lucky she’d spotted "From the Mothers of Borogravia" sitting on the kitchen table before Paul saw it. She’d thrown it in the fire to make sure he didn’t get Ideas.
      If he’d gone off after the drum, what would Polly have done?
      She couldn’t leave the inn — after Dad’s fall last year, he needed her even more, and if Paul had gone, that need would have tripled — but she’d have had to go after her brother, if only to bring him home safe, in order to keep The Duchess from being handed over to her cousin Vlopo.
      Polly rolled her eyes.
      Even now, her drunkard of a cousin-once-removed was loudly pointing out to anyone in the lower bar who would listen (again), that really this was his bar and he couldn’t stand to see it being run by a bunch of ‘half-wits and women’.
      Polly eyed the black-thorn cudgel under bar speculatively. She’d never had the opportunity to use it on Vlopo, though she’d definitely wanted to on more than one occasion. Oh well. At least she’d be able to kick him out in half an hour. He didn’t really own the place, and he’d have to leave with the rest of the regulars, staggering home through the autumn mist and the rain. She looked at the clock behind the bar. Twenty-eight minutes now. She started turning chairs upside down on the table-tops. Last call had been fifteen minutes ago. The upper bar wasn’t going to be busy again until tomorrow.
      That was when the door opened.
      Polly turned to look at who was coming in so late — probably someone on their way to the capital who’d tried to make the stretch between Skelt and Limph in time for a late dinner, and then found out that Limph had been a ghost town for the past three months. They’d been getting a lot of those in the past week or so.
      She should have notice that the other people in the bar were turning, too, and that lightening forked down from the sky just as the door swung open.
      Polly saw the black hair, the velvet clothing, and had her hand closed ‘round the black thorn stick before the door had finished opening.
     
      It was a woman in the doorway. A woman who, even as Polly’s fingers tightened on the cudgel, turned and glanced back over her shoulder, sighing wearily at the thunder that accompanied her arrival. She turned back to the inn’s interior, and Polly saw the black ribbon pinned to her bodice.
      She relaxed her fingers.
      "Rough night?" she asked, as casually as she could.
      The black ribboners were a new phenomenon in Borogravia — the reason why her father’s black thorn cudgel was sharpened at one end — and Polly wanted to encourage it.
      The vampire strolled towards the bar. She was very slim, with a river of black hair that hung down her back. Polly noted that the hem of her black dress was completely free of mud even though it was long enough to sweep the floor.
      "What can I get you?" she asked, as the vampire sat down.
      The vampire’s eyes flickered over her in a way Polly found slightly distressing – and not a little bit exciting, despite it. She pushed that thought away.
      "What do most people want, this time of night?" the vampire asked.
      Polly tried very hard not to cover her neck with her hand.
      "Sleep? Beds? Warm milk?" Sex?
      The vampire laughed.
      She had a nice laugh, even if the teeth were a little disturbing.
      "Maybe not that last one. Do you have any coffee?"
      Polly raised her eyebrows. "It’s a bit late for coffee, don’t you think? Maybe mulled wine?"
      The vampire snorted. "I don’t drink... wine," she said, with a smirk. She gazed speculatively at Polly. "Although you, my dear, might be able to convince me." She shook her head. "But the coffee is something of a necessity, I’m afraid." She brushed the black ribbon with her fingers. "Cravings, if you take my meaning."
      Polly nodded. She didn’t, not really, but she could hazard a guess.
      The inn had a couple of coffee engines — one big one, that only Paul could work, which they used for Saturday brunch, and a smaller one for people who wanted coffee after dinner. She got the smaller one out from under the bar.
      "I’ve only got Klatchian Rare Roasted," she said. "Is that alright?"
      "Mmmm... Sounds wonderful." She licked her lips. "You’re a life-saver, Miss."
      Polly fished out the bag of ground-up beans. "Exactly whose life am I saving?"
      There was an awkward pause.
      Polly winced.
      "Sorry about that," she said.
      The vampire grinned — slightly alarming, but Polly was starting to get used to it.
      "You know, I believe I like you, Miss. Most people wouldn’t have apologized, for one thing."
      Polly measured out a couple of spoons of ground coffee, poured boiling water over them and began to work the plunger of the coffee engine. The vampire watched her.
      "Tell me your name?"
      It was a question, not a command. From what Polly had heard, that was unusual for a vampire.
      "P-Polly Perks," she answered, surprised. She raised an eyebrow at the vampire.
      "Just Mal," she said, mildly.
      "That’s it?"
      "The rest is a bit of a mouthful. You’d need a lot of time to hear them all."
      Polly shrugged. "I’ve got time," she heard herself saying, as she poured ‘Just Mal’ a cup of coffee.
      "Not according to your clock, you don’t."
      "Oh, sugar," said Polly, following her gaze. "You’re right. ‘Scuse me."
      She hurried down the steps that led down to the lower bar.
      "Ten minutes, gentlemen," she informed them. And Vlopo, she added, privately.
     
      She began collecting the empty mugs.
      "How’s yer dad getting on?" asked Ted Vespii, who’d been a soldier with her father.
      "He’s healing up pretty well—"
      "Then why’s he still got you running around like you owned the place?" a much sharper remark — that was Vlopo.
      "Lay off her, Vlo," said another. "She’s the only able-body he’s got ‘round here right now."
      Polly gritted her teeth at that one. Everyone made fun of Paul, just because he was a bit slow... It didn’t mean he was stupid, and it didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything on his own.
      "Hey, Mish Perksh," came a cider-slurred voice, accompanied by a lot of spittle. "How’sh your shordsmanship coming?"
      Polly sighed. It was a joke, really, but she knew more than she let on.
      "About as well as it always is, Gummy."
      "Have to give you another leshon one of theshe daysh." He said.
      "Whatever you say, sarge."
      She started back towards the stairs, but not before someone’s hand — probably Manni Schumacher’s — slapped her bottom. She sighed. That pretty much came with the territory when you worked in a bar. Even if you were the bar-keep.
      She deposited the mugs in a tub to be taken into the kitchen for washing up once everyone had cleared out. She realized someone was watching her.
      "You know," said the vampire, watching her over her coffee cup, "I’m sure I heard somewhere that swords were the ‘things of men’, isn’t that so?"
      "‘Fraid so," she answered. She wasn’t too worried about admitting her skills, such as they were, to a person who was an Abomination just by virtue of her existence. She thumped the tub onto the bar. "Are you going to want a room for the night?"
      Mal smirked.
      "I believe I am. Your rooms have rafters, don’t they?"
      "Uh. Yes?"
      "Perfect." Another smile. White, white teeth and dark red lips. Polly blinked.
      "Just let me finish up here and I’ll show you to your room." She selected a key from the cache behind the bar and tucked it into the pocket of her dress. She was quite proud of that idea. Pockets in a dress. You didn’t see it often, but they were so helpful.
