Hunters Ch. 03

Author's note:

This one took an unconscionably long time to write, but there was a period where I couldn't write it properly, and today that finished, and so did this story.

It's shorter and punchier than the others, and the sex is more about the foreplay and the build than the consummation, but it finished well enough, I think.

There's probably no point in you reading this if you haven't already read the first two - Hunters Ch. 01, and Hunters Ch. 02 (They'll be easy to find).

As always, comments are welcome, and help persuade writers to do more of it.

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Rachel ordered us more room service - her company could afford a very large tab - while I walked into the bathroom, feeling my new senses, my new appreciation of balance and forces and delicate minutiae, with every step, and stared at my naked body in the mirror.

I looked better now. I was fixed. I was now as beautiful as Christopher. I looked the way I should. I could hunt well, now.

Rachel glided into the room behind me, every footstep placed perfectly, every line of her body exquisitely arranged, a beautiful goddess men would fall in love with and beg to feed.

She draped her arms around my shoulders and breathed into my ear "I couldn't have you missing out on this."

I laid my fingers over hers, feeling the life in her pressed against my back, and replied "It was the right thing to do."

I stretched, feeling each individual muscle move as I did so.

"I'm hungry," I said, speaking for both my needs.

"I ordered room service," she replied, then faked a human giggle perfectly, "and take-away."

I slid around in her arms to face her, curious, but she lay one finger against my lips before whirling away and stepping out of the bathroom with a swing of her hips.

No matter, I would find out in time.

I looked at myself in the mirror again, in profile. My gaze travelled down my body. With the faintest effort of will, my penis sprang erect, hard and engorged. Yes, it worked perfectly.

When I walked out of the bathroom, I could almost smell her anticipation. She was pulling a robe about herself, adjusting it automatically to better show her sexuality. I did not pay attention to her breasts as she hid them in the fabric - vampires cannot feed from other vampires.

"I ordered dinner to eat in," Rachel explained, "you need to feed your body, and you need to be sure that you can pass in human society. But you need to feed the vampire first, so I ordered something else."

I cocked my head to one side, and belatedly realised to give her my usual quizzical look.

"Put a robe on," she ordered me. "She should be ..."

She was interrupted by a brisk knock on the door.

With a stirring of predatory anticipation, I put myself out of sight of the door, slipping noiselessly into one of the hotel's supplied robes.

Rachel called out "Come in!" investing her voice with submerged layers of seduction, not yet compulsion but planting the seeds.

The door was opened briskly, and I felt a curl of energy, of vibrant and headily potent humanity, before the woman walked through.

She was medium height and had musculature sculpted by constant, disciplined usage. She wore cycling pants and expensive jogging shoes, with a midriff-baring top, little more than a sports bra, stretched firmly across tight breasts. She was carrying a folded massage table in its bag across one shoulder and a gym bag in that hand, her other hand opening the door, and was neither straining nor leaning to counter-balance them.

As she walked past me, I could taste her like the first vapours of whiskey as they curl into your sinuses.

She smiled, practiced and professional, as she judged her distance to Rachel against the need to close the door, and stepped forwards with her hand out, saying "Hi, you must be Rachel, I'm Sam."

"Magnificent," I murmured as she walked past me, pitching my voice to slide past her consciousness unnoticed, but linger in her subconscious and prime her for later touches. Rachel's expression did not alter, but I could sense her approval at my touch.

"Hello Sam," Rachel said as she shook hands, feeding her familiarity and trust through that touch. "I'm so glad you could fit us in. That's my husband Brett, behind you."

She twisted around, startled not to have noticed me, and I smiled at her as I closed the door, investing the smile with all of my human charm and feeding into it enough vampire direction to soothe her surprise and redirect her imbalance to an appreciation of us - our strength, our beauty, our virility.

As I shook her hand, tasting her, I could tell that she wasn't interested in Rachel, not sexually, and that she had an implacable professional discipline which would prevent her from so much as flirting with me, but she also had an informed appreciation of us physically, and there was more than enough there to work with.

