LET'S GO'A HUNTING

“Thinking? That’s a great question.”

His head is still pounding and he can hear his heartbeat it in almost more loudly than he can hear her voice or Darcin’s footsteps leaving the room. He barely knows what he’s thinking except that he’s confused about everything.

“Vampires. All this time?”

He figures that’s the best place to start, the root of the confusion, the thing everything else hinges off on. His voice cracks a little and he has to clear his throat. There’s lingering pain shooting through his veins and the mixture of that and the other sensations he’s feeling are... strange.

Equally as strange as the fact that once Darcin leaves the room, Trita doesn’t move off of him. She doesn’t move at all, doesn’t shift her weight or anything. Just keeps herself pressed down onto him. She wasn’t born yesterday- even moreso than he had previously thought before this night- so she has to know that she’s not helping matters any for him right now.

At that thought, he finds himself biting at his own lip, looking away from her and off into a far corner of the dark room. He should be more serious about this. He’d almost died. Darcin’s right, he had been an idiot. And the Airins are the ones who will have to pay for it.

“You two don’t have to leave. I️ won’t... I️ won’t say anything.”

He knows the tone of voice it comes out in sounds whiny, not very convincing, like a child who’s trying to barter but doesn’t really know how. If the roles were reversed, Dolan would leave. But then again. Would he be able to make himself? Five years of flirting, of burning with obvious desire. Now she’s sitting here on top of him. It should matter more that she’s the creature he lives to kill. But it doesn’t. God, why doesn’t it?

He tries to shift his hips to take the pressure off, to try and force his brain to take back over thinking, since it’s clear that it hasn’t been involved in any of his thought processes so far. But that just presses her down harder against him and he has to hiss a little bit, grit his teeth, abandon the logic he’s trying so hard to summon.

“God, either get off me or go ahead and make a move already. You’re killing me.”

"I don't need the attitude, Dolan."

Like a child trying to immaturely punish someone, she slides off of him, plopping herself right down on the bed beside him, legs pulled up and hugged closed to her chest, giving her a good surface to rest her chin on and peer down at him. It definitely takes a lot of restraint not to look at her old seat on his hips and see the damage she had done there.

"And, yeah, all this time being centuries."

She feels a little spiteful at his tone though she knows why it was there. Still, they saved his life and are willing to ruin all the comforts they've accumulated here just to show they mean no harm, to let him go back to his family peacefully.

Through it all, she still remembers the warmth over her tongue and how her mouth feels unbearably dry without it now. She has to shift and clear her throat at the fresh memory that's trying to hold on and linger for dear life.

He's watching her, the situation lower on his body not seeming to sort itself out either which makes her cock an eyebrow up in disbelief, tilt her head to the side as she studies him up and down more.

"... Okay, I'm sorry, you know I'm a vampire now, yeah? What's with the obvious work up going on here?"

She's not the woman he had thought she was for so long, shouldn't that be a turn-off? Shouldn't a complete turn-off be what she had been lying about, who she is? But here he is, biting his lip, staring at her, flirting with her despite being near death just minutes earlier.

What's his goal? What is he thinking?

He’s known this whole time that she’s obviously noticed what’s going on, but hearing her say it makes his cheeks a little red and he has to look at the wall again. As if they haven’t ever flirted more suggestively than this. Why is he just now starting to feel like a schoolboy?

“I️ don’t... I️ don’t know.”

Its only partly true, but its a full and complete cop-out. If they’re just going to up and leave, what’s the point? They’re not in any kind of relationship and technically they’re nothing to each other. But somehow he still feels the need to protect himself, to try to pull away from the attachment he’s managed to form to her nonetheless.

But she keeps looking at him. Those same piercing red eyes. With more earnestness than probably ever before. Is this the first time they’ve spoken honestly? Has this secret been the unknown elephant in the room the whole time? The thing keeping them from going any further than they had?

And God, dear God in heaven, why is he more concerned with this right now than the fact that the Fox family weapons suppliers are actual vampires. Dolan should be livid. His decades of training should be instinct, gut reaction at this point. Truth be told, if he was going by the book, he should have already killed them both.

