My Little Ventrue Pt. 06 Ch. 10

"Probably a good idea," he said. "I'll—"

"I'll take care of Damien," Fiona said. "I'll make sure he gits something to eat."

Damien raised a brow down at the small monster, but Vicky, Parker, and Matthew nodded, and walked up the stairs to the locked door that opened up into the Invictus center of South Side. All Kindred had keys for the tunnels, and Vicky didn't hesitate to lock the door behind her.

Leaving him with Fiona, alone, and starving.

"I can tell yer hungry," she said.

"I... I said it, earlier."

"Nae what I meant. I mean, yer very hungry. Yer very very, very, very hungry."

He frowned for a moment, but her bright smile punched through it. "You're right. Sorry if I've been staring at your—"

"I can see it, in your Beast."

"You can?"

"Mmhmm. I can see ye, the real ye, or the ye inside ye, ye ken? And ye're hungry."

He couldn't help but smile at her accent, and the balance it held with American city dwellers. "I am. I really... really am. Been a long time since I've been this hungry."

"Then ask."

"Ask?"

"Ask, to feed, on me. If ye're this hungry, it cannae wait, right?"

"... right."

Beaming at him, she nudged her forehead into his shoulder, and slipped under his arm so he could lean on her. "I dinnae ken what will happen if ye drink from a... a monster, but, ye could find out?" Giggling, she set him down on the subway platform edge, legs dangling off at the knee. A hazard, if a subway train came by, but they were long decommissioned, and it was sort of nice to sit there and ignore the faded yellow line on the concrete they were supposed to stand behind. "Here." She leaned in toward him, and turned her head, exposing her neck.

"You sure?" He stared at her neck. Her beautiful, soft, pale neck. Her shirt was cut a bit low, and her brown leather jacket was opened a couple buttons, so her neck and smattering of freckles around her collar were visible.

"I am. But, ye have to tell me about yer past."

"My past?"

"Aye! Vicky called ye an assassin."

"That..." He winced and looked away. "I'm not an assassin, it's just... It's about Lucas, and what... I essentially was, that last night."

"Whatever it is, it's made ye 'fraid of everything."

"Everything?"

"Aye." Sighing, she looked down and kicked her feet out a few times, her boots bouncing against the concrete as they came back down with gravity. "At first, I thought I liked Eric. I'm a silly lass, and I like my lads all broken and sad." Her sigh vanished, replaced with giggles. "But, Eric is different. He's... older."

"I'm over twice his age."

"I dinnae think ye are!" She reached out, and ran her fingers along the shaved smooth half of his head, before running them into the hair on the other side. "Ye act like ye've got a terrible secret, something ye're afraid to share. But ye dinnae act old."

"I... I was embraced when I was your age. Kindred don't really age, in more ways than the obvious. The mind, the personality, are sort of static." Torpor aside. He'd been a loner and a troubled, problematic boy when Lucas found him, and gave him a chance.

"I see. That explains why some vampires are so silly, like Jessy." Nodding, she slipped a hand up his back, and onto his neck, to help guide him down to face her. Her fingers felt wonderful. "Ye ignored me, when I was flirting with Eric."

"I didn't ignore you, I was—"

"Ignored." She frowned, blew up her cheeks a bit, and kicked the platform. An adorable temper tantrum, sort of. "I was trying to make ye jealous."

"... mission successful."

Her chipmunk frown evaporated, replaced with a radiant smile and more giggles. "Eric is definitely a sexy man, but he's an old man on the inside, in a good way. Ye're different. Ye're... emo."

Ugh, not this again. "Jessy told me the same thing."

"It might be the hair."

"It was the end of the sixties. Everyone was experimenting with their hair." That earned another laugh from her, and he smiled at her as the fire of his pain faded into background noise. "I can only regrow my hair to how it was when I was embraced, and that's this." He pointed to it, how one side of it was shaved smooth, and the other side dangled with dark hair almost reaching his shoulder. It wasn't perfectly shaved in half, with enough hair to cover the top of his head, but there was no hiding the very unique hairstyle, and how it left most of the skin of the left side of his head exposed.

"I see lasses these days with locks like those. Fashion models and what have ye."

His turn to frown. "Thanks."

Giggling like a kid's toy he'd wound up and let go, she reached out, hooked her hand over his shoulder, and ran her fingers through the hair. "I like it, but it is very emo on a lad like ye, with yer dark hair and pale skin."

"You have pale skin."

