"Ass!" I snarled aloud to no one in particular as I perched on the balcony railing, the moonlight soaking my shoulders as warmly as any sunlight ever had. Angelo had promised we would go hunting tonight. I had been looking forward to it. My mistake, I know. Instead, he had just simply disappeared.
I kicked my feet absently; I quickly noted the leftover stiffness and sluggishness in my normally terrifyingly fast and limber body. My stomach cramped painfully, and my throat burned, reminding me that I should eat, and soon. My lethargy was not just from my sleep.
Abandoned. Again. Joy. I could hear Dimitri talking loudly to someone at the edge of the bar. Sometimes preternatural hearing is a godsend, at least I could pinpoint his location and avoid him. For some reason, the punk-ass creep had been avoiding me as of late. A small smile crept over me, despite my reserve, and a tiny bit of fang gleamed in the moonlight. I had genuinely amused myself now.
In a slightly better mood, I leapt lightly from the balcony and slipped through the air like a shadow, hitting the ground a little more heavily than I would have liked, but still too quiet for any mortal to hear. Thus consoled for the night, I set out for a night of fun fun hunting, and maybe, just maybe, I would run into another night child. It could be interesting.
"Teach him to abandon me." I muttered as I set out for the park, pushing my hair out of my eyes with a defiant flip of my wrist.
I should have seen it coming, I should have…and yet here I am, laying low in the bushes and trying to stop the bleeding, which, by the way, doesn't seem to want to. My leg is fucking mangled. Dammit. Even my preternatural healing ability isn't enough to make this better, and had I but got a chance to juice the little prick that blew a hole in my leg, then maybe I would be alright. But no such luck. I had had him, no really. And then I got so hungry, so drunk on his fear that I pushed him to the edge of no return. The punk had had a sawed off under his trench. It was just hanging there. I could feel it through the leather. It was pointed down, and he had been in my thrall (so why fear a weapon he could never reach for) all ripened and ready for the juicing. And then my enthusiasm got the better of me. I slipped. He reached under his jacket and pulled the trigger the second he was aware enough to catch sight of a fang. Not enough dust in the world to make this kid stupid. Pity. My leg hurt. Bad. Damn bad. I had to hide somewhere. I was too weak to even phase or shift. So I began the long slow walk back to the Playground. There would be hell to pay. Somehow this was all Angelo's fault. I just couldn't prove it. If we had hunted together this would never have happened.
I had just enough energy to phase up to Angelo's room before I
fainted. This all was exhausting. I awoke still hungry. Gut wrenching,
pain staking rib aching hungry. I was so starved I could smell the
drops of sweat on some of the Night-children downstairs at the bar,
oblivious to my plight. I was surprised that none of them had smelled
the blood yet. They were predators, couldn't they scent the distress? I
didn't have to long to think before a familiar presence faded in beside
me, and I had the now belatedly brilliant thought that perhaps this was
not the place for me to have come home to.
" What have we here." Dimitri laughed unkindly. It made my guts clench. That was never a good sign. I had been too long on the streets, I knew that feeling to signal a death knell. Dimitri bent, trailing his fingers through a pool of my blood on the floor, and then licked them clean.
"I taste your pain." He smiled, his eyes glinting wickedly, a sadistic mockery of sympathy playing across his face. "You are hurt badly…" He actually touched my leg and I mewled involuntarily. I knew it was the last thing I should have done, after all, struggling was exciting. I knew it. Dimitri knew it. I was in so much trouble.
/In trouble, lost like a little kitten…/ He nightspoke to me. I hated him then more than I had ever hated him before. Even when I had raped him, felt him buck beneath me. But more than anything else, I hated this helplessness. I could barely raise my chin from the floor, I had never quite made it to the bed. I stared up at him where he squatted over me, his ice blue eyes full of hate, vengeance, and more than a little triumph.
"No one to back you up." He whispered aloud as he trailed his fingers across the artery in my neck another mockery of a tender gesture that I only let Angelo do.
