Work Text:
Brigitte remembers the first time Ginger sunk her teeth into her thigh.
It was a hot blur of a night. There had been arguing and screaming about something she couldn't remember (because she was a terrible sister), but all she knew was that it ended with her sister's tongue on her thigh, lapping up the wound she made.
"You taste so fucking good," Ginger growled, blood on her fangs. She couldn't resist the delicious scent of her little sister, couldn't fight back these urges to claim her. It came natural to her, as natural as breathing air in and out, and as natural as a wolf wanting to tear apart a rabbit. "Baby sis..."
Brigitte gulped, despair swirling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to throw up, but she immediately swallowed the bile down, a stupid smile spreading on her face (because she never knew what to do with her). "Ginger," she said, reaching her hand out to pay with her hair.
She noticed how Ginger tensed, her eyes fixating on her fingers, and tears couldn't help but escape from her eyes, realizing she wasn't Ginger anymore. This wasn't her sister. This was an animal that infected her sister, reducing her to a husk who relied on animal impulses.
Teeth digging into skin, tongues on thighs—
"I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice mousy and dumb. Ginger scoffed and rolled her eyes, biting her thigh again. A moan left Brigitte's lips, her back pressed to the wall. Her hips bucked, and Ginger greedily took advantage of her useless little sister, eating away at her skin. "Oh, fuck," she breathed. "Don't do that- you're hurting me-"
Her younger sister paused, realizing the beauty in it all. They were already outcasts, and there is nothing more shameful than two sisters indulging in themselves, cursed to a life of loneliness and hunger. Ginger's stomach growled, her claws digging into such porcelain skin. Wanted to rip her heart out, maybe.
"Sorry," Ginger said carelessly, pressing a kiss to the bloody mess. She continued to clean it with her tongue, getting higher with every drop that leaked into her mouth. Brigitte was terrified by her transformation, her cunt throbbing with need. She wanted it, embarrassingly enough. Wanted to be torn apart by deft fingers and a ruthless mouth.
It was a sickness they both shared, and Brigitte wouldn't stop her, no matter how many times she sobbed or puked. Ginger swallowed chunks of flesh, her nails breaking her skin, and eating away at her legs. Dog teeth, baby teeth, an animal that can't stop, and a stupid owner way in over herself, masochistic and horrible and stupid and horny for her own big sister.
(A flame that couldn't flicker away, not even when she would hold her snuffed out heart in her hand. One of them is going to die, and they can't do anything about it, and Brigitte feels sick from the thought of Ginger's cold corpse beneath her, her face between her thighs.)
She can't remember when she slipped her tongue in her for the first time.