      "Take your time." Mal finished her coffee, as Polly made her way through the bar, lifting the chairs onto the table-tops and making sure the men in the lower bar didn’t trip on their way out.
      Polly could feel Mal watching her as she went through the nightly routine of wiping down the tables and mopping up the floor. She could feel herself start to blush.
      More than blush, really. The last time she’d felt this way was before Molly’d got married. She knew vampires could put people in thrall, but she was still thinking clearly — at least, she was pretty sure of it — albeit, more and more of what she was thinking had to do with the body under the black velvet dress, and what that raven hair would feel like, running through her fingers.
      Polly sighed.
      She’d figured herself out years ago — back when she’d realized that boys just never made her feel the way her friend Molly had when they’d been ‘practicing’. She understood quite well that Mal wasn’t the only woman in the bar who was Abominable by nature.
      Polly continued to buff the surface of the wooden table, hoping that she could quietly get her hormones to settle down before she turned around.
      She heard the faint clink of a coffee mug being placed on the bar, the soft swish of rich fabric, and then a hand — much warmer than she’d have expected — was pressed against the small of her back.
      "You know," said Mal, "vampires have a very strong sense of smell."
      Polly turned. Mal was looking at her with dark, liquid eyes, a smile playing around her lips.
      Polly’s pulse raced.
      So much for that idea, she thought.
      "You smell like honey," Mal said, letting her gaze flicker over Polly’s body, intimate as a touch. Polly shivered. She could feel the heat beating between her legs. This was so embarrassing.
      "No-one’s ever s-said that before."
      "A human wouldn’t be able to catch it," Mal informed her, matter-of-factly. "But it’s true. Honey and cinnamon, and something else…" she leaned in close, breathing the scent of Polly’s skin, slipping pale hands over Polly’s hips. "You smell like sex."
      Polly nearly fell over at that one.
      She stammered something in reply – probably something ever-so-intelligent like ‘I do?’ or ‘what??’ – knowing that she must be beet-red by now.
      The touch of a hand on her cheek, then: "You’re very warm."
      Polly swallowed hard. "I know."
      Her breath was coming in shallow gasps and she was trembling like a leaf.
      Pale fingers traced over her lips.
      "You’re lovely." Words whispered by lips the colour of old port. Polly wanted to fall into those lips, to see if they tasted like wine, to feel those feather-light hands slide over her breasts. "Will you let me kiss you?"
      The request was given so casually that Polly wasn’t sure she’d heard it right.
      "K-kiss?"
      "With your mouth," Mal answered, helpfully. Indeed, her mouth was very close, and her dark eyes were heavy-lidded.
      "Uh-huh—" she gasped, swaying forward. It was all she got out before she felt those lips pressed, soft, against her own, the moist, flickering touch of a tongue, just for a moment. Polly let her head tip, tilt, accepting the kiss, lips parting as strong arms wrapped around her.
      A little part of Polly’s brain was wondering what the hell she was doing kissing a stranger — a stranger who, for all she knew, had only gone off blood two days ago — in the middle of a darkened bar with thunder grumbling outside.
      That little part of her brain, however, was quickly silenced by a flood of un-pent desire. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s slim body, pulled her close — breasts under the fitted bodice, hips hidden under the long skirts, all of her pressed against Polly — this was better than Molly’s kisses had ever been. Molly had been dreaming of boys when she’d closed her eyes and kissed Polly’s mouth under the willow trees, all those years ago. This woman… this woman was thinking of her. When she finally drew away, she left Polly panting, aching for more. She hadn’t wanted to stop.
      "Did you like that?" Mal asked, a smile playing at her lips.
      "Yes," Polly breathed, not caring that Mal probably already knew the answer.
      "Do you want some more?"
      Polly’s whole body shuddered with pleasure at the thought of it. You need to ask?
      "Yes!" Polly lowering her mouth again, finding Mal’s lips with her own. She tasted like coffee, but not as bitter. She smelled faintly of the roses twined in her hair.
      A firm hand behind her neck, another at her shoulder. Polly felt herself being pressed backwards, lowered slowly onto the table she’d just been cleaning. She felt the sturdy boards under her back, and then the light, tracing touch of Mal’s fingers trailing over her breasts, making Polly’s skin tingle, her stomach flutter.
      Mal moved her mouth, with aching, teasing slowness, along Polly’s neck, and down over her collar-bone. Polly arched her back, whimpering, tangling her fingers in Mal’s black hair, pressing her closer. When Mal’s mouth closed over her aching breast, sucking the nipple through the coarse fabric, Polly moaned, low in her throat. Mal chuckled, coming back to meet Polly’s eyes. Her hair hung in black waves around them like a curtain.
      "You like this, I think."
      Polly brushed Mal’s cheek.
      "How did you know?"
      A smirk.
      "Your enthusiasm wasn’t all that subtle."
      Polly blushed.
      "I meant before that," she said. "How — how did you know I… wanted you?"
      This time, the smile was gentle.
      "A human wouldn’t be able to catch it," she said, amused at Polly’s relief. "You hid it very well – up until you started blushing, anyway – but scent doesn’t lie." She brushed Polly’s cheek with light fingers, kissed her softly, hungrily.
      "Show me to my bed?" Mal murmured, when the came up for air. Polly shivered.
      "I’ll show you anything you like," the word were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She bit her lip.
      Mal kissed her neck, her lips fluttering softly over Polly’s trembling skin.
      "I’d like that a lot," she said. Her hand brushed the length of Polly’s body, another kiss, then another. Mal traced light patterns on Polly’s thigh, making her breath come in ragged gasps.
      "Why don’t you show me what you’d like?" Mal suggested, quietly. There was a promise in her voice that made Polly quiver.
      Mal helped Polly to her feet, kissing her neck, her mouth, until Polly was weak at the knees.
      She brushed her hand over Mal’s bodice, feeling the slight swell of breasts under the velvet.
      "If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to get up the stairs."
      "You won’t have to," the words whispered against her skin, as Mal led her towards the steps.
      Polly found Mal’s mouth, sucked her lower lip. She felt Mal shiver in her arms.
      "Do you like that?" she whispered.
      "Very much," came the reply, softly against her mouth.
      Strong arms around her, scooping her up. Mal took the stairs easily, her arms full of Polly, never once tripping on her long gown, finally setting her down on the landing at the second floor. No sooner had Polly’s feet touched the floor than she had pulled Mal back into her arms, kissing her hungrily. When she caught Mal’s lower lip lightly between her teeth, she heard Mal gasp, felt Mal’s hips leap against her own.
