Thirst Ch. 03

Later, back at Monroe's Haven

Down, concealed beneath the protective, cold embrace of the earth and surrounded by meters of concrete, rebar and dirt, the Damned one prepared her resting place. She was still human enough to have an apartment, albeit a barely decorated basement unit that she'd worked hard to seal. It didn't really matter that it lacked heat in the winter or air conditioning in the summer; she always felt cold anyway.

Well, except for now, with that man's warm blood soaking the ensorceled, unnatural meat she dwelled in. The radio played old, distorted songs from the 90s - songs that reminded her of what sunshine had felt like against her skin, or waking up to actually live out a day. They were songs that reminded her of what it was like to dream, because that too was a luxury denied the Damned. It felt nice to fall unto Daydeath to them, her mattress lain low to the ground and piled with cotton and satin blankets...probably the nicest thing in this whole bare-walled concrete cell, the nicest thing she owned, but truthfully she wouldn't even know if she slept on the cold stone floor.

Wrapping herself in blankets that were pointless since her body didn't produce any heat, she stared up at the ceiling, illuminated by a single, shaded bulb. Monroe closed her eyes, and nodded slowly with the music.

"I will be strong, I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on"

"A new beginnin'"

"A reason for livin'"

"A deeper meaning, yeah"

Thank god nobody could see her as she took hold of the little, plush stuffed fox - a fat, misshapen, smiling thing named Lommy - and held him above her, smiling as she sang in tune with the music. Against Lommy's belly she held Yusuf Mizrah's driver's license, looking into his pretty black eyes.

"I wanna stand with you on a mountain"

"I wanna bathe with you in the sea"

"I wanna lay like this forever"

"Until the sky falls down on me..."

If any of her friends or fellow Kindred saw her doing this they'd experience Final Death from cringe, she thought...And then the sun rose officially at 6:32am, and her arms went limp as Lommy collapsed against her still chest, and she died.

For thirteen hours, twelve minutes and forty six seconds she lay there, unbreathing as the earth turned, the daystar tracked across the sky, and the world lived on.

At 7:44pm, when it finally dipped down past the hills to the West leading toward New Orleans, her heart changed from an atrophied, curled husk to a glowing, thudding thing of unholy life. Vitae flowed through her veins, a portion burning away to keep from torpor, and she arched her back to slowly sit up. Eyes still closed, she stretched her arms and caused the blankets to fall away, joints and tendons snapping as they filled with blood. She yawned a fanged yawn and opened her eyes to look at the driver's license, still clutched in her fingers.

"Mornin' prince charming," she sighed wryly at it.

"Hi," came an unexpected voice from directly in front of her.

Monroe blinked, looking up absolutely aghast and shocked. There he was, sitting on the shitty metal folding chair that counted as her other piece of furniture. Wearing the same outfit as last night, he smelled of rain and looked a bit worse for wear, but...there he was. Yusuf Mizrah, hands in the pockets of that leather jacket worn on his shoulders. He was not looking at her kindly, but despite herself she felt an immense flood of relief.

"But...the hell? How're you alive, I drained you dry - "

She began to put two and two together. Unusually potent blood...surviving what should have been utterly lethal for any other human...

"Oh fuck," she breathed as he got to his feet without a word, that wide, handsome mouth splitting into a grimace that was full of sharp wolf fangs . He threw the leather jacket off as his chest expanded, muscle packed onto his arms, and his eyes filled from the bottom with crimson, like blood pouring into a glass sphere.

She was scrabbling backwards against her cold wall, hands firmly against the concrete as she made a show of her own fangs, hissing savagely at him to ward him away but she felt like a coyote challenging a bear. Already easily seven feet tall and still growing, she watched in wide-eyed fear as his legs cracked and bent from plantigrade to the digitigrade limbs of a wolf, jet black fur covering his body. Those claws, bursting forth from his nailbeds, hurt to look at, and when he was fully Changed into a half wolf, half human monster he fucking charged at her on all fours.

Monroe refused to scream in her final moments. She instead clenched her fists down at her side, closed her eyes and let herself feel the sorrow and despair, that her end would be a horrible, terrifying thing...ripped apart by this man, returned an avenging demon against her. She held her face and head forward, clenching her teeth and waiting to feel his jaws close around it, crushing them to ash. She felt his hands close around her shoulders - massive, she whimpered in fear, shaking, for what she deserved.

