Author Topic: A Fistful of Glitter (Read 10061 times)

Existentially Odd · « **on:** April 08, 2009, 07:35:17 AM »

(continued from \'Cravings\')

When Vivi roared into his garage and revved the engine again for good measure before there was instant, stunning silence, the vampire finally managed to make a noise also - he whooped, for all that he was worth. Once he was done howling at the ceiling, he climbed off the bike and clicked the button that would send the door rolling down, closing them in to his private world once more.

"Damn, girl! You weren\'t kidding when you said you liked to go fast!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement as he turned to look approvingly at her, hands on his hips and grinning like a madman. "They say it\'s the quiet ones you need to watch!"

Harlequin · « **Reply #1 on:** April 08, 2009, 12:57:53 PM »

His praise brought a gentle blush to the the teenager\'s cheeks, and she remained leaning against the handlebars for a moment, laughing softly. "I just hope you weren\'t scared," she joked – it was obvious by the glint in his eye that he\'d been nothing of the sort – as she sat back and took her hat off, shaking out her hair.

As she then got off her bike and rested it on it\'s kickstand, she realized she had no idea of where they were supposed to go from here – or, more importantly, where Tom expected things to go from here. The last time she\'d been here, she\'d been far from in her right mind, but now she was here of her own free will, and the game had changed.

Her apprehension was momentarily lost, however, in the butterflies now clamoring for space in her belly as she thought of the one thing she knew would happen – the bite.

Suddenly impatient, but still too polite to enter the house proper before her host, she stuffed her hands in her back pockets, content to follow his lead – to a point.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #2 on:** April 08, 2009, 01:27:27 PM »

"You want a shower?" he offered nonchalantly, certain that the door was down and his home was secure enough for him to lead her inside through the internal portal. He stood behind it in a good approximation of gallantry while she walked through, then he closed it behind her and followed closely enough in her wake that he could quickly snag her in a hug from behind and put his face back into her nape. He couldn\'t keep his lips off her soft flesh for long. "You want a shower with company?" he growled playfully, one hand splaying on her belly and the oth creeping towards a breast.

Harlequin · « **Reply #3 on:** April 09, 2009, 02:17:42 AM »

"Hmm..." As she stepped through the door, she considered the question. She had gotten a bit sweaty during the show, and her back muscles did ache quite a bit from playing, but she felt like it would be sort of rude --

But certainly nowhere near as rude as her host was being now. She squeaked as he pulled her back against him, and her muscles instantly tightened, resisting the embrace and--just what did he think he was doing with his hands?!

Painfully aware of her own hands trapped in her back pockets, which were now pressed against his thighs -- she removed them from her pockets as well as she was able, grimacing when she thought of the message the motion must be sending in the few moments her hands were pressing against the tops of his thighs. She hoped the completion of the movement -- where she laced her fingers with his and moved his hands completely away from her body if he allowed it, or as far as he did allow her to move them, to that end -- would make her intentions clearer. Whatever the case, she moved as far as she was able, up to a few feet away, and faced him-- once again, as well as she was able. Whatever the case, her reply was the same: "No." The severity of her tone was dependent entirely on how willing he was to let her go.

She had almost begun to believe that he was willing to let this go, and saw now that that was foolish. But she had liked the sweet, friendly, nose-kissing man he\'d been just minutes ago, behind the club.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #4 on:** April 09, 2009, 07:16:54 AM »

At first, he resisted letting her go because he thought her hands were coming out to play for good reasons. Then she started yanking on him and shoving him away and he realised the wriggling was not that of an excited puppy happy to be gathered in someone\'s arms, but the cranky dominance of a young girl who still didn\'t trust herself enough to enjoy all the pleasure he could give her beyond (or with) the bite.

"Fine," he told her petulantly, feeling put out by her prudishness enough to react overtly. "But I would like a shower to get the stink of all the sheep and their herders off me, and since I only have one shower," he announced regally, beginning to strip by kicking off his boots and following their removal with his shirt and his pants - all of his pants. Within ten seconds he was naked bar his socks and his gold chain, standing indignantly before her with his hands on his hips and his clothes held in the crook of his left arm, still talking. "I thought it would be polite to offer that you come too."

With his snooty message conveyed and his nose stuck a little into the air, he waited to see how she\'d react to his pale, sculptured body being revealed to her in all its marbelesque glory. Once he had that, he would swoop down to grab his boots then stalk off, drop his belongings off in his bedroom and go for the shower he believed they both needed. To him, the drinking of her blood was more or less a religious ceremony for which sanctity and the greatest amount of purity possible was only logical. They should both be clean and naked to partake and enjoy fully... but he doubted she\'d see things his way at all.