      "This way," Polly murmured, thickly, leading Mal down the quiet hall, past the closed doors of the other guests. She could hear faint sounds coming from them – a snore here, a moan there – and wondered what Mal could hear. She tried to walk quietly, aware that things would go very hard indeed if they were caught. She held Mal’s eyes the entire length of the dimly lit hall, trying to touch her with her eyes, trying to keep that intimacy.
      It wasn’t hard.
      By the time they reached the small, well-kept room by the back stairs Polly was quivering all over, aching for the touch of Mal’s hands and mouth again. The key turned in the lock, the latch clicked, and the door swung open, allowing them to slip through. The faint glow of the waxing moon, sinking below the mountains, offered a little light. They didn’t need it.
      Mal kicked the door shut with her foot, pressing Polly against the wall, her mouth moving on Polly’s skin and her fingers busy with the laces of Polly’s home-spun bodice.
      Little by little, the bodice was loosened, opened, slipping from her shoulders, past her elbows, exposing small, unbound breasts to Mal’s hungry mouth. Naked to the hips, Polly closed her eyes, pressing Mal closer, letting the pleasure of Mal’s mouth wash over her in waves.
      Mal kissed her way back to Polly’s neck, then her mouth, her fingers tracing lightly over Polly’s skin. Polly pulled her closer, fumbling with the jet buttons down Mal’s back. She let her mouth stray to Mal’s white throat, kissing and sucking until the pale flesh purpled and Mal whimpered, her fingers tangling in Polly’s long blond hair.
      One white hand trailed down her cheek, over her breast, and lower. Polly gasped at the shock of pleasure when Mal touched her, the rough wool of her dress brushing against a part of her anatomy that, until then, Polly hadn’t known she had.
      "Too much?" Mal whispered, her hand straying to Polly’s thigh.
     
      Polly whimpered, pulling Mal back to her, finding her mouth again. Not enough. Not nearly enough. She slipped her hands inside Mal’s dress, tracing the length of her spine — the fabric was moleskin, a velvet so fine it was like peach fuzz, but Mal’s skin was finer, softer. Polly peeled the dress away, so that they stood, breast to breast, and Polly felt the strange, slow beating of Mal’s heart against her ribs.
      "I’ve never done this before." A whispered confession, as she let her fingers drift over Mal’s white skin.
      "Really?" Soft lips on her earlobe, her jaw, Polly shivered.
      "Not – oh – not like this."
      "Tell me what you want," the words murmured against her skin from lips that fluttered over Polly’s collarbone, that sought and found her nipples.
      "Your mouth—" Polly began, "Oh!"
      "Anything." Mal kissed and lapped her way down, over Polly’s stomach, as Polly closed her eyes once more.
      Polly felt her dress being lifted, a down-soft cheek laid against her quivering belly, soft hands slipping up and between her legs, her whole body jolted at the feather-light touch.
      Polly could feel her own wetness, sticky and oozing, between her thighs, Mal’s fingers tracing lightly along her hidden lips, slipping and teasing until Polly couldn’t keep still. Her body knew what she wanted, her hips moved against Mal’s fingers. She gripped Mal’s dark hair in her fist, gasping and whimpering. She could feel the pressure building inside her, muscles squeezing in ways they never had before. Polly had never felt anything like this, the shock waves that ripped through her body from somewhere below her navel, or the deep, pulsing moan that came from the same place, the muscle spasms that fluttered in her stomach and her thighs after Mal’s hand had slowed, as she began to get her breath back.
      "I’m sorry," Mal murmured. She sounded a long way away. She was kneeling on the floor, looking up at her.
      "S-sorry?" Polly, tingling with after-shocks, didn’t understand.
      "You asked for my mouth."
      Polly’s jaw dropped open.
      "You can do that with your mouth?" she gasped, panting.
      Mal licked her lips, holding Polly’s gaze.
      "I’d like that…" she brushed her cheek against the wool of Polly’s dress, and Polly felt those muscles inside her squeeze again.
      "Don’t you want…?" she couldn’t finish the sentence.
      Sticky fingers tracing her nipple, Mal looked up with liquid eyes.
      "I want you."
      Polly helped Mal to her feet, drawing her close again. The velvet dress hung from her hips, white body rising out of it, pale and inviting.. Polly ran her hand over Mal’s body, slick with sweat, teasing her nipple until it was hard. She could feel Mal trembling in her arms. Polly buried her face in Mal’s neck, her mouth moving hungrily. Mal’s arms wound around her shoulders, Mal’s fingers dug into her hair and Mal leaned back, tilting her head, pressing Polly closer. When Polly’s teeth grazed Mal’s skin, she heard the vampire whimper.
      "Was that wrong?"
      "No," a whisper. "No, it was wonderful."
      Polly lapped carefully at the spot her teeth had touched. She hadn’t broken the skin, not by a long shot, but she felt Mal quiver at the touch of her mouth. She ran one hand down Mal’s thigh.
      "Do you like this?" she asked, nibbling at her jaw.
      "Mmhmm…" almost, almost a moan. Polly wanted to hear Mal moan, to feel her body shudder with pleasure, to make her feel that good.
      "Tell me what to do," she whispered against Mal’s neck. "Tell me how to make you feel like that."
      Mal’s arms tightened around her.
      "You are!" she gasped, her hips grinding against Polly’s.
      Polly bent Mal backwards, gently, gently, lapping a line from her navel to her collar bone. She took one of Mal’s nipples in her mouth, sucking gently, teasing with her tongue and her teeth. She tugged at the velvet dress.
      "Let me take this off?" She murmured against her skin. She wanted to touch Mal the way Mal had touched her, though she wasn’t sure how to do it. "Please?"
      She wanted to see if Mal was as wet as Polly was.
      Mal’s hand came down, tugging the dress off her hips, letting it slip to the ground.
      "Lie me down," she whispered. She was wearing tall black boots. Polly ran her foot over one, the round nubs of buttons brushing her instep. Her hands roved all over Mal’s body, her mouth on Mal’s neck, her lips.
      "Anything you want…"
      Mal kissed her fiercely, one hand sliding down inside Polly’s woolen skirts, and Polly, gasping, pulled her all the closer for it.
      "I want you," Mal murmured against her mouth, her hand moving, cupping Polly’s sex. "Please. All of you."
      Polly wasn’t sure if she could keep her feet under her. She shimmied out of her dress, the heavy wool pooling at her feet.
      "Bed," she whispered. "You said—"
      "Yes."
      Polly stepped out of her clogs, pushing away from the wall.
      "Yes."
      Mal guided Polly through the dark, tumbling her onto the mattress – it was stuffed with fresh hay from Summer’s last mowing, and Polly caught its scent, just briefly, before Mal was on her again, sweat-slippery and hungry, slipping her naked thigh between Polly’s legs, soft lips opening against her mouth.