That’s clearly not going to happen. He doesn’t want it to. His brain is far more occupied with other things he wants, somehow unwilling to commit fully to the smart thing, to pulling away from her. Somehow this woman can do nothing to him but draw him in.

“I️... I️ think I️ liked it when you...you know.”

He brings his hand up for the first time to rub his forehead as a bit of stress relief but on the way down, his fingers find their way to him neck to outline the marks left there, where the skin is puckered in multiple places from fangs. He can feel a few scattered leftover droplets of blood, some stickiness that’s most likely saliva. Most likely hers.

“And don’t waste your time asking why because I️ damn well don’t have an answer for you.”

"I didn't do anything-"

At first, she's confused. He's accusing her of something she hadn't done, there had been no moves made, no- Oh.

Things become clearer as she watches his hand, watches how he traces over his neck plays at the puncture site, gets caught feeling around the glistening skin.

He can't... He can't seriously mean he liked... Right?

"I'm pretty sure I enjoyed that much more than you did, dear."

The corner of her lips twitch up into a smirk and the teasing term of endearment slips out all on its own, no time to think before she feels that familiar dark spark flare up in her own eyes. Somehow it feels deeper this time, multiple definitions of lust growing and building into one dangerous but enticing storm.

She really shouldn't be flirting with him like this, especially not using things like drinking his own blood as a means of a "pick-up" line or anything. It's wrong, nearly immoral like she's a cruel psychopathic serial killer.

"I'll admit to thinking draining you dry, biting all along your body, did cross my mind. You're rather addictive. It's entirely unfair I like you too much because it means I have to keep you around rather than drink you up right this second."

Yet here she is leading the two of them along this dance again like this is any normal day, but speaking to him like this is just second-nature at this point, as comfortable as breathing, that she doesn't really know how to stop.

Dolan didn’t expect her to pick it up and run with it, putting up so little resistance to confirming his notion that perhaps she’d enjoyed the few mouthfuls she’d gotten. It makes him press his head back hard, close his eyes.

“Dammit, Trita. What the actual hell is happening to me.”

A shiver rips down his spine when he imagines her leaning over him again, remembers the feeling of her hot breath in bursts in his neck in between gulps of him. Why does he want her to eat him up, as she’d so smugly put it, more than anything right now?

“I️ feel like I should forgive you, with the whole saving my life thing, but you’re causing me a lot of problems right now.”

Granted, every one of those problems is occuring in his pants. And they’re problems that he kind of likes. But he knows he shouldn’t like them, that he needs to not like them, and therein lies the real problem.

But he can’t quite make it feel like a problem. His hips twitch to further confirm this conflicted feeling he’s fighting, and he lets out a clipped, forceful sigh through his nose.

“So... so I️ did taste good, then. Out of everyone you’ve ever eaten, what’s my ranking?”

His teeth flash in a quick smile before he tones it back, starts to crave her weight on top of him again in a nearly unbearable way. Her grip on his wrists holding his arms down. He lets out a frustrated little sigh as quietly as he can manage, trying to keep it as unnoticeable as possible.

“If you... if you did... do it... again... could you...?”

He’s starting to stumble over his words again. He was trained to kill vampires efficiently, to be a tactician and a strategist and detail-oriented and at times ruthless. He was never taught how to ask a vampire to bite him because he somehow became addicted to it the first time around. He’s pretty sure that’s how it’s supposed to work for the biter, not the bite-ee.

"If?"

He's playing along a dangerously fine line right now, teasing her with that thought, that proposition. She flashes a grin at him, hungry in more ways than one, ready.

"There's no if. I could."

The feeling of everything spurs her to rock up to her knees, press on her hands and crawl over top of him, letting her hair spill down around his face, hands clawing into the pillow by his head, oh so expertly adjusting herself so one of her lets presses down between his legs for support.

"I could bite you again and get so lost in your taste that I'm not sure I could stop."

Even just the scent of him so close has her mind spiraling but there's something else. There's something satisfying and... Right feeling about hovering over him, being on a bed with him while they talk and tempt. This has to be what years of suggestive flirting have been leading up to, the two of them trying to press for more and getting closer and closer to their inevitable culmination of feelings.