Harlequin · « **Reply #5 on:** April 09, 2009, 02:59:08 PM »

The sheep comment bothered her more than it should have, but she didn\'t have much time to dwell on it because the next thing she knew, her host was taking al his clothes off.

She watched impassively at first, trying to think of a reply that wouldn\'t spark a fight, and assuming he\'d stop with his shirt. When he didn\'t, she assumed he\'d stop once his pants were off as he had the last time she\'d been here. Unfortunately, the underwear came with the pants this time around and it came to pass that poor, innocent Vivianne had her first experience with real, live (well, not really) male nudity.

She thought she might faint out of sheer shock.

For a split second she was frozen, staring, too shocked to move – or to breathe for that matter. The next second, upon realizing what he might think her staring meant, she spun on a heel and squeezed her eyes shut – but by that time he had gotten the reaction he wanted and was already on the move (huffily, at that).

When he was finished showering he would find her on the couch, still tense but coming down from the Adrenaline rush. She wanted to think about other things, about ANYTHING else, but her brain just wouldn\'t let her. Sure, she\'d seen 90% of his body the first time they\'d met, but somehow the fact that he was actually naked had made it different. Different how she still couldn\'t say; maybe it was something to do with the fact that he could still intimidate her even when he was physically at his most vulnerable.

The moment she heard his approach (if she heard it at all) she looked resolutely at her knees (folded indian-style on the couch) and asked in a small voice, "Are you still naked, Tom?"

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #6 on:** April 09, 2009, 03:57:15 PM »

He froze mid-step, just behind the couch, and looked down at himself. He had a fabulous body and she was an artist; he didn\'t get why she couldn\'t appreciate his openness from a purely aesthetic point of view at least - if she had trouble with it from a virginal standpoint, as she seemed to do, anyway.

"What if I am?" he hedged, his lower lip still puffed out in a little pout. He stared mutinously at the back of her head - well, the bit he could see - and waited for her to give him an ultimatum about his possible nudity. He wanted to know exactly what her problem with it was, before he told her yay or nay.

Harlequin · « **Reply #7 on:** April 10, 2009, 06:08:21 AM »

"I would really prefer that you not be?" she tried, having trouble seeing where his problem arose, and feeling silly for even having to say so. Didn\'t nudity make most people uncomfortable? She thought her reaction had been a fairly normal one. "It makes me very uncomfortable."

If her art ever focused on Human figures (which it rarely did) – they were almost never male, and usually quite exaggerated or distorted. Her knowledge of anatomy was limited to what she\'d learned from Joe – what would hurt the most when struck, thereby giving her the most time to escape.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #8 on:** April 10, 2009, 04:13:08 PM »

"Why?" he pressed, needing to know. He had his own theories of course - "Is it because you find it too hard to resist touching me?" he hinted, creeping closer and closer to the back of the couch, where she was sitting. Even if she turned to look back at him, she would see that his upper half was naked but not whether he had anything on his lower half - unless she was determined and looked over the couch\'s high back.

Harlequin · « **Reply #9 on:** April 10, 2009, 04:25:24 PM »

The ego on this man was truly astonishing. She kept expecting it to get better, but it only seemed to get worse. An incredulous expression came to her face,a nd she turned her head slightly to look up at him, keeping her eyes firmly on his face.

"No," she said, and stopped there for a moment, trying to figure out an inoffensive reason, "Because it\'s --it\'s not normal. It\'s intimidating. I don\'t -- I mean, I -- Just please go put some clothes on?" she finished lamely, pleading, tired of groping for something she couldn\'t articulate because of her own modesty.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #10 on:** April 10, 2009, 05:20:20 PM »

The vampire adroitly leapt over the back of the couch and landed in a sitting position beside her - wearing a pair of sapphire blue satin boxers and a thoughtful frown. "I\'m a couple hundred year old undead being and you want me to exist within the realms of normal?" he scoffed, folding his arms pompously.

"I find it perfectly normal to be naked and I have a whole lot of footage of women who enjoy being that way with me, too," he said huffily, looking at her sideways. "Anyway, the shower\'s free if you want it."

Harlequin · « **Reply #11 on:** April 10, 2009, 05:37:01 PM »

Well, her certainly had her there. When she dared to peek at him through the hand she\'d clapped over her eyes, her shoulders sagged with relief, and she shrugged, smiling apologetically in a way that said \'Well, kinda, yeah.\' But she said nothing aloud.

