The Taste Of Roses (Father/Story)

[Story]

The sundown babies had all come out to play, dripping gold and diamonds, black tie and slinky black somethings. It came with the smell of perfume and hairspray; of the kind of aftershave that held a hint of musk and expensive leather; shoeshine and the press of dry cleaned garments. And most of all, it smelled of money and booze, sweat and promises dangled around the clink of ice in glasses. It looked like a big fucking secret that everyone was a part of, all eyes glittering in the dim lights that hung like low hanging fruit.

Meant to be sexy, or something.

It was all a saccharine lie, like the sparkle of emeralds around one woman’s neck, when it was really pawn shop costume jewelry. The toothy smiles, bleach white teeth and lips coated pink, or red, or glossy. Teeth marks and splotches of color abandoned on emptied martini glasses. The deadpan businessmen leering with eyes that resembled more like a shark’s deadened sights. All blood in the water, really, when there was this much flesh being passed around in the form of long legs and pushed up tits, all squeezed into something that was too tight, or just the right kind of revealing.

Legs and tits and sometimes an ass, hobbling around in high high heels, grasping onto suits and ties. Eventually, it all started to look the fucking same.

The thrum of music nearly drowned out the drone of conversation that was occurring right next to her. An annoying drone of masculinity, some punctuated by the titter of something more feminine. Peaches even smiled; the laughter was forced, but so was the conversation -- to her, anyway. The graveled response, that mumble of anticipation that came from him across the way. See, he thought he had the babydoll that giggled and simpered, not seeing that she curled away from his grasping hand on her thigh.

Too young to be there. Barely in college, if she wasn’t a drop out. Definitely too young for the grizzled grey with his paunch hanging out of his gaping jacket and thinning hairline beaded with sweat from too many bodies sucking up the air conditioning like hungry vamps.

The blonde watched, impassive in a way, until her attention was jerked away by the presence of a heavy paw landing on her knee. And oh -- how convenient that was that she had left it jutting there, legs crossed, thigh highs just that much closer to revealing the thin stretch of sun bathed skin that hid up under the hem of her dress. Blue eyes wandered from the hairy knuckles of his fingers, loitering idly on the wedding band that gleamed malicious in the low lighting, then finally up and at him, her smile as manicured as the hand that fell on top of his.

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

Love. Baby. Sugar. Darling. Sugar cubes in iced tea on a summer’s day, enough to quench their thirst and keep them comfortable. The little pet name she attached at the end of her question lit his face right up, though Peaches had learned to blur them out like a bad photograph, so that they all blended together; no face, no name, no memory, no consequence. All the while making them feel like the world.

His breath was hot against her cheek when he leaned in, his fingers digging in now, sliding up. He smelled like whiskey sours and menthol, making her crave enough to shift. Her knee dropped down and with it his hand slid off as she leaned down, digging in her little clutch purse, only to remember.

She quit.

So it was spearmint gum instead, popped it between cherry lips and rose with a sunflowered smile and devilish wink.

“Come on, love, I want another drink.”

She rose up like it was his idea and the conflict that speared across his face suggested that he wasn’t even sure. But like any dangerous puppy, he rose up with her, sweaty hand now on the small of her back to propel her forward quicker than she liked. Two fingers he held up to the bartender who didn’t even glance up at them.

Whiskey sour. He said it. She didn’t really have to hear it. It had what he had decided she wanted to drink right along with him. Her hand around the new glass was as thoughtless as anything that was this night, as mechanical as the smile she still wore on her face, and yet that much didn’t matter so long as he saw sparklers and fireworks in the pull of her gaze. She even let him push up close to her, too close, his breath now creeping on her lips.

Her eyes narrowed, “Oh, honey, behave. You know that wasn’t part of the deal.” Sweetness slipped off her tongue, but this time there was a hint of spice.

And, really, she should have caught the warning sign as it reflected as red as an exit sign in his eyes.

But you know how these things go.

You know.

She’d had one too many, feeling the buzz from the booze, and the ladies room was across the way. She hadn’t even paid attention to see where he went, only that he was suddenly crowding her as she stepped into the bathroom, waiting in out, it felt, so that he could lock the door behind him with an unsatisfying click. The ice from her drink ran through her veins as she watched his shadow of intent approach her in the mirror, stiffened as he barred her in with a hand on either side of her.

“I said …” she murmured so carefully. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

He laughed, drunk. Leaned in again. She smelled more sweat than she did the alcohol now; the smell of his suggestion. “But we can … make it part of the deal, right, baby? What do you say?”

His hand found her ass, squeezed it, tried to slide up the hem of her dress. That was enough for her. She turned around, faster than he expected, and let her open palm crash across his face.

Only, you know, he was a big, strong man. It was why her head suddenly found itself connecting with the edge of the sink, the impact bringing white hot heat. The room spun, her stomach squeezed, and that moan was not one of pleasure as she began to teeter on down.

@Father Figure

 

[Father Figure]

There was something utterly frightening about the man who had been watching the ongoing interactions between the young woman and her would be suitor. The towering behemoth of a creature sat at his table like an urbane lion, completely content to leave the drink that rested next to him untouched. The piercing gaze was absolutely unfettered, not constrained by any sense of humanity of civility. Why would someone like him need to bother with such things? Even as a mortal he had been beyond these matters, his incredible stature giving him a sense of safety in a world full of dangers. Now as he casually reclined, the chair beneath him creaking, he watched as another little prey animal was chosen as the morsel of a lesser beast.

It was not an unusual story unfolding of course, he'd seen it many times before, but this time he was not necessarily sure as to why he bothered to interact. Often times he merely let things play out, let things be the course that they should be, and why should he ever interfere? The course of time had ground all sorts of individuals beneath its relentless boot, crushing them into powder and obliterating all traces of what others considered good. Good or evil, such matters paled in comparison to the concept of power. Power allowed you to do either, it allowed both the benefactor and the villain to thrive. It came in a variety of forms, a banquet of delights and intrigues, but the end result was no matter who you were...you overcame not because you were kind, charitable, or gentle. You were benevolent because you had the power to be so. Or the power to destroy.