/I can have you Jacques…/ Dimitri hissed inside my head. /I can have you anyway I please. How does it feel? How? To be soooooo helpless./ He let one sharp fingernail trail the soft underside of my throat. I growled at him. /oooo, so angry…do you know how good it will feel? To slam into you while you bleed and beg ME to stop? To make you feel my humiliation? Just a taste?/
"You will never be anything Dimitri!" I hissed aloud, too tired for mindspeak, my head felt raw inside.
"No one's here to help you." He growled as with one swift flick of his wrist and claw he snapped my belt and ripped my jeans from crotch to band. I was in a lot of trouble. So I did the only sensible thing I could do as he continued to shred my clothes, occasionally brushing my leg and making my head reel with pain.
/ANGELO!!!!/ I mindscreamed.
Dimitri drug his fingernails down my back, drawing blood and then
snapping at the nape of my neck, coming away with a mouthful of my
flesh. I would have screamed, but he was currently kneeling on the back
of my mangled thigh, grinding it into the floor. All other pain paled
/ANGELO! ANGEEEEELLLOOOO!/ I begged mentally. Where the hell was he? Why wasn't he listening. Damn him.
"Whats the matter Jacques." He sing-songed
"Go to hell!" I hissed, even as I tensed and waited. He was vulnerable, that moment he tried to take me. I time seemed to lag. He arched over me, growling.
"Ready for some REAL pain?" he asked.
"Sure, why not!" I stated cheerfully.
I could feel his puzzlement.
"Shut up BITCH." He hissed as he slapped the back of my head, mashing my face into the floor. Oh. That was SO it.
He parted me, ready to slam home, and with what strength I could muster I rolled over and drove my good heel into his groin so hard he flew through the wall. Nightchild or not, that would take a moment to get up from. For a moment, I surveyed the hall through the wall, and Dimitri sprawled out on the landing, hearing the stir downstairs rise to an uproar, indicating that trouble was to be had. Peachy. And I was naked. With what strength I had left, I staggered to my feet and to the balcony. I think terror lent me wings. I did not know I had enough energy left to transform, but thinking quickly I shifted to mist and then threw myself to the winds of fate, which had certainly been strong this night. Who knew, saved by the weather. Or at least, I hoped.
I must have lost consciousness and then lost my form, because I
awoke to the feeling of a few ribs snapping from an unbroken fall, and
then the caress of cool grass against my naked skin. I was staring up
at the moon, mercifully only a few hours of the night had passed. It
was my first coherent thought.
/ANGELO!/ I wailed. I was at the point of feeling piteous.
It became my new mantra, every few moments for the next few hours I tried.
Three hours later, I was relatively certain I was DEAD. Only a few hours until dawn. I gave it one last tired try. I was ready to die. Enough was enough already. I was going to die the final death, and all because Angelo had to go out for a casual FUCK. Lovely.
I started to cry, too meek to sob, just, lying there, letting the tears roll unchecked because I was too weak and in too much pain to move to wipe them away. All I really wanted. Under all this death and darkness and cruelty and what was left of the shattered bits of my existence was love. Real love. And I was going to die without ever knowing it. It was one of the saddest moments of my life.
For a moment I was too stunned to even blink.
/Kaloz-mou? Where are you?/
/Angelo! Please hurry, I need you! PLEASE!/
I threw every bit of terror, pain and desperation I had left into my mindspeak, and then finally yielded to the unrelenting darkness that had begun to steadily eat away at the corners of my vision.
Something touched my arm. That was what woke me.
I recoiled in horror, my first reflex to strike out, and amazingly, land a rather solid punch.
I heard a very familiar voice cursing in several different languages, and a few I didn't.
I curled back into the long grass, trying reflexively to hide my wounds from sight, and to appraise my situation.
"Vlaka!" A now even more familiar voice spat.
