My Little Ventrue Pt. 05 Ch. 12

Holy shit.

But eventually, she sat back up, and slid a hand up the back of his neck to hold his head again, and guide his lips back to her breasts.

"Natasha enjoyed seeing us make love."

"Uh... what?"

"In the third wing living room."

The room with the pretty lighting. Right, he was lying on the couch, and—"She watched us?"

"Of course. We were in the open, and you know she sleeps here in my Elysium Tower, as well as joins me in affairs of the Ordo Dracul." Laughing, she started to work herself faster, pulling some quiet moans from him, while she barely made a noise other than her words. Total control of her body, despite how he could feel her juices coating him, more, and more. "But do not worry. She enjoyed what she saw."

"Oh." Heh, that was good. Stroked his ego, knowing Natasha thought he was attractive. "... or, did she like seeing you naked?"

Antoinette shivered, and guided his head down to find her breast again. "I am a terribly splendid example of the human body, am I not?" Her confidence was practically Ventrue level. So hot.

As he suckled on her nipple again, her insides clenched on him like a vise, almost enough to hurt. And with her constant rocking, the friction of her dripping insides massaging his girth and rubbing against his sensitive glans sent him over the edge. He closed his eyes, and sucked her nipple into his mouth, as if he was hungry for milk. He wasn't going to get that, but the more he bathed her breast in kisses, the more he circled her swollen areola with his tongue, the more she clenched on his girth.

She may not have made much noise when she came, but he did. Too much, too blissful, feeling her insides squeeze and milk him as he came, for a few groans to not escape him as the warm fluid gushed up his length. Soon, it was dripping out of her depths, onto him, along with her own juices. She pulled his head from her breast, and kissed him. Eyes half open, she gazed into him as she milked him, and as she came. He was hopeless to resist, and did nothing but stare back into her red gaze as he shivered, struggling to manage the stimulus of her gripping and squeezing.

He couldn't come forever though, and eventually he went slack in her arms. A signal for her to let go of him, slide her legs out from behind him, and let him fall to the blankets.

"You, my boy, my little Ventrue, are to be careful with your adventures. Trips to the Shadow Realm are dangerous at best, and as much as it is your duty to communicate with the Begotten and Uratha, you are not to throw your life to suicidal whims. Understand?"

Before he could respond, she stood up. With one foot beside each side of his waist, thighs spread slightly, she put her hands on her hips, and gave him a very 'angry mother' glare. Frowning at him, a one-eighty on the sex they'd had literally twenty seconds ago, she raised a foot, and pressed it down against his chest.

He could see a mix of their cum dripping down her thighs, until it reached the ankle of the foot pressing to his sternum.

"I'll try, but—"

"But?"

Oh shit. She glared down at him, and pressed down on the foot. It wasn't like she was very heavy, by vampire standards; even Jack could lift something a couple hundred pounds without much issue, these nights. So even if she put enough strength into the foot to crush metal, it didn't matter if she only weighed as much as a tall-but-fit woman normally does. Thank god, because there was a bite to her eyes he hadn't expected.

"I... I mean, I'll really try. I can't guarantee it though, you know?" If there was one way he was going to die, it'd be by pissing off his lover. Probably the most dangerous of all his options, but he had to be honest with her.

"I understand the ritual showed your face, Jack, but that was likely due to your closeness to either Azamel or myself. For all the trials that may come your way, understand that you need not be the one that throws themselves into the fray to see them solved. Your partner Herrington, or even that fool Damien, are older than you, and more than capable of dealing with threats."

He blinked up at the woman, and gulped. From sex to orders in a single minute. But after staring up at her for a while, he nodded. "I'll be careful, and make sure someone else is there to deal with things if they get hot."

"Good." Stepping down from the bed, she sighed, and looked over her shoulder as she reached out to scoop up her clothes from the chair by the mirror.

"Something bring this on?" He jumped out of the bed, and walked after her, standing behind her once she sat down in the chair.

"Nothing specific, non. But, after the incident with that man Eric, and his random change, it is hard to not imagine what it would have been like if he had suffered such a change in your presence."

"That's... a random thing, to be worried about. After all the things I've deal with, that—"

She picked up her brush with a snap. Mood swing? He wasn't about to say it, or he was liable to get torn apart.