His next words caused her eyes to narrow, footage? What could that possibly mean? That he had a secret career in the adult film industry? She certainly wouldn\'t put it past him – but she left it alone. There were some things better left unasked.

The past few minutes had put a new kind of tension in her shoulders, and a shower suddenly sounded lovely – and maybe twenty minutes of alone time would help her host come out of his ever-so-attractive pouty mood. She nodded, "Alright," she said mildly as she stood, stretching her stiff muscles. Unless anything else was said, she took her leave of him and meandered into the bedroom to take her own shower, only to return a short time later, fresh-faced, damp haired, and dressed as she had been before – in search of her vampiric host.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #12 on:** April 10, 2009, 06:20:53 PM »

She didn\'t have to go far to find him - he was laying on his bed waiting for her, the lights dimmed and the covers drawn down to be a fluffy full stop on the exclamation mark that was his body. His arms were behind his head and he was staring up at the post closest to him with something akin to suspicion - like it was moving in the periphery of his vision every time he looked away.

Not explaining this rather odd focus, he turned when the bathroom door opened and smiled at her, pleased to smell her clean and fresh as she should be (not to mention with his soap scent upon her lovely flesh, which pleased him in some very base, territorial way). His grin broadened as she gracefully joined him in the bed, not sliding straight up to him but arranging herself beautifully and looking expectantly at him.

He could hear her heart beating like the bass beat to one of her band\'s fast numbers and it made him tingle in all sorts of lovely ways. He rolled onto his side and close up against her, a hand upon the flesh of her waist and his mouth heading for her neck. "What am I allowed to do for you?" he whispered seductively.

Harlequin · « **Reply #13 on:** April 10, 2009, 06:38:41 PM »

She sighed, and let her eyelids flutter closed in anticipation. One hand gripped the arm on her waist gently, urging him closer, as close as he could get; even now, the motion seemed unconscious.

He knew what she desired, and exactly how much was allowed (no matter how much he might hope she\'d admit to wanting more), he just wanted to hear her say it. And Goddammit, she wanted it enough to ask.

"Bite me," she breathed, suddenly shameless, using one of Morgaine\'s favorite phrases, turned on it\'s head. Crude, dirty, shameful, and entirely too thrilling because of it.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #14 on:** April 12, 2009, 01:52:19 AM »

"Mmm, but bite you where?" he teased, kissing her throat with more fervour - enough to leave it an angry red when he sucked lightly and pulled away with a gentle popping noise. His right hand skimmed her body, travelling down her side to her hip and then a little beyond, getting a grip on her thigh.

His thumb pressed deliberately against her inner thigh, then described a firm, tight little circle that almost included her sex... enough to make the insinuation that it could be, obvious.

"There are other... delicious places to bite, that would allow me to give you pleasure as well," he entreated her ear, his head dipping so that his tongue could prod her jugular immediately after he stopped talking, showing her that he didn\'t care either way - though that thumb was still there, and circling languorously, showing that he was definitely interested.

"Let me taste you... while I taste you," he begged, his teeth scraping the burning flesh of her throat wantonly.

Harlequin · « **Reply #15 on:** April 12, 2009, 04:40:21 PM »

His skin was so cold against her burning flesh, hislips, his tongue, his teeth and his hands –

Her eyes hot open when his thumb began its peculiarly delightful circumnavigation of her inner thigh, actually gasping the first time he came close to her center. This was not a feeling she couldn\'t write off as a reaction to the temperature of his skin. In her dreams, it had never been a man to inspire this feeling in her. She had never dreamed of men as anything other than side characters, or the main characters in nightmares. They had always been figures to fear – with few exceptions – in waking life.

But, somehow, she didn\'t want his hand to stop moving. After a moment, it became peripheral; forgotten in the attention once again focused on her neck.

Other places to bite? The thought stopped her for a moment; i made sense of course, what with the veins and arteries going every which way and – Jesus Christ, it was hard to think with his hand doing whatever crazy, confusing thing it was doing down there.

She groaned, however, as his teeth scraped her skin. Whatever those possibilities might be, she wasn\'t willing to explore them now (nor ever, she\'d likely say later – though whether she meant it was another story.) "Here," she insisted, snaking her free arm around the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his russet locks, holding him gently to her throat. THe hand on his arm, however, stayed where it was, encouraging.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #16 on:** April 13, 2009, 01:20:55 AM »

He gave up trying to enchant more out of her when she insistently pressed his face into her warm, tender throat. It was enough, he thought, to have this and to not ask for more, this... was more than enough. With a slow snarl that was part purr, part instinctive warning to any potential thieves that might be lurking, readying to steal his prey (though there were none, naturally; it was primal programming at its most base), the vampire slid his fangs into the pliant flesh fluttering against his lips.

