Jack and Jacquie

She could tell by his breathing, he guessed, or by practice, when he was about to orgasm. He knew from experience that if she hadn't orgasmed already, she wouldn't do it before him, before she had some of him inside her - blood or sperm, as long as it was warm and full of life. When he was nearly there she fell forward onto him; as he groaned, she threw a hand across his head and yanked it to the side, baring his neck to her heavy, hungry breath. Her mouth hesitated; her tongue churned.

The moment stretched out forever - the burning in his loins as she squeezed - the anticipation of her fangs just brushing his skin. Her tongue flicked out to wet a spot just over his jugular, but she wouldn't bite there. It was contractual. The jugular could be deadly.

He'd felt the bite of fangs like hers a hundred times before, but it always made him flinch. He never knew whether the bite would be a fuck or a screw - if it would feel like a golden kiss or an icepick tearing into him. It was up to her, up to her cruelty and lust and hunger, and all he knew about her was that her white eyes scared him.

She bit then, deep into the muscle above his shoulder, and it felt like the euphoric warmth of morphine shooting into his veins, racing to his heart and through his body. Her vaginal muscles squeezed like a fist as she rolled her jaw, splashing hot blood into her mouth, and he exploded inside her. She came then, too, gasping and shuddering and laughing and gurgling through his blood, but she didn't let him go. Even while she mewled in ecstasy at the heat washing through her, her hips pumped to milk him again, and her fangs thrust back into the wounds they'd made, slicing them wider to counteract the healing effects of her saliva.

Normally her kind were quite neat with their bites, but she played into the cliche and let blood dribble, then chased it down with her tongue and lips, smearing her face crimson before she pulled away for a gloating laugh. That should have been the pullaway, the fade-to-black - the moneyshot for this kind of porn - but she struck again. Her teeth sunk in just beneath his ear, and heard and felt the sickening crunch of tendons before blood spilt out again.

He pushed against her, twisting his legs to roll her off, but she was strong and had leverage; her wings beat the air, her boots spread his thighs, and she leaned her weight into his shoulders to suckle.

He heard the hum, then, the one deep in her chest that meant she was losing her control. Or had lost it.

"Stop, Jacquie!" Jonas' voice came from the doorway, firm and commanding, but she didn't pay it any mind. She pumping at Jack's neck with her tongue, plunging the wounds with her teeth to keep the blood gushing down her throat. She was eating him.

Riel fought back, twisting again, pulling at the gauzy strips, but she wrapped her arms around his back and clutched him tightly to her, tight enough to squeeze the air from his lungs. For her kind she wasn't that strong, but her kind could rip the arms from bears; it would have been an easy thing for her to crush his ribcage or snap his spine, even while she extended herself to maintain the shape of her wings. Blood rushed to his head, pounding in his hears and brain, splurting even faster down her throat.

"Sandra! Bobbie! Get her off!"

Behind the bed, Sandra lowered her camera, though none too quickly. With strength enough to match Jacquie's strength she pried the succubus' bloody mouth from his neck, leaving him gushing onto to the sheets. Jacquie lurched around the hand but not back to his neck; instead she tugged Sandra to her and caught her mouth in a fierce, slippery kiss. Sandra's eyes opened wide, then crinkled with delight as she tongued the drop of blood from her own fangs. The next moment they were both on him, jockeying to lock their lips around the open wounds until Sandra conceded and switch to the unspoiled side of his neck.

Bobbie had reached the bed now too, barely pausing to shrug out or her rig before she pushed Jacquie off his still rigid - painfully so - penis. Her purple tongue dabbed delicately at the cum that still slicked the tip, the cum swirled with blood, before she cackled with glee and swallowed him down, biting hard into the base.

Riel cried out in pain; his back arched, but Jacquie threw her arm around his head and buried his face beneath her loose breast.

