Fated (Bloodhound x Eve (OC))

Desperate

"How perfect you look, kneeling before me. You were made for this."

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Eve stood at the kitchen counter and dug through the bowl of apples, looking for the perfect one to chop for a snack. The remaining fruit was the last of the bag she had bought when she'd bought groceries for her house, and she was still trying to use them up. They were nowhere near as good as the fresh ones she picked from the forest orchard, but she couldn't let them go to waste.

Tonight, Natalie and Ramya had arranged a going away party for Pyro, the Legend that had been eliminated from the competition. Natalie had rented out a venue just for the occasion. Almost everyone, including Eve, had pitched in to help fund the event. Though Pyro was not a crowd favorite, his honest and clumsy awkwardness had become endearing and most of the Legends had begun to enjoy his company. He deserved a proper farewell.

She plucked the best-looking apple out of the bowl and cut the bruised area out, looking out the window in between slices. The garden was in full bloom, every vine full of plump vegetables, a successful round of crops. Soon, they would have to take an afternoon to pick them before the wildlife grew bold and began to nibble at the ripe tomatoes and squash. She put down the knife to gather all the discarded trimmings, then felt a warm, solid presence press up against her from behind. Bloodhound's hand slid down to cup her legging-covered mound, while their teeth claimed a bare spot of her neck.

"Handsy today," Eve teased and pushed her ass back into them. "Are you gonna finish what you started this time?"

"Perhaps," they mumbled around a mouthful of her skin. "Or perhaps not."

Eve groaned in frustration. The last few days had been full of cruel teasing: when they passed by her in the cabin, they would slip a hand between her thighs, or place a tantalizing kiss at the nape of her neck and along her ear. Bloodhound had denied every single one of her advances, pushing her hands away when she reached for their belt. When she had first woken up today, they had slid their morning wood between her thighs and let it rest there against her cunt as she slowly became wetter and wetter — but they didn't let her do anything with it.

"This isn't fair," she whined.

The thought had crossed her mind to take matters into her own hand and use a toy to cum quickly when they weren't paying attention, but she restrained herself. They'd know. They always knew.

Bloodhound carefully pushed the cutting board and knife to the side and slid her pants and underwear down to her knees. Eve clamped her thighs together to ward off their prying hand and they growled, a low rumble of warning from deep within their chest.

"I'm trying to make a snack," she said quietly, but obediently spread her legs for them as they nipped her shoulder. "I never know if they're gonna have food at these things."

"The snack can wait." They turned her around and pushed her back against the counter, snaking two fingers below the waistband of her leggings and down the front of her underwear.

She didn't want to give them the satisfaction, but she couldn't hold back the moan at the tiniest touch of their fingertips against her clit. Eve expected the fingers to pull away, but instead, they plunged into her wetness.

The counter dug into her back as she leaned on it for support, Bloodhound's fingers curling within her to hit her most sensitive inner spot. Her eyelashes fluttered and her knees nearly buckled each time their palm bumped her clit. The sounds of their fingers fucking her was loud and wet, and she would have been embarrassed had she not been so desperate for it, for anything .