#vampire!john

His head hurts, though, thoughts running wild, and they aren't his thoughts. In the present, he hears everything. A consistent soft chatter of voices humming in the back of his mind. Sometimes, it's the voice of the little girl that follows Johnny around, her sing-song cadence lamenting about how cool the Scot is. Sometimes, he hears his Captain’s voice, a ping-pong of chastisement and self flagellation on how they all ended up like this. If he concentrated enough, he could hear the insecurities that Price held about not being in command of anything and having to take orders from Aayana or Karma. He's even privy to Kyle, who thinks in disgust about the blood he chokes down at dinner with echoing chants of 'Don't hang yourself. Don't leave your team.' He hears the soft longing of Johnny's thoughts and how he yearns for his real family and how the brats that infest the house remind him of his own host of nieces and nephews.

And that's not counting the other thoughts that drift in and out of his head. The discordant sound of other people drives him crazy. It makes him irritable. It makes him want to kill and make it stop. He's never had the desire to actually want and crave to inflict violence upon others. The voices in his head hold his reasoning and logic hostage. Replacing them with images of bodies cracked open, blood spilling forth and into his mouth. He can imagine the taste as coppery and bitter. Overall, it's unpleasant and devastatingly unsatisfying. He sees fire sometimes when he is resting, eyes glazed over as he idlely listens to Johnny talk about how weird it is to be called Jackie, but it's growing on him. He will lay in his bed, no real motivation to move, and Johnny will curl up next to him, and neither of them mention how there's now no warmth between them. Those are the moments he is able to ignore everything in him and just exist in relative quiet.

Those moments are when he is aware and in the driver's seat of his body. When his right mind is shoved to the back by the unbridled rage and blood lust, he is kept away from everyone for his safety and everyone else's.

These times, like now on this muggy and warm day, he finds himself in the company of William. The grounds keeper of the property and Simon finds it eerie how similar the two of them are. William is just as silent and imposing as Simon is. They share the same build of raw muscle and stature. The only thing is that William doesn't hide his face's disfigurement. He appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties, but Simon knows better. The man is a vampire. His face is littered with scars and keloids that have been with him for all of his life. His left eye is permanently facing another direction, staring off to the side and hidden by a white milky film, his working brown eye in a semi permanent droop. A scar slashes down the left side of his face, and it's jagged and reaches his lips. A small sliver of flesh looks like it was hastily patched up on his lip, stitches maybe, long gone and leaving behind the scarification. Another healed patch of criss-cross keloids peaks just from under William's shirt on the back of his neck, and Simon sees it when the man turns his back to him whenever he is working. It should be noted that William keeps all of himself covered, from neck to the sole of his feet. He doesn't hide his face, but he hides everything else meticulously. Simon respects that and can relate because his skull mask stays on when out in public.

"It's particularly bad for you t'day, isn't it Simon?" William speaks as if he knows what he is going through. "Them noises in ya head." He doesn't turn from his task of feeding the hogs. The pen is kept far from the house, another safety precaution. Humans aren't allowed out here where Aayana has William raise the hogs and slaughter them.

Simon only grunts as he barely acknowledges the question. They are both out in the blistering sun, getting ready to butcher a hog for some gathering that Aayana wants to hold. The idea of the blistering sun is a conundrum because aren't vampires supposed to hate being in the sun? Isn't he supposed to be turning to ash? Even more so, he wants to turn into ashes because he doesn't want to be around a surplus of people for this gathering. He doesn't want to hear extra voices in his head. "Nothin' I can' handle." He talks barely above a whisper.

William pauses his task and observes the hogs that are milling about. Rooting their snouts in the troughs or the ground. Piglets are scampering about picking around the older beasts for scraps. "It ain't all yer blood lust ya know." He says finally after a long moment of silence.

Simon only grunts again. He's got no patience for empty platitudes of comfort. He just wants to enjoy the distance and silence from the house. Working with William, doing hard labor comforts his body and nerves.

"I don't reckon she even knows she's lettin' ya feel her. She hasn' hada new bloodied young'n in decades that could read thoughts an' feel folk's memories..." The good eye slides over to look at him, and there's no pity. Just understanding. "I ain't no good use of help'n ya wit the issue. Yaya, though, she's got it in her best interest to help you."