He was vampire, some things just did not bother him any longer.

He straightened himself, adjusting the suit that was upon him, his features hardening into something dangerous. It was not the mock confidence of these alpha males, a pale comparison to the mien of a true predator in the crowd. People parted as he passed by them, the ease at which he did so belying the fact of their quick willingness to remove themselves from his path. His eyes were on the young lady and her would be suitor, watching as they left, his well dressed shoes echoing as his mountainesque frame cut a swath through the gathering. Shoulders bunched as he rounded the corner, his hand coming to rest upon the lock door. Senses so heightened he could taste the blood on the air from the violence occurring within. Fane leaned closed, pressing his head near, listening for the suffering and he smiled slowly.

The palm on the door braced, the arm pressing, and with a sudden unearthly ease the lock gave and the door swung open to reveal the scene before him. His eyes somber as he merely stepped within, casting shadow across both victim and perpetrator alike and he spoke with disgusting calm. "I believe you were about to leave, don't you?"

 

[Story]

What was it that they said? All that glitters is not gold?

The woman might have been made of glitter and sunshine; light and the touch of spring. Warm breezes and the smell of flowers and the sounds of the earth waking up after a long winter. She had sweetness in her blood, the kind that made diabetics and cavities; the kind that had the tang of intoxication, better than what buzzed in her ears and flushed her cheeks, made her eyes shine with the dullness of lack of presence.

But that might have also been the fact that her head was spinning after that blow. It left a streak of blood on cream porcelain and pounded at the back of her head. Woozy, she scrambled against tile, manicured hands grasping at the edges of the sink as the leering face advanced.

Her eyes swam with summer, blue as a cloudless sky, possessed by a fey nature that gave him pause before he grabbed at her like she was some sort of presence wanting to be unwrapped, so matter how tight the dress she wore swathed her. Her pretty face scrunched up like a rosebud before it bloomed, pitying more than she was scared; ashamed more than she was concerned about his intentions. She actually reached for his hand when he grabbed at her, fingers locking. She let him pull her on up and against him, but only so close that she could drag her breath against his ear and whisper her words.

“Go home to your wife,” she insisted, fingers squeezing his, sending a pulse of warmth up that had him flushing, looking dazed. It was him that stumbled then, looking like he had just woken up from a bad trip. He sweated, pupils dilated, and bumped right into the predator that swung the door in on them.

He had to cock his head up to stare at the other man, a mix of desperation and adrenaline rushed fear making him stumble the rest of the way around the man and back into the pulse and dark of the club.

Peaches leaned against the edge of the sink in a mix of casual and woozy, her fingers moving now that she had set the man free to the fact of her head to probe the tender spot where she had hit it, wincing.

“You are in the ladies room,” she murmured absently to the newcomer, half distracted by her own folly; half sick that it was something else that she would have to send bounding off after something better, more hopeful that he would just turn around and leave her alone.

Neither were possibilities, she knew that. Especially since she had lit up like a vampire from twilight and a flower was blooming right there in the sink, having risen up through the piping and plumbing. Or the fact that the tiles around her feet had shifted, green things growing in the crevices. So instead she closed her eyes and scrunched her nose.

“You don’t happen to have a smoke, do you?”

 

[Father Figure]

There was nothing quite as impressive as the faerie.

It was not necessarily their power, but the air that they commanded, the way they handled themselves even in situations that were dire. Watching her even as she struggled with the blow that had landed upon her, seeing her come to her senses enough to exert her own power over the other man, that was enough to convince the powerful vampire that he wanted to have her. He had known it already, he had recognized it with the way she moved and the perfect form of her body, but it was that unique and strange unearthly enchantment that made him smile with feral intensity. His eyes were dark, lustrous as they studied her, hardly caring about the man that was soon to be leaving their presence.

A small laugh left the powerful man’s chest as he stood there, giving a little shrug of one powerful shoulder as the stepped to the side to let the interloper leave. That was what the man was, this idiot who happened to be there with them, an interloper who was in the way of him having what he craved. It was interesting though that the fae spared him, because surely, she knew instinctually that this man was not human. If that was the case and she had saved this mortal’s life, then perhaps she was a bit more of a wild card than he assumed.

His voice was idle as he stepped forward, casually stepping near without touching her. He could, of course he could, take whatever he chose. Yet there was something to be said for calm resolve and he spoke with a calm that demanded the world yield to his very thoughts. “Well, it seems to me that you might need some help…no matter where we happen to be. As for a smoke, no, I’m afraid I have no particular need to indulge but if you want to get a breath of fresh air then I am sure we can find you one.”

The scent of blood in the air was palpable, his eyes flicking down towards the porcelain, but he held himself back from quite lewdly licking it clean. There would be time enough for that later.

 

[Story]

It was a damn shame that she couldn’t control it, not really. It made her a wild card and threw a target on her back that seemed brighter than a star. Even then, she seemed to be having trouble breathing, or at least struggling to ground herself again from the rush. A side effect, probably - mixed with booze and pixie dust and a knock on the head that forced her to breathe through her nose.

She even had the decency to look irritated as he flitted right into her space, a wolf replacing the sheep. She smelled it on him. The predator. Like ozone and maybe a splash of cologne, a charge of power that crackled across her skin and raised the hairs on her arms. It might have even been mistaken for her being cold, which … she was not.

“What kind of help do you think I need?”

She asked it while the edges of her lips quirked up, her hand straying back to the toss of gold that was her hair, probing the back of her head again as she shifted herself and pushed away from the sink. So far, she hadn’t looked at him. She’d looked everywhere but him. Until then, when she flexed her capacity to move, and the heart shape of her face pushed up, lids raised, a certain kind of skeptical curiosity.

Standing up straight and even in heels, this man had enough height on her that she did have to lift her chin to meet his eyes, though his shoulders were distraction enough, let alone what he might be hiding under his clothes. Her eyes roved, but jumped back up more than they strayed, while her mouth twitched as if she were trying to decide what to say. Or do with him.