Just the heat rolling off of him draws her in, pulls her face back down to his neck, breathing him in, shuddering as he begins to fill her senses. Her tongue flicks out, tracing along where her fangs had been previously, greedily licking up some blood that had just started trying to dry but can now never get the chance. She inhales deeply, sighs happily, as if she had denied herself some invaluable necessity of life for years and had just finally been given the chance to experience it again.

"God, what I wouldn't give to mark you up head to toe and send you home. Hear what everyone has to say about all your new bruises, cuts, bites. I could."

She shouldn't is what she's also thinking. That's... That has to be borderline sadistic.

Damn if she doesn't want it.

The second she moves to place herself back over him, he can feel his heartbeat start to hammer in his chest, in his neck, pounding harder and more desperately. He has to swallow hard as he starts to feel his chest rise and fall faster, breaths getting more and more shallow until he can feel his short breaths hitting her skin over and over. He has to close his eyes and he swallows again.

“I️ wasn’t... I’m not joking, you’re killing me right now.”

It takes a second for it to dawn on him that his statement could be double edged, multi-layered. But regardless of which meaning she takes from it, both still make him feel the same. A little dizzy, a little high feeling. And like a hell of a lot more is going on below his belt than should be.

But his hips still squirm a bit under her like they know no sense of propriety, like all the talk of marking him and biting him is, for whatever unknown and ungodly reason, the most appealing thing he’s ever heard. Part of him wants to open his mouth and beg her to do it.

He actually does open his mouth, but he snaps it back closed, puts all his energy into stopping himself from arching his back so he can erase the distance between their bodies. He’s being foolish, acting like he’s intoxicated. Maybe he is. Maybe now that she’s in his bloodstream, he’s going to keep craving her more and more for the rest of time. And something about that doesn’t sound like the worst thing ever.

“Is this a good time to make a joke about daring you to back all that bark up with your bite?”

He can’t look her full in the eye while she’s this close, he doesn’t trust himself to. But he cuts his eyes up at her quickly just to watch her reaction, a smirk taking over his face. A look that dares her to act on her own desires just as much as he wants to act on his.

But he can still barely catch his breath, as if just the feeling of her this close, of breathing in her skin, is making him higher and higher. A little breathy noise escapes him the more she brushes against the bite marks along his neck. His hands tentatively move, hesitantly make their way up to her, trail against her sides experimentally. When she doesn’t refuse him, he slides a hand up the back of her neck, lets it settle into her hair, tangles his fingers in it.

“Go ahead. Eat me. You want to.”

He keeps making one bad offer after the next. Bad of course being unwise but highly tempting and desirable. He doesn't really know what he's asking for.

Trita picks her head up from his neck, dragging her nose along his jaw and cheek until it's resting against his own, something close to a predatory grin still stuck on her face, flashing her fangs for him to see, a glimpse for him into what he's actually asking her to do.

"There's going to be nothing left if I eat you."

The words seem to settle in his mind like he's just now realizing he's longing for something he didn't even know existed until right this second. She can indulge him, and maybe even herself. Carefully, she lets her teeth graze along his skin as she makes her way back down but to the other side of his neck this time.

The idea to pin his wrists down again does cross her mind but the way he has his hands tangled up in her hair desperately seems like the better option. Instead, she brings her knee up between his legs and presses against him, moving back and forth to push and tug him, shift the fabric of his pants. That's not exactly what he asked for but she can tell he's enjoying it all the same.

As he gasps, she stops at her new spot, breathing against his skin, marking it with a few circles of her tongue, mouthing at him as if preparing him the way a chef prepares a meal, tenderizing meat so it's ready for a later step. Luckily for Dolan, he doesn't have to wait too long for said step because her control waivers quickly and her teeth sink into him with a soft crisp noise.

A now familiar intoxicating warmth and flavor rush back into her mouth causing her to immediately moan with how undeniably delicious it tastes. It nearly hurts her right down to her core how much she wants him, wants to drink from him until every drop is gone. It's like some sort of magnetic force she can't fight as she starts taking pull after pull from him, sucking at his now red skin in that same growing frenzy she had felt before.

Somewhere along the way, probably in all her excitement, she begins rocking her body over him, moving her leg with the motion in undeniably thrust-like movements, letting the action drag her tongue and bottom lip against him while her teeth stay firmly embedded in his neck.