"What 'm I supposed to about these thoughts?" He asks.

"I 'spect ya need to learn to block 'em out. It can't be good for you." He trudged on to his next task, and Simon followed. They now have to pick out which hog to slaughter.

Simon, while he's been a butcher, has never done the process from start to finish. He's a bit interested in how they go about picking the right one. A new skill for his new lifestyle. "Do you have the same issue...with the rage?" He takes the risk of prying for information. For the knowledge that it isn't just him as the only brute holding onto his fraying humanity and self-control to not split flesh open and suck life out to fill his bottomless existence.

"I never had no blood lust in the hundred f'years I beens alive. All the anger an' any rage done been whipped outta folks like me... broken in for work so I don't push back." He doesn't say much more on himself, and that leaves Simon confused. He sees this man and sees himself. "Yaya is the one who overcomed her own blood lust. She tore herself right on out of it an' right in the middle of it too." He sounds almost in awe as he speaks of Aayana. "Was nothin' but God that saw her through them forty days and forty nights. Nothing but the spirit that stopped her dead in her tracks on the forty-first day."

The hog that William points out is male. More brown than pink, and William says he's big enough to feed everyone at the gathering and to send people home with leftovers. He mentions that Aayana hates wasting food and the scraps will be given to those with dogs. While it's not his cup of tea, William says he will help Aayana prepare the intestines for chittlins. Simon gags at the thought of anyone eating that, but he's had blood pudding, and he liked it, so who is he to judge?

"Aayana seems..." He trails off, not wanting to be rude. Everyone here seems to love the elusive woman dearly. He understands it, she is polite and from what Johnny says, actually funny in a dry kind of way. He's seen her laugh and talk with the people who come and go, and with children, she's as soft as she can be. With Karma, she is stern, especially when the man is arguing his case to let Simon learn how to feed from a person and to use him as practice, (she barely wants Price biting Karma from what she says). The few times Kyle mentions her, it's with annoyance and a begrudgingly sense of respect. John, while he won't say it out right (and he may struggle with it privately), likes how she tells him what to do.

William, though? He looks at Aayana like she hung the sky and all of the stars and planets in it. He is the only one to call Aayana 'Mistress' or 'Yaya' (Simon compares it to the same way he holds Johnny is such high regards). And he knows to be careful with how he speaks of her, so that he doesn't accidentally cause issues (Price has given them all plenty of warnings about respect).

"Yaya is young for a vampire. Born a vampire. It's all she's ever known. And she's had to control her rage and blood lust since the day she cut her fangs in that there house." William looks off towards where the property line is overgrown.

In that direction is the shack that him and his team found when following Kyle out for a late evening walk (it almost felt like they were scouting the area, as they took up their familiar formation). The shack was old, with vines creeping up the sides. Roof partially caved in, the few steps leading up to the door sagged in the middle. The rush of emotions that Simon got from that shack had been enough to make him angry, hurt, small, and scared. Those feelings he hadn't felt since his father had beaten his mother while she begged for him to leave the kids alone. It was visceral and scathing, and he couldn't get out of the thousand yard stare, not until Johnny had held his hand and pulled him back from the turbulent forces swirling in him.

"Come on." William says, "The quicker we slaughter this here hog, the quicker we can hang it to bleed out. It ain't no quick process."

Simon lays awake when he should be resting. It's late in the evening, and he's been out in the sun all day helping William. The ruthless gnawing of violence calls to him, and under it is pain. Since William had said the feelings and thoughts weren't all his own, he's tried deciphering who is who. He can tell the bubbly emotions and thoughts belong to Johnny. He's happy that Simon made it another day without snapping and that he joined everyone for dinner even though he didn't want to. The feeling of disgust and exhaustion belongs to Kyle, and thoughts of fresh human blood plague his feelings about morality. It has never been clearer that he hates the taste of animal blood, but he can't bring himself to drink human blood. His morality won't allow it. Just beyond that is John and some rather confusing feelings that he knows he is not supposed to know about. Those feelings of insecurity laced with guilt mixes with lust and fear and a deep seated satisfaction of not feeling hunger. He feels Karma next to him, and the lust is mirrored, Simon feels like he just walked in on his parents.

