My Little Ventrue Pt. 05 Ch. 08

"I s-said stop! Now!" Please listen please listen please listen.

They stood there, panting, growling and snarling, claws digging at the floor, hands twitching and squeezing. She was half sure they were going to eat her, but she stood her ground, and frowned at them, at their massive teeth drooling saliva and blood, at their eyes, lost in rage and madness. If she didn't stop them, Jacob was going to kill them, and she didn't want that.

Trembling with only God knew how much adrenaline pumping through their massive veins, the two werewolves looked down at her, then to Jacob behind her, then back to her, and around one more time, before their body language started to relax. Their colossal arms fell to their sides, their pounce poses stood up taller, straighter, and their heads fell forward. They began to shrink, hundreds and hundreds of pounds of muscle fading away, disappearing into nothing, as their clothes started to reemerge, taking over where the fur had once covered them. Eyes recolored, claws slipped back into their fingers, and lips replaced their snouts.

Both men, sweating and shaking, stared at her, eyes looking her up and down, breath coming in heavy and heartbeats loud enough for the Kindred to hear them. The only two heartbeats in the room, after all.

"... he killed Stephanie," Art said. "I don't know how, but he's responsible. Him and Black Blood... did something, must have..."

Tash looked over her shoulder at Jacob. The evil man smirked, leaned back into the wall of bloody and carved symbols, not unlike those found at the ritual site, and folded his arms across his chest.

"M-Maybe, somehow, but you don't know! Let's... let's go."

Matt didn't look convinced. He came in closer, and she put her arm out to block him. Like a wall of iron.

"He's fucking with the Hisil, Tash. He's causing mayhem, and he's probably behind these fucking red wraiths. Look at this." A sweeping gesture to the bowl, the room, and the smell of the dead. "He's making deals with devils."

Jacob laughed, and tapped a finger on his lip. "I wish."

Tash looked back at him, blinking. What a strange thing to say. Sighing and steeling herself once more, she reached out, and pushed against Art and Matt.

"Let's go. He... he c-can do whatever he wants. We know he has this p-p-place now, and what he's d-doing, that's enough." She put her hands to the chest of each beast at her eye level, and pushed. They didn't know what he was doing, not really, just what he was using to do whatever it was he was doing. But, it was still something.

The two wolves gave in to her pressing, and started back toward the exit.

She expected Jacob to say something, to taunt them, to invite more of their aggression; he could handle it easily enough, and it may give him the excuse to kill more of Avery's pack. Steel face! Don't let him know you're worried.

Too late. The evil man smirked at her, winked — she thought — and waved at her. The boys didn't see it thankfully, their heads pointed forward for a few seconds, drooping, like sad dogs. Her sad, sad dogs.

Digging through the memories of her time as a kine, she found one, a tiny one, buried in dust and jadedness; once upon a time, she did want a dog.

"Say hi to Maria for me, Tash," Jacob said. "Hope she succeeds."

She peeked over at Jacob, and the corpse that had collapsed when they penetrated the fog. A corpse that had collapse, and a final poke at a secret about Maria, or the secret she was keeping. Jacob was a bastard, a royal bastard. But then, why would he say something like that, poke at something like that, point Tash in that direction?

Antoinette might know. She'd make sure to ask. But for the rest of the night, she was going to take care of her wounded dogs.

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"Th-thank you," she said, as she invited the boys into her apartment. She hadn't slept there in weeks, but it was still home, for now.

"I smelled more than Jacob and his witches there," Art said as he dragged himself in. Much as he looked fine on the outside, it was easy to see he was beat up bad, mentally and physically. "Smelled wraiths, and Black Blood, and the sheriff, too."

"That... d-doesn't surprise me. I'm sure my sire has b-been there, and... y-yeah, him and Jacob d-don't get along." No need to worry about the sheriff being her sire. They didn't care, and they were unlikely to repeat it to anyone but their fellow pack anyway.

"... Avery is going to be mad at us," Matt said, sinking onto her couch. Poor couch, it struggled to handle his mass. "Those red wraiths are obsessed with blood and guts, are linked to this, to what Jacob's doing. It's very strange. It's not something spirits would be interested in normally."

"B-But nothing bad has... uh, I guess the ritual, but we d... d-don't know if that's because of Jacob or not." Jumping to conclusions was bad. They had to be scientific about this, or they'd end up blaming the wrong person. It wasn't like vampires didn't often try and misdirect.

