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Karen doesn't have to use her powers on Rita; she falls into Karen's talons like sand sifting through fingertips, waiting for her demise underneath Karen's short frame. This is because Rita hates herself, thinks that she deserves nothing more than Karen's teeth against her throat, Karen's gaze vicious and devouring. Karen's wanting is boundless.
Karen wouldn't want to use her powers on Rita. Rita folds for her in all the right ways, trembles underneath her touch. Jane would find this repulsive, but Jane knows that this body belongs to all of them. She's taking a break right now, anyway. Jane doesn't matter, anyway. She's weaker, anyway. Powerless.
She can't have her epic love story with Rita. Rita won't watch romantic comedies with her unless she stars in them. And now Rita is trying to ruin her perfect, beautiful wedding. It simply won't do. She can't have Rita, it isn't right, and Rita, she knows, despises Karen and her role in Jane's system.
She only fronts when things are beyond saving.
Hot pink nails dig into the flesh of Rita's back, and Rita lets out a loud roar, her noises turning carnal and lion-like as she feels the sting. Rita, supposedly so fierce, so prideful, wading her way through films and conquering the prey. Now sad, decrepit. She no longer bears the ferocity of the lion—Karen suspects she had been faking it all along. What once blossomed within her has been extinguished now.
"Turn around," she whispers. "Sooner or later they're going to come looking for us."
Rita turns as instructed, shivers when Karen's lips return to her neck. If she didn't have control over her form, the roughness would bruise, but she won't allow Karen of all people to mark her. When her tongue snakes down Rita's back, Rita realizes that her scratches had drawn blood -- on purpose.
She doesn't have as much control as she thought.
But Rita finds herself inexplicably into it, sucked into the moment, and she leans backwards into Karen's embrace without thinking. Karen lets out a cool laugh, continues lapping up Rita's pathetic strips of blood between rough kisses and nips.
"It's not right," Rita says, but she's moaning. "What you're doing to them. Manipulating those poor people like that. Karen—"
"But you're still here," Karen replies, and it shuts her up.
