“Sorry, sorry. Did not know you were in here. Deepest apologies.” He offers, but he seems anything but sorry. He blurts another laugh as he steps out of the bathroom, his voice cracking as he pulls the door closed behind him. I stare after him, fury flushing my skin. For a moment, I consider soaping myself up once more in an attempt to calm down. It’s not as if my bath necessarily has to be ruined by his rude interruption. But the more I sit, the more I stew, and the angrier I get. He had to have known I was in there. There was no way he had come in through sheer accident alone. I find myself growling without realizing it, and I reach out to unplug the drain, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself. Somewhat belatedly I consider that I should have brought a change of clothes with me. I hesitate for a moment, debating just following him and giving him a piece of my mind clad in this towel. The only other option evident for the time being is my tattered and bloodstained dress. I consider the garment drolly, exhaling through my nose in distaste before deciding I have little option but to put it back on. It feels disgusting against my skin, and I can’t help feeling as if the bath I’d just taken was entirely wasted. Better than giving the creep yet another peepshow, though. Once dressed, I throw the bathroom door open and march out, surprised to not see him in the immediate area. I glance around, considering calling out to him. That would seem decidedly too desperate, however, so I suppose I’m left little option but to find him. I slip through the halls, peering into the various doors that I left ajar, uncertainty brewing in my gut until I come to the room I had left in shambles. I hear that familiar yet unfamiliar cursing on the other side of the door, and relish in the brief sensation of vindication. Though I had not destroyed the room with the intent of starting an altercation with my… gracious host, it seemed as if a clash was forthcoming whether I liked it or not. I linger outside the door for a moment, just long enough to hear him cursing my existence. I’m briefly struck by the thought of just how much damage I had done. Odds were, he is impossibly stronger than even myself. He could probably break me with a flick of his wrist. Oh well. Better to deal with it now. I inhale deeply, steeling my nerves. Then, I step inside.
As I step into the room, he casts a cursory glance in my direction before resuming his examination of the furniture. It’s all quite obviously ruined, and I consider making a snide comment regarding it. Before I can get the words out, he exhales a weary sigh, straightening and turning to face me.
“Most of this is irreplaceable. I can’t believe you would act like such a spoiled child.” He says coldly, and I can’t help but narrow my eyes in annoyance.
“Well, you didn’t seem to think I was much of a spoiled child when you were inside of me. You also wouldn’t have to deal with a so called spoiled child if you hadn’t drained me.” I bite back, brushing my fingertips to the pinprick wounds on my neck. This time, he narrows his eyes in my direction. His exasperation is obvious, but it’s not as if I’m going to apologize for the scene. What I said was very much true, he had no business forcing me into this life. “What, in your eons of living you never learned any carpentry skills. How sad for you.” I sneer, knowing I’m only making the situation worse. He bares his fangs, taking what is likely supposed to be a threatening step towards me. I watch him, trying to reflect just how bored I am with this entire situation. He levels a deadpan stare in my direction, seeming to consider his next action.
