She is the oldest of them still living in the city, only a teen in form, but an ancient in power. Her slim, almost-starved looking form is still clad in the old fashions from the 1500's when she had been alive, but the cloth is a much higher quality from the rags she actually wore then. The deep red velvets match the hue of her lips, stark against a white face that will forever show the pinched look of a hungry child. It was that hunger that made her walk this dark path, and hunger that gave her the will to find eternal power.
Every vampire in the city is her Get and her children respect her above all others. Her will makes them hers to command. They hunt for her when she has no wish to. They go where she directs them to go and kill those who displeased her. Any who do not show her proper respect do not last long enough to apologize, much less offend a second time. That is the way of things.
Vampires entering her territory from other districts pay proper tribute, or they do not leave. The rulers of many cities refuse to let their servants travel through her area, fearing they might offend accidentally and lose a valuable messenger or servant. She rarely lifts a hand herself, of course. Her children are more than happy to serve their mother in any capacity they can.
In return, she protects them as her mother once failed to protect her. Wounded vampires come to her for sustenance, and are welcome to stay as long as needed until they heal. Her blood is truly that of a mother's, giving her the power to heal them and make them whole without needing the hunt to give them nourishment. This was the gift that her demise granted her, the power to give life to the dead. It binds them closer to her, of course, but one cannot be closer to another than to one's mother, so none mind. Her children bring her the sick and the injured and lay them upon her breast. There, the dead nurse until they are well enough to return to the streets in her service.
Visiting vampires made hers are less inclined to see her as they should, but that is to be expected of foster or adopted children. She has explained to her Get that it takes them time to adapt to their new home. Those few that she agrees to let only pass through, become the foster children in her home, bringing her gifts of great value and blood from the sweetest meats. Those who wish to stay, or whom she chooses to stay, are adopted into the clan, nursing at her breasts alongside her natural children. She never wants one of her chosen children to worry that she would value them less than her natural Get.
Occasionally one she chooses refuses to drink at her breast, and as every mother, she always mourns the death of a child. Their bodies go to her remaining children so that their power and strength can remain with the clan forever.
Un-life continues. Her children grow stronger, bound under the guidance of a single mother, not jostling for power or favors as other clans do, but loving one another as siblings should and tied together through their bond to her. When sibling fights sibling, as they sometimes do, she punishes them. Their screams make certain that few others give into their animal natures anytime soon.
Her adopted children have grown in number, though fewer have been sent from other clans. Other leaders have grown tired of losing their best to her, and some have grown angry. If they grow too angry, they send many vampires to her territory. She sends very few back. This is her city, its night-walkers are her children and they bow to no one but her. She bows to no one at all.
He comes to her on a spring evening, blond and beautiful and beaten. She knows his scent. She drew his blood in the last battle with a neighboring Lord who lost his favorite concubine to her flock. She would have kept this one as well, but he had been dragged away while three others kept her distracted. One of those now ranks amongst her family. The other two had given their skins to warm her bed.
He begs sanctuary from her. He had been a sergeant in the Lord's army, and had paid the price for returning without the concubine and a victory. He is thin and starved, but beautiful none-the-less. He tells her of seeing her in the battle, of seeing her power and strength. He tells her how much he wants to belong to her, to be nursed by her. She is moved by his plea, but her face remains unwavering. He is not yet her child and therefore not to be trusted.
She tells him the price of sanctuary. He will swear an oath of fealty, as every Lord and Lady demands, but there will be more. He must become one of her children, one of her blood. Every vampire knows that to drink the blood of one's Master gives you into their power, minds entwine, and the will is dissolved when the Master commands. She tells him now of her power, to nurse another at her breast and recreate him as if he had been truly born of her bite.
She sees fear in his eyes, but his voice is unwavering as he accepted. She sends her other children away. The making of a new sibling is a private thing, only for mother and child. Later, another of her young will re-enter and drink alongside him, sealing his bond not only to her, but to them as well. He will be family.
