And Don\'t Forget the Violence

[Saiketsu]

Nikolai Armani, along with a sizable group of humans and vampires known as the Eastwood Disciples at his side, entered Risk like a group of conquering heroes. The music blared, the sweat oozed out of grungy pores, and the blood spattered the dance floor just like it did every time the doors opened. The group of gentlemen fit right in with the scene: taking their usual place at one of the side walls of the club, the group watched as their hookers worked and their drugs took effect to the unknowing populous.

It was the first time he had been to Risk since his latest encounter with that goddess of an immortal (Sonya, Judas hissed in his ear, ensuring that the prick would never forget the name again). And what an encounter it had been.

Not by chance he found her once again in the club, wooed her with his pitched tent, and taken her back to her own fucking house in order to give her his hard fuck that she so wanted on the dance floor. The two of them had fucked all night, the sheets stained with their dark blood from all of his gashes, soaked with a mixture of her dripping cunt and his cum, over and over and over again. And by the time the sun had risen, Nikolai was safely sleeping off the high in his own bed in his own condo, miles across the city, alone. Just as he liked it.

He had bedded the queen in her own fucking house, gave it to her nice and hard and perfect. He had gotten in and gotten out with all of his limbs (and his dick) intact, making Sonya just another knotch in his eternal bed post.

Had her fuck been any better, which he couldn\'t see how it could have been, he may have even stayed to fuck her all day long as well as all night. Too bad he just wasn\'t that sentimental.

Instead he went to Risk the very next night, all of the gashes in his back and his chest nonexistent. He was livid with drugged blood, the effects of the cocaine racing down his limbs, pushing his senses to their maximum for a nice, hard mind fuck.

He was dressed like a king in a black silk shirt of the highest quality, blackwashed jeans fitting perfectly to his muscular legs until the mid calf where they flared slightly to cover his leather shoes. It was a night for all of his piercings -- his snakebite in his bottom lip, the eyebrow ring and all of his earrings and gauges. His liner was thicker than usual, liquid liner and mascara which Jeremy never let go. But no one had to ever tell Nikolai that he was better looking than any of the Disciples and that he always had been.

Like a king he sat down at one of the tables with his group of humans, watching the excitement on the dance floor with a vicious sneer on his face, listening to the chatter, the moaning, the sucking, the painful tearing of human flesh. It was time to make something happen.

[Harlequin]

But Nikolai wasn’t going to be the one to do it.

There was a band onstage; a new band, on a tour. This, apparently, was their last song, which the lead singer–a tall, pale young man with a shaved head–advertised as such:

“It’s almost time for us to get the fuck outta here kids. Yall’re givin’ us swelled heads,” A disappointed hiss arose from the portion of the dance floor still paying any kind of attention, “Yeah I know,” he lamented, “But we got one more. Special. Treat, for yall tonight.”

Another band member began the song, with a tambourine jingling rhythmically at their side, quickly joined by a gentle bass line and riff on the snare from their drummer. Their keyboard joined in.

Then, the voice of the club’s resident riot-folk Goddess rang out over the speakers, as a previously unnoticed figure at the far end of the bar dropped her latex trench coat to the floor. “Alright, you fucking monsters,” she crowed, “Show me what you got.”  

“Don’t be scared,” the goading laughter became a sultry purr, “I’ve done this before.” One foot, clad in a 9-inch stiletto heel fashioned like a knife blade–and looking just as sharp–and then the other, stepped onto the cushion under her, and she stood.

“Show me your teeth.”

Morgaine was dressed in latex head to toe. Tits were pushed up to improbable heights by a black bathing suit with a plunging neckline that separated a transparent heart in the center, and the club lights reflected off her transparent stockings. Half gloves covered her fingers, and spiked bands encircled her wrists

The relentless, pounding bass kicked in, and she stepped onto the bar, lifting a microphone to her bruise-colored lips.

“Show me your teeth.” She bent over and lifted her face to the crowd that was now gathering at the bar, lips peeled back in a snarl to reveal a set of fake vampire teeth.

Don’t want no money she sang, only to be echoed by the band onstage, taking on the role of gospel choir after very line. Her own recorded voice echoed back to her, mocking and smoky over the speakers: (Shit’s ugly)

Just want your sex Her own laughter rang out through the club as she marched across the bar top.