He finally closes his eyes as they are too heavy to stay open. Phantom fire licks at his skin. He's frozen in place. This time, when his eyes pop open, there is smoke.

Thick, black, heavy smoke hangs in the air and blots out the setting sun. Everything is bathed in a haze of red, and the feeling of violence permeates the air. In front of him is Aayana. She's kneeling. Her brown dress is covered in dirt and stained with blood. Simon looks off to the side and sees a pale pink rope of sorts that leads to a small white sheet. The white sheet is spread out, lovingly placed on top of whatever it is hiding. His eyes follow the rope back to Aayana, and he sees that she is holding someone. Her body is still and the person she holds lays limp, decay starting to rot her. It then dawns on him what he is seeing. He is seeing Aayana holding the corpse of a woman, her brown skin covered in her own blood, the swell of her stomach torn open and the the pale pink rope isn't a rope but an umbilical cord, and under that sheet is a baby.

It makes Simon feel rage and feel sick, but it's not his own.

William is there too, a quiet specter, watching as he takes off his shirt. Simon does a double take as he catches a glimpse of the scars and keloids that criss-cross and stretch across his back. They are everywhere on him, connecting and diverging like rivers and streams. Some are raised others are flat, all of them hint at the time he comes from. William places the shirt over the woman's body, he makes no move to budge the catatonic Aayana.

"It's been forty day's Yaya." He says quietly, "We gotta run, leave this place."

Aayana doesn't move from her crouched position. A sob escapes her and she hugs the body close to her. "Billy this wasn't supposed to happen." She barely is able to get the words out. "I told her and Zachary to leave with us. They didn't listen."

"...Yaya, Miss Abilene won't want ya to hold on to her like this. We gots to bury her and Zachary proper." William sounds close to begging. "You've beens here fora whiles now Yaya...please."

"I can't leave Abi like this... these people, these monsters didn't even make it quick." She screams and Simon feels the heat if a thousand suns in that desperate wail of anger. William frowns and sighs at the outburst. He can tell that the man wants to pull her away, but he keeps his distance.

"Do you want me to bury the baby next?" He decides on focusing on that instead. Even at the mention of the baby under the white sheet, his voice shakes.

"Bury them both together." Aayana rocks back and forth, "Put them next to Zachary, theys still a family. They would want to be together."

The next scene that Simon sees is fire, an entire town set ablaze. The flames reach up into the morning skies. People are screaming, buildings falling into themselves. An entire town being destroyed. Men, women, and children lay sprawled out in places. Throats ripped wide open, bleeding out. There are shadows moving about, hunched over bodies that are split open, claws digging into flesh. Simon feels the anger and hatred and blood lust gripping onto him. Up ahead he sees Aayana, standing over a man. His blue eyes wide with fear, blond hair caked with sweat, soot, and blood. He has soiled himself in his fear and he begs.

"Please we didn't know!" He shouts as she descends onto him. First Aayana rips him open, entrails spilling out everywhere. Her normally brown eyes are a light with pleasant black rage and Simon can feel the relief. He feels the relief when she bends his arms and legs to break them. Righteousness courses through him when he sees her aim her fangs and sink them into the man's neck. Right in the spot where the change is initiated. The man is screaming for mercy.

"You didn't give neither of my lovers mercy when you lynched them." Her voice floats through the air. "I will make you watch me eat your wife and boy. Eye for an eye." She stands slowly, ignoring the whimpers of pain and how the man begs for her to leave his family alive.

Simon isn't sure how he missed the two extra bodies that were frozen nearby watching the scene. Mother and son, holding on to each other, shaking in fear. There is a war of anger and remorse that he feels in his own chest. Aayana walks slowly to the two and she stands there watching them. The mother is trying to shield her son and Simon feels fear but it's not the woman's, it's the boy. He can relate to the unimaginable fear and its not him relating, it's Aayana.

"You shouldn't be here Simon."