"Those were not things that should have been thrust upon you. The incident with Viktor and Tony was of my doing, and your presence was a regrettable accident. Lucas's insanity and kamikaze assault were not for you to contend with, it was my problem to solve, and Daniel's. That monster that plagued our sewers, the arrival of the Avery and her Uratha, the arrival of Azamel and the resurgence of other Begotten, and now the arrival of hunters? Please stop throwing yourself headlong into these situations, or you will find yourself in a crisis you cannot escape, if this continues."

"That... is a lot of things, now that you say it like that." He came in from behind her, and as she started brushing her hair, he took the brush. With a sigh, she set her hands down, and worked on getting dressed. She slipped her underwear on, and did up her bra; did it so smoothly, she could probably do it all one handed.

"I apologize, but it bothers me terribly, to look into your eyes, little Ventrue, only to imagine them in such fraught situations."

He chuckled, and brushed through the waves of white. "I seem to be pretty good at surviving those situations, don't I?"

"Yes, and you forever impress me. But, no doubt this situation with Angela has led to a horrible outcome, has it not?"

Shit. Did she know? Know about his hang-ups and baggage about her? Shit. Shit shit.

"Um, what do you mean?"

"With Athalia. I remember her talking with you, at the ball. And you have met her on several occasions since then. I thought, perhaps, she might become a friend to you."

Oh, right, Athalia. "She is, sort of. She was at the last Right Hands meeting, sharing with us some information about the hunters."

"Oh? She has news?" She turned her head slightly. Either a queue to start brushing that side of her hair, or a way to look at him in the corner of her eye. The tone of her voice changed too, to something more analytical. Prince mode, he supposed.

"She does. The council will fill you in at the Primogen meeting."

"You do not wish to tell me?"

"Oh! Um, I can, sure. Just figured you wouldn't want a double dose? And, we usually avoided topics like this."

Sighing, but nodding, she looked back to the mirror, and leaned forward to peer into it. With a quick but precise hand, she started applying her makeup. Again, something she could have done with her eyes closed, he was sure.

"It is good to hear it from you."

He wasn't sure it was. But, it was a part of being in a serious relationship, according to her. So, even if it wasn't good, it was required, if they were going to be equal partners in their relationship. He never felt like an equal partner in the past, and she was making efforts to change that. With other couples, it'd be talk of student loans, or car repairs, or the uncle's cancer, or mom's drinking problem. With them, it was about the hunters at their door coming to kill them.

"Since Azamel thinks the weird ritual was performed by an extremely old woman, Invictus and the Begotten have been keeping an eye out for an old woman."

"Not exactly a difficult thing to find in Dolareido. There are many."

"Yeah but this woman is supposed to be very old. Scully and Mulder told me they saw a woman on a respirator and in a wheelchair, so I'm thinking it could be her? And Fiona and Athalia say they saw a similar woman in Devil's Corner."

"That is a lead worth exploring. Well done. And your skill with animalism grows too." She grinned at him, before returning to her mascara.

"Oh! Speaking of Devil's Corner. I wanted to ask you about a... a thing, a symbol, artifact, object, something or other, dangling in one of the sex holes. Vicky and Parker run that sex hole; doing a side business thing, I guess. You know anything about the object? Avery seemed to know something."

"Ah, yes, I know of the object. I suppose if Avery shows interest in it, then that confirms my suspicions. It summons, or creates, an essence of sexual delight. And spirits come to feast, and spread, such influence."

Antoinette sounded like Clara, or Avery. She knew a lot about spirits then. Maybe he should ask her more about them, in the future.

"You know where they got it?"

"Jacob and I, long ago, imported many objects of such a strange nature." She moved onto her lipstick, and blew him a kiss in the mirror after applying the blood red. "And I continue to do so. I am sure Jacob does as well, though we no longer share with each other what objects we acquire. I am sure the man has had dealings with all the Kindred of the city, in ways you do not know."

"But you know."

"Ben oui, mon amour. But I cannot tell you how I know."

He nodded, and laughed. Yeah, secrets. Much as they were in a serious relationship, quote unquote, they'd never be able to share with each other all their secrets, as long as they were in different covenants. Even if they were both dragons, he doubted the great Voivode of Dolareido could tell him everything she knew.

So, Jacob probably gave them the object. Or they somehow acquired it, and Jacob was the one who brought it to Dolareido. An innocent exchange, or was the old bastard manipulating Vicky and Parker? The rabbit hole was so deep in Dolareido, it might as well have been endless.