Take a bite of my bad girl meat (take a bite of me)
Show me your teeth (let me see your mean)

Got no direction (I need direction)
Just got my vamp (uh-uh)
Take a bite of my bad girl meat (take a bite of me boy)
Show me your teeth (the truth is sexy)

At the end of the bar she stopped and faced the crowd, watching them with black make-up smeared eyes under blunt-cut black bangs, stamping one foot on the bar as she belted the chorus:

Tell me something that’ll save me
I need a man who makes me alright
(Just tell me when it’s alright)
Tell me something that’ll change me
I’m gonna love you with my hands tied

Show me your teeth (just tell me when)
Show me your teeth (Open your mouth, boy)
Show me your teeth (show me what you got)
Show me your teeth-teeth-teeth-teeth

One of the bouncers–dressed similarly for that occasion–came out from behind the bar, and she sat on his shoulder as if he were simply another stool as he carried her across the dance floor, still singing–

Got no salvation (Got no salvation)
Got no religion (my religion is you)
Take a bite of my bad girl meat (take a bite of me, boy)
Show me your teeth (I’m a tough bitch)

–And pointed straight at Nikolai’s table; it just happened to be the biggest, most central group in the place.

When it became apparent that he intended to set her down on the tabletop, the Disciples scrabbled to move their drinks and elbows out of the way, and the Goddess descended.

Got my addictions
And I love to fix ‘em (no one’s perfect)

Take a bite of my bad girl meat
Show me your teeth (I just need a little guidance)

As she sang, she looked down at the creatures surrounding her, baring her teeth at them.  Her eyes flashed recognition and fear when she recognized Nikolai. Then, a wicked smile spread slowly across her tattooed maw. She was the warm-blooded queen of this viper’s nest. All she needed to do was show him. What was there to be afraid of?

Not skipping a beat, She turned her back on him, showing him her strong legs and round, tight ass, one foot beating on the tabletop. There was a new, demanding edge to her voice as she launched into the second chorus.

Her foot jostled a glass of blood on the table, spilling it. The Disciple to whom it belonged wiped it up quickly, but not before the blood pooled around the sole of her shoe. She could feel the chill as drops of it splashed onto her ankle when she brought her foot down, and she looked over just as the last of it was wiped up. Smirking, she sat down on the table, legs spread, in front of the man and ran her fingers roughly through his hair.

Show me your teeth (just tell me when)
Show me your teeth (open your mouth, boy)
Show me your teeth (show me what you got)
Show me your teeth-teeth-teeth-teeth.

As he reached up to grasp her thighs, she placed her bloodied shoe on his chest and pushed him back against his chair. In response, he grasped her ankle tenderly, and ran his tongue worshipfully along the bottom of her shoe, cleaning off the blood there. She lay back on the table–long, glossy black hair fanned out around her–and sang with everything she had into her upturned microphone.

Show me your teeth
Hoooh (my religion is you)
Hoooh (my religion is you)

When his hand began to wander, she shoved him back against his chair again, and moved her legs under her so that she was on her knees facing the dance floor, running her hand through her hair, and over her latex-covered curves lasciviously,

Help, need a man
Now show me your fangs
Help, need a man
Now show me your fangs.
Help need a man
Now show me your fangs

She got to her feet, rolling her spine –

Show me your teeth (It’s not how big, it’s how mean)
Show me your teeth (Open your mouth, boy)
Show me your teeth (I just need a little guidance)
Show me your teeth-teeth-teeth-teeth

The music stopped on a powerful note, and–as a punctuation–she tongued the fake teeth off her own human canines and spat them over her shoulder, into Nikolai’s lap.

And the club exploded into applause.

She smirked as she stood and bowed to the crowd, and then, true to form, gave them all the finger.

“Give it up for Lady M!” cried the bandleader, “Couldn’t you just eat her up?”

This was why the club wanted her alive; this was why Nikolai couldn’t touch her–because she was a money-machine, a sensation. A goddess.

And she’d just dared him to try something.

(Lyrics © Lady GaGa)

[Saiketsu]

Nikolai hadn\'t been paying much attention to what music was playing, a conversation about the newest shipment of blow catching his interest as the band began their last song. Quite frankly, he hated half of the bands that were cocky enough to take the stage, their human music so imperfect and arrogant without much backing it musically. This one, to Nikolai at the very least, was no different. So he never noticed when the tattooed woman stood at the bar, held onto her microphone and began her own randition of Who-The-Fuck-Knew. More than once during their conversation did Nikolai have to call Jeremy and Ape\'s attention back to the conversation with a sharp hiss. Humans, of course.