"I'm a ginger! Nae a fair comparison." All laughs and giggles, she used her exploring fingers to guide him to face her. "Ye're hurt and ye need blood. ...Taste me. We can talk more, later."

He wanted to argue. It wasn't that he was in denial of what he was, like a fledgling vampire. He'd long accepted he was a vampire, and he'd long accepted it was normal and encouraged for vampires to feed. He'd killed, with sword, gun, and fang. But he'd never, ever fed on someone that he held in high regard; or in this case, knew he was attracted to. It was a line he'd yet to cross, one that Lucas would have told him to not, or he'd fall into the bad habits of someone like the Prince.

He could still hear the man's voice, lecturing him, preaching, explaining the folly. Haunted by the ghosts of his past, like Fiona said.

If he truly was emo, he must have been wearing it on his face, for both Jessy and Fiona to notice. Others too, likely. It wasn't like he wore mascara, or black lipstick, or covered half his face with his hair, so something more innate must have been giving that impression.

"How... how are you so happy, all the time?"

"I dinnae spend half a century forced to hide in sewers, for one." Giggling again, she slipped her hand behind his head, and forced him toward her neck. "Taste me." She was far too nice to him. Subtly, she'd hinted that he had baggage, but hadn't used the dreaded word. Too kind.

He breathed in the smell of her. There was no getting around that she was alive, and he wasn't. It made the difference between them all too apparent, and appealing. He was an undead, and he had a corpse's desire to fill itself with the living essence of another. Every time he saw her, every time she smiled at him, a piece of him knew he wanted to sink his fangs into her, and sink more than that into her.

And he did. God help him, he did. His good arm was closer, and he used it to hook her further shoulder, pull her to him, and hold her still as he leaned in the final few inches, and sank his fangs into her beautiful, silky, shivering neck. But she grew still, once his fangs pierced her skin, and the pleasure of the Kiss flowed into her.

He almost jerked his head away, as the foreign taste flooded his mouth. What in the Lord's name was that taste? It was... it was... he didn't know. Kine blood was warm, and so was this, but kine blood tasted warm, a flavor wholly unique to a vampire's taste buds, the flavor of life, sweet and delicious. If that was in Fiona's blood, it was buried underneath something cold, and a strange mix of sweet and... sour? No, not sour, but something he couldn't identify that made him tremble.

Faint memories trickled up through his mind, summoned by the flavor. He'd tasted something similar, when he was kine. An alcoholic drink of some kind, maybe? He groaned into Fiona's neck, and let more of his need surface. The Beast didn't mind this strange new flavor, despite how powerful it was. It latched onto Fiona's neck, and sucked harder, as an afterkick slammed into Damien's mind. A cold, sweet, sour... hard liquor. They were words he barely understood anymore, with how long it'd been since he could eat normal food. But whatever it was in the horror's body, whatever it was that affected Fiona's blood, whatever it was about the nightmare creature that existed parallel to her human half, he could taste it.

He was drinking a nightmare.

Fiona moaned. Damien forced his eyes open, and pulled away, to the rage and dismay of the hungry thing inside him. He'd only managed a couple gulps of her blood, and he licked his lips as he savored the strange, powerful flavor.

"Wow," Fiona said. She reached up, and touched her neck where his fangs left her bleeding. "I... I'm bleeding." She blushed, and her pale skin almost glowed red.

"Sorry. Let me..." He leaned back in, and gave the punctures a couple licks. They healed over in seconds.

Moaning, Fiona nudged her neck toward his tongue. "I... I'm... sleepy." Giggling again, she turned more to face him. "That didnae last long!"

"I didn't take much." He gulped down saliva. The blood coursing through him ignited the Blush of Life, and he found himself staring all the harder at the busty redhead. More specifically, he was staring at her breasts, and how her panting made them rise and fall.

"It didnae taste good?"

"It tasted great." And Longinus himself would have struggled to find a more empowering source of blood. He felt energized, invigorated, and he wanted more. "Very different."

"It... it felt good." She shivered, and raised a hand to wipe her brow. "Oh, I'm feeling a little dizzy. Dizzy and... um... tingly."

"The Kiss can do that. I only took a little, but you should still get some rest, be in bed." And let me into that bed. He forced down the thoughts, but they sprang right back up. For all his practice at keeping his thoughts under control, the taste of her blood was still fresh on his tongue, and her blood was coursing through his veins, forcing him to feel alive. He wanted more. He needed more.