This time, there was no raw hunger, no burning need to have her blood inside him because he would fade if he didn\'t get it; this time there was only the knowledge of the goodness to come and the languorous hedonism of the bite to enjoy. As he bit into her, he squeezed her thigh forcefully and his thumb pressed hard against the seam of her pants, in the centre, teasing her. When the pleasure that swiftly followed the penetration of his fangs came, he wanted her to know that his hand was there, that his steely digit was willing to play the part of ghostly lover while she writhed in the bliss of him pulling on her neck, if she wanted.

He wouldn\'t move unless she did, of course; if her hips remained locked, so too would his hand. The time had come where he wanted her to beg him to please her - a deliberate movement against his thumb would be signal enough - and until then, he was happy to take his own pleasure from her veins.

After he withdrew his incisors and the blood spurted (feebly, for the holes were not large) onto his tongue, he became lost in the glory of her once more. She tasted like honey, her blood the nectar of Gods, and his body just about quivered as he lay against her, tasting her glory. Still, he purred, his mouth too occupied with drinking for him to speak, his eyes closed and his cock hardening against the other thigh because of the sinful beauty of her, filling his mouth. He lusted and growled, suckling and holding her beneath him, wanting to lose his mind in her and his hand in her folds and this to go on and on, all night... forever.

Harlequin · « **Reply #17 on:** April 13, 2009, 06:02:07 AM »

The blonde gasped at the moment of pain – drowned out by the bright flash of sensation as his thumb pressed against her so intimately – but immediately relaxed as the pleasure of the bite took her, moaning quietly on her exhale.

From that point on, Vivianne ceased to think - she merely felt. The fact that the pressure which her hips pushed back against was produced by the hand of someone she barely knew – a man she barely knew – was completely lost, as was the way her own hand tightened on that arm, wishing to draw him closer still, and the way the fingers of her other hand tightened their hold on his hair ever-so-slightly. Her skin felt like it was aflame, and her only drive was for what made her body sing. She was putty in his hands, it seemed, as long as he was attached to her neck.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #18 on:** April 13, 2009, 11:11:49 PM »

His thumb dragged up and down the seam in her pants - up and down the centre of her - faster as their interlude progressed. A minute passed, then two minutes and he prodded at her middle more urgently, scraping so hard that his nail burned from the friction but it was only partly noticeable to him, as mere as a fly landing upon his bare back. So was his own arousal.

Of paramount importance and tunnel-vision focus was her taste, her texture, her beating heart and her shuddering breaths. Like a mortal intoxicated on tequila, he was giddy and ravenous, keen to drink until his vision blurred and his every extremity tingled. His tongue wove dances of desire and love against her skin, splitting and smearing the blood leaking from her with every pump of her heart and he hoped it wasn\'t blasphemy to frolic and enjoy her thus.

By the time it was a necessity that he withdraw from her, he was thoroughly warm to the touch, hard as a steel rod against her hip and feeling like the cat that got the cream while the rest chased mice tails to no avail. He bit his lip and bled upon her, swiping his healing life force across her skin until he could no longer feel the gentle pulsing of her own blood rising to meet him and then he licked her flesh clean, mourning his loss.

When that happened, he was able to focus on the synchronous movements of their bodies instead; the way she was writhing against his hand (which he\'d deliberately kept out of her pants, so that she might ask for him to enter) and the manner in which he was rocking his own hips against her, wishing he was plunging into that warmth she kept hidden. He began kissing his way along her jaw, heading for her mouth as he wriggled his thumb, monitoring her to see how close to cumming she was, wanting to be there with her.

Harlequin · « **Reply #19 on:** April 14, 2009, 12:18:52 PM »

The Vivianne that Tom knew was gone – lost somewhere in a haze of lust and lost blood. There was a voice in her head that spoke – like the proverbial Angel on her shoulder – of regret and shame, and a twinge of disgust in her belly ash the vampire drank from her, and she ground her hips against his hand wantonly. It wasn\'t long, however, until the voice was drowned out by the frantic beat of her own heart in her ears, and silenced completely as her brain directed her thinned blood toward the necessary tasks of keeping her fevered body alive, and away from the less important higher brain functions.

She inhaled sharply as he moved his thumb, another wave of this unknown pleasure washing through her. She was an animal run entirely on instinct, striving towards a goal of which her ignorance was total, but her need to reach it was overpowering – like breathing. It was within reach, she could feel it, but she needed more.

