My Little Ventrue Pt. 04 Ch. 01

He coughed and looked around. Leblanc was going to sleep for a few hours at least, and the music kept any conversation from going far to listening ears. Plus Clara had her lips only inches from his ear, whispering secrets that would make anyone tremble. He still remembered what it was like stabbing that spider, driving metal down through its body, how it had possessed a human, eaten others.

"I... really kind of preferred it when science explained everything. Whatever happened to science?"

"Science can't explain you or me or that Azlu or the other realms, or any of the things that go bump in the night." She shrugged and motioned to the unconscious woman next to her. "How the fuck does your bite make humans melt, and give you sustenance? Could put it under a microscope, but any organic material a scientist could scrape off of you turns to dust. Convenient, isn't it?"

"Very convenient." He sighed and glanced past Clara toward the unconscious woman. It hurt, it really fucking hurt his insides to have to abandon science. Maybe not abandon it, but accept that there were things science couldn't explain, maybe never explain. He'd spent so much of his life learning how to think logically, how to act instead of react, how to measure and weigh and analyze things objectively.

And every god damn night, his Requiem showed him that he, nor anyone, would ever understand anything. And that the things he didn't understand were very much a danger, killing and slaughtering and devouring. Fuck whoever said: what you don't know can't hurt you.

"So," he said, looking back to Clara and her slightly cocky grin, "Uratha go to this place called the Hisil?"

"Mmhmm. Probably a place you don't want to go. You know how vamps are: love your cars, your money, your material things."

"I... yeah, that's true. Though honestly, a lot of this stuff sounds like it'd be up Jacob's alley."

The werewolf sighed, but nodded. "That's how shit with Minerva got started. But, if we're staying — and it looks like we are — we need to play nice. Avery says we're in the clear to talk about the Hisil, at least a little. And if I know Art and Matt, they'll probably want to show it to Natasha." She laughed and reached over to poke the sleeping woman. "Not this one, the tiny one, the cuter one."

"Natasha, Art, and Matt?"

"Yeah, those three locking legs like they are, I'm sure the boys would love to show her interesting things. You... you uh... don't know do you?"

"No, I don't." Well damn. He raised his hand and started rubbing his buzzed head, brow furrowed a little as he thought about it. It wasn't like Natasha was sleeping with the enemy, but getting in bed with Uratha—"Wait. Both?"

"Ch'yeah. Those two are best friends, been sharing everything for some... almost thirty years now? And they like to share girls, if they can find one into that that they like, who likes them. Guess your friend fits the bill." She shrugged and motioned to all the sex and alcohol and dancing and drugs around them. "Considering the city, and considering she's a vamp with quite a few years on her, I'm sure threesomes are pretty normal for her."

He wasn't so sure about that. Natasha was a whole new level of shy and closed off compared to most people. But, if it was true, good for her. Great for her even. But now he had the image of tiny Natasha between two werewolves, in bed, legs hooked up around each other.

Ugh, now he wouldn't be able to look at her without getting the image in his head.

"The vamps in Tijuana were a mixed bag," she continued. "Some of them liked sex, some of them loved it and had harems, basically. But the older ones didn't. They just hid in their mansions or underground labyrinths, plotting, scheming, killing. Way I hear it here, your uptight elders are all dead now."

He nodded, and squirmed a little. Yeah, three of them dead, all his fault.

"Yeah I'm pretty lucky," he said. "I got into this mess, this crazy world, not even a year ago. My family lives closer to North Side, typical middle class you know? Had no idea this insane world of vampires and werewolves, and apparently sex and sex and more sex was going on right under my nose."

More laughter, from the two of them this time, and she leaned back in her booth before hooking one of her arms around Natasha. For some reason the werewolf liked her unconscious booth fellow.

"Guess the pack is going to have to get used to it, letting down our guard a bit. Seeing vamps fucking, without thralls and buddies and shit to watch their back? Feels weird. Hell even in Garry's area, much as the humans in the area act homely and nice, you can hear the moans through the walls, sometimes from different buildings. Everyone just lets loose in this town."

"It wasn't so bad where I grew up... but maybe I just tuned it out after a while? I did love headphones."