He was angry now. While the blood spilled from his veins into greedy mouths, it flushed within him, too, boiling and arcing and activating a latent, earthy strength. The three leeches clinging to him squealed in delight at their first taste of the new vitality coursing through him, and they hardly noticed as his muscles steeled and corded, and the gauzy bindings snapped. The bed creaked and groaned beneath him, and his muscles tightened. He glanced up to see Jonas standing over him, holding Sandra's forgotten camera. In a strangely surreal moment Jonas folded his hands together and mouthed, Please? while the camera filmed.

Riel sighed heavily and fell back into the mattress. He could stand a few surface bites. He'd had worse before. But then Jacquie found his jugular and he'd had enough.

He threw them off, quite literally, and they flew across the room into the walls. The two camera girls, their black sweats matted with blood, shrunk back in fright from his unexpected strength. But Jacquie's lust fever was too strong to accommodate fear, and with a shriek she leapt back at him. He caught her by the neck and held her there, boots kicking, wings flapping and scraping the ceiling. Desperate for more she reached for his neck and came short, then raked her claws up his arm and shoved her fingers in her mouth. Stripes of red beads followed the paths of her claws

Growling, he flung her back again and stomped the ground, which cracked around his bare foot. Though his wounds had already begun to heal, he rubbed in the mingled blood and saliva and scowled bullets at Jacquie as she crept closer again. His chest heaved, sucking in gallons of air, and his corded muscles twisted and squeezed. Until the moment passed he was angry enough that the sweat and blood and saliva steamed away from his skin in wisps.

"Please!" Jacquie reached out toward him. "Please - just a little more. I'll be good, I promise." The other two had gathered themselves behind Jacquie's wings, and though they still appeared crumpled, a spark of hope lit their hungry eyes.

Jacquie turned then to Jonas, who held the camera awkwardly. His mouth hung open. She wound her arms through his and clung to it like a child, pulling the camera down while she begged. "Please, let me have him. If you give him to me... I'll never ask for another one again. I PROMISE. He has a flavor." Behind her the other two nodded eagerly.

Riel snorted and yanked the sheet from the bed, wrapped it around him like a poncho and strode from the room, to the wails of all three women.

Jonas caught him in the hall beyond. "Jesus Christ, Jack, that was quite a scene. That floor was concrete."

"Yeah, sorry about that. What the hell were you thinking?"

"No, really. I'm sorry. Really, kid. But after everything you told me I figured either you'd handle it or I'd call down the freon." He clapped the younger man on the shoulder and glanced behind him, then drew his hand away hastily at the heat still emanating beneath the sheet poncho. "Really, Jack. I've never seen anything like that before. I can't figure out whether I should cut it out for the feds or release it on YouTube. Awesome."

Riel scowled at him. "'Let me have him?' What is that? What am I, a puppy or a popsicle?"

"Yeah, that's Jacqueline. I ... wanted to talk with you about her. She's a handful, isn't she? Just last week she took - well, she killed a messenger from my 'side business', you know? She drank him dry. And he was a nobody. He didn't even have a 'flavor'."

"Sounds to me like if someone's going to be keeping a stable of vampires, they need to keep a better eye on them." Riel pushed open the door to the dressing room, peering over his shoulder at Jonas before he crossed to the locker and popped it open. He caught his jeans as they fell out, shook out the wrinkles, then dug for his underwear.

Jonas had stayed in the doorway. "I'm glad you agree. That's a good sport, volunteering like that to take her in."

Riel's head whipped back to Jonas, and he froze in the middle of pulling up his shorts. "Wait-"

But Jacquie was already in the hall behind Jonas, crossing her arms over his chest and squeezing him until his head turned magenta. Her mouth was wide in girlish glee, which made an contrast to her infernal eyes and wings.

Jonas managed to peel her off and catch his breath. '"Jack and Jacquie' - that's so lame it could be a sitcom. The vampire starlet and the vampire hunter." A bit more composed now, he flashed a winning grin at Riel. "I'll send her over with a videoblog package and see if we can't come up with a pilot."

Riel's head hung, but he yanked up his shorts and stepped into his jeans. Not again, he thought.