Carmilla smirks. “Looks sublime on me.”
"I barely even know what it is."
"Have you ever seen me close the curtains during the day? No. Stop pacing. It’s annoying."
Laura sighs and sits down heavily on the bed. Her short skirt rides up her thighs and she twitches it down ineffectually. “So what you’re telling me is you’re impossible to tie down.”
Carmilla is sprawled on her side behind Laura, stretched languidly across the bed. “Well sure,” she says, “If you take all your cues from television.”
"Sunlight is ubiquitous!" Laura protests. "Every vampire story uses it! Don’t blame this on the boob tube!"
"Sweetheart." Carmilla is laughing. "I’m like, four centuries old and even I won’t say boob tube.”
Laura cranes her neck and makes a face at Carmilla. She tugs her skirt down again. What was the point of dressing like high school era Buffy Summers coming to dominate and ravage her hot vampire lover if the vampire lover in question can rip its way out of her best bondage scarves like they were tissue paper?
(she says “bondage scarves,” but they’re really just scarves. What is she, some kind of sexpert who carries handcuffs and marshmallow lube around for a rainy day? Please.)
"Forget the roleplay." Carmilla reaches up and curls her fingers around the back of Laura’s neck. She tugs Laura down, and Laura falls down beside Carmilla. Carmilla kisses her twice. Gently, and then purposeful, easing open Laura’s mouth with her tongue. "I like you better when you’re yourself anyway."
Laura’s skirt rides up again, and she ignores it.