“I’m Peaches,” she introduced herself, hand thrust out, not even realizing that it was the one smeared with a smidge of blood. “We should get out of here before anyone has any ideas as to why two men wandered into the women’s restroom after me,” she suggested. Again with the lip twitch. Like she didn’t know if she should smile or not; it played instead, just on the edges.

 

[Father Figure]

“Peaches…,” the powerful man gave a small murmuring smile as he whispered her name, raising his eyebrows as he did so. It was evident from his reaction that in no way did he believe the appellation that she provided for herself. Instead though he was far more intrigued by something else. His hand came out suddenly, a smooth motion, and he caught hold of her wrist. It was not cruelly done but the fingers were like steel, unrelenting in the action, and hardly accepting a no in the process. Those digits tightened around her wrist, turning it just slightly so he could examine the blood smear across her skin, tilting it this way and that as if considering whether he should kiss her fingers or take what he wanted.

There was only so much he could take, and she knew that as he stood there. They had pegged one another rather immediately and Fane saw no reason to act in a manner that hinted he was anything but the predator he was. He had seen the way her eyes widened, the way she moved just the tiniest of bits as if wary of the creature in the room with her. He himself was responding in the same vein, merely the opposite end of the spectrum. Those powerful shoulders bunched in his suit, the monolithic creature bending over just slightly to gaze down upon her. A shadow looming there with the bright lights of the bathroom glaring down upon them both.

In the end he decided to do both. His head tilted down, raising her hand towards his lips, jerking her slightly close with a dangerous glare in his eyes before he kissed her knuckles softly. The hand was rotated slowly beneath those lips, a small motion of his mouth letting the tip of his tongue catch the sweet taste he hungered for. There was a wicked moment where his eyes closed, savoring the feeling as if it were practically sexual to him as his tongue moved across her flesh, slow and uncaring whether it was seductive or just outright lewd. Finally, he straightened, a wry smirk on his own lips as he spoke.

“I am Matthew Fane and it is a sincere pleasure to meet you,” and with those words he stepped slightly to the side and offered her his rather broad arm for her to rest her hand upon should she choose to do so. Something in his eyes suggested that to not do so might change the quality of their interaction this evening.

 

[Story]

Oh, she knew. What he was. What he meant.

She knew with the thud of her heart in the back of her head and in her mouth and down in her stomach. Everywhere but her chest, in which her ribs felt like a corset squeezing around the empty hole where her heart should be. That had been ripped out a long time ago, leaving a dead piece of coal in its wake. It still pumped blood, it kept her in motion, but the spark was gone; that zeal was gone, stamped down by vices meant to keep her hazy and indifferent. Hidden behind a tinny smile, honey sweet all the same.

And even with the buzz of alcohol in her system, her pulse did a backflip and revved up inside her chest, jump started by the warmth of his fingers around her wrist. It rushed down the length of her arm and started running a marathon against the press of his grip that kept her frozen in place.

“Someone is oldschool,” she murmured, her voice echoing in her ears as the thrumming beat in the back of her head intensified. The blue eyed baby’s gaze was swimming with a cyclone of color as her attention dropped to where his lips pressed, fingers curling as warmth radiated from his mouth. The gasp that resounded just sounded like heat to her that escaped through parted lips and had her stomach turning as she took a wobbling step toward him -- at his behest; she wasn’t so fond of moving in the moment. Not with the lights so bright and the flower having several blooms now as it poked through the drain in the sink.

“And provocative…” Her voice hitched as she tried to find the flirt back in her voice, meant to tease him, but instead it was distant-wispy, with a hint of confusion as her fingertip’s own heartbeat throbbed against his tongue. But at least he had cleaned the blood away.

It wasn’t as though she were afraid, not really. The hand that crawled through his arm was more than willing, even if it was because she couldn’t shake the woozy feeling away. That might have also explained why she leaned on the man so heavily, when before she had seemed to float, like air, flitting around the place with a grace that was lost to those who mingled in the confines of the club.

“Maybe you should take my card,” she murmured, a pleased little smile curling her lips. Was it OK to put her head down, just for a second? She started to, that was for sure, right there on his shoulder, but seemed to remember herself. She swallowed her pulse back down and raised her free hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose to try and force herself to focus before finally admitting, “Can you get a girl another drink?”

As if that were the first thing she needed to do with herself. Either way, the bathroom was buzzing a little too much with herself for her own liking, so she was latched onto him until he led them out of the space.

 

[Father Figure]

There was a sincere humor to the way the man looked upon her, as if he were completely aware of the horrifying power he represented and yet had no care whatsoever for the impact that he made upon her. There was no need on his part to try to be impressive, no requirement on his part to do anything but to exist. Did the lion preen because the antelope feared its very presence? No, it was the natural course of existence and he was the type of being who thrived on the fear he brought. The fear, the attraction, and the overwhelming certainty that to be near him was to court death. Strangely so many found that an appealing prospect, it was no wonder that he did not lack for attention when he so chose.

Such as now as she wobbled against him, feeling the heady taste of her intoxicating blood on his tongue. Oh, this one did far more than revel in life, she welcomed the potential death that might await around the corner. He could taste the drugs lacing her system, the alcohol permeating her veins, and the wickedly exquisite undertones of her faerie magics. No, this was something far different than the normal little rabbit that he hunted in the city and as she moved against him he did nothing to disabuse her of the notion that she very well could do as she wished.

His voice was calm, direct, a lighthouse in the hazy storm of her life as he replied simply. “I am sure I will be in touch should I ever need to do so, but a drink, no, I think you’ve had more than your fair share.”

The words were said with such calm direction that it was practically impossible to realize there might have been another choice in the moment. He merely denied her as if he had every right to do so, the arm that she had latched onto moving so that he could bring her near his imposing frame. The fingers touched her hip, curving around it, the kind of motion that a man would make before touching her rear. Yet he did nothing of the sort for now, merely stepping out of the bathroom with her to the gawking of nearby onlookers who had been about to enter. His steps were kept steady, his stride true, and throughout it all he practically carried her as he braced her against him.