Dolan’s hand flinches in her hair when her teeth sink suddenly into him and he can’t hold back this terribly wanton noise that starts as a gasp and ends as a choked groan, some sort of rumble deep in his chest. She wastes no time setting right into him, and he can feel the immediate, hot, tight suction at his neck that keeps her mouth clamped onto him.

The feelings roll over him like waves, like he’s staring up from the bottom of a pool. There’s so much burning hot desire, but the heat literally circles through his bloodstream, originating withbher mouth, inducing tremors in his shoulders, his fingers. The way she works over him with her whole body isn’t helping. His hips try to buck up into her, rock towards hers for some sort of pay off, some kind of relief that can’t come like this. It only keeps his unbearable want building.

But then there are the feelings he knows are symptoms of blood loss. The room is swimming a little, everything melting and moving and even when he closes his eyes, everything spins. His breathing is fast, shallow, desperate under her, and he can even start to feel sweat beading around his temples. He knows it’s blood loss, but it feels more like desire in this moment, the culmination of how much he needs this from her. How much he needs her.

He tries to grip her hair a little tighter to force himself to focus, to see straight, but his fingers won’t tighten and he can’t push words out of his mouth, only low, encouraging hums that get higher and more frantic when his eyes roll back in his head. Her fangs in his neck feel like some kind of drug, something that smooths everything out, like some sort of flowing melted wax over him.

Dolan even tries to sit up into her bite a little, push her teeth in even deeper, but he’s far too dizzy, far too out of his mind and into what she’s doing instead. So he just lets his head loll against the pillow, neck as exposed as it can be for her. He feels some of the tension in his muscles start to drain, places that were tight and burning before starting to relax, feel limp and easy and asleep.

One hand falls from the back of her head, but he catches it on the hem of her shirt, pulls it back a little, trying to work it up and free her from it despite the fact that he can’t seem to coordinate his movements well enough to accomplish that.

It's impossible to miss how Dolan is struggling on every single physical level imaginable. A task as simple as hicking her black dress up is proving far too much for him which seems out of character for the man, not that she has experience with him in this setting to know.

For a moment, and such a brief moment, she pulls her mouth from his neck, admires the little droplets of blood that swell then drip down his skin, the sight alone wonderful, enough to make her lick her lips, run her tongue over her teeth. Maybe she should help him out a bit.

One of her hands grabs his limp arm trying to work at her clothes, helping him grip the hem of her dress and slide it up at the same time she moves down his body, ducking her head so it slips over without much problem and leaves him there weakly holding on the the article of clothing.

His eyes open at that one so she makes sure to flash him a smirk as he tries to focus on staring at her skin, let him get an eyeful the same time she unbuckles his belt and slips his pants down to his ankles. The thought of leaving their undergarments on is both annoying and amusing, like leaving her bra where it is and his boxers where they are is the perfect tease, but to both of them. And she's probably right given how wide his eyes are watching her despite his clear exhaustion, though that may have more to do with how she pulls his leg up over her shoulder, lets his knee bend over her.

How long have the two of them hinted at being in this exact position but never known if they ever would? It's probably only because of the blood loss, he's delirious, but she's willing to take anything he offers while she can. And so her mouth finds his inner thigh, letting her ears listen to the beat and pulse buried right under his skin, hers for the taking. She skins her teeth down into him and the blood fills her mouth again, this time a little faster.

That sensation makes her after to pull away almost immediately from him for her mind to sort itself out as the debate of rational thinking and feral desires begins. Unlike before, instinct wins, pushes her mouth back to his leg, sucking his skin up into her mouth with a string of moans and hot desperate bursts, forced panting through her nose, fingers digging into him nearly like claws to keep him in place.

He feels the tight pinch along his inner thigh, and it makes him flinch, makes his breath hitch, but after the initial sensation, the haze settles over him again, and instead of the sting, he feels tingles traveling up his legs, his muscles draining of tension, his blood either flowing to her or to places far from his brain.

He tries to pick his head up to watch her, but he cant even move that much. Shivers shake his shoulders as he hears her slurping, feels her grip on his leg tighten. He can feel himself twitch and jerk, begging for friction beyond just his thigh.

“I️... I️ need... please...”

