There's a hand around your throat, grip gentle but firm enough that you know he won't hesitate to squeeze if you so much as dare to whimper.
“Go ahead,” his voice rumbles in your ear like a cat's purr—low, more felt than heard, resonating with your soul. “Scream.” He's holding back laughter. It's a dare, a command, a taunt. The fingers around your throat twitch and your voice closes up, suffocated by the malicious delight exuding from your captor.
Your instincts tell you to fight, to resist, to flee even. But the body behind you is strong, that slender frame deceptive in appearance thanks to his perfect proportions and languid movements. An act, you're sure now, a performance to appear weak and non-threatening, to lure someone like you in with charm and the illusion of choice. As if you ever had a chance.
“No?” he sounds almost disappointed. But before you can tell him to fuck off, he's spun you around and slammed you back against the wall. The breath is knocked from you and the hand around your throat tilts your chin up, constricting your ability to breath further.
You hate how that's your first thought.
As if able to read your mind, he smiles; and the hand around your throat isn't the only reason you're not able to breathe. His smile is one of greed and lust and dazzling pride, as a predator might smile down at his prey.
There's a paralyzing power in that smile, and you now know that you're done for. This is it. Your body won't respond. Your thoughts are hazy. You're about to be devoured. And this bastard's face will be the last thing you see.
At least it is a beautiful sight.
“Playtime's over,” he says, grinning to reveal fangs for the first time. It's the first reveal of his true evil nature within, and your pulse quickens.
Your collar is pulled down, and your chin lifted and turned, exposing your neck to his mercy. Leaning in, you feel his hot breath against your skin, and despite yourself you feel your skin prickle, the anticipation of what is about to happen next sending the blood thrumming through your veins.
You shut your eyes tight, focusing on the sensation of teeth grazing across your skin. His tongue, wet and slick, presses against where your pulse is strongest. It's replaced by fangs, points of pressure against your defenselessness. And then-
The sensation of breaking skin makes you gasp. Pain is overridden by pleasure as the venom kicks in, the world spins as your senses are flooded with greed and lust. His greed and his lust.
You would moan if you could speak, if your voice were free. As it is, you can only melt into his spell, only peripherally aware of the blood spilling from your neck, soaking warm and fragrant into your shirt. How much longer until...?
The pressure on your neck wrenches away suddenly, and the spell is broken.
As your senses come back to you, you hear retching and violent coughing by your feet. You open your eyes and look down.
He's doubled up on all fours, fingers down his own throat as he tries to purge all that blood he so greedily sucked down from you.
You raise your hand to your neck, fingers gently caressing the wounds there that are already beginning to close. You flex your other fist, feeling the strain and pop of muscle and sinew as your body burns through the vampire's venom. It had been more potent than you'd anticipated, but now that your body has adapted, it would be ineffective now.
You look down at his beautiful face now contorted with fear and anger.
Ah. This was even better.
“Me,” you say, stepping forward and into a crouch. You lift him up easily by the collar.
The fear and anger in his eyes curdles into hatred, and you grin, revealing your own fangs. This was so much better.
“You'll pay for this,” he spits out, hands clawing at your arm. Ineffective. Tame. Weak.
“We'll see about that,” you growl as you fling him against the wall.
As the vampire struggles to his feet, you complete your transformation. His eyes dart with uncertainty as he tries to decide what to do next. You don't really mind whether he chooses to fight or flee. Maybe he'll do both. Your instincts howl at the thrill of the chase and the eventual test of strengths. You can't wait to rip his perfect skin, to mar and mangle and maul, to tear apart that perfect body piece by piece. You want to go feral now. Why couldn't he start running now. What was he-
“Disgusting beast.” The vampire stares down his nose at you, that beautiful face daring to sneer at you. As if he thinks himself better when he is weak weak weak.
You lunge for him with your claws. They gouge the brick wall where he had just been, but it is a near thing. There's no time to think as the vampire is already off and running, his scent and presence disappearing into the night.
You smile, fierce joy bursting from you as you give chase. With the wind in your face and the moon as your witness, you accelerate and latch onto his scent. There's no way he's getting away now. Even though you can't see him, you can smell him, and you know he can hear you. So you call out, “Here kitty kitty! Come back and play.”