His voice was quiet. “I have another option, why don’t you let me drive you home tonight. I promise to remain on my best behavior. A pure unadulterated gentleman.”

 

[Story]

He was right, of course. She didn’t need another drink; that was just an excuse to leave the confines of the bathroom with its too bright lights and the stink of her own magic that she left behind in its wake.

Oh, but his voice. It stirred her up, tightened her grip on his arm, and had her paying more attention to him than she had been up until that point. Something inside her fluttered with the surety in which he addressed the situation and brightened the pair of summer blues as they went from their half-mast to fully open.

“I can’t tell if I should be afraid that you’re going to eat me or if you’re just the kind of white knight that I need,” she murmured in close to him, her voice a husky tease laced in alcohol. He could probably smell it on her breath with the way she let her lips inch close to the skin of his chin, only to duck her head back down as it swiveled around at the party he brought them out to.

It was a place she was ready to leave.

Her arm tightened through his has his arm slid around her face, letting his step guide her own until they had left the noise of everything behind, though the only reply she had given him to his proposition was a slight, “Mmm..” that could have been agreement or just acknowledgement. Not until fresh night air slapped her in the face and roused her from her half dizzy intoxicated state.

“Fine, take me home,” she spoke up at last. “But if you try anything untoward, I’ll have to charge you,” she teased.

 

[Father Figure]

There was an unlimited amount of pleasure in feeling her against him and it had to perhaps be the faerie magic that he knew was within her blood. The blood he had tasted. He had not considered the idea that it might have been enchanting in some manner, a way of turning the predator into something a bit more docile. His eyes were lambent in the darkness as they sidled out into the night, his large frame providing the perfect resting place for the docile woman on his arm. He might have been able to have her then and there, either intimately or not so kindly, but there was no need for any of that standing outside on the street corner. No, he would have patience. Still, only a fool did not partake in a feast that was being offered to him so readily.

He knew a cab would pull up at any moment, but there was still time, as his hand came up to take hold of her chin. The fingers were as kind as they were capable, which was one step shy of being cruel, and he leaned down to brush his lips dangerously across her throat. She knew what he was, knew that he could rake those teeth cross veins and open his mouth to her beating heart. Yet he stilled the urge as he merely kissed the pulse of her life’s blood running beneath her skin. A slow taunting motion as he indulged in kissing upwards, the other arm pulling her closer against him before he whispered in her ear.

“Charge me, darling woman? Perhaps a measure of fear and gratitude is the more proper response to your predicament. I am no savior though, so do feel free to let me know what the price might be…and what you are offering to sell?”

 

[Story]

Peaches had bumped her head harder than she thought. Or else she was power drunk and normal drunk all rolled into one and the intoxication from it was making her head spin. Or maybe, you know, it was him. There was fear under it all, the kind that clenched guts and turned blood cold even as it rushed through veins. This was something that she should not be cuddled up against like she was, like he was some sort of good guy. No, this was something worse than the asshole she had sent on his way and here she was -- docile little lamb smelling of peaches and cream and a hint of cinnamon. And also flowers, a wild bloom, not the cheap perfume.

She swallowed hard when his firm hand touched her skin, soft to the touch, easily cruised. The mitt almost enveloped her, with the delicate heart shape of her face, the curve of her jaw following the trace of his fingers. Blue eyes sparkled with understanding right before they fluttered and her voice gasped into the night when his breath teased the pulse of her neck, drawing it out like this was a race, then smothering it with the touch of his mouth.

She knew what she would taste like, to him. This wasn’t her first walk in the night. She wasn’t as innocent and naive as she had started out, lost to what she was and what he was … but that was a story for a different time, whereas this was now. Cinnamon and cream, the fine bite of wine, the sweet of a peach. Her kind were a delicacy to the predators that went bump.

So she knew better.

She did.

And yet her nails clung to his suit, clinging against his arm, as her pulse rushed down low and twisted in her panties to beast a new rhythm there. Instead of answering him though, she whispered another question.

“What is it that you’re wanting? And do you know what you’re getting yourself into if you just take it?”

 

[Father Figure]

A slow rolling laughter came from the deep chest, a chuffing brush of air across her ear lobe as a nearby uber driver pulled up to take them wherever they wanted to go. He had not had any needed to call, these kinds of fares were common enough outside of the place they had been frequenting. Her words needed no response from him, he never damned well what would happen one way or another. There was no threat to her words, no matter what she might think, and if the words were not a threat then it was a warning as to the power, she might wield over him. It was enough to make him pull back from the moment, to give her a playful squeeze with the hand at her hip. Where other men would have already had their hands trying to get up underneath her dress, this one merely ignored the entreaty of sexuality.

He would have what he wanted eventually. For now, he reached back behind him and opened the door to the car, giving a small movement of her body so that she would know he expected her to enter. It would allow him to admire her more, the scent of her and the beautiful physique of her exquisite body. His eyes grew playful as they considered her, a morsel that he intended to feast upon. Though, considering the options of the night ahead, perhaps it would not be only he who tasted such fine endeavors.

He followed her into the vehicle, practically trapping her there with the size of him, needing her to adjust so that they were comfortable together. The driver took a moment to move the driver’s side passenger seat up as far as it could go to accommodate the mammoth man’s legs. He was in no way perturbed however, his head was clouded with the feeling of her, and as they started away he gave his address and then looked back down at her. He looked and he spoke plainly.

“I want you. All of you. That is what I want. I have no need to speak anything but plainly. What makes it worse though is how much you already want me. Tell me, with all those drugs and alcohol. With all the sex and tawdry indulgences…are you hoping to be destroyed? If so, why haven’t you found me sooner?”