With his back against the wall of the club, however, Nikolai was one of the first of the Disciples to notice the tattoed-and-latexed singer making her way over to the table. "Dox," Vincent tapped his arm, his own eyes already on the woman. Through the blinking lights of the stage Nikolai saw her and paused mid-sentence as she and the bouncer -- one he didn\'t recognize -- made their way through the feeding crowd. Another arrogant smirk spread across his face and he could smell the arousal grow in his underlings. Nikolai, however, hardly moved, even when she turned and had that tight little ass nearly in his face.

The elder vampire simply watched the scene progress as Vincent found himself a victim of her latex -- pathetic, Judas murmured, spreading the amirk wider on Nikolai\'s face. His expression never changed as the bitch dominated the only other vampire of the Disciples with ease. He eyed her as her cunt remained in front of his savagely coarse associate, as her body rolled upwards, her hands travelled all over her own body. With a touch of reluctance he took his eyes off of her ass, traveling the length of her legs, back up to her curves, no hint of recognition in his expression. It was only when those acryllic teeth landed in his crotch did he falter and show his internal thought with a flash of a smile. The Disciples hooted around him, calling out embarassing chants and excited chatter for Doxy\'s sake. As if Doxy were one step closer to scoring with the little bitch.

"Vincent, move," he commanded of the younger, leaving no room for questioning or arguing. Obediently the younger vampire moved from the seat next to him to offer the woman a polite hand down from the table.

"That was an interesting little performance, wouldn\'t you say boys?" Nikolai didn\'t move from his seat as the woman finally turned to face him. His black and white hair hung shielding one side of his face as he ran his eyes unashamedly over her chocolate skin again, lingering a bit longer in the places that interested him most -- including her tatooes. The Disciples mumbled their approvals, their dirty comments, closing in around her and the table slowly. "Lady M. And what exactly does the M stand for?"

[Harlequin]

Morgaine took the offered hand, descending from the table with as much grace at someone walking on 9-inch knifepoints could muster, and spared a half smile for the vampire assisting her.

With a flick of her hair, she turned to face the king of the table, smirking like the cat that ate the Cockatrice. The smirk didn\'t falter as he asked her name, though her mind roiled at his words. Heat–hidden by ink and scars–flared across her cheeks. He didn\'t recognize her?!

Well, of course he didn\'t. She was just a human, after all. That\'s all any mortal was to his kind. She flicked her inky hair again, twisting one strand around her gloved finger, "Morgaine," she told him, smoky voice still slightly out of breath, "Queen of Avalon."

As the Disciples closed ranks around her, she dropped her hand back to her hip, and her dark eyes shifted to take them in, lashes fluttering. Their lewd comments did nothing to rile her outwardly, though her eyes flashed a warning as they moved in. They could look, and they could talk, but they couldn\'t touch.

 There were a lot of them, but there were still plenty of other eyes on her. As long as there were eyes, she was safe.

Her gaze returned to Nikolai, "We\'ve met before, you and I."

[Saiketsu]

"Have we?" He asked, his expression unchanged. The vampire understood exactly what she inferred with her response to her name. Interesting to him was the fact that she called herself \'Queen\' in his presence. This vixen, though luscious and erotic, was no queen to him. Her choice of words was very interesting to him. Judas hissed again in his ear.

"Gentlemen, I do believe Lady M. is done being breathed on for the moment," he commanded again, noticing their primal scents growing stronger than Nikolai cared to deal with at the exact time. No need for anyone else\'s hardened dick but his own right now -- after all as the leader he had first bite and kill. "Ape I do believe that Lucy over there," Nikolai said eyeing the dance floor and taking out a cigarette to smoke, "is simply looking for trouble without the price tag. Check on that for me. Vincent, I believe you\'ve made a mess of the table enough for one night, go off and feed yourself. And Jock," he said lifting his head from lighting the cigarette between his lips, "I do believe Lady M. would like a drink now that her lungs have calmed down enough to left her drink.

"As for the rest of you, gentlemen," the vampire said after his first drag, "I do believe that you have some fun to enjoy that doesn\'t involve this little chick right here, don\'t you?" With a low mumble and a few glares the Disciples filtered out into the crowds to enjoy the beat of the DJ who never missed his opportunity to begin the music again.

"Now Morgaine, I have a question for you." He found her eyes again, and rather bluntly responded, "Are you going to sit and have a drink with me or are you going to stand there panting at me all night?" A sneering smile from the prick.