“Fine. I’m not dealing with this right now. If you hate it here so much, you’re welcome to leave. No one is forcing you to stay.” He says angrily, turning his back on me and slipping through the door. I stare after him, feeling my eyes widen in disbelief. I want to shout after him. I want to curse his name, I want to make him feel as awful as I have felt for these days prior. I glance aside, looking to one of the pieces of ruined furniture. I had not truly considered the pieces before destroying them, but upon looking at them now, it’s obvious the workmanship is impeccable. He was likely right, most of this would be irreplaceable. I try to tell myself that I don’t care, that I don’t care about the egotistical bloodsucker and his exorbitant lifestyle. However, I can’t help but exhale an uncertain sigh. He was right about one thing, at the very least. I didn’t have to stay here, and it seemed as if I had overstayed my welcome. I’m not sure where I can go, what I can do if I leave these walls. I know I have to talk to him, try and convince him to let me stay. A certain bitterness creeps up my spine, and I feel no small amount of distaste for how reliant I have become on this man in a few short days. I breathe in a quaking breath, stepping out of the room I had destroyed and casting a cursory glance across the hallway. I begin to meander towards his bedroom, but I’m distracted by the distinct sound of chirping crickets. I hesitate, looking to a door that stands ajar. It seems to lead outside, and from the looks of it, the sun set long ago. I press my hand to the door, pushing through it and stepping into the brisk night air. I see the man who has caused my misery sitting slumped at a wrought iron table, sipping what appears to be a glass of wine. I’m almost certain I know better than to think it’s actually wine, however. He doesn’t seem to notice my presence, but I’m more inclined to believe he’s simply ignoring me. I clear my throat somewhat awkwardly, and he breathes a sigh, raising his head to look towards me. He looks rather defeated, and uncertainty blooms in my chest as I try to consider what on earth I’ll say to him. Swallowing my pride, I duck my head, slipping towards the table and taking a seat across from him. He watches me with a reproachful expression, and I feel guilty in spite of myself.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I say uncertainly, folding my hands on top of the table. He considers me curiously, swishing the liquid in his glass before taking a sip.
“What do you mean?” He says after pulling the glass away from his lips. Desperation floods my insides, but I’m not sure how to appeal to him. I’ve made the first step by approaching him, but I have no idea how to step forward.
“I have the feeling I’ve… overstayed my welcome. So, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go from here. I’m… at a loss. I realize I have no right to come to you with this, considering my attitude towards you. I just don’t know where to go from here.” I stammer out, and he looks somewhat chagrined.
“I did not mean to imply that you are unwelcome here. I let my temper get the better of me, but considering I’m the one who got you in this mess…” He trails off, and our eyes meet for the briefest of moments. I feel as if he can see into my very soul, feeling more exposed than perhaps when he had seen me in the bathtub. Did my heart still beat, I’m sure a blush would alight my cheeks at the sincere look he offers me.
“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. While I still don’t quite forgive you for all of this, I only made things worse. The smart thing to do, I guess, would be moving forward.” I say, trying not to let my voice waver. He reaches across the table, grasping one of my shaking hands in his own. His skin is cold, as cold as my own, I’m certain. However, warmth feels as if it is blooming within me as he offers me a kind smile. He squeezes my hand before releasing it, and I find myself missing his touch in spite of myself.
“I suppose it’s only fair. I explored my powers none too gracefully when I was first turned, and I did not really offer you any means of expressing them. If you would like… I can teach you more about this life.” He pauses, looking hesitant. “I know it’s not the ideal, but in the spirit of moving forward, I think it would be a good step in adjusting to your new life.” He adds carefully. I tap my fingers on the tabletop, drawing my lip between my teeth and wincing as I nearly pierce my own lip. I’m still not entirely used to my own fangs, it seems. That, as much as anything, makes the decision for me.
“If I’m going to be a vampire, I guess I should learn to make the best of the situation.” I say with a half-smile. He brightens immediately, and I’m almost enchanted by his abrupt change in demeanor. He claps his hands together, standing from the table with a cheeky smile.
“Well, I say we get started as soon as possible. But first…
we should likely fetch you a new set of clothes.” He muses aloud, and I graze my fingertips to the torn fabric of my dress. I quirk a curious brow, smiling mischievously.
“What, you don’t think it adds to the fear factor?” I retort. He smiles, seeming somewhat at ease for the first time since we’ve met.
“The point is to be inconspicuous.” He grins. “But, if you would rather continue trouncing around in your tattered gown, do not allow me to stop you.” He adds, and I bark out a laugh. “I can go downtown and pick up something suitable for you to wear. Then, perhaps another night, you can accompany me to choose your own wardrobe.” He says, somewhat more awkwardly. He’s less than sly about observing my small frame, and I hum to myself before answering him.