 

[Story]

She knew it was a bad idea like a rabbit knew it was being hunted by a wolf. And even though its base instinct was to flee before the wolf could clamp jaws around its form, sometimes the rabbit froze, making an easier chase for the predator. If someone were to ask her why she smiled and crawled into the back of the car with him, she would have said it was because she froze. While her instinct screamed at her to leave, there was that overwhelming sense of numbness that pushed it all away, whispering more exciting things in her ear.

Fuck it.

She curled up in the back seat of the car, small next to the man, one leg tucking up underneath her that caused her dress to ride up one long, sunkissed leg. One hand cradled the side of her face as she leaned back, using it as a pillow as she adjusted her sights to his face. Something she didn’t normally do, but she did now, to get a good look at the creature she shared space with.

And then?

And then she perked right up in her seat when he spoke his next words like he did, so solemnly, so serious. Her face split into a grin like she was delighted by the news, only for her head to tilt all the way back and her eyes closed. The girl started to shake next to him before the noise bubbled up from her lips, ending in a short snort.

The dam burst after that and Peaches laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Then, gasping, that dumb little grin still on her face, she tilted her head and looked at him with blue eyes that pooled like a pair of lakes in summer.

“No, you don’t. You know what I am, you want that. You want to suck me dry because I’m yummy; I fucking taste good. Then you’ll be done and I might be dead, and then Adrienne will be mad. You should really make an appointment first and make everyone happy. But than you for the ride home… I wasn’t feeling very well.”

It was the most that she had spoken all night, she thought, and as the rush of hilarity left her as quick as it came, the golden wrapped beauty tilted her head away from him and closed her eyes again.

 

[Father Figure]

His head tilted the tiniest bit as she spoke, truly not caring or recognizing the name that she provided as some kind of means of protection. Oh, he did appreciate the words that she used, the way she threw them down on the ground like a gauntlet before him and he smiled with low approval at the sudden fieriness. It was a fire he was more than willing to crush, more than willing to absolutely destroy, but he smiled nonetheless at the words. If she wanted to hide behind someone else’s skirts and use their power as some form of crucifix to ward him off, then there was only one thing that the large creature was capable of doing. He laughed.

The laughter was demeaning, a roiling sound of absolute uncaring, and he leaned back in the car to merely stretch his own self out. There was nothing human in that laugh, his eyes raising to meet the driver’s in the rearview mirror. A driver which quickly and prudently looked away from the large man’s eyes. There was something unsettling there, almost as if he were deciding against doing anything at all and just removing the evenings entertainment…and bystanders from the vehicle. Let her find him humorous, let her find him laughable, there was no need for cruelty when the world was disposable.

His eyes were intense as he turned to look down at her, one hand reaching out to take care of her beautiful golden curls and he tugged her head to gaze round at him. He leaned in, closing the distance, and he spoke plainly. “And you, you darling girl, want it. You taunt, either because you wish suffering or because you think the name you speak would matter to one such as me. Which is it?”

 

[Story]

The cab driver must have thought that they were both psychopaths, laughing at one another in the back seat. Hers one of jovial self-deprecation and his the sucker punch meant to shut her up. But the truth was, Peaches could laugh until she cried, it was that insane how little she cared about crawling right into the backseat with him. It was reckless behavior, her trademark; maybe she did want it, the destruction. She had tried to self-destruct enough times to count, only for a glimmer of something to come back, a drive that lit up like a candle, only to be snuffed out later.

And the truth of the matter, she was a candy bar to the monster she coiled so close to. And he had already demonstrated that he had a sweet tooth.

She forgot the story, but did Goldilocks gets eaten by one of the bears at the end?

Her laughter died in her throat with a sharp gasp and something of that fire lit up in baby blues as her face was brought up close to his, held by the tangle of his mitt in her hair. Softer than it look; easy to sift through fingers, and he tangled a whole wad of the abundance of gold and tugged her taut to get her to stay.

Sullen and stubborn pinched her lips together, only to have her relax all at once and take a more seductive take on the moment. Her breath whispered against his skin as she tilted her head closer, “Which do you want it to be?”

 

[Father Figure]

The woman was breathtaking in her response to him, the rise and fall of her chest a welcome view for his piercing eyes as he slowly looked away from her face to move down to admire her form. She was a willing vassal, there was no doubt, using pain and pleasure as a mingled for of defense. It was always meant as a part of manipulation, an act to gain the greatest advantage in a moment’s notice and he smirked down at her as those eyes came back up to look into her own. That strong hand tightened upon her hair once more, tilting her head back, exposing her throat as he lowered his lips towards her skin. Fangs brushed cross her flesh, a soft caress before his lips found their purchase and he gave slow kissed along her throat, appreciating the taste of her on his tongue.

A small growl erupted from his throat, haunting in its need, and he struggled to ignore the hunger that wanted him to pierce that skin and take from her. If he did so it meant he might have to kill the cab driver and that would not do. Instead his other hand came up to cup one firm breast, digging through her clothing in a claim upon her skin, bruising in his intensity. He was not necessarily sure he appreciated her properly, not quite yet. It was one thing to be thought of in adoration, another to be thought of in terror, but to be thought of as silly…

…well, he might dispose of such a woman.

Her question though demanded an answer and his head tilted back as he moved to capture her lips with his. Hard and unrelenting, the cold flesh of his lips only proved his undeath as he forced her mouth open to brush his tongue across her warmth. Perhaps if he fed then there might be a measure of something resembling life within his caress. As it were, there was this monstrous creature seeking a feeling of being alive by torturing those who were.

“You already know the answer. Suffer for me.” Those words softly spoken as the fingers slid to grip her hardening nipple through the simple barrier of fabric.

 

[Story]

She knew his kind. Intimately, she did, and she hated herself for it. But she hated herself even more for expecting it, for anticipating it, and went willingly like a rabbit in a trap when she crawled right into the cage to be taken away to be devoured -- she probably wanted it. And while his hand tightened in her hair so that the locks pulled taut against her scalp, she felt the twinge of dizzying pain from the blunt force of her earlier encounter with the sink edge. She felt the lump throb, felt the corners of her eyes sting as her eyes brightened with something like anger, but not quite.