I had to exercise the strongest discipline I could, to prevent myself from lingering over the handshake, but I hid the struggle inside a mannerism and stepped back, leaving her with an extra twinge of flattery lubricating her subconscious.

She hid her confusion impeccably, turning to examine the room, asking "Who's first?" as she took a quick look at the carpet, decided it would do, and lowered her bag and table to the floor.

A look passed from Rachel to me, simple glance that told me she was in control as she said "Oh, I'll go first," as she slowly began to untie her robe.

Sam had her table set up in admirable time, and flicked towels onto it from her bag, grabbing more towels and a pump pack of oil as she asked "One hour each?"

"Yes, please!" Rachel replied, but I was momentarily tongue-tied, lost in a brief moment of ecstatic anticipation. One hour, of tasting her through her hands! My vampire hunger became sharp, and I almost salivated, a brief struggle preventing me from trying to seize her mind too early and losing everything.

Rachel shot me a look of measured, admonitory warning as she lay down on the table, using the robe to shield her nakedness from Sam, letting propriety have the upper hand for now.

She lay down with a grace which Sam could not ignore, the masseuse's professional thrill of pleasure at her movement mingling, without her recognition, with her human sexual response to sexuality.

As Sam draped some towels over Rachel's naked body, positioned her oil bottle and squirted some into her hand, I focused myself with an effort of will, bleeding my voice nearly dry of premature subliminal cues as I asked "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks," she said, smiling over her shoulder with a quick, barely more than professional, flick of her lips, "but if you want to put some music on, go ahead."

I moved to the stereo, making just enough noise for her mind to track me and not keep her unsettled, and the habits of my old, human sense of humour immediately selected Dead Can Dance from Rachel's already plugged-in MP3 player, adjusting the stereo's volume to occupy part of Sam's attention without distracting her.

I moved into the kitchenette, out of sight of the table, and pressed my back against the wall, mouth agape as a repressed shudder of need ran through me and my hands curled into claws against the woodwork.

It was not a sexual hunger, although Sam's body had awoken that in me as well. Nor was it a hunger from the stomach - I had eaten well that day, and the vampire, in possessing me, had not taken a debt of nutrients or protein.

It was something other. A hunger and a need which I had never felt before, had never imagined and was struggling to understand. The frustration of delayed satisfaction was making itself felt in my human flesh through genital arousal and salivary gland activity, but my mind had the power to control both of those urges - satiating either would not help.

I drew in a deep, silent breath, expelled it and drew in another. The mingled frustrations were making me feel tight within my skin, and gave me a caged-animal nervous energy which I must not reveal.

I closed my eyes and focused, dredging up old practice in Dai Qi and Aikido to pool that energy, concentrate it and make use of it. It helped, a little.

To quell the hollow in my stomach, I pulled iced water out of the fridge and mixed myself lime cordial, being busy for long enough to return to a place of composure before I stepped back into the doorway.

Sam had exposed Rachel's naked back and was making long, deep strokes with her thumbs up the spine, the sight making the vampire in me thirst, and the man admire.

"You don't have any knots that I can find," Sam was saying in a voice half admiring and half surprised.

"I keep myself limber," Rachel replied, her voice distorted by the table but devoid of vampire controls.

I could see what she was doing - she was feeding on Sam through her skin, only a small and delicate tasting, but enough to tire and dull the masseuse's mind, making the extra effort of control, unnecessary.

Nonetheless, as I stood silently and watched, my drink almost forgotten in my hand, I could feel myself mentally stretch and reach out, hungry to take hold of her mind and bring this flirtation to a rapid close.

As I did so, I felt, to my astonishment, Rachel dampen my move, pouring a mental bucket of cold water on my ardour, leaving me no less frustrated but considerably chastened.

I retreated back into the kitchenette for a moment, shocked that she had been able to do that, then steeled myself and walked calmly through and into the bedroom, to lie on the bed staring unmoving at the ceiling, fighting a grim battle to keep myself in check.

My body reminded me of the drink in my hand and I sipped at it, focusing on the physical sensations of the cold sliding down my throat, the wetness and the trickle into my stomach, long practice and discipline removing all sexual connotation even as my body maintained its arousal, the knowledge of what was happening next door remaining in my flesh.