I could not believe my eyes. It was Angelo, but it couldn't be. This must be a trick. I must be dying and seeing what I wanted to see. I cowered back into the grass further, whimpering in exhaustion before my arms gave out. My stomach writhed with hunger, and my body was so weak, it was a major wonder my heart still beat.
"Kaloz-mou, S'agapo…I will not hurt you. Please…Weasel-mou…"
He was now crouching a mere foot from me, his eyes pleading with me to understand, to let him help. And with a sigh I sank to the grass. If I was going to die, and this was an illusion, I would not, could not fight it.
"Please? I whispered. "I don't want to die alone. I don't want to die without knowing that Angelo loves me. Really loves. Please? Please?" I pleaded to my specter. It was never too late, even if you only had hallucinations to make peace with.
"Kaloz-mou, Weasel-mou." Strong arms wrapped around me, drawing me to a strong and wiry shoulder. I could smell the familiar and comforting scent of Angelo, the spicy smell of his blood, rich with someone else's life force. It was like warmth radiating from a stone long after the sun went down.
"Angelo?" I whispered, my voice hoarse, my throat dry.
"You are badly wounded Agapi-mou."
Gentle hands teased my hair from my face, and then a strong arm cradled me until my cheek rested in the hollow of Angelo's neck.
"Is this real? Or am I dying?" I whispered aloud.
"Very real, and dying. Drink and know that you are my beloved. Drink."
I couldn't do it. As hungry, as hurt and frightened as I was, I could not bring myself to pierce that skin, to wound Angelo. That terrified look in his eyes. He was afraid to loose me. And for some reason I felt if I accepted his gift, I would be betraying him.
"Kaloz-mou, please." There was a pleading tone to his voice. "I do not want to loose you, please! WEASEL!" Reaching up, with the edge of one of his nails, he nicked the side of his neck near my nose, then gently dropped a bead of blood to my open lips.
"Weasel-mou. Drink. You will not hurt me, you never hurt me. Drink. Beloved, please." His voice was soft, a near lullaby to me. The scent of his blood was so overwhelming, so familiar, so comforting. I nuzzled closer, my tongue lapping up the tiny rivulets of ruby that still flowed freely. Swallowing, it became overbearing. My fangs snapped out. The strike was swift, clean, and reflexive. It actually made Angelo startle. As my fangs broke that soft and sweet skin, I realized that this time, it was a homecoming. As the first jets of blood hit the back of my throat, I swallowed convulsively, my body felt rusty, unfamiliar, and almost too weak to feed.
"S'agapo. I love you weasel. You frighten me sometimes. To loose you would wound me forever. S'agapo. S'agapo." I drank greedily, of his heart, the truth in his words, and the vein in his throat. I could feel small bits of strength returning. And the tender brush of his fingers through my hair.
When next I could remember anything, I awoke on a thick patchwork quilt. The moon had just risen, and I was not familiar with where I was. I wore a pair of black silk boxers. My leg was bandaged, and I was covered by Angelo's leather jacket. I was warm and content, and just waking from my nightly torpor. I wondered just how long I had been asleep. And I was hungry. My leg and stomach throbbed in unison, both vying for my attention. As I let my senses drift, I became aware that I was in a hotel room. A fire was crackling cheerfully in the fireplace, and the walls were painted dark red and were reflecting the flames softly. Heavy black velvet curtains hung over the windows, drawn back for no doubt, Angelo to watch the rising of the moon. His scent still clung to the blankets next to me. So he had been watching over me while I slept. It sent a pleasant tingle up my spine. I paused as I heard voices at the door.
"Your sure your don't mind?"
"He's very interested in what you can offer… I assure you. He has had a recent bike accident, as I told you…he hasn't been himself lately. Perhaps you could change that?"
"I'm good at what I do." The voice was young and soft.
"As you have assured me before…and I am inclined to believe you honeychild…"
A lie in progress, and caught by Angelo, his reply was sweet danger.