...but the bite never came.

She opened her eyes to look into his. They were bigger now, set in that monstrous wolf head, but really almost the same...the berserker red drained from them. His lips were pulled back, revealing saber teeth that were clenched tightly - he clicked them together once, twice, but never closed them around her. Summoning what little courage she had, she raised a shaking, cold hand and placed it on his face, shaking her head. She knew what she looked like without the Blush...a pale, strange thing - where once he'd seen healthy, teak-dark skin now she was sallow and sickly, golden eyed and inhuman. She didn't like him seeing her like this, as if he'd caught her...underdressed, but as for why she cared in this particularly tense, dangerous moment was beyond her.

"Don't do it," she entreated in a low breath. "I understand if you do, but please...don't do it." And like that, he didn't. The massive beast released her from his claws, took a step back, and shed his terrifying exterior...soon there was only Mizrah standing there, panting and watching her with night-black, gold-rimmed eyes. Wiping sweat from his forehead as she straightened, clambering to her feet unsteadily, he gave her a resentful glare that pinned her in place before he bent down and picked up his driver's license.

"Shoulda fuckin' known all you wanted was a gulletful of blood, damn leech," he growled at her, and to her surprise it felt like a blow to the heart. "Nothing could work out like that, always too good to be true - "

"No, no. Don't say it that way, it ain't like that," she tried. It sounded pathetic, unbelievable, but at least he wasn't throwing it back into her face. Cautiously she took a step forward, feeling exposed in her white tank top and boxer shorts, keeping a respectful distance. "I mean...I was starving, so yeah I needed to drink but I didn't just see you as..."

"A meal?" he asked dryly.

"If you wanna put it like that," she offered him a sheepish smile, really unsure of how to handle herself in a situation like this. Usually she was the one catching someone else off balance, not the other way around. "I don't expect you to just believe me, y'know...all things considered between our...uh..."

"Species sounds kinda weird, doesn't it," Yusuf interjected. "Race does too."

"Yeah," she found herself agreeing, nodding and taking note of the fact that he didn't look like he was going to hurt her. "We just, our situations is different. Right? It ain't nothin' we gotta go killin' each other over."

"I dunno," the guitarist narrowed his eyes at her threateningly, crossing his forearms over his chest. "Your colleagues don't see it the same way I think, I recall a pretty awful year of culling that ended, ohhh, maybe a few months ago?"

"Hey, you all ashed a lot of good people," she responded sharply, straightening and pointing a manicured nail his way - a low growl in his chest sent her a few steps back, but she held her ground otherwise. "That's over now, ain't no need for us to dig it up."

"Fine." A pause, beat hanging in the air. "Never killed a Blood either, if it makes you feel any better." It actually did...he seemed to have a lot of restraint, or to be taking the fact that she almost killed him rather well.

Seeing him again, once the initial fear had passed, was still exciting to her. Maybe it was his blood, unnatural and overpowered in her body, rattling her judgment like high proof whiskey. She tried to approach again, this time taking a different tack and calling upon the Majesty that flowed through her vitae , applying just the right amount of mesmerization to quell what might remain of his resentment toward her. The effects were so subtle as to be invisible - the Disciplines weren't meant to be flashy, they were meant to help creatures like her survive, and in Mizrah's heart there was just enough recession of hostility for her to come close, touching his forearm gently and letting her hand slide up to his shoulder.

He was warm...his heart beat very pleasantly underneath his shirt, and despite everything there was this old, aching need she remembered from when was alive. It made her want to seek closeness with him, to put her head on his chest and pretend that nothing of the sort had ever happened with them...but she was a hideous, dead thing, coming to a crude simulacra of life every time the sun went down.

For them to be close with each other was transgressive, so...she'd be proper. Normal, as much as possible, not drag him into her perversions. "I meant it when I said you seemed like a great guy, man. You know what I am now though, and I lllmmppphhh... "

He was kissing her. Just like that, his hand had slid up the small of her back to pull her against him. She was, once again, aghast . Her skin was cool and dead, there was barely any saliva on her tongue and she'd just risen from Daydeath - how could he be doing this?!

