The rooftop party was in full swing: excited chatter, bursts of laughter, the sharp pop of champagne corks, glasses clinking in endless toasts, bright lights everywhere, and loud electronic music pulsing through the area. Everyone was having a great time, caught up in the joy of New Year’s Eve. I was constantly posing for photos with friends and strangers alike, trying to capture every moment of this thrilling countdown to the new year.
A woman with light blue hair and a matching dress walked past just as the host—who was playing photographer—called her over for a picture with me. The host thought it was adorable that we’d both had the same idea: dresses that matched our hair color. I hated it. It ruined my sense of originality and made it look like one of us had copied the other—or worse, like we were a couple.
But it wasn’t enough to spoil my night. Like me, she was holding a glass of champagne. She stepped closer, slipped an arm around my waist, and turned toward the camera.
“Ow!” I yelped.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to—but… looks like someone’s been in a fight?” she teased with a little giggle.
I didn’t want to admit that I’d gotten into a bad argument over Christmas and that my body still hadn’t fully healed, but I couldn’t help reacting when her hand pressed right on one of the few bruises that hadn’t faded yet.
“Let’s just take the picture, okay?” I said, forcing a smile and sliding my arm around her waist in return.
Until—
“Ow! Careful!” she gasped.
“Hehe… looks like someone’s been in a fight too, huh?” I shot back, adjusting my pose.
“Perfect, girls! Look at the camera and say cheese!” the host chirped, ready to snap the shot.
That’s when the blue-haired bitch beside me deliberately squeezed the exact spot that still hurt, nearly making me wince and lose my smile.
“Cheese!” she said brightly.
Before I could stop myself, I returned the favor and pressed hard on her bruise.
“Cheese!” I replied, smiling sweetly for the camera.
“Perfect! Such beautiful smiles, girls! Thank you so much!” the host said cheerfully before waving over another group for photos.
I turned to face her, eyes locked on hers, and squeezed her bruise even harder, watching her face finally twist in pain.
“Light blue hair… matching blue dress… Couldn’t come up with anything more original?” I hissed.
“Ughhh… Look who’s talking! Light gray hair, matching dress… Who gave you permission to steal my idea?” she shot back, pressing just as hard on my injury. This time it was my turn to grimace as pain shot through me. “Argh!”
“Everyone, one minute left! The fireworks will be on this side—get ready!” the host announced, herding the guests into the best spot for the New Year’s spectacle.
I leaned in closer. “Look, I’d love to slap the shit out of you right here in front of everyone—I wouldn’t even feel bad about it—but I’m not in top shape, and I don’t want to start the new year covered in fresh bruises. How about we call a truce for now?”
“Hmmm… Counter-offer,” she murmured, a sly glint in her eye. “I don’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, and I’m guessing you don’t either. Why don’t we… help each other out?”
I laughed. “Bold of you to assume I’m flying solo when the clock strikes twelve! But fine—you’re right. I didn’t plan anything this year, I came alone. We’ll do it, though—somewhere private. We already match like idiots with these dresses; I don’t need people seeing us kiss and jumping to conclusions.”
“Deal,” she agreed.
We slipped our hands together and drifted away from the crowd to a secluded corner of the terrace. We couldn’t see the fireworks from there, but no one could see us either.
“10! 9! …” The countdown began, the whole party chanting in unison, oblivious to our disappearance.
We wrapped our arms around each other’s waists. I glanced down—our full breasts pressed together like four mountains colliding—then lifted my gaze to her flushed, beautiful face. I nearly lost myself in the deep blue of her eyes.
‘I wouldn’t mind falling for someone like her…’ I thought, gently rubbing my nose against hers.
“6! 5! 4! …”
“By the way,” I said with a grin, “my name’s Bitchbite Vic. What’s yours?”
Her expression shifted from playful to stunned.
“I’m… Newbite Eve.”
The name hit me like a thunderclap. Time seemed to freeze.
“1! 0! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”
POP! HISSS! WHOOSH! BOOM! PAPAPAPAPOW!
Champagne corks flew, fireworks soared and burst overhead, energy crackling across the terrace.
But in our hidden corner, what started as a midnight kiss quickly turned into a vicious biting duel once we realized we were both members of the Bite clan.
“Mmmph! You bitch… I’ll be the Queen Bite!” I growled, tightening my grip around her waist.
“Mmmph! Slut… I’m the one who’ll be crowned Queen Bite!” she snarled back, squeezing me just as hard.
We nipped lips, tugged at each other’s mouths, crushed waists, kneaded breasts, tangled legs. For the full fifteen minutes the fireworks roared, our mouths battled relentlessly. The harder our chests pressed together, the more I struggled for air.
“Aaaaah!” She jerked her head away from my teeth, gasping desperately.
“Get back here, coward—stop running!” I lunged forward, chasing her lips, but she kept dodging, stepping backward until her back hit the wall.
Got you, I thought—only for the world to spin as she reversed us in one swift move. My back slammed against the wall, knocking the breath out of me with a pained moan. She released her bear hug just long enough to cup my face with both hands, pinning me in place.
“Now I’m going to bite you senseless!”
I dropped my own crushing embrace to push her head away, buying myself a few precious seconds of air.
Just then, the final fireworks faded, and we heard voices calling our names, guests wondering where we’d gone.
Our eyes met—wide with panic—and on pure instinct we sealed our lips together again, this time to muffle any sounds that might give us away. Arms snaked around necks, locking tight, refusing to let either escape. Our breasts compressed even harder than before. Our noses fought for the same thin stream of oxygen while our furious, wide-eyed stares burned into each other.
Slowly, I watched Eve’s face shift from flushed red to purple… then to ghostly white.
I woke to sunlight warming my face. My eyes fluttered open, consciousness returning. I was alone on the terrace. I pushed myself up from the floor, stretched, and headed toward the stairs that led down to the top floor of the building, then to the elevator so I could finally go home.
While waiting for the elevator, I pulled out my phone to scroll through New Year’s messages. That’s when I saw the one the host had sent at 12:30 a.m.:
“Congrats to the new lovebirds of 2026!
?”
Attached was a photo of me and Newbite Eve, tangled on the ground, lips locked in what looked like a passionate kiss.
“Aaaaaah! No way! That bitch is going to pay. Next time we meet, I’m finishing what we started tonight!”
The End.