/Weasel-mou…breakfast is served./
/Angelo, where are we?/
/Hotel room, a long way from the playground. You are safe. So enjoy breakfast with me./
/Are you sure he's…ok?/
/He is unarmed, and as a bonus, I tasted him. He is very sweet./
/You went through my memories last night?/
/How could I not, they played over and over in your head until your sleep took you…but back to the breakfast at hand?/
/Care if I spice him up a bit?/
The doorknob turned and Angelo steered a very frightened young man into the room.
/Not in the least./
I studied the boy as he studied me fearfully. His terror on gazing at my bandaged leg made my stomach cramp with desire and hunger. He was pretty. Chinese, young, more than likely had a master somewhere that would miss him after we were done with him. He had long, raven tresses, and expressive brown eyes. A touch of something else in his history as well then. It didn't matter, he was beautiful, and I was somehow certain he would taste just as good as he looked.
"Sweetling, don't be nervous, this is Weasel…my boyfriend."
"And you are…?" I asked, smiling seductively. As nervous as I was from my last brush with my breakfast, my body won out, pushing me into sex overdrive. I HAD to eat, and my nightchild blood was all but hijacking me into bagging a snack.
/Don't be nervous Weasel-mou, everything will be fine./
"I am Stephen."
"Hello Stephen, come closer, I would like to see you better."
Lithe as a cat, and smooth as blood over glass, Stephen glided to stand beside the bed, swallowing hard in fear. Angelo was behind him in a blink,(I noticed the poet's shirt he had obviously stolen from someone, probably a meal. It looked good. Well when you leave your jacket and aren't in a habit of wearing an undershirt…) he brushed an exposed collarbone over the top of Stephen's slightly ragged fishnet shirt. He had him. Stephen arched his back reflexively as Angelo guided him to the edge of the bed, finally nestling him against my shoulder as he massaged his tense arms silkily.
"Stephen…sweetling…" He whispered as he gently kissed the back of the young man's neck. It never ceased to amaze me how fast Angelo could take someone under. One minute, Stephen had been standing there trembling, and now he was sprawled bonelessly in my arms, mewling and begging.
/More spice?/ Angelo asked, wondering if he should back off enough for Stephen to feel a little fear.
/No/ I mindspoke. /I changed my mind. I want him sweet this time. I need him to be pure sugar./
Angelo shrugged as he nipped at Stephen, drawing a tiny bit of blood.
/Not as experienced as he claims/ I laughed as the beautiful young man arched his hips against mine.
"God!" I moaned, the word almost a bark and trailing off into a whine. The desire rolling off of Angelo, just the sheer pleasure that he felt at touching such a delightful morsel, made my skin feel like it would burst like an overripe tomato with the wanting.
"Angelo…I'm hungry…please!" I pleaded.
Stephen was oblivious.
"Damn it Weasel, I know your hungry, but can we at least have a little…fun first." As he stated "fun" he trailed his fingers over the straining erection at the front of Stephen's pants.
"CHRIST!" I snarled at Angelo.
"Dammit Weasel." He growled.
I did it then. I couldn't help myself really. I cried.
One lone tear, I guess I couldn't call it crying, one tear is not a sob fest.
There was this moment where Angelo reared back like an angry cat about to strike, and I thought for sure I would be hit, and then his face fell.
/I am sorry Weasel-mou…I forget that you are not well yet. You are very hungry, yes?/
I sent him a mind numbing wave of starvation, cramping stomach and screaming leg.
"FUCK!" Angelo hissed aloud. Stephen twitched at the sudden sound, and Angelo's slip of control. Without a second thought my hand joined Angelo's across Stephen's straining erection as well. Stephen was immediately distracted.
/You will just have to make it up to me later, yes?/
/Then in that case…/
Without a second thought Angelo completely rolled Stephen's mind, and then sunk fang into his wrist. I started to feel faint and dizzy. Too long. Damn. I was going to pass out.