I closed my eyes, stilled my breathing, concentrated, and suppressed the flesh, stilling the chemistry so that my penis and my nipples shrank again, my breathing relaxed without my control and the sense of pressure in my head faded.

I lay on the bed, feeling my body and my sense of control until I knew that I had control and would not lose it, then finished the glass in my hand and swung to my feet.

I was able to spare enough mental focus to ensure that my balance and my muscular control was perfect, and then enough again to allow myself a feeling of satisfaction that my human self may have experienced as smugness.

I walked through the main room again towards the kitchenette, seeing and feeling the faint flicker of attention that Sam gave to this new stimuli as she worked her knuckles deep into the side of Rachel's left buttock.

I could also taste the slow, delicate satisfaction of Rachel's tasting of the masseuse, a controlled trickle of life carefully calculated to not quite be noticeable, and to be well within Sam's reserves. It was an exhibition of self control, and of endurance, that I would need to learn from.

In the kitchenette, I leaned against the counter top and pressed my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes as I sought a deeper level of relaxation.

I knew the drawn-out pleasure of satiation delayed, I could play that game. But it did not come naturally to the human, nor the vampire. Both were primitive beasts, cultured by history but not genetics, and all their hungers cried out for gratification.

Their combined clamour threatened to overwhelm me the instant I dropped my guard, which made concentration the one essential here. Everything else - dissembling, feeding, manipulating the oh-so-vibrant prey in the next room - was dependent upon my being able to control the human and the vampire at the same time and under great duress. Had Rachel planned this? Had she gone through this torment, or had she decided that I needed more?

With sudden resolve, I pushed myself upright and walked casually back into the suite's main room. In order to defeat this challenge, I must face it.

I sat down nearly out of Sam's line of sight as she stood facing Rachel's feet and ran her hands in deep, hard, flesh-distorting strokes down my maker's calves. I could sense that her body was slightly more tired than she should be by this point, which was as tired as I would be after walking to my local shop, but that her mind was delicately fatigued in a way that she could not recognise and was powerless to fight.

I was struck by respect at how Rachel had achieved this (could I still feel admiration?), then felt the masseuse with my vampire instincts and realised that I had this ability, but not, perhaps, the self control. My respect remained, but now with a different focus.

Now I felt intently, eavesdropping on how Rachel was manipulating the masseuse, feeling my vampire grow and mature as it witnessed this, feeling everything that the vampire held in instinct and racial memory, be lain bare before my awareness.

So that explained how Rachel, less than a day old, was so accomplished. There is no long period of apprenticeship to be a vampire - merely a long period of mastery.

I could also sense the limits to Rachel's self-control and patience, and her hunger itching to be satisfied.

I stood up, dropping my robe off my shoulders and stepping forwards naked.

Sam stepped backwards, docile, not questioning our decision to change places, not reacting to my inappropriate nudity although her body knew, and her body reacted as any young and healthy human would.

Rachel moved off the table like an impatient leopard, stalking across the room, holding herself in check.

I lay down, making myself comfortable as Sam, moving mostly by habit, lay a towel across me and began the massage.

I could taste her even through the towel, and had to hold myself in check from grabbing her and drinking my fill.

She was so far under our gentle control by this point that she didn't even notice that my mental tension was becoming physical before I forced myself to relax and to savour her taste.

But I could feel Rachel across the room, and her hunger was flavouring the air between us, making it hard for me to concentrate.

When Sam pulled the towel down and applied her oiled hands to my bare skin for the first time, the direct contact made the vampire in me rear its head like a striking snake, and both Rachel and I had to struggle to withdraw.

Sam was working hard, her muscles bunching and flowing under her skin as she pressed her fingertips deep into the muscles in my back, and it was like drinking through gauze, that lets you taste but gives you only a trickle.

A fresh vampire, I was like a man lost in a desert, and I was growing crazy with thirst.

My body was enjoying the massage, but the conflicting signals it was receiving from the vampire were confusing it, and it responded sexually, growing painfully hard against the table.

My hands curled into claws as I struggled to draw out this experience, savour it and not be a rabid beast ripping at any tasty morsel sent its way.