Art nodded, not happy, but understanding at least. "We'll talk to Avery about this, leave you out of it. If there's some connection between Jacob and Black Blood, these red wraiths, and that ritual those hunters probably performed." Nodding to himself again, he slumped down onto the couch beside Matt, and pat the man on the shoulder. "You ok?"

"Yeah... yeah. He hit me with that dream, and... yeah."

"Dream?" Tash came up to the boys, Art scooted aside, and she sat between them. Her poor, expensive couch did not like fighting to support their weights, but she might as well have not been there, perched on the mound of couch between the two wolves.

Art looked to Matt, but Matt kept his eyes on the floor.

"A... it's a... it's so stupid," the gentle giant said.

Tash blinked at him, looked back at Art, and found his friend with his eyes drifting to the floor as well, heavy.

"If you... d-don't want to tell me, it's ok." If anyone understood a desire for privacy, it was her.

"Nah, it's not that, just... it's a stupid dream that's been bothering me since I was a kid. Keep seeing my parents freeze to death, and... and I wasn't even there to see it happen. Fucking digs at the gut though, you know? Keep thinking I could have helped them if I was there..." The gentle giant let his head slump more, and his forearms dangle off his knees.

Part of her wanted to share the misery from her own past, her issues with her father, and what her disappearance had done to him. But, no, another time. Tonight had been rough enough on the two of them, especially Matt, if Jacob had forced him to relive such a nightmare. She reached out, stroked his leg, and nudged her head into his arm.

"Thanks, by the way," Art said, "for stopping us. Damn easy to get caught up in it, in that form. Really want to sink your claws into something, tear it apart..."

"That was brave of you." Matt leaned down over her, kissed her head, and set his hand on hers on his leg. "After what we did to you, when we met you? Very brave."

She grinned up at him, and Art too. "You... you t-two were... scary."

"Were we?" Art reached out, slipped his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her toward him. Didn't have far to go with all their hips bumping, but soon her shoulder was leaning into his side, against his waist. "After what that vamp did to us? Figured he knocked us down a peg on the intimidation scale."

"... n-not very much." Seeing the two Uratha get royally injured had been startling. Seeing the two Uratha stand back up and regenerate in moments, more startling. "B-But, Jacob is... Jacob is special. Him and the P-Prince, they um... they are... t-t-two of the most powerful Kindred... in the world. Please b-be careful with him."

The giant nodded. "Yeah, after tonight, I won't be getting in his way unless the pack's there."

Unless the pack's there. Could Avery and her pack kill him? Maybe. They were strong, and she was sure Avery was extremely strong. But Jacob was Jacob, and there was no getting around that he wasn't only an elder. He was ancient, and wise.

Sighing, she buried her face into Art's side, and breathed him in. She didn't want them hurt. Knowing Matt was haunted by dreams of his family dying, family he didn't get to see die, put a new perspective on the indomitable werewolves: they were still human, deep on the inside, like her.

Art hugged her closer with his arm, and his hand drifted down her opposite hip, then onto her stomach, where his fingers started to pluck at her skirt's waistband.

"Arturo! You... you can't b-be serious." She frowned up at him, and nodded her head toward Matt. "He's can't b-b—"

Matt slipped his arm behind her, around her to her other hip, and got his fingers under the waistband, as well.

She rolled her eyes, and slapped them both on their legs at the same time. It did not deter them, and she squirmed as the two beasts started to fight against her clothes. Off came the jacket, and out came the shirt from the waistband of her skirt. She squeaked, and stared up at Art as the man took her shoulders, and turned her around so she was facing Matt. Matt took her legs, pulled them up onto the couch, and slid his hands up her legs before finding her skirt and pulling it off.

Trapped! Trapped and about to be ravished by two beasts. She struggled to hide her smile. Apparently, their sex drives were indomitable as well, if a night of being thoroughly beaten by an old enemy wasn't enough to deter them.

"D-Don't you... um, have to report to Avery, or... or something?"

Matt shook his head. "It can wait till morning."

Right, right, morning. Not an option for her, but the werewolves had no trouble, and they often went long bouts without much sleep, so they could spend time with her.

She squeaked as Art started on the buttons of her shirt. Wait, didn't Antoinette suggest she try something? That she should try taking charge for once, instead of being on the receiving end?

After what she accomplished in Jacob's lair, maybe she could manage that.