/Weasel! The throat, Drink before you faint!/
Everything was getting fuzzy again, and then there was a soft press of skin against my lips, and my fangs flicked out at the familiar feel of breather flesh against them. I sunk them fast, and drank as if my life depended on it. Almost immediately between the first and second swallow I felt as if I could breathe again. Between the third and fourth my stomach un-cramped. Finally as reality began to filter back in, I realized that Angelo had me crushed against Stephen, and he was holding us both in a death-grip.
/Better?/ Angelo asked as he released Stephen's wrist, and silkily licked the blood from his lips.
/Yes…you wont drink?/
/Already did. Juiced two other breathers tonight besides taking a taste of this simp/
I rode the soft wave of ruby light that danced behind my eyes, taking a slow, steady breath, just for the sake of breathing to prove I could. It magnified everything to a rose hued pitch. I felt like I was floating, warm and safe. Since I had re-awoken as a night child I had seldom felt safe, but, Angelo was simply watching me feed, his eyes half lidded like a sleepy panther's, oozing a gentle contentment that was unusual for him.
/I am fine, but you can stop drinking, he is done./
A moment later, true to word, the last trickle of hearts blood met my tongue, sluggish and thin. With a sigh of malcontent and a small amount of sadness at having wasted something so beautiful so completely I sat up sluggishly; and then pushed Stephen onto the floor and arranged him in the typical repose of the dead. I then carefully scooted down to Angelo's end of the bed. I took a moment to lick his lips like an enthusiastic and starving wolf pup. He simply smiled at me, and let his tongue flick out to touch my own. I could feel his desire then. He had called off his need and simply let me feed. It was a touching gesture, and it was so openly GIVING, that I had to ponder for a moment. I let Angelo feel my gratitude, as well as taste it as I pulled him into a deep French kiss. He sighed, gently tangling his fingers through my hair, and we parted naturally as he sensed my question.
"Where were you?" I asked, trying to keep accusation from my tone.
"Apparently as far away from the playground as Dimitri could get me."
"What?" I asked bewilderedly as I gently ground my hips against his, and then wincing because, for a moment, I had forgotten completely about my leg.
" Isn't it apparent?"
I paused for a moment.
"Then that kid?"
Another breathtaking kiss and surprisingly my mind began to work again. Then his memories filtering into mine, I could see him running an "errand" for Dimitri, sense his worry at my faint mind call, the realizations he had made as he had held me and fed me his lifeblood. A 'rather elaborate, but un-imaginative attempt on my life', Angelo had thought at the time. All a trap. Well. Whatever.
His lips left mine and I felt bereft, his memories gone from me, the taste of his mouth still on my tongue, the faint hint of his cologne on my lips. I blinked at him quietly.
"Do not worry Measel-mou…that has been…dealt with, now, I believe you owe me a favor?"
I thawed slowly under that fiery gaze, for the first time feeling safe enough, pain free enough, to move. I laughed darkly as I kneaded his hot stomach and kissed a trail from Angelo's elegant jaw to his chest, just above the shirt tie. I was about to undo the clasp of his pants when he stopped me, my gaze shot up to his, uncertain, wondering what he could possibly want, and then he was kissing me softly. This was unusual. He suddenly removed both of my hands from his stomach, clasping both wrists in one hand.
"Listen to me Weasel, I will only say this once." I startled. He was direct, but this seemed even more direct than usual for him. Still pinning my hands he pulled me into his lap, with my bare back against the silky fabric of the shirt. He was nipping softly, his fangs just grazing the nape of my neck, the tops of my shoulders. It was nice. There was a rustle, and then his shirt was gone, I gasped aloud when he pressed the unnaturally warm skin of his stomach to my back. He flexed his hips gently into the small of my butt, making me whimper. It reminded me of just where I really wanted him at that moment.