She had begun to feel the heat of the friction between his thumb and the thick fabric of the jeans tight against her sex, and as his lips moved over her jaw, the hand on his arm moved to the button and fly of her jeans, shakily undoing both. It was as good as a request – because, as ignorant as she was, the poor girl wouldn\'t even know what to ask for. Her body knew, however, that it needed that heat dispelled, that goal reached, and those pants off.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #20 on:** April 15, 2009, 12:58:43 AM »

He was stopped before his lips contacted hers, by the awareness of her moving near his hand. Like a deer scenting trouble on the wind, he lifted his head abruptly and looked down at where she\'d opened her pants. Dear God, she\'d opened her fucking pants. An occasion this momentous deserved more than just a rigid finger sliding into her wet little slit, it deserved the entire fucking choir singing, \'Hallelujah!\'.

One thing about the vampire stayed true no matter what the situation; he didn\'t need to be told things twice. Without another beat of her bippity-bopping heart falling into the past, he began moving downward, lips briefly alighting on bits of exposed flesh and body moving like an affrighted reptile. When it seemed her hands made feeble pushes at her jeans - declaring, to his eyes, that they should be gone - he complied with more speed than she\'d heretofore witnessed. One moment she\'d finished unbuttoning and unzipping them, the next he was slithering down and oops, pants were motherfucking gone.

He didn\'t pause to admire the architecture on display to him now, he didn\'t want the blush of his drinking to fade in the slightest; without further ado, his lips finally did meet hers in a less archaic manner than he\'d been about to indulge in. His large hands covered her thighs, thumbs pressing gently into insanely soft flesh as he parted them dominantly and then his face was buried at her apex. Her scent was the musk he\'d inhaled thousands of times before but he fancied it a little different and a lot more special this time, because it was her and he knew her to be untouched.

Did that mean she\'d never had a face there before? He supposed so. Did it mean she\'d never climaxed and didn\'t have the first clue about what was happening? He didn\'t believe that. In his experience, all women over a certain age had snuck a dyke-stick of some sort down there to test out their bounds; at the very least, there would have been a finger. Virgin was one thing... utterly inexperienced was beyond his simple brain\'s comprehension and so, when he touched her, it was with the understanding that these sensations were new, but that she was walking a path well trodden by a few years of trial and error.

Not a lot of thought was needed on his part. Even for mortal men, this task was pleasurable and simple; his tongue flicked and glided across her clit - the harder it got, the closer she was and the more furiously he had to lick. Nothing beat the pulse of an engorged clitoris cresting the mountain of buildup against a man\'s tongue and pulsing its ecstatic way all the way down the other side... he simply had to get her there.

With a woman whose cherry he knew to be taken, he would have behaved differently. His hands would\'ve come into play as well as his mouth; his fingers would have circled and molded her petals, would have petted the wiry borders of the whole flower, would have slid into her tunnel and stroked in time with his licks. Vivianne was different (praise the lord!). If he was too rough or too obvious with his touching she would likely snap out of the lust haze his sucking on her neck had dropped her into, so he knew he couldn\'t push too far. For tonight\'s entertainment, in fact, he knew that his hands could only squeeze the svelte curves of her thighs and leave his tongue in control.

Even if he did say so himself, his tongue was an expert driver. What it didn\'t know about shifting a woman\'s gears by nudging the underside before circling the bud rapidly (and frequently) before he allowed direct and crucial flicking to take place wasn\'t worth knowing. Every now and then it dipped down into her well, circling and penetrating it as deeply as he could before he lapped his way back up to her throbbing clit and set about repeating his former crowd-cheering movements once more.

He was a systematic and determined fucker - in all senses of the word - and if there was one thing he was resolved to do, it was to bring Vivi to a vagina-wobbling clitoral orgasm that had her tearing his hair out of his head by the roots, it was so good. How they\'d got here he didn\'t question, nor did he worry about whether or not it was morally corrupt of him to capitalise on the very sensual sensations he\'d aroused by feeding from her - such quandries were better left to those with morals, after all. All he was worried about was tasting as much of her slick little cunt as he could in the time allotted before she squirted her joy all over his face... and making that creamy experience the best fucking thing she\'d ever had in her short little life.

Simple goals were often the best in these circumstances, he\'d found.

Harlequin · « **Reply #21 on:** April 20, 2009, 03:32:38 PM »

Every touch of his lips was a spark of color behind her closed eyelids, eliciting a hitch in her breathing, a skip in her heartbeat.