[Harlequin]

Truth be told, what Morgaine really wanted was to get out of her outfit. The spotlight had been hot, and latex was perhaps the least breathable material on the face of the Earth. She maintained her composure, however, watching the Disciples as he ordered them gone. It was easy to tell who wore the fangs in that cadre.

She didn\'t pant. Well, yes she did. Just not right now. As she opened her mouth to reply, the band leader\'s voice cut above the music.  "Check, one, two. Morgaine to the greenroom. We have Jello shots."

Her eyes went from the man onstage–who was giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up and a winning grin–to Nikolai, a single brow cocked.

"That depends on what you\'ve got to offer me," she said, "That\'s better than that." She indicated the man onstage with a thumb pointed over her shoulder. Presently, the other Disciple returned, and she accepted the proffered drink without looking at him. Her eyes stayed on Nikolai.

[Saiketsu]

The prick leaned forward onto the table, making sure not to touch his shirt to the blood on the table. He took a drag on the cigarette. "Well, Morgaine, as high of a bar as topping jello shots may be," he said smoothly, fishing out a bag of cocaine out of his front pockets, throwing it on the table before him and then casually searching for something else in his clothing, as if he had just pulled out his cell phone, or a card, or a pack of cigarettes, "I\'m really not sure if I have anything more exciting than that." And with the same smoothness, he put the coke back in his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, showing her what exactly she was getting herself into by even being anywhere near the Disciples.

They were the kings of the drugs in the city. No narcotics came into the city without Doxy knowing where it came from and where it was going and for how much. The trip to Risk that he and the Disciples had made that night was only half for pleasure; it was a weekly routine that they hit all of their avenues for gold. Risk, obviously was one of their biggest gathering places to push and sell. Sonya, Morgaine, they were all just side effects of the business.

"But by all means, leave if you feel as though jello in any form could give you something that I couldn\'t." He leaned back arrogantly, casually, as if he knew her response already. "After all, your performance must have been tiring..."

[Harlequin]

Her eyes followed the bag of coke onto the table, and her upper lip twitched slightly. She\'d never had any use for hard drugs. She remembered him telling her he was a dealer, but the information seemed more real now that the evidence was right there in front of her on the table.

Did she really want to play this game? Last time she\'d been so afraid that she\'d puked her guts out in the parking lot. THis cat could fuck her up.

Fuck that. She was still riding high on the adrenaline from her performance. Forget queens. She was a God. She was he one whom everyone in this hellhole was worshipping tonight. The knowledge made her giddy. Made her reckless.

She set down her microphone and dipped a finger in her drink, sucking the liquid off her fingertip pensively. A far-off look in her eye, as if weighing her options; as if she had no idea of the suggestive nature of the action. In reality, she was tasting the drink for the telltale saltiness that came with most dissolved sedatives. Finding none, she shrugged and seemed to come back to herself.

There was just something about this motherfucker that drove her nuts. She wanted him to know she was better than him; or make him prove that she wasn\'t. There was too much talking going on here.

"Come with me." She jerked her head toward where the band was disappearing backstage. Her words carried the inflection of an invitation and the authority of an order, "Unless you want to sit here and watch me sign other people\'s tits for an hour."

She sipped her violently green drink as she eyed a small but dedicated–and mostly human–group that had gathered in their periphery, looking equal parts nervous, excited and...excited.

[Saiketsu]

Of course he had recognized that fucking cunt as soon as she had stepped onto his table and interrupted his conversation. It was far too difficult for him to forget a face like hers, especially with all of the scars and tattooes. A familiar friend hissed his reminder into Nikolai\'s ear as soon as he saw that darkened skin, reminding him that this fucking chick was under the protection of the club. That she was the reason he drank cold blood unwillingly that night several months ago.

Say nothing, Judas had murmured into his ear like a lover, but Nikolai had no intention of giving away his recognition anyway. Let her get comfortable with you. You might be able to redeem yourself in more ways than one...

Nikolai raised an eyebrow at her command, nearly astounded that this little bitch could even work up the courage to ask anything of him that wasn\'t a desperate plea to fuck her. No, instead she wanted him to follow her? The thought of him following any woman anywhere was almost laughable.

The vampire let his eyes drill into her for several moments before he moved, stubbing his cigarette out on the table top, completely ignoring the ashtray. As he stood he put his arm around her small shoulders, standing more than a foot taller than her. "Lead the way, then."

