Title: For Kimmeh
Author: kbk
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Van Helsing
Summary: Pron. Anna and the Brides.
Notes: Kim asked for this. I am susceptible to suggestion.

She knew their names almost as soon as she knew her own. Aleera. Marishka. Verona. His Brides. When the girls in the village talk of a prince sweeping in on his white horse and taking them off for a dream wedding (and don't think she doesn't know how many of them are looking at Velkan, but they'll never have him, because he's hers, her brother, and she's the only girl he'll ever love, he promised), Anna thinks of the girls who really have been taken over the centuries. Not enough to have noticed, unless you watched very closely, and her family always did.

Marishka was the first, a girl that had probably caught His eye when he was still mortal. Just another peasant girl, though she must have stood out from the others, with her bright hair and her height and her beauty.

Verona was the last. She replaced a Bride killed by Anna's great-grandfather, and was more vicious and clever than her predecessor. She had been trained for it, of course, as she was Anna's great-grandfather's eldest child. Vengeance is mine, He saith.

Aleera just showed up one night, a few centuries ago, and none of the family could trace her back to the girl she was. There are screeds of speculation, of course, based on her looks and her voice and her manners, description and analysis by men and women and even children, Anna's own eleven-year-old script on the last pages. None of it stands up to meeting her.

Her hands, so poised around the stem of her glass, and her skin, so dark and so very smooth, and oh, her lips... And the way she moves, so graceful, so seductive, so damn fast...

Her hand is stroking Anna's neck, and the other two are giggling on the bed, nearly naked, kissing and licking and sucking, and Aleera's other hand is sliding down the valley between Anna's breasts, and oh. Oh. Anna has never felt so rough, so gauche, so wanton...

She is gasping for air when her corset is unlaced, her clothes unfastened and dropped on the floor, and suddenly she's standing alone and naked and utterly exposed, watching Aleera hiss and growl and grab at her fellow Brides until they look up, look across, and their eyes are so hungry and she's the only one breathing.

"Come here, Princess," says Aleera, beckoning with one elegant finger which winds down her bodice and pulls it open, pulls it away to reveal that expanse of golden gleaming skin, and when Anna gets a little closer she can see that Verona's fingers are inside Marishka and Marishka is clutching at the sheets and Aleera...

Is sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back, spreading her legs wide and dragging her nails along the inside of one thigh, is devouring Anna with her eyes. (And there's a nasty little jolt, because if Anna were in her right mind she would expect to be very literally devoured, but she wouldn't be doing this is she were sane. Couldn't possibly.)

Aleera doesn't even have to give the order before Anna drops to her knees and crawls the last few feet. The smell of sex is so much stronger, so much more intoxicating, and she feels no shame as she buries her face in the thatch of curls and starts to use her mouth. The hands twisting in her hair are the best thing ever, the other hands (when did they move? why didn't she notice?) holding her wrists are better, the ones delving between her thighs are like nothing she had ever imagined.

Her scream is muffled in Aleera's cunt, and she wants to move, to buck, to writhe, but their hands are strong (such soft skin) and she is trapped and it's oh so very good and she can't help but scream with it...

And she's screaming again as they pull her up and back and bite into her neck (bright hair brushing her face), her breast (sharp fingernail scraping her nipple), her thigh (and the liquid trickling down might be blood or saliva or her)...

And she isn't screaming when she bolts upright, covered with sweat, in Velkan's bed.