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    Summary

    Without breaking eye contact with the dark gaze he could barely make out beneath her hood, he peeled her blood soaked glove off and pressed her hand between his legs, shifting his stance slightly to accommodate her. She seemed to get the hint as she slid her fingers through the wetness that soaked his cunt and would likely be glistening on his thighs soon.

    “All this for watching your brethren murdered before you,” she murmured, gently rubbing his clit. He shivered from both the shock of pleasure up his spine and the slick tap of her cleaver against his calf. “You truly are a beast of Yharnam, aren’t you? Aroused by the scent of spilt blood, no matter whose it is.”

    “Mm.” His grip around her wrist tightened as he canted his hips against her hand.

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