It was Rachel who moved first.

"I've waited long enough," she said with a growl in her voice, standing up still naked and stalking across the room.

Sam, blank of mind, swayed backwards as I twisted from face-down to sitting, cock demanding human fulfilment as I felt the vampire stretch out through every part of my body, reaching for this feast in front of me.

Rachel reached Sam and yanked her shorts off her hips and down to her knees in one quick motion, pushing her forward onto me.

Her knees folded as I lifted her up to the right height, and she ended up kneeling astride my hips, pressing into me.

"You will give to my husband," Rachel snarled, reaching around to spread Sam's puppy lips with one hand while guiding me into her with the other.

The masseuse gave a soft cry as she dropped fully around me, and her head rolled back onto Rachel's shoulder.

I pushed her sports bra up off her tits and Rachel's hands came up to cup and crush them, pulling the tight, muscular body hard against her with more than human strength.

Rachel's mouth attacked to Sam's neck as though she really did have fangs, and I pushed them both back, giving me room to lower my head and first lick, then bite and suck the nipples protruding, engorged and hard, from between Rachel's fingers.

Sam, reduced to a nearly mindless body, flesh with strongly fertile instincts and responses, moaned and gasped, shuddering and beginning to lift and lower on my cock, her knees on the table effortlessly taking the strain as she fucked me, desperate for her release.

Rachel, knowing the value of all emotions, including frustration, held Sam hard, forcing her to a slower pace, all the while grinding the masseuse's breasts in slow circles, the flesh twisting and distorting under her hands, the sensations flooding into Sam's mind along with the pleasure from her nipples and her cunt and rolling together, indistinguishable.

Rachel began to bite on Sam's shoulders and I moved upwards, my mouth taking hers and kissing hard enough to bruise her human lips as I guided her hands off my shoulders and behind her, to where her twitching fingers found Rachel's cunt and clutched at it, following my wife's desires perfectly.

The feel of Sam's life was so much greater than the mere touch of her hands had been, so much more potent and sweeter.

It was like being wrapped in heat, like swimming in syrup.

It coated me the way no sex ever had or ever could, and made me want even more, and I could already feel my body's response curling in my balls.

"We need blood," I said as Sam's assaulted body neared orgasm and was halted on the brink by a glancing effort of my will.

Rachel merely smirked, and pulled a tiny, folding blade out of her mouth, un-clipping it from her back teeth.

She made a quick cut on each of Sam's shoulders, and we both dropped our mouths to drink as I released my hold on her orgasm and she came with a strangled wail.

Her blood tasted iron in my mouth, but the energy in it exploded inside me like a star.

I screamed against her skin and my body exploded inside her, my cock shooting my sterile seed deep in her cunt.

I felt for a second like a god as her life rushed through me, and felt Rachel's ecstatic response on the other side of Sam's sweaty, shaking body.

It did not take much blood to give us all that we could handle, and when we had finished Rachel stepped back and I rolled Sam's half-insensate body onto the massage table, letting it sprawl there half on, half off, her sports bra bunched up above her tits, her shorts around her ankles, her cum and mine leaking slowly out her shaved cunt.

I stood, stretching, feeling the energy course through me, knowing that, if necessary, it would keep me going for a week.

"What do we do with her?" I asked casually as I felt Rachel humming with new life beside me.

"Do you have any more appointments today?" Rachel asked the limp figure.

"No..." it breathed weakly, barely audible.

"Are you meeting anyone later today?"

"Boyfriend... Dinner... Eight..."

"Good, that's easy," Rachel said, suddenly decisive, her voice humming with harmonics of Sam's personality as the traces she had absorbed, evaporated from her.

We quickly dressed, fixed Sam's clothes, and helped her carry her stuff down to her car, avoiding other guests who might wonder at the somnambulist between us.

Rachel drove Sam's car back to the masseuse's house and I returned to the room to wait for dinner to be delivered.

When it came, the trolley was being pushed by a short, young girl who hid tattoos under her uniform and who was only just within regulations as she checked me out with youthful appreciation when my back was turned and she thought I wouldn't notice.