Simon's eyes shoot open and he's back in his bed. He's panting, his lungs taking in air he doesn't need. Just what type of fucking night terror did he see? Sitting he runs his fingers through his hair and feels the soft cool silk sheets under him, anything to ground his mind. The voices are back, people's thoughts though less of them now seeing as it is late and sleep or rest claims people. There is the squeak of the bedroom door, and it makes Simon instinctively tense up for a threat.

She looks like a ghost standing there, the dim hallway light wrapping her in a halo, bleeding through her linen night dress. It's the first time Simon has been openly approached by Aayana. Her head moves side to side as she surveys the room's inhabitants. Kyle and Johnny are deep into their rest, piled on top of each other, limbs tangled together. She motions for him to follow when she leaves and he does.

She takes him to her sitting room and offers him a seat. If she is angry about what he saw, she doesn't show it. Her face is carefully composed and she watches him. The silence stretches between the two of them, great like an endless chasm. After several long minutes she finally speaks. "Simon...why didn't you tell me you were suffering with your gift?"

He's surprised at how soft and concerned she is about him. She sounds apologetic and her lips turn down into a frown. "I didn't want to bother you."

"A vampire that has that gift can go insane if not taught how to control it. Your resting and awake periods must be awful. Never mind the blood lust that comes with it." She adjusts herself in her seat and looks out the window. "Vampires who have been exposed to intense traumas in their youth tend to manifest this rare gift...first lesson is how to meditate."

He nods his head, "and then?"

"Let's learn to meditate, that will help shut out other people's thoughts, feelings, and the blood lust that comes with the stress." She smiles at him. "After that, we can go from there."

"Not the first time, won't be the last," John said, shrugging, his mix of accents catching on the words. Gale had once asked where the accent was from and John had simply stared, unsure how to answer. You live long enough, you move enough, you pick up accents from everyone you've ever loved, you make them your own. That's what John had done, before he learned to stop loving, before he learned to stop trying to live. He wasn't living, wasn't alive, would never be, so he stopped pretending, stopped preening, retreated from the vibrancy of life to the shadows. Until he met Gale. Gale had told him once that the shadows, the black and white, the dark didn't suit him. John knew he was right.

"It better be the last," Gale replied, stern and unyielding as always, "if I catch you darting out in the sun to protect me again, I'll kill you myself, sun be damned."

"Hey now," John started weakly, knowing he had no real ground to stand on. He shut his jaw with a click at the look Gale gave him, holding up his uninjured hand in surrender. He was lucky it was only the one hand that got fried, it could have been a lot worse.

"If…" Gale started, though his voice was barely more than a whisper, "if you turned me, we wouldn't have to—"

"No," John cut him off, voice harsher than he meant it to be, and Gale flinched at the threat of violence in his tone. John took a deep breath and tried again, "no, Buck, I won't turn you. You don't know what'chour asking for. I won't inflict this curse on anyone else," John's tone was softer now, but still held firm, and Gale looked down at John's hand, cradled in his own.

"Maybe I don't know all of it, but I know I'd be with you," Gale said, turning red as he caught wind of his own cheesy words, "and you'd never have to risk the sun to save me again, since I wouldn't go in the sun either," Gale rationalized, rubbing his thumb over the damaged skin, "and you wouldn't have to worry about hurting me by drinking, either," he continued, glancing up at John through his eyelashes. John groaned at the thought of being able to taste Gale's blood, to freely drink without fear of killing his lover. Gale had split his wrist and forced the cut to John's lips before and John had savoured every sip of blood, but the fear of draining too much and hurting the blond human had forced him to stop, had ensured it was a one-time thing.

"Gale, please," John whimpered, begging Gale to stop. He only had so much self-restraint.

"Bucky," Gale muttered, leaning and pressing a kiss to John's wrist, where the flesh was still intact and uninjured, "John, please?" it was a perverse echo of John's plea, "I want to be with you. Please, John, turn me. Make me yours. Make me so completely yours," Gale begged softly, breathe warm against ice cold flesh.

"No," John gasped out, his resolve wavering slightly, evident in his tone, "no-not yet," the moment the promise left his lips, John knew it was true. He would turn Gale. Just… Just not right then. Not now. Gale looked up at him from beneath his lashes again, lips parted in shock at the whispered promise. A smile replaced the shock after a moment and Gale sat up straighter, wrapping a hand around the back on John's neck and pulling him into a searing kiss.