“That would be nice. I’m a size small, if your wandering eyes have not revealed as much.” I tease gently, and he sharply inhales an unnecessary breath. He averts his eyes, and I can’t help but giggle at how awkwardly adorable he seems in this moment. “At the very least learn my name before ogling me so obviously.” I say without thinking, only struck by the truth of the words after I speak them. He still does not know my name, after the time we’ve spent together. I’m almost offended that he hasn’t asked, but as if reading my thoughts, he offers me a reproachful look.
“I was… uncertain if it was something you wanted to share with me. You seemed none too thrilled about the situation, and asking your name seemed callous.” He murmurs, and I realize I have no reason to doubt his reasoning. If he had asked my name previous, I likely would not have revealed it to him.
“You have a point. But from now on, I’d rather you have an identity to associate with me. It’s Janine. Janine Rigby.” I smile. He extends his hand formally, and it takes me a moment to realize he wants to grip my own. I offer my own hand, and he grabs hold of it, giving it a firm shake.
“Edmund Thorogood. Charmed to meet you, Miss Rigby.” He says in a rather snooty tone. I snicker under my breath for a moment before managing to swallow my laughter.
“Charmed to make your acquaintance as well, Mister Thorogood.” I reply with an easy smile. For perhaps the first time, I feel almost glad to have met him. As he slips towards the back gate, I watch him go, wondering if this could be the beginning of something wonderful. At the very least, I hope we can find a way of continuing to get along. He’s not so bad when you get to know him, I suppose. At least, not too bad for a bloodsucker.
I find myself in his bedroom that night, while he’s off gathering an appropriate outfit for me. I tell myself that I’m only here because the bed in the guest quarters has been utterly destroyed, but the surge of desire that floods my veins as I inhale his familiar scent leads me to believe otherwise. As if being in his room alone is enough to send me into some trance, I slip off my dress, allowing it to pool at my feet. There are no mirrors here, and I realize belatedly that they would do little good, should the lore about vampires and their reflections ring true. Though it would be nice to look myself over, consider my pale skin fully. Instead, I simply look down at myself, considering the peaks of my breasts. It seems even my most intimate areas have changed, a slightly darker hue than the rest of my body but still with those grey undertones. I bring my hand to my breasts, feeling their weight in my palms. It seems the transformation has served to make me more sensitive as well, and I shudder as my nipples harden against the cool flesh of my palms. The scent of my own arousal assaults my nostrils all at once, and I’m struck by the thought that I should stop before my own scent thoroughly saturates his room. In spite of that thought, I find myself drawing closer to the bed, slipping my panties down my hips. I feel moisture gathering between my thighs, and his scent seems all the more tantalizing as I lower my rear to his plush blanket. I find myself rocking against the satiny texture, hands roaming against my ever chilled skin. My own musk mingles with his scent, and I’m struck by the almost animalistic desire to mark the room. I feel my lips quirk mischievously, and I part my thighs further, pressing myself flush against the surface of his bed. I lean forward, resting on my elbows and grinding my womanhood against the blanket. His scent makes my head spin, and I can feel a moist spot growing on the blanket beneath me. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve decided to make peace with him, or maybe I just want to torment the undead man further. Whatever the reason, I continue to draw myself deeper and deeper into ecstasy. I hear the door open behind me, and a sharp inhalation of breath I know he doesn’t need. From his place at the door, he has a front row seat to my little show, and I lift my hips to expose myself to him. Our scents battle for dominance, and he draws closer to the bed, resting a hand on my rear. He says nothing, reminding me very much of the first night we met.
“Join me?” I offer softly, and there is uncertainty dancing in his eyes. In spite of his hesitation, his hand drifts lower, lower, until the tips of his fingers are just barely ghosting my hot and slick mound. I exhale a shaky breath, presenting myself much like some kind of wild animal. I can’t help hoping I can appeal to that same inner beast I did the first night we met. He remains calm, however, sliding his fingers against my moisture in a way that is pleasurable yet agonizing in how slow it is. He languidly strokes me, and being with him in this way-- fully sober, is invigorating in a way I can’t describe. I turn to consider him, the way his brows furrow as he struggles to control himself. I want him inside me, but it seems as if he is intent upon taking his sweet time. “Join me,” I say again, more assertively this time. His eyes dance in amusement, but he does not budge from his spot at the foot of the bed.