Clara chuckled, and got up. With a few hand waves she ushered him out of the booth, and the two of them headed back down the stairs. Once they were outside, they both took in deep breaths.

"God damn fresh air," he said.

"The fuck you need air for?"

"Don't need it, but it smells nice. Feels good clearing out the nostrils of all that sex, and drugs, and sweat and drinks and who knows what else."

The two of them, on the street, laughing. Seemed fine, seemed ok, but a little voice in his head kept nagging at him. She likes you, despite knowing you have a girlfriend. This is unknown territory for you, be careful.

"But, officially, Avery says I should tell you that we do plan on staying, though I'm sure that's common knowledge for you vamps right now, monitoring us and shit."

"True, yeah."

"So new info, she does want you to come our way in three days. You busy then?"

Three days? "Invictus don't have any pressing concerns..." Other than the fire he's supposed to be investigating. He kind of wanted to ask her, but maybe it'd be better to go through Avery? Clara would be more willing to share info, but Avery was the politically safer option. Less likely to make a misstep and accidentally piss someone off.

He'd wait for Avery, ask her.

"I'll be there."

"Good. Cya around kid." The werewolf leaned in a little, and winked at him, before walking off.

And he watched her walk off. She was fit, with a touch of thickness to her arms with muscle, subtle broadness to her back, a tiny waist of abs, and a toned ass that the jeans hugged tight. And unless he was mistaken — and he wasn't — she was swaying her ass as she walked, with more emphasis than usual.

Maybe twenty feet later, she was enveloped in the crowd, in the dresses and suits, the nice shirts and expensive shoes of the kine walking by. The flow of life and blood around him wasn't nearly as overwhelming with some blood fueling him, keeping his bloodlust low and his energy high. It let him focus on watching the humans walk by, and for his nose to adjust just enough for him to pick up on Clara's perfume.

She wasn't wearing perfume the first time they met.

Nope nope, not happening. She liked him, sure. He'd heard women found unavailable men more attractive, sure. But that was just a silly stereotype. And even if it was true, he had a woman, and woman he loved. A woman who'd rip him into literal pieces if he betrayed her love.

Try as he might, he couldn't just suddenly forget Clara's beauty, or her beautiful breasts. Or that she'd licked him, down in the tunnels.

God damn it. He needed help. He trusted himself, but shit never went the way he planned. Hell, just putting his foot in his mouth could easily get him in trouble with the Prince, and it wasn't trouble he wanted.

He took out his phone, and called a ride back home. Mental note: call Julias later. Maybe he could help your dumb ass.

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~~Beatrice~~

She set the binoculars down to her neck to hang from the string, and sighed. Jack and that Amanda girl, investing the fire she was investigating. Kind of hurt not letting him know she was looking into it too, but as much as the kid was her friend, he was still Invictus.

Probably trying to find out how their fellow Kindred died. The fire was made to look like it got him, but she doubted it; possible, just very unlikely. Younger Kindred died in such ways, getting killed because they underestimated sunrise, or not respecting how damaging fire could be. But this Barry fellow wasn't a fledgling, he didn't make mistakes like that far as she knew.

Her job tonight was complete. Now she knew the Invictus were investigating, but only sending a couple young neonates to do so. Gave her an impression of the severity factor, or lack there of, and that was something to report back to Jacob. But first, a little more recon.

She headed in the direction of Garry's, or more specifically, Garry's new werewolf buds. She knew he knew Avery, from what Jacob told her, but she didn't realize they were this close, for Garry to give her free reign of one of the apartment buildings. Not a big one, maybe only twenty rooms, but more than enough for the Uratha's pack, especially with one dead.

She winced as she remembered the look on Jacob's face. The way he smiled, the way he almost glowed with joy. He hated Avery, god damn he hated Avery, and that could have been enough of a reason to justify his happiness with the death of her packmate. But the way he said 'I know' made her think there was more to it. Made her suspect her boss of being responsible. How the fuck he could have been responsible, she had no idea, but it was the impression she got from his response.

Look at her, suspecting her boss. He'd have been proud of her, if she could tell him.