"You are wanton enough!" He laughed just before he sank his fangs into my shoulder, hard, and it made me growl in pleasure, it also sent my mind into orbit. When I could finally see, the red behind my eyes clearing, he was out of his jeans, and my boxers were history. Neat trick. He was rummaging for something. Then he was nipping over my hypersensitive ribs and flanks, whispering gently in French. (This was not like our normal, animalistic lovemaking, but variety is the spice of life, right?) Suddenly I was on my knees, Angelo supporting me so I did not fall, my shaky leg finally holding me. Enough blood can work wonders. Then his fingers were inside me, lubed lightly with some sort of oil. There was no amplification of my pleasure, no burning passion that was so familiar with Angelo. Instead there was a gentle emotion rolling between us, a tenderness not based on carnal lust at all. Normally he would take me in one thrust, and blood would be our lube. But this, this was just as good, and at the same time frighteningly different.
"I do not need you Weasel-mou, to live, I can live without you, and you without me." His fingers continued loosening me gently, stretching me tenderly.
"But everyone has a right to something, one thing, that they greatly desire. You and I desire the same thing, and fear it for the same reasons."
He was lapping at the small of my back, soothing me, hushing me with soft growls and relaxing me.
"I will only say this once Weasel, because you should know."
Then he wrapped one arm around my chest, the other he used to guide himself. He pushed into me slowly, slick and full and hot. Growling, he bit my shoulder again, and then lapped at the blood as he slid fully home. I arched my back and hissed in pain and pleasure. No pretenses now, no magick, no powers, all of it restrained until it was just us. Just two children of the night. There was an honesty to it that made me groan, made me shiver when Angelo moved, stroking me inside and outside as well, gentle still and careful of my leg.
"Everyone deserves to know love once in their life Weasel. And Weasel-mou, I love you. Do not forget it, but know I will never say it again." I blinked. Had Angelo just said? Well, once was enough. Love. Was this love? He arched over me, thrusting into me again, faster and faster, yet still gentle. His chin was suddenly resting over my shoulder, his tongue tracing the artery in my neck as he shadowed my body, shortening his strokes until he was merely rocking against the spot in my body that made me see stars.
"You mean much to me Weasel, and you deserve to know it."
All I could do was make incoherent little sounds and try to nod. My body was on fire with a kind of passion I had never experienced before, and for a moment, I felt a twinge for my loss. To have only been a whore and to never have known anything like this in my life before. But soon the passion overrode my ability to think, and Angelo was persistent about pleasuring me, one hand wrapped around my erection now, and the other just under my lips.
"Drink!" He whispered as he sank fang into my neck, it was too much to take. I thrust into his hand once, hard, and it felt as if all my pain and fear and loneliness tore out of my body as I spilled my seed over his hand, onto my stomach and onto the sheets. Wave after wave washed through my body until I felt him pulse inside me as well. I might have been mistaken, but I swore I heard him whimper.
Before I collapsed beneath him, I gently took his wrist into my mouth, soothing and licking tenderly as I drew slowly from him. We sank into a moment of breathtaking sharing like I had never felt before. We were one organism, same thoughts and feelings, and such an indelible unity that it left us both quaking. Both of us broke off at once, only momentarily sharing a kiss before we feel into a short slumber, my body still clenching him tightly inside me, his breath warming the sweat and drying blood across my back.
I woke when he pulled out of me with a regretful sigh.
I stirred, looking up at him, and something in my eyes must have held the answer he wanted. He nodded, a look of cat-who-swallowed-the-canary pleasure drifting across his face.
"How is your leg?"
I shrugged, and he flipped me onto my back with a rough laugh.
"Well, you don't seem to be suffering too much." He stated. I grinned at him cattily.
"How could I be?" I asked.
"Shut up!" He growled as he smiled reassuringly at me.
He tore the bandage off, and then smoothed a hand over perfect skin.
"So do I still owe you that favor?" I asked.
"How about a bath?"
"I'd love to." I replied roguishly.