"Okay. Okay, I can wait," Gale muttered against the vampire's lips, knocking their foreheads together, "but I'm not a patient man, John."

When you two do come face to face, its very quiet but intense. You're ready to throw caution to the wind and John is practically ready to drain you.

Make no mistake, at the beginning, for him, its about blood. He keeps a steady rotation of a few select, clean, high end escorts to keep his thirst satisfied, but none of them are enough after he meets you. John needs to taste you.

You don't have a clue of his "true" nature, but you do really like him, so you make your own advances- you're actually the first one of you two to make a move (or so you think) and when John responds well, you're thrilled.

The first bite is an absolute shock to you, he has not disclosed who he really is, possibly because he had no intention of you even remembering the experience.

Your shock and fear though, elicits a reaction he was not expecting; he does not want you to be scared of him- suddenly, he doesn't want to betray you like that either. The man who has not cared for a woman in over sixty five years, all of a sudden, can not stand to lose a woman he's only known for a few months.

John comes clean, about everything

Instead of being scared, you're fascinated. This actually explains a lot; his sensitivity to sunlight, the way he seems to drink significantly more than anyone you've ever known without getting drunk, his adept knowledge of history, his effortless, physical strength, the old photographs of a woman that look too dated to be of the century. The coldness of his touch and the way it feels like his heart wasn't beating when he held you close.

You eventually let him "taste" you. Its a couple months after he tells you the truth, when part of you is desperately curious.

He has an admirable amount of self control, because even if he likens your blood to the most intoxicating combination of liquor and honey, he doesn't want to kill you.

After this, when some more trust is reestablished, it becomes a fairly regular, extremely intimate experience. Its almost as important to your- now committed- relationship as sex. The two even mingle frequently and its absolutely euphoric when it does; the feel of his mouth drawing essence from that perfect spot on your neck, while simultaneously, he fills you up and then some. The little sting and persistent pull, coupled with the tight burn and delicious friction (okay, I'm going to far now)

John is extremely protective and territorial and this comes from a multitude of reasons including the loss of Helen, the fact that because you're human you're even more vulnerable than she was, and because he can not stand the thought of another vampire wanting you the way he does. You're his and John does not share.

He will kill for you.

But he's also surprisingly loving and attentive. He never, ever lets you spend a day wondering how he feels about you.

Sex decades of accumulated wealth means that your want for nothing and have the world at your feet. You have reservations at the most exclusive restaurants and you probably don't remember what having a maxed out credit card feels like.

John also enjoys buying you gifts himself. Though, its debatable who your collection of lingerie is really for. Lets just say that John very much enjoys the look of you in lace.

John is woefully strong- superhuman strong- so he's extra careful with you. At first, he felt very guilty about those moments where he roughed you up a little too much during sex or feeding (or both) and those instances were often teaching moments for him, even if you repeatedly promised that you were okay.

John adores being older than you sometimes, particularly because it means that he can see that stunning look of wonder on your face when he tells you about his life and all the things he's done. Its been so long since he could share those parts of himself.

You're always eager to learn about his experiences and where he's originally from but try to not push sensitive subjects like the war and his wife.

Despite John being very willing to share at times, he's still a man of few words.

Loud music was blasting from the speakers as John entered the club. He could hear a set of dark tunes blasting into the speakers, one after another. The whole place was decorated with Halloween stuff. There were pumpkins everywhere, bats hanging from the ceiling and few spider webs here and there. They really put loads of effort in turning the Continental’s underground club into a spooky dungeon and it worked out great.

John ordered his drink, wandering around the place looking at all of the people dressed up as various horror creatures. As he leaned his back onto the wall he saw an insanely gorgeous girl pushing through the crowd to get to the bar.

He kept piercing her with his stare until she caught his glance when she turned, leaning her elbow on the wooden table behind her. She swept his whole body with her gaze and lifted her eyebrow sipping her drink.

The girl that was now standing by the bar flashed him her fangs in a smile and John thought that they didn’t looked like the ones you can buy cheaply almost everywhere in Halloween season. Her beauty was hypnotizing, her long hair was falling in cascades onto her back until the length of her butt. The emerald dress she was wearing made her look like she came from a royal family.