He cant even string full sentences together, and maybe at this point he’s glad he can’t. With the little bit of consciousness he had left, he’s almost horrified at some of the thoughts going through his head, his base natural desires and instincts in this situation. His gut reaction to her, her body, her fangs.

Another shiver courses through him hard enough to shake him, and he lets out a small, low little moan, pressing his head back against the pillow hard. She keeps sucking, leaving what he’s sure is going to be a bruise tomorrow. If he lives to see tomorrow.

Something about the thought of her tearing into him, not being able to control herself and becoming ravenous makes him moan again, a little louder, a little more desperate.

“God, f-fuck. Please.”

He honestly isn’t sure what he thinks he’s begging for, or if he thinks she knows, or if she’s even on that same wavelength. But damn if it’s going to keep him from spilling out moans and pleas anyway.

Her eyes flick up to his face as her lips move against his skin, trying to judge his reaction... See if he means what he's saying. There's definitely an obvious hint far down below his face, closer to where she is, making her pull a long sharp gulp of his blood as it catches her a little off guard to see just how much he's reacting to this. He moans as if he can feel every drop of himself that she takes and loves ever second of it.

Trita pulls her fangs out of him, sucking his skin up with her mouth as she goes, a little pop sounding as the seal of her lips against him is broken. The area is already bruising and swelling, a stray drop of blood trickling out of one of the holes she's left behind. There's no way she can let any of him go to waste. Pressing her tongue flat against him, she licks down his thigh, moving her face to his hip. She places another bite here but this one is much more of a nip in comparison, still leaving a mark but not lasting near as long.

Continuing on much the same, she leaves a trail of these marks up the front of him until she's leaning over him again, her face hovering over his as she licks the corner of her mouth where she can still feel some of his blood pooled at her lips. His eyes are half-lidded but he's focusing the best he can.

"Was that a request?"

She hooks a finger in the waistband of his boxers and tugs, ripping the fabric like it was no more than a tissue in her way. That gets another good noise out of him. Instead of take her own panties off, she walks her fingers in a circle around the length of him that tries to press up against her as if it can push past the cloth still between them. Some of the steps get lazy and her nails drag around the sensitive skin.

"Because... We could..."

Trita shifts her hips so he's up between her legs, pressing along her inner thigh and around, and even that gets her own hips bucking on their own, eyes fluttering for a moment before snapping back down to his face. The longer this goes, the more frenzied she feels, the more she wants of him in a variety of ways that she's not sure she can stop herself from taking and acting on.

His body throws all the energy he has into arching his back, groaning as her fingers ghost along him and her thigh follows. He barely can keep up with everything that’s happening.

He’d nearly died, shes a vampire, being bitten turns him on. He can barely wrap his mind around any of it right now, and even less with her pressed her naked skin right up against him where he can feel his heartbeat thumping wildly, trying to make up for the lost blood.

“Is, is that... is that allowed?”

He knows he sounds like a small child worried about the rules, and that’s never been Dolan. But for some reason his confusion and his lack of ability to figure this turn of events out makes him feel a little lost, trying to navigate all of these new and very strong desires with no precedent to follow, no part of the handbook that details which protocol to follow here.

Well, maybe there is a protocol for this sort of thing. But not the kind that he wants.

His hips jerk up into her, weakly at first, not enough to get him anywhere. Her nails drag his skin and he sucks in air, hisses a little, before a string of pitiful noises come out of him. What the hell is happening to him? His father would roll over in his grave.

But that’s the last thing he wants to think about right now. He’d be content to just think for the rest of his life about the way this woman is teasing him so cruelly. And about how much he likes it.

“Please...”

The fang-holes she’s left behind are starting to take on a hollow, dull feeling ache, a sensation that travels across his whole body and just amplifies how tight and hot he feels, how desperate he is to be inside her, feeling her. How unfair it is that she’s gotten to have him, but he hasn’t gotten a taste of her yet.

Trita sighs a little out of her nose as she watches him. It's not like she really ever thought they were going to get a first time but, the times she had imagined it during all of his suggestive comments, she didn't picture it like this. Him, half conscious from blood loss on her bed, her high off of drinking his blood after saving him from other vampires trying to drink his blood. This could have gone better.