And Then she was naked form the waist down (she didn\'t particularly care, how, or why), thighs parted willingly beneath strong hands – and all was color, even as her eyes snapped open. All was running through the grass in the wee hours of the morning, feeling the dew between her toes; the sun on her face; the wind in her hair as she pushed 90 down a highway in the dead of night; – everything beautiful she\'d ever known, all condensed into these beautiful, mounting moments, focused on that one part of her body. It was agony and ecstasy; it was more than she could take. The sounds she uttered were like prayers, though it was he who worshipped at her temple.

As experienced as Tom was with women, he was wrong about Vivianne. She hated her body. All skin and bones; too tall, too thin. She couldn\'t stand to look at herself in the mirror mot of the time, much less explore it. Her mother had been to ill to teach her about the birds and the bees; everything she knew of sex she knew from movies, and from snatches of conversation she\'d heard in the halls of her high school (and, of course, from Morgaine, who\'d seen it as her sovereign duty to explain things to the teenager – who had blocked most of the extremely awkward conversation from her memory), and from dreams – all of which were confusing, muddled, and mostly forgotten upon waking.

These, and a little boy\'s screams in a basement, heard through walls of concrete. Tears, and song, and the crippling silence when the screaming stopped.

Her fingers almost did, in fact, tear his hair out by the roots as she came, however, a wave of the purest ecstasy tearing fiercely through her small body. Her back arched, pressing against his face, and she cried out wordlessly. She saw stars – which faded into nothing as she coasted, her glistening body shuddering as she rode out the smaller waves of pleasure which followed in the wake of the first. Gradually, reality faded back in, and her grip on his hair loosened as she panted, exhausted, awestruck, and looking for all the world as if she\'d been hit by a truck.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #22 on:** April 20, 2009, 05:37:57 PM »

When her hands relented tearing at his hair, that was the moment his tongue also loosened. It had been a stiff weight upon her clitoris during the ride of her orgasm, for he\'d learned through great experience that the best thing to do when that crest was mounted was to simply buckle in and settle down for the ride - and what a glorious trip it was. She had begun to cum and so he had pressed his muscle against her, to amplify the pleasure. Now, he could still feel the pulses of her body very clearly against his tongue as he lapped adoringly a few more times, loving the way further contact affected her, and then he at last withdrew.

He crawled up beside her and hugged her as best he could, his cock a very obvious tent against her leg (that he was doing his damndest to ignore for right now, because this seemed far too nice a moment for him to whip it out and just start whacking on it while he licked up every trace of her and she got her mind blown by his show). Subtly, he wiped his face against his bare shoulder, smearing her scent over him without meaning to, but wanting to kiss her temple and unsure about how she\'d react to her own juices being pressed there by his lips. As it was, she might retreat from just the cantaloupe-flavour of her own scent in disgust; he\'d had plenty of women do that before.

"God, you\'re so beautiful, I love it," he whispered huskily, nuzzling her temple worshipfully. "Thank you for letting me, I... it was so good. And a privilege. Thank you, Vivi."

In fact, it was a privilege he would repeat every half hour from now until she went away from him, if he could, but he left that part unsaid. He didn\'t want to freak his little hero out with his eagerness to munch on her; she\'d doubtlessly think him strange for that, because he assumed her to know of men and their reputation of reluctance for such things. He was already way beyond the bounds of even abstract normality and definitely in the \'weird\' category with being a vampire, he didn\'t need to catapult himself even farther away from what she might expect a man to be, in her inexperience.

Harlequin · « **Reply #23 on:** May 11, 2009, 02:08:01 PM »

The expression on her face as she turned it slowly toward him was a mixture of utter shellshock and the purest bliss, as if she couldn\'t decide whether to burst into tears or smother him with kisses.

Her mind was going a thousand miles an hour, as the fogginess of the afterglow wore off. Her thoughts were muddled, though, still trying to catch up to her recent blood loss – so though her mind raced, the actual content was unclear, meaningless, and successful only in giving her a headache. She felt shame and contentment in successive, confusing bursts. It was like it had happened to someone else; someone using her body for a few glorious moments, only to abandon her to the aftermath when it was done.

With some effort, she turned her brain down, taking a deep breath in through her nose. The air was cold on the moisture still coating her inner thighs. Her toes curled into the sheets.

She knew enough to understand what had just happened, but not the how or the why – but she realized that it was rude to just lay there, staring at him, so she blinked, slowly, and said the first thing she thought of, in a teeny, tiny voice – "You\'re welcome."