She remains wary. Until the moment his teeth enters her skin and he drinks, he is a danger. Others have been known to balk at this point, dying rather than submitting. Assassins have chosen this moment to reveal themselves, some waiting even until she bared her breasts, thinking her the most unguarded then. It is a mistake to believe that her power comes solely from her children. The assassins too, now decorate her bed.
He comes to her, almost shyly. He is a young vampire - strong, but inexperienced. He whispers to her about remembering his Earth Mother's hair, and how he once buried his face in it. She smiles and gestures him closer. He buries his head in her hair, in her neck and breathes. She is not worried, if he bites her on the neck he will still be hers, but he will be punished horribly for the insult.
To bite a vampire on the neck is a slap in the face, an insinuation that they are no more than the mortal-cattle they feed from. Lords share through wrists, lovers through the vein in the thighs, or some other intimate location. She is the Mother, so she shares through her breasts, nursing as if she truly supplies them with life and milk, rather than death and blood.
He buries his head further in her hair, whimpering like a child, his hands balled loosely, one next to her breasts, one in the hair on the other side of her head. He smells her, inhaling her scent like it was its own nourishment. Finally, he pulls away and looks into her eyes and whispered his thanks for this honor.
She returns his smile, and bares her breast to him and he looks at them, almost in astonishment. She feels a thrill in this conquest that she had not felt in decades. This one is indeed a worthy find. He will bring strong blood to her clan.
His mouth hovers over her breast, the heat from his mouth tickling her nipple in a way that is almost obscene. She shifted restlessly and begins to order him to drink, and then restrains herself. She knows from experience how hard this is for many. Too willingly give up their freedom, even in return for her protection, is not something one does easily. He would not be so strong if he could throw it all away in a heartbeat.
Finally, his mouth descends on her. He pulls hard on her nipple, and then his teeth sink in just above it. There is a flash of pain and pleasure as there always is, a hardening of her nipple against his tongue. Her blood begins to flow, she feels him swallow, and she strokes his hair, at ease now that he is hers.
"Amon" she whispers "Your name will now be Amon." Her will is complete now, and she feels his reality change at her command. He will now respond to no other name.
She falls into a half drowse, running her fingers through his hair and whispering words of comfort and power to him. He continues to suckle, and she is pleased. Many of her adopted young take only enough the first time to fulfill the ritual, and are often horrified at the necessity at first. This one though, will truly belong to her, heart and soul.
As he drinks, his tongue glides over her nipple. It is the power of the vampire to prevent blood from congealing with their tongue, so she is used to this, but he does it often, and she begins to feel restless and annoyed. She reminds herself again that he is young, and that to turn on him in anger this soon might make him feel rejected or less than the others. This will almost certainly cause problems later with his siblings.
His hands clench and unclench around her breasts, the way a baby's does to coax milk and she smiles down at him, pleased that he adapts so easily. Perhaps his Earth Mother did not love him enough, or died when he was young for him to miss her so. She will take care of him as his Earth Mother did not, this she swears to him in a whisper.
He pulls harder now at her nipple, with almost fierceness, and she gasps at the soothing motion of the nursing is replaced for a moment with a combination of the initial pain and pleasure all over again. His tongue moves quicker, and his hand slides over her other breast to cover remaining nipple with his thumb and finger. He rolls the flesh between his fingers, bringing it too into a sharp point before she realizes what he is doing.
She tries to order him to stop, but then he does something with his mouth and the wave of forgotten ecstasy sweeps over her so that it comes out only as a moan. She is shamed and angry. For one of her children to do this is disgusting! To be feeling like his under his touch is worse. Is he the animal here for touching her like this, or is she an animal for being so easily swept away?
Then his mouth is gone from her breast, and she opens her mouth to cry out, to summon her true children to her side. This one must be punished, the ritual can be finished later when he is more pliable, she must...
