IRL gender irrelevant. A silly, short-term scene between one certain Draculina and a rambunctious, Algerian lesbian werewolf that's a member of the Wild Geese who's gotten tired of the job they're supposed to be doing. Kinks; power exchange, strength play, interracial / skin contrast, possibly internalized homophobia, fantasy interracial, seduction, implied slowburn, edging and foreplay, dirty talk, kissing, spanking, deep fawning and arousal, service dominance [the dominant prioritizing their partner's pleasure]. Highly enthusiastic consent. Supernatural desire and want. Futas(????) heavily dependent on vibe and mood, usually not into this.
Limits; anything extreme. Non-con, dub-con. Tentacles, toys -- anything that doesn't make sense in the scene and is unrealistic. Futas (refer to above.)
It took most of the night for the mercenary to give up on their work, putting away an impressive amount of pay stubs and requisition orders before kicking her boots up on the table. The Geese member almost seemed to embrace the monotony of their job, the cracking of lead, the erasing, the filing- of all the members of the soldiers they’d hired, it had to be this one that had a genuine and sincere appreciation for paperwork. Known for being their quartermaster, Seras had known the Algerian woman’s true nature almost the same moment they’d been in the same room- not entirely. She’d never seen a werewolf before, but the scent about her was all too different even from her own kinds’, like soil after rain. If her comrades knew that she was a monster, they didn’t deign to share it, and they treated her no differently than the rest of them, sharing their food and drink and love for violence.
"Beautiful," Sylvan says, tenderly, voice soft enough to move the coldest heart.
Her master had warned her of them. Of werewolves. Driven to extinction, they were a formidable opponent even for him, though this one hadn’t so much as supernaturally lifted a cup of water. Instead she’d only drunkenly rumbled along with the other Geese and proven herself a proficient shooter and an unstoppable wrestler, easily pinning her brothers and even, with difficulty, managing to force the draculina onto her back.
The taller woman had almost seemed to be about to kiss her then. She’d been just as forward about her desire to get into the vampire’s skirt as the rest of them, though she’d been even more brutish about it, her passing comments and swipes at her rear so close to being intolerable. Rather than kiss her, she’d only smiled, sharing a heavy, silent moment before laughing it all off that the unparalleled daughter of Dracula must have let her win.
They both knew differently. The werewolf had won, and after claiming her victory, she’d allowed Seras to keep her title of undefeated champion, content with knowing, even if Sylvan was the only one, that she had defeated Seras.
And now they were filing their wages and taxes.
Or, one of them was, and the other was staring at a certain Englishwoman, revealing what she’d earlier referred to as ‘beautiful.’ Lounging back in her chair, her imposing height waned with the leering of her posture, slowly admiring each near perfect dip of the vampire’s cheeks and chin, putting it all to memory like a painting. Unashamedly, of course, letting the night crawl on past them as if she wasn’t being paid by the hour.