With her cloak of night hiding her, she climbed up onto a nearby building, pulled out her binoculars again, and watched the apartment she knew the werewolves were living in. One building dedicated to a group would have been dangerous in most cities, but Dolareido was in a peaceful state, assuming Barry's death wasn't the work of some other Kindred. So having a bunch of vamps together in a single building was normal enough, and it wasn't like werewolves had the same weaknesses. If someone set their building on fire during the day, they'd just jump out the window or something. And pissing off tanks of death, tanks that could walk around during the day, was not a good idea.

So she sat there, and watched. Watched and listened. And listening turned into a more lucrative experience than watching the building, as the distant call of high-pitched moans tickled her ears. She chuckled and shook her head as she tried to find the source of the sounds. Maybe make her night of recon a little more interesting as least.

A few building hops later, she crouched low to the roof of one of the taller buildings, and looked down into the alley. She did miss this neighborhood. This place, this time of night, people were sleeping soundly. And the place was a pretty nice place, low income but with great people, nice people, so anyone who did bother going out this late wouldn't be feeling too threatened by nightlife. And that included young kine or Kindred looking to fuck in places they shouldn't be fucking. Exhibitionism was a kink she understood all too well, and with a pair of binoculars in her hand, so was voyeurism.

But she didn't expect werewolves to be fucking in an alleyway at this time of night. And fucking a Kindred at that.

Oh good god it was Natasha. Tiny, little, cute Natasha, with her pale skin and long black hair... on her knees, with two Uratha standing around her. Arturo and Matthew, her friends. Both had their jean flies open, their cocks out — wow, fucking endowed, holy shit — and looking down at the tiny woman sucking on them, stroking them, playing with them.

Well, mind blown. Beatrice figured Natasha had a sexual side to her the Nosferatu didn't know, considering the girl was much older than her, old enough to discover kinks and desires people never knew they had, while she also wasn't old enough to become jaded to them. But she'd never expected sweet, innocent looking Natasha to be doing something this dirty, this submissive, in public.

Fucking. Hot.

Natasha was a Mekhet, and that meant she could spot shit others couldn't. And the two Uratha were god damn Uratha, and older ones at that. For all intents and purposes, they'd be able to catch Beatrice if they were looking for her, see through her cloak of night. But they weren't looking for her, they were enjoying some alleyway fun, so, Beatrice decided to stick around. What's the worse that could happen anyway, they spot her and the situation got awkward? Meh.

But god damn, seeing Natasha gazing up at the two wolves, that blatant look of meek and helpless on her face, mixed with so much arousal Beatrice could practically feel the heat coming off the girl's body from all the way up on the roof. Didn't figure Natasha to be that sort. Thought maybe the quiet little girl had a more of a dominant side, maybe liked to give orders in bed, tell her man — or woman — what to do, be a little dominatrix. A stereotypical view, that a girl's personality flipped once under the sheets.

Lesson learned. Natasha looked embarrassed, submissive, obedient, and horny-as-fuck all at the same time as she stroked their cocks. She took turns with her mouth, kissing the fat glans of one of the men, before the other, then back to the first again. And without either men even touching her except to maybe stroke her hair a bit, she was making more of those little mewls and moans, the sort of moans a girl made when she was really enjoying herself. A bit at juxtaposition with how both men were just watching, but that made it all the hotter. She doubted Natasha was the sort to fake anything in bed; meant she really was enjoying herself.

Beatrice, you're not here to spy on your friend's friend having sex. You're here to spy on the Carthians and Uratha and see if they're checking out the dead Kindred and burned building as well.

... five more minutes. This was just too good to pass up. Natasha was really, really enjoying herself, enjoying herself in that way that was intoxicating to watch. Sweet little girl, milking two enormous men of muscle and testosterone and blood, moaning and mewling onto their cocks as she tried to satisfy both of them at the same time. The way she was looking up at them with that half begging, half overwhelmed expression, was making Triss's knees shiver.

Ok, stop you pervert. Get going. Five more minutes? No! Exercise some self control.