He watched Antoinette's reflection for a while. She'd returned to looking at herself as she worked her face with tools and stuff he'd never truly appreciate. She looked smoking hot wearing make up, but damn, what a hassle; she looked smoking hot without it too, so it wasn't like she had to wear it, or so much of it. A Daeva would never go without their mask, she'd say. Smiling at the memory, he kept watching her reflection as he brushed her hair. The mood swing earlier was a little strange. It was true his second life kept throwing shit at him, but he'd made it through so far. No reason to suddenly get angry about it.

Unless something was bothering her.

"... Antoinette."

"Oui, mon amour?"

"... how much do you know about Black Blood?"

She froze. He froze. Yeah, that was a sensitive spot. He didn't know why it was a sensitive spot, or what Black Blood had done to make her so anxious, but something about it was connected to things. From her reaction, she definitely knew about the spirit; she'd reacted to his name, last time he mentioned it. He didn't pursue it at the time, though. Better to let that tidbit rest while they talked about other things. Not this time.

"It is an old entity, Jack. Ancient. It was here before Jacob and I came to Dolareido. It was here before we turned a tiny village into our haven."

"You've spoken to it?"

"... I have." Sighing, she got up, took the brush back, and started getting dressed in her suit. "I cannot tell you how I have spoken to the creature, but I have."

Scary. He shivered a bit, and sat in the chair as Antoinette put on her shirt and skirt. "I'm only asking because the name comes up in strange places. It might have something to do with... well... everything."

"I sincerely hope it does not. The beast inserts its tentacles in every facet of my city, in ways I struggle to understand."

Hearing Antoinette admit to not knowing something was almost strange to the ear. She was usually confident, almost to the point of warranting a Viktor comparison.

"It does?"

"Yes. Dark currents forever sweep through my tunnels, through my streets, through the homes and business locales that pepper my city and fortress. It... it has motives that I do not understand, and that Jacob has only scratched the surface of." Fully dressed, she set her hands on his shoulders, leaned down, and set a kiss to his forehead. "It plays games in my city, and it is not above murder in its pursuits. Its name is Black Blood for a reason, little Ventrue. Please, be careful with it."

Maybe it was his visit to the Shadow World that had her more anxious than usual. He'd said Black Blood was one of the powers there, and then other names, Red Tide and Street-Tail King. Big names, names that had her startled. He was poking at a world she didn't understand, and dealing with names beyond her comprehension. Beyond anyone's comprehension, except for maybe Avery. Maybe she felt helpless, that no matter what she did, he'd get himself hurt or killed, dealing with things outside of purview. And if there was anyone who couldn't handle not being in control, it'd be her.

"... you really think it's my proximity to you, or Azamel, that led to the ritual showing my face?"

Sighing heavy, she pulled him up onto his feet, and hugged his naked body tight to her. Tall as she was, she set her chin on top of his head, and squeezed him.

"Yes. Do you think it could be something else?"

City Sky knew his name. Jacob mentioned him. People and spirits were talking about him, for reasons he didn't know.

Jacob. What the fuck was that man doing? He had to be involved in the damaged portal door thing, and the other mysterious shit happening. Either he knew who was doing it, or he was responsible. But, to imagine the vampire tearing open holes across the worlds, was a bit much. Even Fiona, a monster and ancient horror apparently, didn't tear open holes to the spirit world. She found doors and opened them.

God damn, he missed the old days.

"... Antoinette?"

"Oui?"

"I haven't seen you at the Bloodlust lately." Maybe he could ask her to rekindle those old days.

"That... is true. I have been buried in concerns and worries. I spend many of my nights standing at my window, looking at the city, and considering my options." She let go of him, and started toward the vault door of her grand bedroom. "Perhaps tomorrow night, after the Primogen meeting?"

"Tomorrow night? I'm supposed to be meeting with Beatrice and Jen. Fiona too."

"Oh? Where?"

"My apartment. We're going to talk about the hunters, but I think Triss is planning to just chill. But, I can ask if they'd prefer to another time."

Antoinette smiled at him over her shoulder. "Perhaps, instead of asking them to reschedule, ask them to come to Bloodlust?"

"Um, sure." He returned her smile, and finger waved as she disappeared through the door.