“Roll over.” He ripostes, and I offer him an uncertain look. He quirks his lips in a smile, a second finger joining the first to give my nub a little pinch. I bite back a howl of ecstasy, and he takes the opportunity to push me on my side. I roll obligingly on my back, shamelessly spreading my legs for him. He lowers his head towards my crotch, inhaling deeply. It should seem strange, the pleasure he seems to take in my scent alone. However, as I was scarce moments earlier drawing myself towards rapture with his scent alone to accompany me, I can hardly blame him. Our eyes meet, and the uncertainty with which he had considered me seems to have evaporated. Instead, I am faced with pure, heart pounding lust. Even still, he makes no move to release himself from the confines of his jeans, lowering his head closer and closer until-- oh! His tongue flicks out against me, and I can’t help but shriek his name.
“Edmund!” I cry, thankful to finally have a name to place to the figure who had brought me to such unrivaled heights. He rests his hands on my thighs, parting me to display a flexibility I was not even sure I had. He thrusts his tongue inside of me, a content rumble broiling in his chest. I tense my hands in his hair, wordlessly begging for more as I grind my hips against his face. The stubble of his chin tickles in a tantalizing way, and I find myself growing nearer and nearer my peak before I even realizing what’s happening. He sinks his nails, closer to claws actually, into the supple flesh of my thighs. I squeeze my eyes shut, and it’s as if bright flashes of light are flickering behind my eyelids. I’ve never felt this way before, I’ve never been brought so high so quickly. Then, all at once, it’s over. He draws away, considering me with a pensive expression. I reach out to him, but he steps away from my grasp.
“Please, keep going,” I gasp out, my voice ragged. “I want to… I want to feel you inside me again.” I utter pleadingly.
“There will be plenty of time for that later, my love,” He murmurs. I stare uncomprehendingly at him, and my vision begins to grow hazy. “For now, you simply need to… wake up.” He whispers. My vision fades to black, and I’m overcome by the sensation of falling into a very deep pit.
When I hit the bottom, I jolt upright, eyes wide and searching for the man who had so enamored me. I find that I am indeed in his room, but instead of the scandalous acts I had intended, it seems I had simply… fallen asleep. I rub my bleary eyes, sitting up in his bed and noting that at least one part of my dream was true. The scent of my own arousal permeated the room, and ther
e would certainly be no masking it. I know I’ll be nothing short of humiliated when he returns, but for now, I try not to allow myself to consider the implications of my explicit dream. I rise from his bed, drawing my lip between my teeth upon noticing a considerably damp spot where I had lay. Inhaling shakily, I slip out of his room, leaving the door just slightly ajar in hopes that it airs out.
I’m in the guest room when I hear him return that night, and if there is any hint of my essence remaining in his room, he makes no mention of it. I know I should be relieved, but a small piece of me almost wishes he had… some sort of reaction.
He remains in his room until late the following night, and when he emerges, I find myself staring bleakly at the dress he had chosen for me. He had insisted it be kept a surprise when he had come home with it, and I spent the entirety of the day wondering how extravagant and beautiful it would be. He watches me with something of a half-smirk, and I can’t help thinking he realizes just how inexcusably gaudy the garment is.
“I do hope you like it. I agonized until closing time.” He says, not bothering to disguise the amusement in his voice. I level a glare at him, snatching the dress up and excusing myself to the bathroom to slip it on. I can hear his laughter dancing through the halls, and in spite of myself, I find myself giggling as well. I make quick work of donning the new dress before slipping back into the living area, turning in a circle for him to see. “Yes, fabulous. It does wonders for your complexion.” He announces, clapping his hands together. I snort, crossing my arms over my chest as I consider him. He offers what is likely intended as an innocent smile, but looks nothing short of mischievous. A familiar feeling stirs in my gut, and I am thankful that there is no blood within me to alight a blush.
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