Or perhaps it's going exactly the right way because all of that combined really seems to be working for him. By nature she's designed to be alluring, attractive, it helps her hunt, but the way he responds to her on every level he possibly can and how it makes her feel... This is different than any hunt she's ever been on. Even she can feel how wet her underwear is so she has to imagine with his desperate jerking against her that he can too.

He whines a little which at least helps her realize that she's just been staring down at his face, unmoving, for a little too long. Leaning down, she presses her lips to his as a distraction as she works her panties off in a quick movement, tossing them clear off the bed. Even though he can't see it, he knows what just happened because his hips buck up towards her again, a little harder than before, forcing her to laugh out of her nose before pulling her face back from him.

"You're so impatient-"

She goes to try to tease him about it but she underestimates how determined his natural reactions to her are because he jolts up again, this time hitting his mark. Of course, he doesn't make it all the way up into her on his own, but she can feel the tip of him trying to burrow into her, circling around the best he can to force his way in. It makes her gasp, lurch forward, slamming her hands down on the pillow by the sides of his head.

After a quick second to collect herself, eyes closed and head turned off to the side as her breathing picks up, she manages to look back down at him.

"You... You're so...Fuck, Dolan."

He's clearly so ready and how hard he is pressing up against her is incredibly appealing, especially how he fights his own tired body to keep his hips elevated off the bed to keep his spot there, not ready to lose any ground he just gained. Her mouth finds his again, not even warming him up to anything, just immediately pushing her tongue past his lips, nearly forcing him to suck on it as she flicks it against the roof of his mouth.

Then, once he seems preoccupied with it, she finally leans her hips down onto him quickly, shoving his own hips back against the bed and using the mattress as an opposing force to force him up the rest of the way into her with a wet pop. Everything is beyond tight and snug, her muscles locking against him instantly, pulsing against him. She huffs through her nose and moans into his mouth, arms shaking, even squirming a bit as the sensation of it throws the dark predator act out of her mind for a brief moment.

His mind shorts out completely for a moment and all he can comprehend is slickness, tightness, heat. He groans loudly up into her mouth, and although the force of her body has his lower body pinned, his shoulders arch a little, trying to push his upper body into hers, too.

How did they get here? It feels like one large whirlwind and honestly Dolan can’t remember all the details yet. He does know at least, for now, that he’s very satisfied with this destination. His brain is full of fuzz, alternating between buzzing from pleasure and rolling with questions.

What happens after this? Can everything go back to normal between them? Will him doing this, reacting this way to her, could it affect the family? Could it hurt business, make things even worse on them than before? The only way that could happen is if she told people about this, told vampires about this.

She’s still leaned into his mouth, reveling in how he continues to moan and whimper into her mouth, try to buck his hips up into her even under her weight. It’s clear though that she’s the one calling the shots.

He’s just been flirting with her earlier today about...what was it, bondage ropes? The virtues of silk versus ropes? His brain automatically imagines her tying some of both around his wrists, jerking it tight, letting the extra slack brush against the skin all over his body.

His chest vibrates with a hum at the thought, but his brain still won’t let other thoughts go yet.

“You can’t... you can’t tell anyone about, about this. Please.... just, please.”

He realizes that nothing would stop her from doing so. She’s the one sitting on top of him, biting into him. Again, calling the shots. Something about just begging it of her though, making the plea from beneath her and feeling her weight on him, her heat and her muscles clenching all around him, has his drawing in a sharp breath. He can feel himself twitch inside her, dying for friction, for movement, but too weak to lift her weight to bring it about himself.

She shouldn't tell anyone? If this is a mistake for either of them, it's her. If he goes around spilling that she's a vampire, then her life here, her brother's life, they're done. They'll have to do much more than their standard up and move if they want to stay alive, and that's just if they aren't killed before they can escape.

Logical thoughts she probably should have considered before biting him, tasting his blood, undressing them both and getting them to where they are now. He's twitching up into her and it's near impossible to ignore, especially when she squirms in response. They just keep playing off of each other in a far more animalistic and wild level than any flirting or banter could hope to go.

"Hmmm."

Trita hums into his mouth some, letting her lips vibrate against his before pulling her face from him. He stares up at her with the most vulnerable and desperate of expressions that gets her biting at her lip and her mind wandering.