Beatrice and Jen, and Fiona, and Antoinette. That was way too many women. Hopefully she wouldn't mind if he invited Damien. Julias was busy, but Damien might have a few hours to spare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What. The fuck. Is this?" Jessy swept her arm through the air, pointing to the vampires of the room.

The only vampires that should have been in the room were the Right Hands of the Invictus, but there were two more. Garry Tones sat on the edge of Jeremy Long's desk, arms folded across his chest, and a wolfish grin on his lips. He was completely at odds with the aesthetic of the building, slick and modern, with a few warmer colors than the Xnomina HQ, but otherwise still similar to its motif of money money money.

Garry didn't reek of money. Garry reeked of brutishness. He reeked of zero elegance. He reeked of being a bully. His shaved head, the jeans, the jean jacket from the eighties, and the scars, were perfectly at home on the elder Gangrel. It fit his aesthetic, but Terra Den's HQ did not.

Jack looked around the room some more, and glared at the man in corner. Montoya Montel. A ghoul, apparently, based on the way he kept glancing Long's way. Not the usual glances of an employee, but of a devoted slave. Of course, it was Long being a Kindred, that had everyone shocked.

"Jack, Jessy... Damien, little fucker." Garry rubbed his fingers on his jacket, as if removing dust. A classic display of nonchalance, to show that they weren't a threat.

He was wrong. They were a threat, at least a small one, even if the man didn't realize it. That knowledge was the only reason Jack wasn't urging the three of them to split before shit hit the fan.

"Mister Tones," Jack said. "I, uh... am I to take it that Jeremy Long is your new childe?"

"Yeap." The elder smirked, and turned slightly to give them a more clear view of the CEO of Terra Den.

Jeremy Long was of average height, and though he was wearing a suit, Jack guessed he had a decent build underneath. If he was Garry's child, it was probably more than decent, and actually tough as metal. Chinese heritage, though born in the US near Washington. Came to Dolareido for its prosperous industries of sin and vice, and created Terra Den.

Jessy was not happy. "When the fuck did this happen?"

"Jeremy's been my ghoul for some time, and now that the Prince has opened the door on siring, I embraced him." Shrugging, Garry hopped off the desk, and took a seat by a fern. At least Xnomina embraced its dead-and-professional look. Terra Den felt like your typical, slimy, evil, pretty-on-the-surface corporation. Very not-Garry, now that he thought about it.

"You fuckin' this brat?" Jessy said.

Christ. So much for trying to be Garry's friend.

"... not that it matters, but no, I'm not fucking Jeremy." Garry rolled his eyes, and gestured to Montoya. "Or his ghoul. Get your head out of your ass, Jessy. Idiot child."

If it was any other Carthian, Jessy would have torn into the man, verbally or physically. Not Garry. Much as he was the youngest elder in Dolareido, he was still an elder, and the power that radiated from him shut down the three beasts of the Right Hands, like whiny, scared dogs. Jessy's loud words were just barking.

"How may I help the representatives of Xnomina today?" Jeremy said. He had the jackass grin that you'd expect from an expert poker player, CEO, and all around evil asshole.

"... Christ I hate you." Jessy motioned to Jack. "This is Jack Terry. You already know Damien Burksen."

"Ah yes, Jack Terry. Your name has a habit of circulating conversations." The man leaned back in his chair, and tapped one hand's fingers against the table, while the other swished around a glass of red. Blood, instead of wine.

"Does it?" Jack said.

"Indeed. Your recent encounter with the hunters is a topic worthy of discussion."

Montoya snorted on a chuckle, and wiped his thumb across his lip. "Hear you nearly died. Shame you didn't. Could use some holes in the Invictus."

What the fuck. Jack looked Montoya's way, and stared daggers into the man. Long and Tones were happy to dance around insults without ever saying them directly, while Montoya didn't feel the same, apparently.

Montoya Montel was a fat fucker, pale skin, and tall. Every step was liable to break the floor. His brown hair was long, wavy, and his beard was a bit scraggy. What was a lazy, unkempt man like him doing with Long? Long's hair was very short, and he had a tiny chin beard fitting his Asian heritage; he looked damn professional, while Montel looked like he belonged in a fast food joint, eating burgers. All the burgers.

Damien and Jessy sneered, Jessy louder. Jack winced, and analyzed. This was a strange move on Garry's part, and untimely.