The girl was nothing if not polite.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #24 on:** May 22, 2009, 07:14:13 AM »

He beamed at her and batted his eyelashes twice, proudly, but he couldn\'t help but notice her absolute shock pervading what had just happened. He\'d expected a blush of embarrassment perhaps - maybe even an awakening to how good he could be and a little reciprocation for him - but hadn\'t anticipated that rather sober look that was growing in her eyes. Growing into something akin to... horror?

Trying to dampen his feelings of unease, he persisted with smiling at her and kissed her temple again, his own ardour dying a little in the ace of this rearing awkwardness. "I hope... it was one of the best you\'ve had?" he prompted hopefully, not really thinking that it was the experience of the orgasm that had rocked her so much as... well, he wasn\'t sure. Maybe that she\'d sort of... broken her virginal vow or something? It was hard to tell, unless he went digging into her mind and he wasn\'t going to do that.

Harlequin · « **Reply #25 on:** May 25, 2009, 09:13:05 PM »

If he had dug into her mind, he would\'ve found only the monotonous tick of a metronome, perfectly envisioned. Vivianne found this a useful tool when she felt herself was approaching panic; she simply shut down her reeling thoughts, and replaced them with the sedate tick-tock of the time-keeping mechanism. It was sort of like meditation, except that she didn\'t feel calm – only numb.

She used it now to shut out the acute awareness of him against her, and the shame which caused her belly to turn, and the anger she wanted to turn against him, for disrespecting her wishes (though she couldn\'t, really, could she? She\'d done all but asked for it, but – tick. Tock. Tick. Tock–), and the overwhelming confusion that would have reduced her to her a shivering mess in minutes. It was safe to say that, at this point, reciprocation was more or less out of the question. So, most likely, was sleep.

Focusing enough to answer his posed question, she furrowed her brows, "That\'s the only one I\'ve ever had," she said slowly, "I told you I\'ve never been...with anybody. But it felt very good." She couldn\'t decide yet whether or not it was good – that would require thought, and she wasn\'t ready for that yet.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #26 on:** May 27, 2009, 06:57:32 AM »

Things felt like they were going from bad to worse and there was a very definite vibe of discomfort about them now. The way she was talking - like it took a great deal of effort and only because panic was working its way to the surface and would arrive momentarily - only fed his unease and he shifted away from her now, his hold loosening and his face no longer looming, just in case she was feeling... overwhelmed. The last thing he wanted was to lose her, for fuck\'s sake.

"I... but... you... don\'t need anyone else to... uh... have a-uh... well," he said awkwardly, lifting his arm off her to scratch at his head before he gestured subtly at her crotch. She didn\'t need to be with anyone to orgasm and he found it severely unnerving that this was her first ever. That was just fuckin\' crazy! Rather than being proud that he\'d done a good enough job for her to tell him it had been very good, he simply worried, fuelled by the odd reaction she was having.

Now that he knew this, he could only wonder why she was acting as if her life was ending instead of a whole new world of pleasure was opening up to her... and feel very, very nervous. The parts of him that were unused to coping with such emotions began shutting down petulantly, resenting the fact that she made him feel - and feel bad, at that. Fuck. It hadn\'t been all his fucking fault, anyway!

"Are you... alright?" he frowned, watching her warily.

Harlequin · « **Reply #27 on:** May 30, 2009, 05:44:55 PM »

She disregarded the first part of what he said, because it was rather irrelevant at that moment.

She could see that he was upset, however, and that further unnerved her. She\'d thought he was incapable of being rattled. Callous and pouty, yes, but never unsure. This was obviously not how this situation was supposed to go.

Suddenly, she became aware of the air on her naked thighs, and she reached for the edge of the sheets, pulling them up to cover herself. She let the motions distract her, pushing her thoughts into a place where they couldn\'t overwhelm her until she was in a place where that could happen. Taking a deep breath, she answered as best as she could, sitting up slightly, propped up on her elbows, "You know last time, when i said that all of this was...confusing, for me?" she didn\'t actually wait for an answer before she continued, "This is like that, only...more." Without fully intending to, she explained:

"I don\'t like boys."

And, somehow, she felt better for it.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #28 on:** May 31, 2009, 12:49:05 AM »

The vampire merely stared at her for a few moments, his only discernible movement the very slight raising of his eyebrows. His expression was that of a hard-of-hearing old man, who wasn\'t certain of what his ears had just picked up. She... didn\'t like boys? She was a dyke?

"You what?" he queried stupidly, his voice a delicate monotone.