      Polly felt the pins being slipped from her hair, heard them drop, skittering across the floor. Part of her hoped she’d be able to find them again. Most of her couldn’t think past the sensation of Mal’s mouth, the way her tongue moved over Polly’s skin, firm and soft all at once.
      "Sit up," a hand behind her shoulder, helping her up, then Mal slid into her lap, wrapping her legs around Polly’s waist. Polly could feel Mal’s own wetness, slick against her belly. She ran her hands hungrily over Mal’s thighs, kissing her mouth, her neck. She felt Mal tear the net loose from her hair, letting the thick curls spill down her back. Mal dug her fingers deep into those curls, Polly could feel them moving on her scalp. She ran her hands over Mal’s body, cupping her tiny breasts, stroking the nipples with her thumbs.
      "Show me what you want?" she whispered, kissing Mal’s neck, her arms slipping around Mal’s body. She felt Mal quiver, and kissed her again, tracing the length of her spine.
      Mal laid her down again, gently lowering her head onto the pillow. She stroked Polly’s cheek, and then kissed her mouth.
      Such a kiss! Polly could feel it through her whole body. Polly’s lips parted eagerly, and she slid her fingers into the mass of Mal’s black hair, pressing her closer, arching her back to brush Mal’s breasts with her own. Her hands slid down over Mal’s hips, her fingers tracing lightly over Mal’s smooth, muscled thighs.
      "I want to touch you," she murmured as Mal moved to kiss her throat. "Will you let me?"
      Mal trailed one hand down Polly’s body, making her breath come in gasps. She took Polly’s hand and slipped it between her legs.
      "Yes," she murmured against Polly’s skin, her hips moving against Polly’s touch, "yes."
      Polly cupped Mal’s sex in her hand, feeling the wetness oozing over her fingers. It felt marvelous. She let her fingers slips between Mal’s hidden lips, felt a shiver run through Mal’s body, felt Mal’s hot breath on her neck.
      "Is this good?" she asked, moving her fingers slowly back and forth.
      "Uh-hmm."
      Polly felt the muscles twitch in Mal’s thigh.
      "More?"
      "Here," Mal murmured, guiding Polly’s fingers to her clit. "Uhhh… Yes. Touch me here."
      Polly felt the round nub of flesh under her fingers, slick with wetness, and she moved her fingers slowly over and around it, exploring, as Mal’s hips moved, grinding against her, and Mal’s mouth moved on her skin.
      Polly wanted to make her moan, to make her shudder the way Polly had when Mal touched her. She wanted to be that good. She remembered how good it had felt when Mal had touched her like this, and remembered that it had felt even better when she’d gone faster.
      Polly let her fingers flutter around the nub of flesh and was rewarded by Mal’s gasp, by the sudden jolt from her hips.
      "Is this alright?" she asked, breathless.
      Mal nodded her head, arching her back.
      Polly watched her, watched her face soften, her dark lips parted, her eyes closed, as Mal rode her, black hair spilling over her breasts and tickling Polly’s belly. Polly rested her other hand against the small of Mal’s back. She watched as Mal gasped and sighed, quivering all over, the leather of her boots pressed against Polly’s thighs. Polly watched, and felt the heat rising between her own legs, felt her breath racing with Mal’s. Mal gripped Polly’s shoulder, a whimper slipping from her mouth.
      "Oh, gods…" barely even a whisper, as she shuddered and rocked, her fingers gripping Polly’s arm. "Enough," she panted, at last, "no more."
      Polly slowed her fingers, slipping them gently over Mal’s quivering thigh, stroking her back.
      Mal lowered her body back to Polly’s, nuzzling her neck.
      "Thank you," she murmurs between kisses, "thank you…"
      Polly breathed the smell of roses, stroking Mal’s long hair, letting the muscles in her legs relax. She thought about what it would mean, in the morning, that she had done… this with a stranger, about the tub of dirty dishes still needing to be washed, sitting guiltily on the bar, about what she’d tell her father about where she’d been when she should have finished her work and climbed into her own bed instead.
      Mal brushed Polly’s nose with her own, kissed her mouth gently, sweetly, and Polly found herself returning the kiss, pushing those thoughts away for another minute.
      Mal’s mouth moved on her skin, slowly, slowly, over her throat, her collarbone, her breastbone. She took one nipple in her mouth, then the other, teasing them until Polly was gasping again. She reached for Mal’s hands and gripped them hard, arching her back towards Mal’s mouth. Desire in her belly stirring, fluttering, again as Mal moved lower, lower, slipping between her thighs.
      Oh…
      Her mouth, her mouth was warm and moist, sucking at her hidden lips, making Polly gasp, making her hips jolt and thrust as her stomach fluttered and the pressure began to build again.
      Mal stroked her slowly with her tongue, lapping gently, coaxing moans and sighs and gasps from Polly’s lips, her mouth sure and steady and— Oh – so good, so good. Polly’s thighs were shaking, and she couldn’t stop them, and didn’t want to. She let go of one of Mal’s hands, reaching to stroke the dark head that moved between her legs. Her breath deepened as the pressure built, and the ripples in her belly became waves, washing over her. She gasped as each wave crested and broke, her body quivering and blissful, until her gasps turned to laughter, free and open, and she coaxed Mal back into her arms, lifting her hips to feel Mal’s body brush against her again.
      Her lips were slippery, tasting of salt. Tasting of Polly.
      She eased Mal onto her back, kissing her gently, softly, tracing swirls and spirals over Mal’s pale skin.
      Mal looked up at her, her eyes were the blue-black of a starlit sky.
      "Did you like that?" she asked, softly, a smile playing at her lip.
      "Yes," Polly whispered, bending to kiss her again. "I liked that very much."
      Mal’s arms wrapped around her, Mal’s mouth, opening and yielding, Mal’s tongue slipping over and around her own. She drew a spiral around Mal’s nipple with her finger, teasing the aureole, pale pink flesh darkening to rose. She felt Mal sigh against her lips.
      "I want to see what you taste like," Polly murmured. She lifted her head, and bent further, taking Mal’s nipple in her mouth.
      Mal’s fingers were in her hair, tracing her ears, she could feel Mal’s breath quickening in her chest. She brushed her fingers lightly over Mal’s other breast, feeling the nipple tighten in response. She liked this. Liked that she could make Mal – a stranger who had become, in this one way, not a stranger – feel this good, that her lack of experience didn’t render her totally useless. And she liked the way Mal squirmed under her mouth, arching her back, to get closer. She liked that Mal wanted her. She liked that a lot.
      She slipped her hand between Mal’s legs, parting them gently, climbing between them. She brushed Mal’s thighs, just to feel her quiver, as she looked back at Mal, smiled at her.
      Mal didn’t see. Her eyes were closed, head lolling on the pillow, a smile playing at her lips. She moved her hips, though, lifting them off the mattress, inviting Polly to taste her.
