Holy Trinity

J first thoroughly broke the mirror for V with her chatty mouth, then kissed N to a liquid state and hugged him tightly with her hair into the warm and soft screen of the drone. Usually V didn’t pay much attention to N, even dragging his muzzle along the bed, but then she forced him to look, holding her gaze with willpower, like a moth in his fist. And the butler, sobbing, watched as his eyes plunged into the oppressive cramped interior, and as J stared at it with completely crazy, slightly smoky eyes. Oh, that sweet, wild-haired maid. V strokes slower and slower, as if she’s lazy, and keeps staring, catching every wrinkle on N’s face, his gaze, unsuccessfully trying to escape, but certainly converging on one point - the bridge of his nose on V. He grabs J by his blonde pigtails studded with colored beads and drags him around, damn, just stroked N's hair across her blissful, sweet face. N almost whines, almost forgets about the clamp tightening his poor fingers, and here again, damn him... his ears pop when V starts hugging him again, and J leans forward, trying to push his face into the place where their faces meet. She climbs to stroke his tightly pulled hair, it hurts, and my god, how good it is at the same time, to the curled fingers and shoulder blades brought together. Mirrors... something that everyone who suffers from vampirism despises. And our trio is no exception. A clean, hot hand hits the trembling heart and crawls in sync with V’s pumping meat, driving N into a frenzy, forcing him to rage and swear with the last words. She pushes her fingers into her flowing, servile mouth, he plays with it as he wants, and give J more and more, oh, that maid... V reminded of herself with strong, hard shoves right into J’s (this vamp, in N’s honest and irrevocable conviction) head, which was squelching from the hair, and he began to whine incredibly. These maids. They always manage to bring him to a state of sparkling voluptuousness, which is all they can give with their hands and hair. Tired of having fun with N, V ​​waited for J to roll her body up and down (how does he do that? Yes, the mother knows. And yes, not robotically), at the same time pinning N to the pillow with this look of his, the temperature below absolute zero. — Bite him, - she commands, and J, ringing her trinkets in her hair, applies herself to N’s shoulder areas, kissing him to pieces. J's throat is endless, and the teeth flowing from it are endless as V bites down on it, too, to the desired gurgle. N kneels, breathing heavily, goes to the toilet, and pale, reeking of light worries, comes running back, immediately digging his nails with bitten black varnish into V’s belly. Wheezing N is grateful to him for the respite. V's hair fluttered around him mercilessly, and his eyes threatened to roll into the back of his head. J diligently bit the yellow insatiable monster called V, after which she lay down on N’s soft, delicate hair, carefully caressing her with her long nails. These endless bracelets on his hands, a spiked collar that evokes associations with submissive puppies. The butler's unusual clothes. Mismatched parrot jackets and pants, painted nails and eyes, sometimes even lips. That's why they pet N like a dog. And because he likes it. Oh-oh-oh how he likes it. Considering that absolutely all the mirrors are broken. And for now he cannot find out the secrets. The maids are as tireless as teenagers. Somehow, completely out of the blue, they cheered N one by one until tears of joy and even despair flowed, and his hair, pinched by a tiny metal cage, blew incessantly, and it was so beautiful that it would be worth asking to repeat it in a day or two, when the brain comes back. myself. Well, how long can you try to take a break from the way J circles his teeth along the stretched moving V and N? Answer: forty two. Forty-two exactly diamond-cut times until they remove this steel nightmare from her burning teeth, depriving the last two crumbs of sanity in four eyes. Hmm… It reminds holy trinity for N. Why did he agree to shelter these two, unemployed girls-actresses without a penny in their pockets with stupid names or pseudonyms? Even if it’s not better than his. Just think, the machine and the devil knows what. Seriously, just J? The maid J? Like the name of lemon, pepper and banana flavoured chips. It started at the carnival. That dark-skinned beauty, a promising television presenter, the daughter of the local Elon Musk with a great, great education, spoke to N, and then these two infantile stoners came up and said: — Is this bore bothering you? N said yes just for fun, honestly, but you should have seen how that girl's face fell when the maids, one dressed like a pirate with a stupid cage on his shoulder, and the other like a shitty disco dancer or something like that, picked him up under his arms and dragged him to the bar. N woke up in his house with two parasites. V was snoozing, drooling with glitter into his pillow, and J was squirming out of HIS shower and into HIS towel, chewing HIM, his robo-mother, yesterday's mince pie, and the fat dripping down his fingers onto the floor. And, by the way, all mirrors was destroyed. J's wet hair curled so sweetly that N forgave him everything, including the stains on the cheap blue carpet. Just a scene from some indie show made by a few enthusiasts: — Do you want to eat? The butler nodded carefully. J put N's bitten pie on the table and began to bite his neck. — Eat while I drink your blood... And N obeyed and ate, and J spread his fingers, which had been trembling since yesterday, and put his lips to his nails, sucking out the blood, red as blood. N’s budget was bursting at the seams even without his two roommates, and they could only pay him with hugs. He made a firm promise from the maids that they would definitely find work and pay him for their accommodation with interest, especially for mirrors. So far, with interest, only his poor face has gone. *** — Dude, I’ll definitely quit smoking, for sure! - J looked with those frenzied eyes of hers at N, who was not fully awake. — Whaaa? — I dreamed that I was flying on such a huge spaceship, and you were with me, and also that bore from the carnival, guess what? And we get involved in all sorts of stories, like the Earth was blown up, and we are looking for some workers, full of all sorts of viruses, and they also killed me, fugging! N dropped his head onto the pillow and groaned. V laughed wildly behind him. They seemed to fall asleep, cuddling and biting like puppies. The butler firmly decided to throw all the nonsense out of his house together with these two rude maids, but V, abruptly stopping laughing, kissed him tenderly on the back of his neck and said quietly, even strangledly: — I have a casting in a couple of hours. Some kind of space soap. The director liked my blonde hair. My dear J, I asked if there might be a place for you too. N had a lump in his throat. J whistled: — It turns out that the dream was prophetic? — Well, if he films exactly this nonsense, then yes, - V stared out the open window, - We will pay all the bills, as agreed, my love. — L… love?! N somehow immediately went limp. — Oh my God, Holy Mother of God, no-no-no, not this filthy shack again. I hope that dad drowned in his salary there. V bared her teeth and also looked down. How unexpectedly unpleasant it turned out to be to see the maids always foolish, always on edge, so... extinct. — Hey, - J said, - I think we can continue to live with you until we save some money. V's eyes darted from J to N, from N to J, but J spoke first. — Aren’t you tired? You know, few people can endure our company for more than a week. — More than a minute, you meant to say, - V corrected, rolling her eyes. — It’s okay, - trying to radiate sincerity, the butler shrugged his shoulders as relaxedly as possible. J raised her eyebrows, her eyes filled with tears. Even V looked touched. — Even though we are vampires? Heh, that's why we broke all the mirrors. Well, yes, one was by accident... Ahem. Maybe a group hug? — she blurted out, touched. — Let’s go, - N answered, either doomedly, or impatiently, or having lost, or automatically.