She gave Art and Matt's hands a quick tap, a touch harder than usual, and they stopped, eyebrows raised. She stood up, only in her shirt and underwear now, and put her hands on her hips, in fists. Time to take charge.

"I... I'm going t-to... change into something sexier! And tonight, you... t... you two are going to let me give the orders!"

Art and Matt looked at each other, her, back and forth again, and nodded. "Yes ma'am," they said, in unison.

Wow, that was easier than she thought. No hesitation, no issue, no playful aggression she'd have to break through. They understood what she wanted, and immediately, at that. She beamed with triumph. Not that she was against letting the boys doing their usual thing with her, but tonight she was feeling bold. Tonight, she had wandered into one of Jacob's lairs, negotiated with him, convinced him to stand down, and had managed to stop two very angry, very deadly, hulking beasts of brawn, to calm them down. She wasn't some silly neonate anymore, she was ancilla; a deadly creature, powerful, and a force to be reckoned with.

"You, stay," she said. Both boys smirked, and she meeped. That was a dog command. Shrugging, doing her best to pass it off, she went to the bedroom. What else did she and Antoinette speak of? Clothes! Something girly, something silly, something fun. She didn't need to always be bookworm Natasha, or sneaky, shadow lurker Natasha. She could be fun and spontaneous, like Jessy, and maybe feminine too, like Antoinette. And, maybe cute too, like Gloria.

Or, she could stop trying to label everything, stop trying to put all her actions into neat and tidy little categories, and just go with her emotions. Hard for her, very hard, but was getting easier, especially with these two boys making her laugh on an almost daily basis. Easier for her to do something like, grab the pink nightie and pink thigh high socks from her closet, and change into them.

A second to look in the mirror. She was a tiny, dainty little thing, a few inches shy of five feet, with a skinny body and small breasts. But, she looked like a woman too, a petite woman with sleek curves; she grinned in the mirror as she rotated to admire how the nightie exposed her stomach. No underwear. She shivered a little as she looked at her tiny slit in the mirror. Just a body part in the past, but now, something she was proud of, and eager to share with her boyfriends.

So salacious! So very much unlike her; except, not true, not anymore. There was that time that Jessy had complimented her sex, described its tiny stature with lascivious adjectives. At the time, it'd been overwhelming, and almost offensive. Now, she realized she needed to pay Jessy a compliment, for exposing a new side of herself.

Later. For now, she was going to ride the high of being in charge, and have fun with her boyfriends.

"Ok, b-boys... come in."

Like hungry dogs, they shuffled in quick, and both of them dropped their jaws at the sight of her, on her knees, on the bed.

"Damn," they said together.

"You t-two... Naked. Now." Another order. She was on a roll tonight.

The two men didn't waste time, and tossed their clothes away with all the grace of children, jeans landing on the floor, shirts onto the wardrobe, socks lost to the closet monster. Once they were naked, she motioned them in toward her, and pointed at the bed. And, nodding, eyes wide and locked onto her, each of the titans slipped onto the bed, and knelt around her, one at each end of the bed, facing her.

She giggled, a bright sound she felt terribly embarrassed about, and more flustered as her skin, demonstrated her embarrassment with total body blushing. But it was ok to be embarrassed, she knew; Art and Matt didn't care. They both stared at her, licking their lips, on their knees with their shafts standing up at attention. All the control was in her hand, she could do whatever she wanted, and they would her. Not only that, but staring at her was enough to get them both hard, very hard, cocks twitching every so often, and their eyes eating her with ravenous need.

She was getting wet.

As her eyes drifted between the two large men, she looked their bodies of mass and muscle up and down, eventually settling on Matthew. So utterly massive, Matthew was, and his shoulder-length dark blond hair and face scruff gave him that rugged model look. And his green eyes were to die for. She crawled toward him, cat-like, or her best attempt anyway, and set her hands onto his naked thighs, then his hips, and then his steel chest as she got in closer, and closer. Soon she was on her knees between his, his cock against her bare stomach.

Near seven feet of titanic strength, size, heat, testosterone and desire, kneeling there, unmoving, and watching her with his hands on his knees, his eyes wide. After what happened to him tonight, he deserved a little treat, first.

"You t-two... you always get so aggressive, pin me down and... d-d-do things to me." She shivered with the memory, and shivered twice over, as one of her hands reached down to rest along the thick girth pressing against her flat stomach.