      "Please…" a whisper, nothing more.
      Polly drew her finger lightly between Mal’s slippery lips, drawing a gasp and a sigh, and she smiled, bending her head.
      Mal’s body was almost hairless, and kissing her there was almost like kissing a peach, soft, downy fuzz giving way to juicy flesh. She tasted of fish – like salmon from Kneck run in spring – and very faintly of apricots. Polly traced the folds of Mal’s flesh with her tongue, sucking and lapping, teasing and coaxing, wanting badly to do this right. She nibbled gently, letting her teeth graze Mal flushed skin, and Mal arched her hips towards Polly’s mouth, tangling her fingers in Polly’s thick curls, sighing and gasping as her body began to tremble. She pressed herself hard against Polly’s teeth, her lapping tongue, and Polly heard her whimpering, a long way away.
      "Yes… Please, please yes…" soft and pleading, as she shuddered and shook, the muscles of her thighs jumping and twitching as she came. "… oh, yes…"
      Polly rested her head in the hollow of Mal’s hip. She licked her lips, wiped her chin with the back of her hand.
      Mal reached down and stroked her cheek.
      "Are you– are you sure you’ve never done this before?" she asked, a little breathlessly.
      "Was it okay?"
      Mal let out a breath somewhere between a gasp and a sigh.
      "It was amazing."
      Polly sat up at that, propping herself up on her elbow. She tried very hard to keep from grinning like an idiot – like a seventeen year old boy who’s just been smiled at by the girl he likes – and stared at Mal.
      "Are you serious?" she asked, a little anxiously, hoping the answer was ‘yes’. "You’re not— you’re not just saying that, are you?"
      Mal shook her head, reaching for Polly’s shoulder.
      "Come back to me?"
      You have to ask?
      Polly eased her way over Mal’s body, and onto her side, trying to untangle her legs as she went.
      Mal rolled onto her side, draping her arm around Polly’s waist. She snuggled into the curve of Polly’s shoulder.
      "You smell so good," she murmured, breathing deeply. She fluttered kisses along Polly’s collar bone, making Polly shiver, making her want more.
      A kiss, like drawing breath, deep and slow, Polly’s fingers trailing through Mal’s hair.
      "Tell me your name?" she whispered.
      Mal kissed her again, chuckling.
      "Maladicta," she said, smiling. "Will that do?"
      Polly arched her eyebrows.
      "For now," she murmured, her mouth finding Mal’s neck again. "Maladicta…"
      Her mouth moved on the vampire’s white throat, and Mal – Maladicta – tilted her head with a sigh, finding Polly’s shoulder with her mouth.
      When they pulled apart, at last, Mal kept her arms around Polly, stroking her hair, letting Polly rest her head on her shoulder.
      Polly was surprised to find that she felt comfortable, even safe, in the arms of a vampire. She let her hand drift over Mal’s breast to rest on her belly. She let her eyes close in the dark.
     
      *****
     
      Polly woke with a start, disoriented and almost panicking, she sat up in the unfamiliar bed. There was someone beside her.
      Oh, sugar. It all came back to her, a flood of remembered sensations and whispered words. Mal. Mal was in the bed beside her. She listened, and it sounded as though the vampire hadn’t woken up.
      Polly crept out of the bed thinking sugar, sugar, sugar! and wishing that she could use a proper swear-word, even in her own head. Bugger. That worked. Bugger, because the moon was very, very clearly set and Polly remembered that there were still those dishes to do sitting, conspicuously, in the tub on the bar, and what had she been thinking to let herself come up here, and do… Oh my… do all of that.
      She licked her lips in the dark.
      Even now, part of her wondered if she could have woken Mal up for another kiss, or more than that.
      Stupid, she thought, and picked her way towards the door instead.
      She found her discarded dress by feel, treading on it by luck. She pulled it on over her head, re-tying the laces as she slipped into her clogs. She hoped she hadn’t woken Mal with all her shuffling, but she could still hear her breathing, steady but faint, across the small room.
      Polly slipped through the door. The key was still in the lock where they’d left it.
      Stupid, she thought again, easing the door shut and pushing the key underneath. The lamp was burning very low at the end of the hall. It was enough to see by, though. Polly tiptoed down to the kitchen and finished her work for the night.
      Later, in her own bed, Polly dreamed of roses, and woke with an aching need pulsing between her legs. She curled around it, and slept again, dreaming of pale hands and a dark mouth. When she woke with the dawn, she found her fingers were sticky, and she felt a twinge of shame as she washed her hands at the basin. Polly found herself on a futile hunt for her hair pins until she realized that she’d left them, and the caul, back upstairs. With her.
      You could go back…
      But, no, she couldn’t.
      She’d let herself be someone’s one-night-stand, she wasn’t going to go crawling back, asking for more. Or even hinting that she might want to be asking for more.
      Because she didn’t want more, now did she?
      No. She braided her hair, yanking on it furiously. Of course not.
      She shook her head. Check-out time was ten o’clock, and Rachel had the morning off. She could leave the new girl, Betty, to tidy up the dining room today while she made the beds. That would work. She’d get her things back when she straightened up the room.
      She left her bedroom, heading towards the inn’s kitchen. She’d get something to nibble while she got the breakfast ready.
      Betty was already in the kitchen, bustling about like usual. Polly nodded good morning, grabbed an apron, and a pot, and started pumping the water for the oatmeal.
      "How’d you sleep?" Betty asked.
      "Fine." Polly stabbed at the oats.
      "… Okay."
      Polly kicked herself, mentally. This was not Betty’s fault, and snapping at her wasn’t going to make it any better. Besides, the poor girl had enough problems of her own to deal with.
      "Sorry about that," Polly said, quietly. "It was a long night, that’s all."
      Betty nodded.
      Polly might have said more – although probably not, when she thought about it – but she heard the tell-tale clunk of a cane on the floor-boards, and busied herself with the oatmeal as she heard the door opening.
      "Polly—" her father.
      Polly was a lousy liar. Always had been. She was fairly good at withholding information, though, as long as she didn’t have to look at anybody while she did it.
      Unfortunately, she suspected her father knew this.
      "Hey, Dad," she said, in a cheerful, if pressed-for-time, voice. "Good sleep? The boys were wondering how you were doing last night." She added more oats to the pot, stirring industriously.
      "No, actually, I didn’t sleep very well. Uh… Betty?"
      Betty’s head shot up. She’d been bent over the scrambled eggs as though she were doing some sort of complex surgery. "Yessir?"
      "Uh… Would you mind, just… um… checking…"
      "Perhaps I should check and see if any of the customers have come down yet?" she suggested.
      "Yes! Yes. Betty, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Well done. Off you go then, will you?"