Harlequin · « **Reply #29 on:** June 02, 2009, 05:31:40 PM »

She had been waiting for one of two extremes: Laughter and reassurance, or pain. She\'d expected pain.

Bt now he was going to make her wait for an actual reaction, because he needed...clarification? Her brows furrowed. She didn\'t feel that she\'d been unclear, but she elaborated anyway – going directly off what he said, the nerves becoming evident in her voice, "don\'t like boys?" she repeated, then quickly amended, "Men." And again, "Prefer women. For...you know." Then, finally, "I am a homosexual." Yes, that was clear enough.

She hunched her shoulders, and brought some of the sheet up to her chin, clutched in nervous fingers. Her knees, now covered, came up halfway, and she darted a look toward him, "I\'m sorry," she said, and sounded it.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #30 on:** June 02, 2009, 06:40:13 PM »

He wrinkled his nose, he pulled faces, he blinked rapidly, he twisted his head from side to side a couple of times... giving the very fair and very accurate impression that he was doing his damndest to process what the fuck Vivienne had just said. After a while, his expression merely became a scowl and he looked moodily at her from distinctly lowered eyebrows, his mouth puckered to the left in a thoughtful (and rather grumpy) manner.

Oddly, he didn\'t have a lot to say to her words, though neither was he going to present one of the reactions she\'d anticipated. Instead, he released his words in a pouty puff of air and then continued to glower at her. "Well, that\'s just stupid," he announced, like she\'d just told him that if he flapped his arms hard enough, he\'d be able to fly. There was a sneer of disdain lacing the way he spoke, very likely telling her that he was really quite affronted by her lesbianism, for no good reason, and hadn\'t the emotional maturity to take the news equably.

He seemed, in fact, to be taking it like a child and rather more personally than was warranted, given their relationship.

Harlequin · « **Reply #31 on:** June 06, 2009, 08:46:15 AM »

Of course it was silly. She\'d been silly to believe that this would work; that they would work. They had no interest in each other beyond physical stimulation, and even on that their opinions (and preferences) differed.

She\'d been silly to believe he\'d be able to fix her, too. Because the last thing she was, now, was fixed. Outside of the fog of bloodletting, his touch no longer repulsed her, but she was as indifferent to it as ever. And he, apparently, didn\'t even have the grace to understand. A strangled laugh escaped her throat. Yeah, silly was an all-too-appropriate word. "I can go if you want," she offered quietly, looking down at her feet, her nine toes curling into the fabric of the sheets.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #32 on:** June 14, 2009, 12:12:52 AM »

"No!" he cried out so quickly, she barely even had time to finish her offer before he\'d refused it. It propelled him out of his sulk, anyway. Even if he didn\'t like the fact that she was a slit-licker, she was still the most glorious and beautiful thing he\'d got to taste in a very long time and he wasn\'t so stupid as to value sex (that he could get anywhere, quite frankly) from her above that. Her blood was what mattered to him.

Her blood and... he now realised with something like chagrin... her presence.

He cleared his throat and shuffled close to her, hugging her and attempting to slide them down into the bed in a comforting manner - under the covers - as he spoke. "No, I don\'t want you to go, I want you to stay here with me, where you\'re safe. And sleep. Please?" He\'d meant that last part to sound like a statement more than a question, but she was upset and he really was asking her to stay with him. He got little enough time in her presence as it was, he didn\'t want that cut short just because they\'d had a little... whatever-this-was.

Harlequin · « **Reply #33 on:** July 15, 2009, 02:06:29 PM »

"You don\'t hate me?" she asked, confused but compliant for the most part – she allowed him to pull her down with him under the covers, at any rate. "You\'re not...mad?"

Safe, he\'d said. Safe meant he wasn\'t going to hurt her. Safe meant the bad stuff was over, that she could relax, like a batter rounding home plate. It was safe to be her, now, without having to tiptoe around him.

That was what she hoped he meant, anyway.

Existentially Odd · « **Reply #34 on:** July 15, 2009, 05:22:59 PM »

"No," he stressed, his face little more than a scowl as he looked down at her. "I\'m just... disappointed. It\'s a damn shame; you\'re lovely. But I\'ll get over it, fucking\'s not everything," he announced with forced indifference, giving a wave of his head that might\'ve been the warm-up move before a ten round pro-wrestling match or it might have just been a tick; it didn\'t last long, either way.

He tilted his head and looked down at her curiously, as a completely errant thought occurred to him. "You\'re not in love with morgaine or anything, are you?" he queried warily, hoping she had better taste than that. Somehow, if she was, he\'d lose a little respect for her.