She made a strangled sort of noise that might have also been a purr of satisfaction when the firm brush of his lips found the pattering of her pulse against his tongue. The pushed up mounds of her breasts heaved along with the ragged intakes of breath as her skin pebbled and shivered with the edge of his tooth, good enough that she nearly opened her mouth to dare him to sink teeth into her skin. She was an addict; she already knew it would feel good, even if it wasn’t good for her.

No, she wasn’t laughing anymore.

There was quite a different emotion that crawled across the fine structure of her face, in the tremble of her lips, the sharpness of her stare. Not quite ready to submit, but not resisting the lure just the same.

He caught her gasp with his mouth, smothering it, as he gripped her chest locked away still in that dress and flimsy lingerie underneath, her mouth twisting away before the groan of her protest met the flex of his tongue between her parted lips. He crowded her with his presence just as surely as his tongue tangled against hers. She didn’t quite kiss him back, not like this, even if her breast did press into his hand and her strangled moan had her shifting in the seat next to him as a flare of pain and an unseemly jolt of pleasure pulsed from nipple to groin.

“Bite me,” she finally whispered, wicked and honey drenched, her own hand finally snaking around and curling around the back of his neck while the cab driver kept glancing uncertainly at the pair behind him.

 

[Father Figure]

Bite her.

The words were intoxicating, exclusively by the fact that she knew exactly what he was and what it would mean for her should he partake. The heady danger of being on the edge of oblivion. Others, little prey animals that they were, had no inklings of the coming end that would fall upon them should he slake his thirst with their blood. No, they were often imbecilic little things who in their last moments offered themselves up like tasty morsels so that he might sup and take his fill. They were drawn to him, moths to the flame, gasping out their last breath as their hearts came to a stop within their beautiful chests. Not this one though, not her, she instead offered herself upwards with the full knowledge that should he not have the will to control himself…she would be snuffed out.

His hands guided her, pulling her off the seat and up into his lap. The strong neck flexing beneath her hand as he did not change their embrace. He wanted to feel her against him, wanted every inch of her beautiful flesh pressed up against his own. Hands slid along her flesh, gripping with cruel intensity, doing nothing but admiring the slim figure that he found himself pressing upwards. It was a lovely dance, the stealing of her lifeforce, the heat flowing from her panted breath and into his very own unearthly lungs. He wanted her and she could feel that want pressing up hard against her backside as he held her there.

He considered her with calm detachment, as if examining her very soul as he gazed up into her heated features. Meeting her gaze with acceptance of what she offered. Those strong hands touched her hair, sliding into it to tilt her head back, leaning in close to brush lips across her throat. He took a moment to inhale the scent of her, the pure mind-altering intoxication, and then those sharp fangs caught hold. A brief pause, a moment’s titillation and he bit hard. Sinking them deep into her, the embrace of the vampire.

 

[Story]

Maybe it was what she wanted, deep down. Maybe that’s why she said it, like that. To be snuffed out. Why else did she drown herself in everything else, like she did? And Adrienne wasn’t there, not this time, to stop her from her own whims. What was funny, in a darkling way, was that the golden doused darling was put on a pedestal more often than not, considered to be something interesting, whimsical, mysterious.

Wasn’t all that just a lie, though?

Wasn’t she just a little bit stupid, a little more desperate? Wasn’t she just chasing a high right now, a more dangerous one than the pills or the coke?

Either way, she had said it like a dare, like he wouldn’t actually do it, even though she knew that he would. Fear leapt through her like a flouncing hare trying to escape the jaws of the fox or wolf. Her blue eyes shrunk beneath the dilating pupil of her eyes as he dragged her like some sort of stiffened rag doll in his lap.

Her fingertips slipped down, pushing against the hard steel of his chest. He’d be able to feel the pair of plush cheeks underneath the fabric of her dress adjust and shift on his lap, then finally try and jerk back from the flex of his own hidden erection from the confines of his pants, making her aware exactly what his intentions were for the fae this evening.

The relentless scorch of his mouth crushing against her own softer pair of lips freed her enough that she gasped out loud when he dropped his intention down to the pounding pulse in her throat. It jerked against the touch of his lips like a traitor, skipping with anticipation that coursed its way as a shiver through the rest of her body.

Then Peaches stiffened, her whole body jerking with the shock of his teeth sinking into her flesh. No doubt, the cab driver was pushing his foot down on the accelerator to get the pair out of the car faster now, as the cry that lurched from between her lips that started out bad melted with the rest of her into a near purr. She slunk against him like a cat, breasts against his chest and hands moving to his shoulders. Her touch felt warm, perhaps even too warm, but it was her taste that mattered the most.

Heady and thick, she tasted like summertime and sweetness, laced with something of a kick from the jolt of adrenaline and potent fear that had collapsed into quick, panting desire. More than anything, she tasted like an ambrosia, like an old familiar, like something rare and forgotten to the undead.

She knew this. It was why she had asked for it, right?

More than anything, she tasted like vitality and energy that escaped from her body into his, infusing him with her own heat, her own life. Like growing that flower where everything else around it had been dead and changed. It would feel, in short, like she was passing a taste of a soul back to him.

 

[Father Figure]

The heady intoxication washed over his mind, twisting his thoughts into something far more than predatory. The taste of her blood was addictive, instilling a need for possession and territory that he had not had before. When he had first found her, he had considered her interesting, when he had first spoken with her, he had considered her worthwhile food, but something changed as the blood slicked across his tongue. His body ached as his eyes widened, the pupils expanding and then contracting as if he had been hit by some kind of drug. A low groan rose from deep within his chest against her throat, the heart’s blood pouring down his gullet, and with a slow hiss he broke the connection. Tongue lapping, sealing the wounds of his kiss upon her, and sealing her claim on his very soul in that moment.

He would not be killing her.