With a silent sigh, Beatrice shook out her shoulders and forced herself to crawl away. A few building hops later, she found a different roof she could hang out on, hide in her cloak, and relax. Course relaxing was hard when her mind kept picturing what she just saw. People in Dolareido loved to find bad places for good sex, and alleyways often fit that description. Not that she had ever partaken in alleyway sex as a Kindred, being Nosferatu and all. And now that she was with Julias, she really enjoyed having sex in various places in a mansion instead. Because he treated her like a princess. A bad princess that deserved to be punished.

She giggled, and slapped herself in the forehead for daring to make such a sound. She did not giggle, she growled or chuckled. Princesses giggled; which upon considering, made her hate the sound a little less. There had been the occasional giggle sometimes, when she and Julias had experimented with some of the funnier options being rich provided: frilly dresses, expensive sheets, that sort of thing. The last thing they'd tried, was her with her hands tied behind her back — like that could ever stop a Nosferatu — and wearing a Victorian ball gown. Like a naughty princess that needed a thorough spanking and fucking.

As she thought about Natasha, she considered the whole blowjob thing. It wasn't something her and Julias ever really did, cause she wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea, not with all the extra teeth on her face anyway. But the two of them had been together for a while, and the man showed no signs of being turned off by her teeth, or her green snake eyes, or her claws. Or, when she felt like showing it off, her really long tongue.

Maybe she should try it? Was a fun time when she was human, making a man squirm like that, and Julias had certainly earned it, considering how many times the man had put his lips on her.

She slapped herself in the forehead again. Focus! Stop thinking about sex all the time! Ugh, being with the Circle was really doing a number on her sex drive, considering Jennifer and Othello fucked openly, and almost every night.

But, some movement drew her attention. People moving around, two of them, leaving the werewolves' apartment building. Avery and... David, she believed his name was. A big, strong looking guy, bit young too, and he had this weird habit of drifting his eyes to look at random things. Every so often, Avery gave him a small pat on the shoulder, like calming down a fidgety dog.

God damn good thing she had some good binoculars, or she was sure Avery would be able to see her. No neonate's cloak of night was going to hide her from one of these fuckers from close, especially an older one. So she stayed a good ways away, and became a statue as the wolves moved around. Moved around. Moved around some more. And continued to walk around, until Beatrice realized they were just out for a fucking stroll and chatting.

Not like they'd suddenly go and do something super sneaky and important the first night she'd come to monitor them. Wasn't a fucking Bond movie. She wished it was, but it wasn't. And once Avery and David had dropped by a butcher to get some meat, she realized she was wasting her time watching them. Ah well, at least she got to learn who was investigating Barry's death.

Sighing, she headed back to the cave.

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Thank god no moaning sounds tonight. Aaron was sitting around reading a book, and Othello was also reading a book. She was afraid to ask the Daeva what book. Jennifer was out, probably on a hunt, or maybe digging up some info. Jacob had asked them to dig up info on Azamel and the Begotten in general; she could have been out looking into that too. No idea where to begin looking into info about literal nightmares. Maybe ask Fiona? Nah the girl seemed ignorant of the details Jacob would be interested in, like what the Begotten were up to, or how they went about their business in the modern world.

But it'd be nice to take the girl out for a party or something. Not that Beatrice got to party with any kine, but maybe bring her to the next Kindred ball, or gathering or something. Could be fun. Girl would get under Invictus skin so badly, but probably really get along with everyone else. That alone would make it worthwhile.

With a sigh, Beatrice walked up to the blood bowl. Empty. Sometimes Jacob did things, alone, in the dark once he kicked the rest of the Circle of the Crone out of the cave. He did things with his blood magic, his crúac rituals, things that occasionally made some very inhuman sounds, more beast than anything. Rituals that allowed Kindred, according to him, to bypass the limitations of their vampire bodies and perform truly wondrous things.

What a load of shit. He just liked to be vague about his explanations. But that night when he'd bestowed her with the cloak of night strength of an elder Kindred was burned into her memory. Felt good to be that strong. And unnatural.

"Jacob in?" she said to Aaron. Othello was in his room reading something on his e-reader, but Aaron had a proper book, and he looked deep in it with his chair leaning back, and his feet against the stone around the giant mural of bones.

"No." Without missing a beat, Aaron turned to another page.

Maybe it was time she found out what sort of stuff the Gangrel liked reading?