She kept smiling at him like she knew he wasn’t just another guy who dressed up as vampire for this year’s Halloween party. Like she felt he was a real one. John smiled back exposing his own fangs making her shiver just by the sight of them. She quickly looked away, grabbed her drink and disappeared somewhere in the crowd.

That wasn’t the reaction he expected. It looked like she was frightened by him. But now he just wanted to play with her a little.

His mind was too busy with searching for the girl in emerald dress. He saw right through her and he really wanted to tell her he knows her badly hidden secret. Pushing through the crowd he was slowly sipping his Bloody Mary. He ordered it at the bar, but he spiced it up a little with his own ingredient.

When he finally saw her outside in the back smoking area his heart raced up a little. The moonlight made her look like she was really one of them, children of the night.

He passed through the door decorated with spider webs curtains and slowly walked outside. When she saw him she jumped at the sudden of how quickly he got close to her.

“You know my secret” she whispered into his ear, her eyes closed, heart racing.

“And you know mine” John said having a better look at her. There was a big black crystal hanging around her neck on a thick silver chain. He touched it lightly with his finger and nothing happened. Slipping his hand onto her neck he reached under her chin pulling it upwards. Pressing his lips onto hers he could feel the familiar coppery taste that he knew too well.

Pushing his tongue between her lips he became certain that she spiced her drink with the same substance he spiced his, but she wasn't needing it like he did. It was just a dedication to the role she was playing now.

“There’s not many of us here at this party” he said looking at her face. It was all a fraud, but he decided to play along. The navy blue eyes she had, the unusual shade caused by the contact lenses she was wearing, reminded him of the colour the ocean had at night.

John’s eyes looked now like they were the colour of freshly melted caramel. The look he was giving her was serious, but not overwhelming. The blood red beverage she was drinking colored her lips with a lovely crimson shade. His lips were in the same palette as hers and it reminded her of the bloody eclipse she saw this year.

“You only bite when the person’s really into it, huh?” she asked catching him off guard with her words. He blinked a few times and wrapped his hand firmly around her pale neck pushing her onto the wall.

“I only bite when I need to” he growled into her ear. The sound of his voice echoed in her head making her knees weak. He emptied his glass and placed it on one of the tables decorated with tea lights put inside small pumpkins.

Baring his fangs he growled again, pushing himself further onto her body, making her squirm under him. He slid his hand into her long hair, tugging at it harshly, making her tilt her head backwards, exposing the skin on her tasty neck.

“I feel your aura vibrating, I know what you want now” she pressed her thigh onto his.

“You have no idea what I want little girl” John whispered, fisting her hair, receiving a moan from her crimson lips.

“Perhaps if I call you something different it’ll do the job” he hissed through his gritted teeth, “how about that… daddy?” she licked her lips observing his reaction.

John’s stare changed, his eyes were almost pitch black right now. He grinned devilishly, his fangs still out in theirs full glory. The pale white teeth that formed into a Hollywood’s smile were standing out compared to his crimson lips.

“Do you want to play, daddy?” she asked accenting every word. Her hand wandered between them moving onto his crotch. She squeezed his cock through the fabric of his black suit pants making him gasp and he tugged at her hair again. “Oh, daddy… don’t be shy. I know how the real you acts. They've told me all of it. How’s the secret room in your flat doing? You’ve had someone there recently?” she felt his cock harden, he was probably having few flashbacks caused by her words.

“Still don’t know your name, ma’am” his free hand landed on her neck, caressing the porcelain skin. John licked its fragment right behind her ear making her moan obscenely.

“Do you have to know it?” she asked feeling his tongue on her earlobe.

“It makes things easier” he said nibbling on it lightly.

His face was now inches away from hers, she bit her lip hard, few drops of blood showing on it. John’s eyes widened, he growled biting her neck. Tightening the grip he still had on her neck he moved her closer to him gaining better access to the lovely blood vessels she had everywhere. Her hot blood fulfilled the hunger he felt, the little amount of the red liquid he had in his drink wasn't enough for him.

He didn't wanted to kill her, he just wanted to fed on her and then also show her that he’s not a man with whom you can mess.