How could she possibly push him away? Monroe hated the fact that she gave a quiet moan against his lips, her other hand finding his arm and squeezing the rock hardness of his tricep. He had the build of a middleweight boxer, maybe, and as her fingers quested over his chest and stomach she felt myriad scars. Claws...bullet pockmarks...each one told a story of whatever wild, savage struggles defined his life.

Even though she was a wholly undesirable, accursed thing, his hands still explored her body with curiosity and what felt like desire. Monroe arched against his touch as his fingers drifted up her ribcage, a breathy exhalation when his hand roamed up the curve of her breast and found her dark nipple. "Fffuck," she whispered when she found herself pinned against the wall, and her fangs pricked at her lips when she opened her thighs to him and felt his arousal through his jeans. "Wait..." Monroe breathed as she felt the blood course through her, livening her tissues and flushing them dark and shiny; her unnatural physiology was at odds with her rational mind, which was telling her this was extremely dangerous .

"Mizrah, wait, stop." She pulled her lips from his, breathing on unnecessary reflex and, to his credit and with an audible, wolven sound of effort he stopped. His eyes were dark like lignite, staring into hers as the Blush gave her a human aspect again. "We...you know we can't do this." God it sounded so weak, totally at odds with the sharp, powerful woman who'd won a bloodless revolution through sheer will.

"I thought you said I was a great guy," he pointed out smugly; instead of the deadly snarl from before, he was grinning that cock-ass, bastard grin at her, still holding her up with his hand supporting her rear. "That you weren't just after me for a meal."

"Bruh shut the fuck up," she admonished, finding a bit of herself but she was smiling - again, against her will as her body betrayed her. "That was before you knew I'm a, you know...and you're a. Y'know."

"That sounds like a bullshit excuse," he leered, his forehead against hers. "I'm still into you, in case you couldn't tell." Mizrah rolled his hips against her groin and it felt wonderful , a tingling wave of warmth and arousal that made her gasp and close her eyes, clenching a fist and beating it against his shoulder.

"Mhaah yes I can tell, but do you have any damn idea what my kind would do if they heard I was getting freaky with a Lupine?" she snarled at him.

"Did you just call me a Lupine? That's even worse than Werewolf," he complained playfully, completely disregarding the obvious danger inherent in their pairing. "Look, I'm not afraid of any of your buddies, and I'm not afraid of other, heh, 'Lupines'."

"Would you quit sayin' it like that? Damn." Monroe was perplexed as to how she'd gone from preparing for annihilation to...this. "It ain't like I'm not interested or nothin', you know that already, it's just that I got a lot riding on my shoulders, y'know?" Her hands reached up to cup under his chin again, supported by the solidity of his hips and the strength of his arms. "I've worked hard to get 'em behind me."

"Alright, so...just to be clear, Monroe Carter, who I saw shout down a cop in SWAT gear, climb up on top of city hall, and start waving the flag like a Delacroix painting...you're saying it's not that you don't like me," and he was moving in again, kissing her shoulder, toward her neck, speaking between the touch of his lips, "it's that you're...afraid of what others are gonna think."

You fucking cocky bastard, get that shit outta here! she shouted at him in her mind but found herself making out with him again, that delightful tongue-bead hard in contrast to his lips. She'd never really let anybody handle her like this before but it was awfully nice, and even if he was a fucking Werewolf of all things...maybe just once, she could say that she gave in to the Lupine blood flowing through her heart and had a slip of judgment. That wouldn't be so bad, right? Just to feel warm and wanted?

When she settled her arms around his neck, permission granted, she found herself laughing with excitement and anticipation, throwing her inhibitions to the wind as they turned and collapsed upon the pile of mattresses and blankets, which for the first time since entering her Haven, felt the warmth of a living body. She eagerly peeled his shirt away from his torso, luxuriating in the warmth of his body, running her fingers along the ridges of his abs. "Yeah...yeah okay, you fine," Monroe conceded, her smile genuine and wide on her normally serious face. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contentment that turned into a growing murmur of pleasure when that attentive mouth found the curve of her breasts, the hardness of her nipples poking against the white of her wife beater. "Yeah...mmmmhhh yeah, real fine, fffuck don't stop," she entreated him. She relaxed back and raised her arms over her head as he pulled her shirt up over her head.