      Betty turned and headed for the door, but not before giving Polly a sympathetic look. You could see that kind of trouble a mile away.
      Thanks, thought Polly. Although she wasn’t totally sure if things would have gone better if Betty had stayed in the room. She thought she heard Betty’s voice raised in a quavering ‘pardon me’, but she could have been wrong.
      "Polly," her father began. He looked uncomfortable. "Polly, you were a long time finishing up last night."
      "Well, you know how it is, Dad, sometimes people just won’t leave."
      "I went to check on you at about two in the morning, Polly."
      "You did?" Come on oats! Bubble! Can’t watch oatmeal too closely, now can you?
      "I saw the dishes on the bar."
      Fuck. Yes, that was a good swearword. And so appropriate, too. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
      "Excuse me?" A polite voice, even a gracious voice, but one that was clearly used to being obeyed.
      They turned.
      Black hair, pale skin, dark eyes, dark mouth. Polly felt her stomach flutter. She felt the blush begin to rise in her cheeks. She hated herself for it.
      "Are you the innkeeper?"
      "Uh, um, yes. Yes. That’s me." He stumped towards the woman with the black ribbon pinned to her dress. He stuck out his hand. "And you are?"
      "Just Mal," she replied, shaking his hand carefully. "I thought I should stop by and say thank you."
      "Certainly," her father said, regaining his innkeeper’s aplomb. "For what?"
      "For the kindness of your staff."
      "Really?"
      Thanks, Dad, Polly thought, bitterly. So now I’m not just a promiscuous little slut, but I’m mean on top of it? Wonderful.
      "Oh, yes." She glanced at Polly, who was blushing a deep red. She smiled, and Polly felt a thrill run down her back. "So modest," Mal murmured. "I notice a certain family resemblance between you," she went on, drawing Polly’s father’s attention back to her. "This young lady is your daughter, is she not?"
      "What, Polly? Yes, of course."
      "Your daughter was kind enough to listen to the ramblings of a nocturnal woman with a lot on her mind." Mal smiled. She would have looked sheepish, except for the pointed teeth. "She’s very patient."
      Mal brushed past Polly’s father, stepping close – but not too close – to Polly, and taking her hands. Polly met Mal’s deep blue eyes and nearly fell into them.
      "Thank you," said Mal, and her voice was earnest. She squeezed Polly’s fingers, lightly, and her eyes spoke more than her words did.
      Polly did not lean forward to kiss her.
      That would have been a very, very, very bad idea. That would have got her sent to the Grey House at the other end of town.
      It didn’t mean she didn’t want to.
      Don’t go, she wanted to say, but she knew that was foolish.
      I love you, but that couldn’t possibly be.
      "Barkeeps make good listeners," she said, instead, trying to be cool, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. "If you ever need to talk again, I’ll be around."
      "You’re too kind, Miss Perks. Thank you."
      Mal’s fingers brushed Polly’s lightly as she let go. Then the vampire turned and, nodding to Polly’s father, walked away without a backward glance.
      Polly realized her mouth was hanging open, and shut it quickly.
      Her father turned to her.
      "Hell’s bells, Polly," he began, "why didn’t you just tell me you were with a lady? I was scared to death you’d been swept off by some man or other."
      "No, Dad," said Polly, looking at her feet. "No men. Not even one. Manni Schumacher got a little fresh, though," she pointed out, hoping that it would cause the subject to change. She was wet again, just from that brief touch, and she really didn’t want to make it worse. She remembered, all too well, how it had felt to be swept off by Mal, breathless and excited and— and very, very stupid. She wasn’t going to go there again.
      For a few hours, she even managed it, focusing on her work, ignoring the fact that Mal had gone because she was ignoring the fact that she’d ever been there. It worked until she got to the room they’d shared. Then she couldn’t ignore it any more.
      She stripped the bed, remembering that Mal had still had her boots on when they’d fallen onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. She caught the faint scent of roses, and thought it was just her imagination, triggered by the memory.
      But it wasn’t. Crushed in the bed sheets, she found a single, crumpled, red rose. She lifted it carefully, pressed it to her face, closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent, feeling the petals, soft as pale skin, against her lips.
      You’re being ridiculous, she told herself. Even still, she slipped the rose into her apron pocket next to the hairpins and the crumpled caul.
     
      Weeks went by, and turned into months. Betty was pregnant. That much was clear, even though she’d only looked a bit on the plump side when she’d arrived.
      Polly pretended that she’d forgotten about Mal.
      She hid the dried rose in the back of a drawer along with the diary she kept, illegally, where she’d written one word, Maladicta in a moment of weakness.
      She didn’t look at it.
      At least not much.
      The snow came, and then the ice. There had been the Dwarf Mine Miracle – attributed to the spirit of the Little Mother, who had finally been proclaimed dead, although Polly suspected it had more to do with lifting the trade embargo on the Dwarfs and the sudden friendship Borogravia seemed to have developed with Ankh-Morpork. No-one starved that winter.
      Polly huddled in her bed at night, under the thick down comforter, with Mal hovering around the edges of her mind. Sometimes, her hand would creep between her legs, and she’d remember, and bite down on her sighs in the dark. In the mornings, the memory of Mal’s touch, and what her touch did to Polly, would linger, like clouds of breath in the chilly air, and Polly would shiver from something other than cold.
     
      She tried to avoid closing the bar, telling herself it was because she didn’t want to run into Mal when really it was because she didn’t want to not run into her. She didn’t want to be reminded that Mal wasn’t coming back, that she didn’t matter, that all she’d been was a night of fun, or release.
      But there were nights when it couldn’t be avoided. When her Dad’s leg was acting up, or when he was just too tired. She found herself watching the door out of the corner of her eye, listening for the latch to lift, hoping for the sudden arrival of an unexpected guest, hoping that Mal would come back.
      One night, it happened.
      She had given the last call, relieved to soon be rid of them, as the regulars had been very irritating that night. Manni hadn’t kept his hands to himself and, when Gummy Abbens handed her his sword and told her "Come on, gel, take a shwipe at me," she’d been sorely tempted to take a swipe at Manni instead.
      It was then that she’d heard the latch lift.
      She’d begged off to see who it was coming in this late at night.
      "I’ll be right back, sarge," she’d said, wondering who the heck would be traveling on a night like this.
      She got to the top of the stairs and stopped.
      She was pulling her hood back. There were white roses in her hair, even this late in winter.
      Polly opened and closed her mouth, like a fish out of water, until she found her voice.
      "H-hi," she said.
      "Hi…"
      Eyes spoke where voices couldn’t.
      Polly shook her head, distracted.
      "I have to, um—" she gestured over her shoulder.
      "Of course."
