She loved that surprised, wary expression on Vincent's face— as if he had been smacked and was still processing the damage. She loved that sway of superiority over him and his cocky, 'super cool', scheming ways— when Lotti subtly grinded her hips and wet her plump, pink lips to trace them on his ear.

It came as no shocker to her that Vincent was the schemer, a traitor to his family name, an educated and handsome psychopath with his long, flaxen locks and brother-complex to top it all off— as if those traits mattered— no, he was working on their side…the Baskerville front… THAT mattered!

Still, Lotti felt like she was the only one to truly catch the deceiver Vincent Nightray off his guard.

Obviously, he desired women, and a challenge— she lost count the times she has told him off, sneering maliciously, flushing with humiliation when one of his hands under her ruffled shirts squeezed her breast— and Vincent did not expect retaliation— when the pink-haired girl switched up her attitude, biting into the side of his neck firmly and running her tongue hotly over the small bleeding wound.

She would whisper against his orchid-smelling skin, the detailed notions of what she would do to him when they were alone together next as his 'Big Sister'— "She will shred open the veins in your neck, letting your blood flow freely like wine into her mouth… as you gasp helplessly, sobbing for mercy… She will lick your bones clean slowly…"— and it only seemed to excite him more as he pressed more fervently against her back.

And no matter how long the teasing went on, the groping and the lustful whispers; they would never actually make love. It would not even be deemed on the level of affection, of true love. Vincent did not desire her as he might have desired Noisy or his big brother. And Lotti simply wanted Glen Baskerville, back in her sights to admire and serve him as she did before. And it suited them both fairly well.

That surprised, wary expression returned to him only when Lotti— wrapped loosely in her dark, reddish cloak— tilted up on her tiptoes to gently lick the large greenish-blue bruise on his bare throat…curiouser and curiouser— the same shape as her mouth.


I'd like to thank Chapter 34 for instilling creepy thoughts in my head. And allowing me to write for creepy pairings. Cause I had a blast. ;P Can you really get any creepier then Lotti/Vincent? Ok...you might...but its creepy love. Creepy, cracky love. Jeez...why is it so appealing?!

Got an view on it or how I wrote it? Comments always welcomed!