"Wow..." Yusuf whispered, running his fingers over the old lines and scars, some of which matched his own. "You know how some girls find scars sexy? Well..."

"You one of them girls, Mizrah?" she teased him, her fingers stroking through his bristly black hair and spreading over the back of his head...an affectionate gesture she should have saved for someone closer, but there wasn't anyone else. She pulled him to her chest. "Don't answer, just do what you was doin' before."

"Think you're the boss of me, huh?" he purred against her nipple, his lips pulling gently at it as his tongue made a circle, electricity dragging that from that stud that ran from her chest down to her groin. He knew what he was doing, rolling his hips enticingly between her thighs again so she could feel the bulge of his masculinity. She was flushed with excitement when she reached down with dextrous fingers to undo his belt, pull down his fly and get her fingers around what he was working with.

"Let's see whatchu made of, Yusuf 'Avimalek'," Monroe purred as she closed her fingers around the familiar warm hardness of a man's cock. He exhaled a low, hungry sound, those pretty dark eyes of his closing as she curled them around his shaft and...found something she didn't expect. First of all, he was packing, that much was clear; she couldn't close her hand all the way around his manhood, and more surprising...she felt something hard - specifically six, small hard somethings - along the underside. Even though he was watching for her reaction her eyes still widened, mouth hanging open. "No. Way."

She pushed him up and back so that he was on his knees before her, probably trying not to grin like the proud bastard he was, pulling his pants down to reveal everything. In all her years she's never seen a man with...metal. Her fingers went to her lips and she made a quiet little laughing sound.

"What're you laughing about? Not everything you'd hoped and dream for?" He asked sarcastically but Monroe shook her head, her smile wide and hungry.

"No, it's more," she admitted, leaning forward to admire this man. Yusuf was...well for starters he was certainly on the larger end of the men she'd been with, no wonder he was so damn confident. She ran her index finger curiously up the frenum ladder, her other hand inspecting his crown. He was cut as she expected with a name like his, and she made a quiet little "tsk" as she wrapped her thumb and middle finger around it...they weren't able to touch. Not at all, but his notable girth alone wasn't what had her staring.

It must have hurt to get, she thought as she ran her thumb from the puckered underside of his glans to slowly travel along the Prince Albert through the end. It was clasped by a steel ball bearing, already sticky with his precum. She had no idea what it was going to feel like, but with a quiver in her lower belly and the slick of her arousal threatening to trickle down her inner thigh, she looked into his eyes.

I want you , hers said. I don't care what happened before, I want you with me, in me. "Come on, don't stop there," she cooed at him, lying back and arching her hips invitingly before him. That smile hadn't left her face as he pulled her boxer shorts away, his eyes falling on her bared, black thatched mons first, then her warm, inviting wetness. "See?" Monroe spread her fingers on either side of where her clit ached alluringly. Yusuf's eyes followed the path they made, seemingly hypnotized by her juicy, flushed netherlips. "This what you're after, horny fuckin' wolf?" She teased as her fingers parted her dark vulva, strings of arousal clinging to them.

Yusuf agreed with a low, animal sound in his chest that made her give a breathy little laugh of excitement. She tugged at his wrist, pulling him over her, still grinning playfully. She hooked an ankle behind his own, sighing in satisfaction when she took his penis by the base and slid the clasp of his ring under the hardness of her clitoris.

Volts of tingling, warm pleasure shot through her hips with each stroke, and she found her eyes fixated between his handsome face with that focused, intense expression; the muscles of his arms, his hips, tensed over her body; the way his glans crested over mons after meeting the resistance of her prominent, fat pearl of excitement. "You know you're sexy, don't you," he whispered against her chin as a wave of warmth and wonderful tension rose in her groin. "I'm gonna make you cum so many times you'll lose count," he promised her.

Whatever words she had in mind were distorted in her mouth as he angled himself to enter her, already sliding without much effort past the grip of her inner labiae...but from there he'd have to work her open, an entirely pleasurable prospect that she suggested to him by whispering in his ear: "Fuck me hard." She braced herself, grabbing his hips and pulling him into her insistently. She clenched her teeth together and groaned at the familiar, wonderful ache, heightened by the girth and length of the man she was taking.