[Harlequin]

His tattooed skin was ice-cold against the too-warm skin of her shoulders, but the singer fought her urge to shrug him off. She couldn\'t show weakness. Couldn\'t show fear. Instead, she reached across him to retrieve her microphone from the table, and lead on.

He might\'ve had a foot on her normally, but with her shoes (which brought her height to a just-above-normal 5\'10") he still had a good three or four inches on her, which was till enough to intimidate, but not enough to dwarf.

Her hips swayed as she walked, and the interested group parted to let them pass. Disappointed this time, they dispersed as the singer lead her ward around the edges of the writhing dance floor, toward the stage.

Morgaine\'s complementary demonic bouncer guarded the recessed steps to leading up to the stage, arms crossed over his barrel chest, glaring out at the dance floor, and at the small crowd hovering there, waiting for a chance to catch a glimpse of the exiting band. Her latex trench coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to her when she approached–finally shrugging off Nikolai\'s arm in the process of trading her mic for it. "Great job out there, Morgaine," he rumbled.

"Couldn\'t have done it without you, Gareth," she assured him, with a fond pat on the arm. "He\'s with me," she indicated Nick with a quick glance, and the bouncer\'s expression turned hard again. Despite not knowing him, he obviously had no love for the vampire.

"Be careful," he warned her, flint-colored eyes boring into Nikolai, "I\'ll be out here if you need me. You know the drill."

She nodded her assent, and lead her new companion up the stage steps, and into the hallway beyond.

There was an anteroom at the top of the staircase, and the band that had just exited now inhabited it, and cheered when Morgaine showed her face–but hissed with disappointment when she told them she wouldn\'t be staying, and lead Nikolai to the right, into the backstage hallway.

Both sides of the hallway were mirrored from floor to ceiling, reflecting an endless series of Nikolais and Morgaines. The effect was disconcerting.

About thirty feet down, however, there was a door with an elegnt silver star affixed to it, and it was this door that the singer ducked into, leaving it open for her companion. The room beyond was clearly a dressing room; vanity mirror chaise lounge, and robe hanging on the back of the door included.

[Saiketsu]

He liked the feeling of her hot skin against his clothing, liked the kiss he blew at the bouncer they passed and then the horrified glare that Nikolai received as a result. He liked the way her heart moved when he pulled her closer as she led him through the club, liked the way she refused the alcohol in favor of wasting some time with him, liked seeing thousands of himself always surrounding her down a hallway of mirrors.

Nikolai slowed his pace to watch her body move in the light of the room as they entered, watching her curves as she moved about. The idea of slicing through that latex lingered on his mind, her skin splitting as well under the easy pressure of his nails. Dark skin and thick blood. He could feel himself growing harder at the thought, Judas licking his lips behind Nikolai\'s eyes.

Drug her up and fuck her dry, he growled lowly, hungrily. Silent smoke. Reel her in and drain her slowly. Redemption. Redemption. Redemption. All eyes were on her and without purposely trying to, he felt himself trying to pull at her attention. He wanted her to look at him, to get on her knees, on her stomach, on her back, anywhere. His green eyes stared much like a predator\'s would, watching a little brown rabbit. In latex. A smirk rose to his lips again.

Not for long, Nikolai thought back to his companion, receiving a purr of approval.

He made his way up to the little brown rabbit, putting himself impolitely close to her, smelling the sweat and dirt on her brown skin, the racing blood at having a vampire king in a room alone. With no one to protect her. As if her cunt was his by right, Nikolai put his arm around her waist and pulled her into him. His hand travelled to rest just above that sweet little ass that she was so willing offering him at the table.

"Remind me, if you would, why on earth you would chose my table to interupt with your song, Morgaine." He whispered in her ear with a tone that was nearly condescending, his smirk spreading into a very vicious smile.

[Harlequin]

The vanity mirror–surrounded and lit by large, round lightbulbs–was directly across from the door, and it was the first place Morgaine headed– taking off her gloves as she went, and dropping them (along with the coat draped over her arm) on the settee to the left of the door. She watched her companion in the mirror as she gathered an eyeliner pencil and pot of lipgloss from the black, lacquered countertop in front of the mirror.

Then, in the moment she looked away, he was on her, arm wrapped around her small waist as if he owned her. His sudden touch set her heart to racing like the rabbit he so well and truly considered her to be, causing a sudden rush of blood to the surface of her skin and a hitch to her breath. The cold of his skin traveled well through the whisper-thin barrier of her latex clothing, and goosebumps raced across her skin.