His mouth captures hers, sealing her shout inside. He follows it with his tongue, stroking hers, sliding it around her teeth expertly, dragging another groan from her as she helplessly meets his tongue with her own. She recognizes the heat in her loins now, a feeling not felt in over 300 years, since the creation of her own mortal child. He had been a friend of her father's, trusted and loved by the whole family. When they had discovered her shame, they had thrown her out of the home, refusing to believe her. He had denied everything, turned from her in disgust as she stood shivering on the sidewalk, heavy with his child. She had wandered the streets for months, the baby inside of her keeping her alive. The baby had died. She had wanted to die. Then the vampire had come...
She screams into his mouth, swept up on a wave of memory and hunger. She can't think, can't breathe. All that exists is sensation. She can smell blood, taste herself on his fangs, feel his hands sliding over her breasts in a motion that she thinks might drive her mad. It is as good as hunting.
She is panting when he stops kissing her. She cannot seem to breathe to call out now. How can she bring her children running now? What will they think if they see her like this? They will turn from her, as her mortal family turned from her. That will never happen again. She seizes his hair, struggling to pull his head away from her, and he laughs quietly. Ignoring her grip, he runs his tongue up the side of her neck, and she closes her eyes waiting for the final, insulting bite.
He bites, but not to draw blood. Instead, new and incredible sensations run from her neck to her breasts, her nipples drawing even tighter into his palm, his thumbs still running that raw, constant sensation through her, hips twitching uncontrollably at his touch.
Her hands are on his shoulders now, alternating between scratching to remove him and clawing out of desire. His weight lays heavy up on her, no longer kneeling submissively at her feet, but on top of her, dominating and controlling.
One hand slides between them, and she knows if he touches her she is lost. He strokes her thighs, the edges of her buttocks, her stomach. His fingers dance through the dark silky hair between her legs, but he does not attempt to part her thighs himself.
"Open to me." He whispers to her so low that she can barely hear. "I am yours now, as I desired. I would make you mine as well."
She tries to say no, tries to struggle, but she is caught by his eyes. It was that deep blue that had caught her in the battle, her craving for him created in that moment. It is true that he is hers, he had drunk from her, and she had felt her power over him. Yet she lies helpless before him now, unable to command him to stop. She knows now that it was not another child she had wanted then when she first saw him, but a lover. Centuries of denied longing well up, unchecked now as she has surrendered.
His hands slip between her thighs, her permission given. His thumb rubs against that tiny nub of nerves hidden there, and she shrieks, cut off quickly by another deep kiss. As she gives herself up to the sensation, he lifts her from her chair in one motion, his mouth never leaving hers, his hands leaving her only long enough to shift position.
He lays her on the bed, and strips her clothing away in a move just as smooth as the strength he had lifted her with. She realizes now how graceful he is, how truly lovely. He lowers himself beside her, running his eyes, and then his hand down the length of her torso. She runs a length of his blond hair through her fingers, admiring the silk of it in the light. His tanned form, unusual for a vampire, makes him look like some great barbarian god against the hides that make up her bed.
She rolls atop him, now fully accepting that this must be, and once again confident in her control of him. She straddles him, her body naked above his, proud and powerful. She feels the heat of him under her hands, the greater heat under her legs through his jeans. With a jerk, she rips his shirt from him, leaving only useless scraps lying trapped under his back. She runs nails down his chest, stopping briefly to run his nipples between her fingers as he had done recently to her. The gasp this forces from him pleases her so much that she does it again and again until he grabs her hand to make her stop.
Laughing soundlessly, she leans over him and suckles on his nipple mocking herself and him in one brief gesture. She runs fanged teeth over his skin as he groans and grinds his hips upwards into her. She rides his motions like waves, neither matching him, nor moving against him, but simply letting him move as he will and hanging on.