He was staring at her neck, her cleavage, her flushed skin, everything. When she turned to face him more, he didn't try and rip away his gaze, like he normally would. He knew he couldn't even if he tried.

Upon noticing his blatant staring, she smiled up at him, and started undoing the final buttons of her jacket.

"Um, what're you—"

She slid out of the jacket, and Damien stared as she made sure to emphasize the size of her bust as she did so. Once she set it aside on the old subway platform, she slid further up onto the stage, turned to face him more, and pulled up her shirt so its hem rested above her bra. And, laughing and squeaking, she slid her bra up over her breasts.

Damien gulped thrice, as her heavy, pale breasts fell against her ribs, and rippled with the gentle impact. They were huge, and they were swollen. He knew it was normal for a Kiss, when done slowly and gently, to be arousing for kine; and anyone alive, apparently. But, he'd never partaken of its effects himself, never even took the time to admire its effects. This was the first time he'd really taken a moment to appreciate what the Kiss could do to a willing participant. Her pink nipples were large, swollen to points, and they stood out from her heavy breasts, demanding to be touched.

More giggles. She reached out for him, took his good hand, and set it against her breast. He froze as the softness filled his hand, overwhelmed it, and her hard nipple pressed into his wrist. Heavy, and warm, and mesmerizing.

"Um, Fiona, I—"

"Ye Kissed me! And now, ye should kiss me." She nodded, blushing, but steeled with resolve, confidence, and the tipsy euphoria of a Kiss cut short. "And... and massage my tits, at the same time. Gently! I'm aw sensitive and tingly."

He gulped again, and the sensation of saliva sliding down his throat shocked him. The Blush of Life was not something he normally indulged, but it was coursing through his veins now, and he didn't want it to stop. His dead heart beat faster, and his member pressed against his suit pants, as he cupped the heavy weight of the tiny redhead's large breast. He turned his hand a little, began to slowly run his thumb in circles around her puffy areola, and he let out a quiet groan, as his touch earned a tremble from the beautiful creature.

"See," she said, and she pulled on his head to guide him back to her, "another thing I like about ye over other lads, is ye're my wounded soldier."

"Wounded soldier?" he said, gulping yet again as he came in closer, close enough their noses touched.

Grinning, she fluttered her eyelashes at him, drawing his gaze into her golden eyes, before she leaned in, and sneaked a kiss on his lips. He froze, and stared at her as she kissed him. Soft, with a hint moisture, and enough metaphorical heat to melt him.

"Aye. It took a wee while to figure out what I wanted, but what I want... is someone like ye. Ye stupid dobber. The wounded soldier, with a wee bit of emo mixed in." Rolling her eyes, she leaned in again, and resumed the kiss. And this time, he had time to return it. He sank into it, closed his eyes, and focused on the feeling of her warmth against him, the weighty softness of her breast in his palm, and the heat of her breath on him.

Wounded soldier? He didn't get it, but, he could ask about it later. All that mattered now was the arousal pumping through him, and how the powerful kick of her blood had been.

He pulled back for a second. "I... I um..."

"Aye?"

"You didn't have to... take your breasts out."

She rolled her eyes again, and leaned back into his lips, making sure they brushed against his as she talked. "Jessy told me I'd need to treat ye like a blind fool." Her one hand continued to drift behind his head, and her other slid under his fondling hand. Moaning, blatantly at that, she pressed his hand against her breast harder, so it conformed against his fingers and palm, softness filling in between his digits. Wow.

"I... can't say I blame her."

"I threw myself at ye and ye didnae respond before. Now, I hope the message is clear."

"... it is."

"Then, do a lass a favor, and help me out." Her hand on his took his wrist, and started to slide it down her body. Once it got to her jeans, she undid the button and zipper, and guided his fingers under her underwear.

Smooth, soft flesh awaited him. He groaned as his fingers pressed against her soft mons, and again, when she pushed them further down, and they found her folds. Wet. Warm.

"You want—"

"I want ye to play with me, touch me, until I cum on yer fingers, while ye Kiss me." She tilted her head, exposed her neck again, and grinned at him through the corner of her eye. "Coz it felt amazing." Blushing, quivering, the little redhead grinned at him. Slut City had had quite an effect on her, and he most definitely did not mind.

He shivered, and despite himself, growled, a hungry growl. He was still hungry, and he did want more of her strange, powerful, unusual, and enticing blood. And, he wanted to keep touching her, feel her, get inside her. He wanted everything.