His body ached for her as the suckling ended, the feeling of her against him driving him mad with desire in more than one way. Those brutish hands gripped her viciously, tugging her back down so that her perfect derriere did not escape the feeling of that thick cock pressing against it. If he could not have her life, then he very well might take something else in compensation. There was a languidness though now, in the way he moved, and even if he still held the same frightening presence it was somehow muted. Dangerous, but a danger that was abated in the moment. He could fool himself, tell himself that he might dispose of her, but he was never a man who lied to himself.

The cab pulled over to deposit them at the chosen address, an address that the faerie had provided and after a quick interaction to pay the driver Fane sent him on his way. The towering behemoth took his time in looking up and down the streets, glancing back and forth, trying to decide the measure of vulnerability in standing out in the open. Or if the woman he had summarily deposited next to him would make an action that drew far too much attention. Vampires, the ultimate in survivalists, and of course they had to be. Immortality was only guaranteed to the wary.

His voice was mild, musing, and curious as he steadied her next to him so that she had virtually nowhere to go. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” It was an old wives’ tale, to be sure, but he found it absolutely humorous to tease her in that fashion…and the answer would reveal quite a bit concerning her own thoughts as to his presence there.

 

[Story]

It was an addict’s move. She had done this before, with someone else, knowing exactly what it would do to the both of them. A low moan drew the cab driver’s glance again to the back seat, his jaw tensing in embarrassed anger at the sight of the blonde’s head tipped back like it was, lipstick lips parted in a way that was better than ecstasy as the vampire dragged at her pulse. It could feel better than an orgasm, but better if she were having one with his teeth sunk in her vein. And perhaps it was mostly the danger, as well, knowing that he could pull her down into the depths of his embrace.

Peaches was grinding back down on his crotch, dress stretched out too thin over the plump globes of her ass that flexed and moved against the cock that he poked between the cheeks, but a few different layers of fabric separated either of them from really feeling the heat.

She was panting when he pulled away with his tongue closing the puncture wounds, blue eyes dilated like she had dosed on something potent and barely seeing the cruel predator that looked up at her on his lap.

Yeah, she knew what she was.

Her hands were gripping him by the shoulders at the end of it, a struggle warring on her face as she fought back the beg from her lips. This soon, she didn’t want to seem too desperate for her own self-destruction, even though she had a feeling he already knew.

Now imagine her surprise and disappointment when she found herself on her old familiar curb. It was an apartment, independent from the large complexes. This one only had a few units, old but functional, on the outskirts of the city itself. And here she had imagined that he would be taking her back to his lair; that seemed to be more his nature. Coming down from the high, she pulled herself off his lap and onto the curb with wobbling legs and mussed hair, hand reaching down to jerk the edge of her dress down over her ass now that the cool night breeze was starting to wake her the fuck up.

His voice startled her, making her blink at him owlishly, like she had and hadn’t forgotten his presence. How could she? He loomed over her like the thing he was: a predator. And he was currently looking at her like she really was a bunny on a spit ready to devour with his hands on her still.

“I’m trying to get clean,” she admitted, as if he would understand the context. “So I don’t think you should come in,” she practically pleaded, honey dipped locks falling over her face as she dipped her head and rummaged in the little clutch purse she had with her. Fingers shaking, she dragged out a business card, plain text. But it was pink and had a word printed across the front: Madame. The name Adrienne Evangeline written in smaller script, with an e-mail, and a phone number.

Glancing back up at him, she offered the card, “She’ll be able to get you back in touch with me if you want to have some… fun.”

 

[Father Figure]

There was a brief raise of his eyebrow as he looked at the card, something musing in his expression as he did so. Her words had been intriguing for a variety of reasons and he wondered exactly what sort of drug she thought he happened to represent. At the moment he himself felt deliciously alive, a high that he had not experienced in decades or perhaps centuries if he genuinely thought about it. When had killing last held an allure to him? When had he last felt the rays of the sun beating down upon his face? When had he last looked towards the night sky with wonder at his immortal being? No, those days were far gone in a soulless being that felt nothing. Felt nothing until he had her blood pouring down his throat. Those eyes glanced towards her, measuring, before he crumpled the card that she handed to him.

He tossed it.

He moved close to her, something menacing in the action, a man who wanted and would not be deterred from that want. No, not a man, she knew that. She could scream for help and he would destroy whomever came running, she could try to fight him and he would shrug the blows aside as if she were a child, and she could call 911 and they would never find her. Not something like him, a monolithic being risen from ancient childhood nightmares. He smiled down at her, slow and steady, and then he did the most demeaning thing he had done in that short span of time they had known one another. He made a small tsking noise in the back of his throat.

“Oh, oh poor dear little Peach. Darling little thing that you are. Did you imagine it would end in this moment? Did you think I was some John you were going to send on his way?” His eyes flickered with menace as he leaned down, one hand taking hold of her chin and raising it up so he could brush his lips across hers once more and then gave a small little peck to her nose, turning her head just slightly as his fingers took hold of her chin and gave it the smallest of pinches. He had no need to take her physically, nor to try his strange powers upon her mind, to do so would hardly be conquering. It was far too easy a victory to merely claim what you wanted. The true victory was to make what you craved need to be claimed.

“No, that’s not going to do in the slightest.”

His hand left her chin and touched her cheek, a slow caress that was intimately given. The fingers moving down to her throat, brushing over where he had bitten moments before, and then to her shoulder. Digits traversing, caressing along her upper arm and then the skin of her forearm, a slow gentle adoration that finally reached her fingers and he interlaced his. There was a speculative gaze, cruel and yet appreciative, and he spoke with solemnity. “Now, take me home, angel.”

 

[Story]

The Summer’s Child had always held an allure for a certain … kind. It was something that she could never quite place, nor understand. She never saw anything special or particularly becoming. Maybe it was just the power, or the idea of it. With him, it was probably just the blood. It was something she had already knew about, right? The effect it had on those who thrived on it. Tasting like sunshine and goodness, like promises and vitality. An addict’s worst nightmare, being addicted to the feeling that he could bring her, too, with just a taste.

And also dangerous. That she wouldn’t want to stop him if he went too far.