He touches her again then, sliding his hands into her hair and pulling her to him for another of those hot, hungry kisses. The hands in her hair hold her head tightly, pinching her skull slightly, and refuse to let her move away without his approval. She, in turn, grinds herself against him, making him want her more.
Everything about him was power and muscle and strength, yet she delights in knowing that, here and now, she can control him even without the bond.
He rolls her over, in another one of those beautiful, gliding moves, pinning her arms between them, thrusting against her so fiercely that she can feel every inch of him through the cloth. Pulling back, he jerks his jeans off roughly, as if angry that they should be allowed to constrain him. Tossing them to the side, he returns to her before she has even caught her breath. His mouth drags down her face, her breasts, her stomach leaving a hot trail that quickly turns cool in the air. The sensation makes her all the more hot, all the more impatient to end it.
When he touches her with his tongue, she is reminded of her death. Only being taken by the vampire had compared to this. She moans quietly, unable to even find the breath to shout her delight. She twists under him, but his hands hold her hips firm. It seems that she must escape or die, yet nothing would be worse than having him stop.
Finally, just before she thinks she must lose her mind completely, he raises his head from between her legs and looks again into her eyes.
"With your permission?"
Yes, yes anything. Anything you want, just don't leave me like this. I need...I need, something... She cannot speak, but he feels her through the bond. Lowering his head again, she prepares for another onslaught of his tongue. Instead, she feels the hardness of enamel, the sharp prink of teeth. He drinks from her inner thigh, the blood rushing out with a swiftness she finds dizzying. He will kill me, drain me. The thought is muffled by her heart thumping, the beat loud in her ears. Stop, oh god stop.
And he does. There has been no command on her part, only plea, but he has heard it and obeyed. With another sweep of his tongue, he seals up the wound in her leg and moves over her again.
"I want you. Do you want me?"
She knows he could have had her at any time. He could have killed her and she would have been unresisting. He could have taken her, life and with it her power, her territory and her children. Instead, he has stopped and asked her if she wanted him.
The disappointment and pain on his face is crushing and he moves off of her, rolling to the other side of the bed. He thought she meant she didn't want him. She amends it as she lowers herself on top of him, sliding herself down the length of his body and letting him feel her skin against his.
She slides her mouth over him before he understands what she means to do. He inhales sharply, and his hands grip her hair as he thrusts upwards, unable to stop himself. She takes it, smiling to herself. Despite her total control over her children, her clan, she has never had power like this before. She runs her tongue over him, down the length of him, circling the tip before covering his head with her mouth again. Slowly this time, he moves himself against her, using his hands and his hips to slide the shaft in and out of her mouth, his pace quickens swiftly and his breath comes in ragged gasps.
With a thought command, she stops him just before he cums. She stretches herself like a cat, and marvels at how it was possible, after 300 years, to feel so alive. She smiles at him, thinking about all that they have done. He has stalked her, tricked her and given himself to her, all for a chance to love her. Such devotion can not go unnoticed.
"With your permission." She whispers softly, knowing that even his vampire hearing will never pick it up.
Licking the saltiness from his tip quickly, she settles her mouth over him again and steels herself for what she was about to do.
Then she bites.
She hears his cry, but only dimly. She feels his blood rush into her mouth, swallows and feels him. She feels his pleasure, his wonder. She drinks until they are both too close to the edge to go any further, and then lifts herself over him.
"You are mine now." He whispers to her "Now and for eternity."
She feels reality change around them both, and it is so. She is bound to him now, and he will never let her go.
"And you are mine."
Only vampires may love for eternity, bound in bands of blood and destiny. She kisses him, each tasting their blood and juice on each other's breath, their lives entwined in each other's souls.
She sinks down on him as they kiss and they both make their own special sounds as they make love, each pleasure echoing through the other's mind. Each feels the other's desire, his reflects in her mind, her bliss reflects in his. Each mirrors the other, over endless pinnacles of desire and pleasure that spiral higher and higher until they can go no further.