"We—"

"No, d-d-don't... apologize. I like it... a lot." Whole body blushing red, it was easier to say embarrassing things now, at peak blushing, when she couldn't get any redder. And it was good to say it, they deserved to know she liked it; and it was good to hear them both groan with desire at her words. "But, sometimes? A girl... she likes t-to... to... lead." Her hand upon the man's cock pressed down on it, while she herself knelt straight up. Matt was sitting on his ankles, which gave her enough leeway, with her hips raised, to guide his cock's head to press underneath her folds.

In seconds, she could tell. She'd coated the first two inches of him in her juices.

"I can definitely say that Art and I are perfectly cool if you want to do that," the giant said, breath quickening, heart rate increasing. From this close, she could hear it, thumping in his chest, demanding satisfaction with animal need. But he remained in control, if only barely, she could tell.

"Good." She nodded, grinning up at the man as her one hand pressed against his hard, enormous chest, and her other began to tease and caress the top side of his cock. "I... I mean... d-don't think you shouldn't... you know... g-get aggressive and... d-d-do things to me, like before. But t-tonight... I want to... b-be in charge." After seeing Jessy and Antoinette both do it, and have so much fun doing it, she wanted to try it at least once.

She came in a bit closer, until her thighs were nudging against the giant's testicles, and his glans started to spread open her pussy. She shivered, mewled a little, and started adjusting the angle of her pelvis to help guide the man's cock into her, spread her open, and stretch her little hole taut. But with her on her knees, and kneeling straight up, that was the only depth the angle allowed. He could have easily picked her up, and slammed her down onto him, but he didn't. He stayed sitting, and gazed upon her as she trembled, his cock's head reaching only two inches into her depths.

She reached up for his neck, and guided the man's head down to find her. Her other hand slid up from his cock, found her clitoris, and began to caress that instead, all while Matt's lips found hers. She kissed him, eyes drifting closed, as the pleasure sparks flowed outward from the tiny, swollen nub. Muscles squeezed, heat rising to a bowl, and she mewled into Matt's lips as she squeezed harder on his cock, until her juices were trickling down the length of him.

And just as Matt started to groan, she slipped off of him.

"Oh, that's how it's going to be, is it?" the man said, smiling. He looked down at his shaft, the forty-five degree angle of which it stood up from him, and the drops of her juices working down its veins. As Natasha stared at it, a drop of juices dripped from the tip, from the opening of the fat, swollen head of his cock. His precum.

She stuck out her tongue at him, grinning all the more, and turned around to crawl toward Art. So utterly wet, to the point of ridiculousness. Each time she got into bed with these two idiots, she got wetter, faster, like her body was addicted; and it was. She licked her lips again as she got in close to Art, and did the exact same thing, kneeling up high between his thighs, and guiding his cock to trace along her stomach, down her smooth mons, and then under her. Its upward angle guided the swollen head to rub against her entrance, and she cooed up at the man as she got in closer again, nice and snug, and guided his cock into her. Just those first two inches though, only enough to feel the fat thickness of his glans press on her g-spot.

She smiled up at the animal, and waited. The struggle was clear on his face, his breathing coming in pants, his eyes devouring her, his hands flexing and releasing at his sides. He very much wanted to grab her hips, and skewer her. He wouldn't, though, because she asked him not to. Because, she asked him to sit.

"M-Matt, get the lube."

"Yes ma'am." The giant, without hesitation, got up off the bed, and retrieved the lubricant from the nightstand.

She'd always considered herself a woman who'd own a cat one day. But now, she was definitely thinking dog. Obedient and loyal, and to feel protected was a warm, delightful sensation.

As Matt fetched — ha! fetched — the lube, Natasha slid herself off of Art's cock. The poor man whimpered his sadness, almost like a dog sad his owner was leaving for a day of work at the office. So cute, she almost exploded. Giggling at him, she backed up a little, and with one hand pressed on his leg for balance, she leaned in, and put a kiss on his cock.

The damn man was too tall! Or, she was too short. Both, definitely both. With him on his knees, and his butt on his feet, his pelvis was too high for her to get onto her belly and elbows for proper, intimate fellatio. She had to stay on her knees and lean in. It was only temporary though. She giggled at her silly thoughts as she put another kiss on the man's wet cock. She could taste her own juices. No wonder Matt and Art were always so eager to get inside her, with how wet she got, how quickly. She could see lines where droplets of her juices had run down his length to his pelvis and testicles.