      Polly went back down the stairs, and accepted Gummy’s sword. She was so distracted, she didn’t have to fake lousy swordsmanship. The men had laughed. They always did, and it always annoyed her, just slightly, even though she knew that as long as they laughed, she was safe. Tonight, she didn’t care. Her mind was singing the same song over and over again, She came back! She came back!
      Finally the clock struck midnight, and she was able to usher her not-exactly-tutors out the lower-bar door.
      She closed the door and bolted it, leaning her head against the frame. Maybe Mal just wanted a cup of coffee, she thought, or maybe she’d just come back to state the obvious. "About that night," she could hear Mal say in her mind, "It didn’t mean anything to you, did it?"
      Behind her, someone cleared her throat.
      Polly turned, blinking away the tears she told herself weren’t really there.
      "I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me," Mal began.
      Polly blinked, shocked, at that.
      "I—um… I…" She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, her vision swam for a moment. "Do you — Do you want some coffee?"
      "I’d like that…"
      Polly had to walk towards Mal in order to get to the stairs, the bar, the coffee engine.
      She made her feet move.
      "Okay…"
      Words trailed into silence. What did Polly want? She wanted Mal. Mal’s arms around her, not letting go, Mal’s lips fluttering over her face, her mouth, her neck, Mal’s voice whispering that she couldn’t stay away, that she’d had to see Polly again.
      And Mal? What did she want? Polly didn’t know. Coffee, apparently, although that could have been – could have been – just an excuse to talk.
      Yeah, right. Polly thought, marching herself past Mal, towards the stairs.
      "Polly—"
      Polly swallowed, turned.
      Mal was standing there, looking up at her, her hands twisting together, shorter than Polly remembered. She looked shy, and vulnerable, and a little bit scared. Not very vampire, right then.
      "Polly, I didn’t come here for coffee." The words came out in a rush, her dark eyes pleading. "I—I tried to stay away… But… I missed you too much—"
      Polly’s breath caught in her throat. Part of her wanted to say something cutting. But there was no point to that.
      "I missed you, too."
      One step, then another, until she was able to reach out and take Mal’s hand, until they were close enough to touch, to kiss. Polly let herself get lost in that kiss, let herself drown in it, in the smell of roses, in the taste of Mal’s mouth and the softness of her lips.
      It was Mal who broke away, panting. She rested her forehead on Polly’s shoulder, dark hair falling forward. Polly held her, stroked her hair, breathed her scent, all the while wondering why this, this, this stranger felt so right in her arms.
      "I’m so sorry I didn’t come back sooner," Mal whispered.
      "Why – why didn’t you?" Polly was half afraid to hear the answer.
      "I didn’t think you’d want me."
      For a moment, all Polly could do was stare at Mal’s dark head in shock.
      "How – Mal –" with trembling hands she lifted Mal’s face to hers, offering a kiss in answer to the unasked question, Do you?
      It started tentatively enough, but Mal’s arms came around her neck, and her mouth opened under Polly’s lips, and her body pressed against Polly so that she could feel every curve, every plane through the velvet dress. Polly’s mouth moved to Mal’s neck, her hands sliding hungrily over Mal’s body, pulling her closer.
      Mal pulled away with a start, and Polly rocked forward, staggering from her absence.
      "Please," she whispered, "don’t stop."
      But Mal gestured, silently, towards the kitchens. Polly heard it, the stumping tread of her father.
      Oh, sugar.
      The lower bar was the more relaxed area of the inn. There were stuffed chairs and a couple of sofas gathered around the fire in a friendly sort of way. Mal led Polly to a couch. It was facing the fire, handily with its back to the entrance. Mal sat down, lounging against the arm-rest. Polly sat beside her, careful not to get too close.
      "A-are you sure you don’t want anything?" she asked, playing along.
      Mal smirked and raised an eyebrow in a manner that would have been suggestive if it wasn’t already clear that neither of them had anything else in mind.
      "Did I ever tell you why I joined the league?" Mal asked, casually. Polly felt the soft leather toe of a boot brush her ankle. She swallowed, shaking her head. The boot was moving. Up.
      "It’s a long story," Mal went on. "It could take a while."
      "I’m all ears," Polly answered, her voice sounding ragged. All nerve endings is more like it, she thought.
      "It starts, oh, probably before you were born," Mal began. Polly listened, half to the story, half to the measured tread of her father, as Mal spoke about exile – which happened because of ‘...something we talked about before’ – and a return, much changed, to her people.
      "Polly?" Her father’s voice, at the top of the stairs. She turned, part-way, in her seat.
      "Yeah, Dad?" she hoped it was dark enough in the lower bar that he couldn’t see her blushing. Mal’s boot was stroking her leg from knee to ankle and back again, under her dress.
      "You going to be a while?"
      "Uh… probably? I’ve been warned that this is a long story."
      Mal smiled sympathetically at Polly’s father.
      "I’ll take good care of her, Mister Perks, don’t worry."
      Mr. Perks raised an eyebrow. He looked at his daughter. "Well, alright. Just don’t be up too late now. There’s brunch in the morning, you know."
      "I know, Dad. G’night."
      He nodded, and stumped away.
      Mal and Polly looked at each other, listening to the retreating footsteps.
      Mal smiled invitingly, her eyes going darker, holding Polly’s gaze. She reached for Polly’s hand, drawing Polly closer, kissed her fingers and placed Polly’s hand on her breast.
      Polly felt her mouth go dry, brushing her fingers over the soft swell of Mal’s small, high breast, over the laces that bound her bodice closed.
      Mal closed her eyes, easing her body down, one knee sliding over Polly’s lap, until her head was resting on the arm of the sofa.
      "I would very much like you to kiss me," she whispered, wrapping one leg around Polly’s waist.
      "O-okay." Polly was breathing heavily already. She slid her hands hungrily over Mal’s body, leaning closer. Mal’s hands tangled in her hair, guiding her down, opening her mouth to suck on Polly’s lower lip. Polly gasped, accepting the kiss and returning it ardently.
      Polly let one of her hands creep along the plane of Mal’s thigh, feeling Mal shiver under her body. When she brushed aside the velvet of Mal’s dress, letting her hand slide over Mal’s flesh, the woman whimpered into her mouth. Polly moved her hips against Mal’s, whispering against her mouth, "Let me touch you, let me touch you."
      Polly kissed her way to Mal’s throat, felt Mal’s breath grow ragged as her hand crept higher.
      Mal arched her back, gasping, "Do it, please," her hips grinding against Polly’s.