He leaned back in, set his fangs to her neck, and sank them into the soft skin. Immediately, the little redhead trembled, and spread her legs. As her monster blood oozed into his mouth, warm and intoxicating, but almost too flavorful to handle, his fingers began to caress the lips of her sex, and the small nub of flesh at the top.

"There!" she said, whimpering. "There, ye found it. So just... be gentle... and keep... rubbing it... with wet fingers."

Gulping down her blood, and growling into her neck all the while, he did as she said. He lowered his fingers more, and sank them into her, finding more wetness. Her insides were both soft and tight, and he almost froze at the sensation of her wet sex clenching down on his digits. With his fingers coated in her juices, he resumed massaging her clitoris.

"I thought maybe... ye wouldnae know... mmmm." She almost fell away from him, since they were sitting beside each other, legs still dangling off the platform. But, despite how she was obviously struggling to not give into the euphoric bliss and relaxation of the Kiss and fall over, her arm on the back of his neck managed to get a grip on his further hip. He couldn't see what her other hand was doing, but he could see her elbow over her shoulder, and guessed she was massaging her breast, since he no longer was.

He knew plenty about sex, both from the strange friends of his life before his embrace, but also, it was Dolareido. No matter how much he'd tried to avoid the topic, fifty years of hiding inside Slut City had bestowed him with some basics. And, no matter how much every reflex he'd developed was telling him he might be crossing some sort of line with Fiona, the Beast in him knew better. The girl wanted it. He wanted it.

Just give in.

He test flexed his broken hand. It hurt, but it was working again, and every moment of the Begotten's concoction of life and nightmare energy entering his being, was another piece of his body rebuilt and functional. Drinking her was healing him faster than drinking a kine would have, and that was important to know. More important, was how good it felt, how good she felt, how amazing the mewls and whimpers she made were, and how he wanted more.

He pulled his teeth away, and she whimpered at him, her eyes fluttering, tired and pleasure laden. With his other hand functional again, he used both to pull her further up onto the platform. The poor creature, trembling and quivering, managed some more giggles as she lay on the dirty concrete. This wasn't exactly a sexy place, or remotely clean place to do be doing something like this, but it didn't matter anymore. He needed more, and he was going to have it.

He stared down at the small redhead, and knelt beside her. She was in that exhausted, sleepy-but-blissful state a good Kiss could put someone into, a pleasure coma, and it made her look amazing. With her jean fly open, her shirt and bra up to expose her breasts, and her arms limp on the floor around her, she looked delicious. A helpless, trembling, dripping wet meal. He needed more. More.

He traced his wet fingers over her breasts, and he growled as he felt the softness fill his palm. Her breathing pressed them into his hand, and she mewled as he offered her nipple a squeeze, before his hand slid down her stomach, and under her white panties. As his fingers found her sex once again, the touch immediately causing her to quiver, he leaned in over her, and resumed the Kiss for the third time. More.

"D-Damien... I didnae ken ye could be so... Ye—nnn!" Her hips lifted, and her legs spread, as he slid his fingers into her squeezing slit. Soaking wet, hot, taut around his two fingers, and heavenly. He pressed his fingers up into her, toward her belly, and probed up in a rhythm, in an instinctive, primal beat, as he drove the busty, little creature trapped in his fangs, to orgasm. A new coat of juices soaked his fingers, and her insides clenched down hard enough to force his hand to hold still. He did, for a moment, before he started fingering her again, not waiting for her to recover, and earning panting whines from her as he pumped her insides.

A part of him knew this wasn't him, that he was stepping far outside his comfort zone. Kine used alcohol to help them overcome their fears and inhibitions, liquid courage, and he couldn't help but feel the same was happening to him. Tasting her, having this beautiful woman's dark, strange blood inside him, lit a curious lust inside him that wasn't settled yet. More.

With his bad hand holding his weight, palm to the subway platform, he was free to keep his teeth deep in the helpless woman's neck, as his fingers filled her. He fingered her harder, hard enough to make her ass bounce lightly, and he growled into her neck as he took more.

"Damien, ye... ye're... taking... too..." The poor creature came over his fingers again, and as her the pleasure coursed through her, her heart sped up. He knew it would. "St... op..." It was borderline instinct, to bury her in pleasure, use it to make her blood flow, and drink it down. It filled him, sent buzzing pleasure into his fingertips, made him dizzy on the strange high as the alien taste overwhelmed him. Most of all, it felt freeing, natural, to drive this beautiful woman to bliss as he drained her, and—