“Don’t pretend to be someone who you’re not” John looked right into her eyes, her mind spinning, a rush of wetness between her legs, “you fooled me at first, little girl, but I’m not a fool.”

John spun her around, so she was facing the wall instead of him, pressing her into the cold bricks, the fabric of his well tailored suit pressed to her naked back that was exposed by the dress. A chuckle ghosted over her skin, his hand crept onto her thigh, moving the soft fabric aside, his calloused fingers touching her hip, drifting lower to between her legs. She stayed perfectly still, not able to move, crushed between the wall and his body, holding even as he touched her cunt. She was already wet.

She trembled, breath quickening, her lips quivering, hands clenched into fists and his breath ghosted across her warm skin, “Already so wet, you’re fucking naughty girl” the filth that was dripping from his dulcet tone wasn’t doing her any good.

With his other hand John spread her legs even wider, letting his fingertips wander closer to her entrance.

“Think only of me now, little girl” those words spoken with such warmth sounded honeyed and sweet, unlikely for that bloodthirsty creature that he really was, they filled her body with simmering heat, low and dark. It seemed like the whole world around them stopped and now it was just John and his lustful prey.

He was feeling kind tonight, or rather took pity on how desperate she for the pleasure, though he continued to tease. She didn’t know when he leaned in closer, his fangs scraping delicate skin on the nape of her neck. His hand skimmed lower, framing her hips and dipping between her legs again. His groan vibrated through her skin and to her very core when he felt how wet and aching she was.

She cried out in surprise, two of his fingers tracing her entrance, embarrassment flared when she could hear the slickness of her juices.

Her body fluttered and pulsed around his fingers, her juices coating him; she gasped and jolted at the brush of his thumb over her clit, it sent a heated spark through her, right into her core, sending her to ghost closer an edge she wouldn’t be allowed to fall over.

A third finger teased and slid easily into her, making her moan loudly, too loudly for his liking and he raked the nails of his other hand through the flesh of her thigh. He didn’t stopped even when she screamed in pain, so he pressed his fangs closer to her neck, letting them cut her skin, then dipping them further into her flesh, like he was trying to silence her that way.

Dizzying pleasure filled her and she desperately tried to hold onto something, but for her luck the way he was pressing her still onto the wall was helping her to stand up. She heard and felt his moans in her soul and almost collapsed when his fingers began to pump in a fast pace in and out of her dripping cunt. Her body felt like it has been engulfed in fire. Pleasure radiating from where his sharp teeth cut her, skin taking her blood and where his skillful fingers were taking over her body.

“Don’t fight it” John mumbled into her skin, moving to other place on her neck when he bit her again. He raked his nails over her hip, making sure to leave a mark for the morning after that hopefully will teach her a lesson. Then he moved to the other side of her neck, his nails leaving tiny pin pricks all over it, drawing droplets of blood from them which he greedily licked right after they showed up, “I told you, don’t fight it,” he left another harsh bite mark on the other side of her neck, feeling how her walls clench around his fingers, her whole body trembling, obscene moans falling from her lips, “good girl.”

He pressed his fingers to her lips in a silencing manner, but that wasn’t his intention, he just wanted to feel them under his fingertips, to mess up her lipstick a little. She parted her lips subconsciously, letting his finger slide past them, then sucking on it harshly, making him dig his fangs into her flesh even deeper.

She was desperate and he kept fingering her all the way through her orgasm, bringing her to the verge of another one, but stopping there, his hand moving from between her legs with a disappointed sigh.

Spinning her again he made her face him, her hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket. John gripped her wrists tightly, his long nails digging onto their skin, as he pressed his knee between her legs, letting her get off by rubbing herself on the fabric of his pants.

It didn’t took her long, just a few quick movements of her hips, her soaked folds rubbing against his pants and she came hard once more, a soundless scream leaving her lips.

“Your blood is sweet… tastes like cherry wine” John breathed into her ear right after his tongue lapped at her neck, licking all the crimson leftovers from it, feeling how her body quivered again and he pressed his hand under her chin, lifting it up, making her look into his black eyes, “I will find you again, you can be sure” his hot breath enveloped her, leaving her absolutely breathless and in a wink of an eye he was gone.