There were other uses for her, too, didn’t she already know that too?

It tied in to why she was like this, shying away, hiding behind a business card like it was going to protect her tonight. And part of it was that she wanted to be wanted for something, even if it was something as simple as her body, protected in knowing that it was all she would ever be wanted for. More of a chance for her to slip away after, once it was all over with, and they’d had their fun.

So she watched him with a nod of her head as he just smiled like that, threw away the card. That made her nervous and that was her fault too, somehow, for not telling him the whole of it. But part of that fear was that if she told him -- he might go away. And wasn’t that what she wanted to begin with?

“No,” she finally said, honestly. She had to tilt up her chin to look at his face. “But she won’t be happy.” That even sounded like an excuse to her own ears. “You haven’t given her anything in return, she…” Her voice was lost as she felt the pressure on her chin, holding her steady, as his mouth caught against hers against.

Gentle, not harsh. It startled her, considering the demanding crush that he had placed upon her in the backseat of the cab. More shocking was the touch of his hand grazing across honey soaked skin, drawing out a shiver that tremored all the way down her spine. Her hand lifted, touching the back of his as it wandered down her bare shoulder, bare arm, shuddering as it found the healed up bite mark, twining with the hand that hung limp at her side.

She hesitated, a searching look in the pools of her eyes, a kind of skepticism that drew her brows together and had her worrying her lower lip. Then her fingers twitched, curling around his larger ones.

“What do you want, really?” She knew, she just wanted to hear him say it. Nerves still fluttering around in her stomach, she crooked her arm and prepared to lead him across the lot with the clack of her high heels. She lived up the rickety flight of stares, and she had to release his hand once they had made to the the second door of the foursome in the unit to fish around in her clutch purse and shove the key in the lock. With a twist and shove, she pushed her door open and stepped inside, flicking on the flood of light in the hallway.

It was small, one bedroom, and had a kind of bohemian feel to it. Homely, but not the dirt poor kind. She had a nice flat screen in the living room, after all. Suddenly awkward that she had this ancient thing invading her personal space, Peaches ducked into the kitchen and stared still, like Bambi’s mom before she was shot by the hunter.

“Did you.. ...did you want some tea or…? Wine?”

 

[Father Figure]

He watched as the faerie woman talked herself into inviting a monster into her home and he smiled the entire time she did so. His eyebrows raised with that dark tinge of humor in his wicked features, the placid unconcerned expression regarding whomever this woman was referencing in her fears and uncertainties. A junkie with a pimp, could it be even more cliché? Of course, that was the problem with this little supernatural creature. She might not realize it, but it was a problem that she was going to find herself disabused of once the vampire was done with her. She had fallen into an age-old trap of the mind, something she had not been able to crawl her way out of it, but Fane would show her the way.

Somehow, somewhere, she had believed herself a mortal. Living in this shitty little hovel of a room, pimping her flesh out to the habits of others, finding herself at the behest of some idiot, and a junkie in the purest form of the word. It was disgusting and as he stood there he looked around the place like he was permeated with the dirtiness of being here. His hands moved to smooth out the business suit, wondering briefly what it might look like laying upon the floor. Such things as cleanliness truly did not concern him, but it was the ambience. The saturation of desperation. Such beings as they should never wallow in it.

What did he want really?

He had not been sure when he first met her, not been sure what thought had entered his mind when he saved her. Then he had felt nothing but hunger and intrigue, the taste of her blood, the heady aroma of her scent. The feel of her body had come secondary, the beautiful flesh pressing against him, and he had wanted what any man wanted. Now, as he stood there and watched her tremble like the prey she was, he knew what he wanted and he smiled at the realization. He wanted to save her, to show her that she was far above such things.

That master manipulator moved close, the large frame towering over her, a haunting and terrifying presence as he stepped close to her but once more than gentleness took over and he touched her hand to pull her close, his voice quiet as he whispered. “What do I want, little thing, I want to own you…and I will. Even when I finally leave, you will remember my touch in a way that none can compare…and I will lay claim upon you.” He did not ask if she wanted such a thing.

Some answers did not need to be said.

 

[Story]

He wasn’t the first monster she had willingly invited inside. He probably wasn’t even the scariest thing she had let touch her, let within close proximity of her, let abuse her in a way that her mind rationalized as normal. She was more than pretty but still stood out a freak among normals. She tried to play the part of the cool girl, of something aloof and mysterious, while also knowing that was an imposter in her shoes, and she knew that everyone knew she was just as stupid as she thought she was.

Thea -- or “Peaches” -- knew that she was a fairy princess like Cinderella knew she was a proper lady. Only she didn’t live in a fucking Disney movie. Step mommy wanted to murder and

Didn’t you know, right?

Peaches had started a hidden war between two clans and thought a demon would want to keep her safe.

At least Fifi had other things preoccupying herself with her Court’s political turmoil that left no time for her rapid entertainment of torturing her escort’s illegitimate offspring on some mortal woman. After all, Peaches was only half sidhe, and therefore had no real claim to anything but…

Everything that her deadbeat dad that had cum once in a country girl and fucked off for the entirety of her life.

It meant that Adrienne was more than a pimp, but Peaches preferred the cliché more than the reality. Her hand was already lifting up to touch against his hard chest when he encroached on her space again, forcing her head up, blue eyes watchful with her mouth hanging open in consideration as he laid his claim on her.

Actually, she looked kind of sad about it.

“You don’t mean that,” she insisted, voice soft. But she smiled in a self-deprecating way. “But I know what you mean.” He wanted to fuck her. Probably suck her blood and fuck her, simultaneously. And she was still torn on that part, equal in feeling fear that she might enjoy it too much and fear for her own well-being.

Perhaps both were justified.

She lowered her head as if she found his chest to be more interesting than his face, her fingers walking up the expanse of chiseled muscle she felt underneath to his shoulder. Leaning up, the waft of her scent, like honey and rain showers, came before the brush of her lips against his cheek.

“Thank you for bringing me home.”