      Polly kissed her way lower, lingering over Mal’s breasts. She pulled at the laces with her teeth, letting the knot slip free. She could feel the slickness coating the soft flesh of Mal’s thighs, could feel the way her body trembled. Polly loosened the velvet bodice, brushing first her fingers, then her tongue, over Mal’s breasts. She’d been dreaming of this for months. She took Mal’s nipple in her mouth, tugged it gently with her teeth, and heard Mal gasp. Under the velvet, she stroked Mal’s wet, quivering flesh, letting her fingers quicken the way she remembered. She laved Mal’s nipple with her tongue, feeling it tighten. Mal’s hands slid between them, over Polly’s breast, and Polly’s stomach fluttered deliciously. She looked up at Mal, her fingers still working. Mal’s eyes were closed, and she was panting softly, her own fingers working the laces of Polly’s bodice, freeing her breasts for Mal’s eager touch. Polly drove her fingers faster, her own breath racing in her chest. Mal thrust herself forward, sitting up suddenly, wrapping her arms around Polly, her hips arching and thrusting furiously. Polly found Mal’s throat with her mouth, kissing and sucking, she let her teeth graze Mal’s pale flesh and felt Mal spasm in response. When Mal’s back arched, and she breathed, "Yes," Polly felt an answering flutter deep inside herself. She realized that she liked watching Mal climax, liked to hear her gasp and sigh with release. She could feel her own wetness, slippery between her thighs. She wanted Mal’s mouth on her breasts right then, wanted Mal’s fingers slipping and stroking and teasing between her legs.
      Mal shuddered once more, hard, her hips grinding against Polly’s slick fingers.
      Mal found her mouth, kissing her hungrily, pressing her back, laying her down.
      "I want to taste you," she murmured, urgently, against Polly’s mouth.
      Polly could only groan in anticipation, her hips moving of their own accord. She withdrew her fingers, trailing them, slick and sticky, along Mal’s thigh.
      "Please," she moaned, her hips arching again. She’d wanted this for so long. She didn’t want to wait any longer.
      Mal didn’t make her wait. She slid her hands over Polly’s breasts and down, down. She took Polly’s nipples in her mouth, first one, then the other, sucking and lapping, lifting Polly’s woolen skirts eagerly. Polly nearly cried out when Mal’s fingers brushed against her, slipping over that sensitive nub of flesh.
      "Gods, now, please," she gasped, hips arching. Her pulse was throbbing hard between her legs, so hard it hurt, and she ached for release.
      Mal lifted her head from Polly’s breast, and shifted, licking her lips, dark hair falling around her shoulders, to brush Polly’s thighs.
      Polly slipped her hand, her dry hand, the other still gooey with Mal’s wetness, through Mal’s hair. She guided Mal’s mouth to her, and groaned when she made contact.
      Oh, gods, Mal’s mouth felt better than she remembered, her firm tongue moving over and between the folds of Polly’s flesh, laving the aching nub between her legs, sucking it gently, making Polly’s breath come in ragged, whimpering gasps. The pressure began building, deep in her abdomen, as Polly rocked against Mal’s mouth.
      She slipped her gooey fingers into her mouth, sucking at them, trying to stifle her moans. She could taste Mal on her fingers, salty and pungent, and it only made her wetter, only made her want Mal more. She sunk her teeth into her own hand, against the waves of pleasure mounting and crashing over her. She felt the moan start deep in her belly, her hand tangling in Mal’s hair, her hips arching towards that wicked, wonderful mouth, that flickering tongue, those soft, sucking lips. She felt the pressure push out and through her, an earthquake that rocked her from the inside out. She shuddered against Mal’s mouth, riding out the climax, panting as the ripples slowed, her breath returning to normal.
      "Oh, gods, that felt good…"
      Mal lifted her head, licking her lips, her dark hair falling over her eyes.
      "You want more?" she offered.
      Polly just reached for her, an answer without words.
      Mal crawled into her arms, lips already parted. She took Polly’s hand. It was then that she noticed the teeth-marks. They were deep, but she hadn’t broken through the skin.
      "Oh…" Mal breathed, running her fingers over them, lightly. She lifted Polly’s hand to her mouth and ran her tongue over the marks. "Mmm…" she kissed Polly’s hand, turning it palm-up, and kissed her wrist as well, lingering over Polly’s pulse.
      Mal’s single-minded intensity reminded Polly that, yes, she was screwing a woman who had (until who knows how recently) survived by drinking human blood.
      A shiver ran through her body.
      Polly was surprised – very surprised – to find that the shiver wasn’t totally due to fear.
      She had to admit… Mal’s mouth, moving slowly from her wrist to the inside of her elbow, felt… Oh… remarkably good.
      Mal kissed her way to Polly’s throat, her mouth soft and lush on Polly’s skin.
      "Next time you need to bite down on something," she whispered into Polly’s ear, "do it to me."
      "Tell me where," Polly whispered, tilting her head, her body rippling with pleasure.
      Mal lifted her head, straightening. She let her legs slip around Polly’s waist.
      "Anywhere you like," she offered.
      Polly let her eyes drift over Mal’s body, her bare breasts slick with sweat, her velvet skirts hitched up over her knees. She threw herself at Mal, running her tongue from Mal’s navel to her collar bone. She kissed Mal’s throat, sucking hungrily. She could feel Mal trembling and went deeper, sliding her hands under Mal’s dress and up her slippery thighs, grinder her hips against Mal’s. She let her teeth graze Mal’s neck and she shifted in Polly’s lap, giving her easier access. Mal leaned back against Polly’s knees, her breath coming fast and shallow. She whimpered when Polly nipped at her skin, even more when Polly began making slow, teasing circles on Mal’s clit with her thumb. Polly felt the muscles in Mal’s thighs twitch. She circled faster, listening to Mal’s breath race, listening to her gasping towards climax. When she buried her teeth in Mal’s shoulder, Mal’s whole body spasmed against her.
      Mal pulled away, panting, one hand over her mouth. Her eyes raked Polly’s body and her smile, when she lowered her hand, was feral and hungry. She pulled Polly’s mouth to hers, kissing her fiercely, pushing her back against the couch.
      Polly sunk her teeth into Mal’s lower lip, wrestling her open bodice off and dropping it on the floor. Mal’s hands were already under her skirt, seeking out the pulsing flesh that ached for her touch again. Mal eased her way over Polly’s body, taking her tight nipple in her mouth and sucking hard.
      Polly felt Mal’s fingers slip softly inside her, felt her move them slowly, slowly, back and forth inside of her, felt the aching-sweet pressure start to build in her again as she thrust her hips against Mal’s slippery fingers. Mal moved from Polly’s breast, lower, to were her hand slid in and out, running her tongue over Polly’s clit.
      Polly whimpered, aching for release, but not wanting it to end. She closed her eyes, lacing her fingers in Mal's dark hair, concentrating on the smooth strokes of Mal’s tongue against the folds of her flesh, on the slip and slide of Mal’s fingers deep inside her. She groaned, low in her throat, as the pleasure mounted, praying that it would be a very long night indeed.