Nevertheless, she let him touch her; tilted her head to the side, watching those predatory eyes as he spoke into her ear. Outwardly unfazed, she smiled as she answered truthfully, "Yours was the biggest group; the most central table.

"Sorry," she went on, as she unscrewed the lid of the lipgloss she held. She dipped her pinky finger into the sweet-smelling, sticky, bruise-colored cosmetic, and swiped it across her mouth, then puckered her lips as if to kiss him (or herself) through the mirror, "If you thought you were special." She spoke as if that smile didn\'t affect her; as if she weren\'t afraid of him. As if he didn\'t turn her right the fuck on.

Then, noticing the reflection of the still-open door still behind him, she commented, "Could you shut that?" she requested, "Wouldn\'t want to be heard."

[Saiketsu]

He could smell right through her human facade, her stoney expression. It always amused him how often humans forgot about his ability to notice their blood under their flesh. The human\'s blood was rank with prickled emotion for him -- fear and arousal. Her skin, hot with adrenline, only proved to maintain that smirk on his face. Yes, Nikolai had been around enough whores to know when they were bluffing with their bravery. And while this Morgaine bitch may have had a harder shell to crack, he was positive she was the same hot, dripping core as all of the other whores had been. Especially when they were broken.

The vampire ignored her request completely, finished with words as soon as he had closed his mouth to end his own question. His attention was focused on only her brown little neck, how easily he could have snapped it in half before she even had the chance to scream. Or press his fangs delicately straight into her neck and take her with the sort of violence that only he could be traced to.

"So, you just happened to make eye contact with the leader of the Eastwood Disciples and expect.... what exactly?" He boasted, speaking through the cocaine onto the scruff of her neck, his breath leaving the little hairs standing on edge. His hands slid down her latex, gripping at the hot skin as they came to a forward grasp upon her outter thighs. He wanted her blood to race, wanted that heart to pump hard, wanted that intial fight before he made her want him, that drag as she fucked herself up on the high quality blow in the fucking state. "A nice polite conversation, a round of drinks and autographs, and a night to tell Mom about?" He nearly laughed at the image he conjured in his head. And how severely it differed from his own intentions with this cunt.

There was no fucking way she was getting off scott free. Nikolai wasn\'t nearly sober enough to let that happen.

[Harlequin]

A snotty retort had been on the edge of Morgaine\'s magic tongue–and then his hands started moving, cold and hard over the crest of her hips, and she ate that retort, sucking her breath in sharply through her teeth, as if he\'d stuck her. The heat rising under his grasping palms would tell him she felt otherwise.

But her mouth wasn\'t about to follow suit. "I don\'t know an Eastwood Disciple from Matthew, Mark, or John," she told him plainly as she set her pot of lipgloss back on the counter; a nice recovery, she thought. Still feigning innocence, she reached up to shift her hair to one shoulder, unconsciously baring the unblemished side of her throat like the goddamn tease she\'d always been. She didn\'t tell him what she\'d expected, because she didn\'t rightly know. She knew she wanted badly to fuck him, but beyond that?

Poker face, something hissed at her from the back of her mind. She didn\'t need to tell him shit. She owned this place.

"You don\'t fucking listen," she chided, then, as she slid sideways, out of his grasp. He didn\'t have her cornered; not yet, at least. She moved, then, to shut the door herself, turning her back on him and sidling the short way across the room. First her hand on the knob, then the hard slam of the door, muffling the sound from the dancefloor.

Now it was truly just the two of them; the sound of her breath and heartbeat, and the silence of his.

[Saiketsu]

She only slipped away from him because he let her slip away from him. He eyed her tight little brown body as she walked away from him, a ferociousness in his eyes that would have frightened any normal bitch. He watched her shut the door, locking them in together. He could have laughed.

This bitch was his now.

Before she had turned to face her, before her hand had left the door knob, he was behind her, her hot body still coated in a layer of sweat pressed closely to his. His hands found her latex again more personally than before, travelling closer to her inner thighs. "And what about Judas?" he said to her silently, a brief message no doubt flickering across her mind as he invaded the first part of her for the night.

A brief flash of white pain shot through the front of his skull for a few seconds. It had been a while since he had used his newfound ability and he would pay for it later. The pain dulled after a half of a minute and his normal intoxication was back, Judas peering through him at the dark little vixen whom he was about to crush for good.

"He\'s the most important Disciple you\'ll ever know," Nikolai said, placing his lips lightly against her ear, enjoying the hair that prickled his hands as he found the skin of her legs.