Unfortunately, she didn't really plan for this situation ahead of time so there's not much around to grab, but there is still her dress tossed on the bed beside them. It'll have to do.

Snatching it up, she slips it under his head, around his neck, looping it to create a nice firm collar situation that tightens the more she pulls. It's not silk or rope but she can work with it. She sits up and down onto him, both of them moaning together as she slips down onto him with her weight and he presses up into her completely, but his noise gets choked out as she pulls on her dress, tugging his upper body off the bed by his neck.

"I don't think you can tell me what to do right now, dear."

Something of a cruel smirk flicks across her mouth. Of course, she would never endanger the Fox family, being fond of them isn't just lip service, but there's some sort of power-high knowing he's at her mercy. That, if he really is afraid she'll tell, he better either fight her or satisfy her and just hope she's in a good mood. Exactly like the tales of menacing vampires that are passed around. This is her room, he's her prisoner to do with as she pleases and there are several desires to appease.

He coughs at little so she slowly lets the fabric slip from her hand inch by inch right as her hips buck, completely on their own from being forced to hold still for so long. Once they get going, they don't stop, grinding down onto him in motions that make the way she lowers his head and neck back down jerky until his head hits the pillow. She can't help but moan, putting her free hand flat on his stomach, nails digging into his skin and scratching it up as their bodies begin to move.

His hips are bucking up into her on their own, like they’ve found energy from some store the rest of him hasn’t been able to access yet. His mind is growing clearer and clearer, able to process and feel this is full, but his limbs and the rest of his body are slow to catch up.

There’s a staticky feeling crackling through his limbs, like they’re being woken after falling asleep. Between that and the friction, the tension her movements are causing down between his hips, his brain feels like its trying to run to jump onto an already moving train.

Its hot and tight and he can hear every time she pulls herself off of him with a pop and then sinks back down flush with his body, a wet smack. Then she’s got her hands pressing against his chest, his stomach, holding him down as if he could get up on his own or would even want to. Her fingernails dragging skin with the slightest of stings.

The sensations are blurry around the edges, warping together, creating this intense cacophony of experiences in his mind and his body. Her white blond hair bounces in time with her body, in time with her chest, and she rides him up and down, lets her mouth hang open in the air, fills it with wrecked sounds that send shivers up from where her body meets his.

He cant help but grunt, heave out low sighs and gums and moans in response to her. He cant do much else other than encourage her, reward her with his noises, but he has a feeling she’d continue to do just as she wanted with or without them. The fabric of her dress is still draped loosely across his neck, and the way it rubs his skin as his body jerks is tantalizing. The fabric is soft and it makes him wonder if this is what silk would feel like. If so, she was right.

All the places she’d sunk her fangs into him are starting to take on this hollow ache, as if his body is craving her more there, jolting up to the core of him. Everything is compounding on itself, pulling him higher, forcing him to feel everything to the fullest extent possible.

What would happen if the family found out about this? Worse, what would happen if word got out beyond that? That Trita and Darcin, who come into Dolan’s home pretty much weekly, had been vampires this whole time? That a hunter as experienced and revered as Dolan, the head hunter of the renowned Fox family, hadnt figured it out?

Not only hadnt figured it out, but had turned around and begged said vampire to mark him up, to fuck him. What is he thinking? It would ruin the family, ruin business. And he thinks they have money issues now.

“Just... please....”

His voice rasps a little now, his throat dry but full of other noises. He closes his eyes and presses the back of his head hard into the pillow, knowing that he’s at her complete mercy in more ways than one. And that thought makes him moan even more.

How can he still be begging for that right now in this moment as she's sinking down over him and they're both moaning in response to each other? Her mind is having a hard time keeping up with anything other than her natural instincts with a prey pinned down under her like this.

Trita yanks the dress from his neck so fast that even the soft material burns his neck as it slips away but she keeps it balled up around her hand for future use. In a rare moment every nerve ending isn't curling and her body isn't spasming, she leans over, stretching across him, arching down like a cat so her mouth is at his chest. Even the way he smells is enticing right now, it has her licking up and down his chest in time with her thrusts, really taking it in. Maybe taking too much in because the next second she hears herself make a growl like noise before her fangs pierce into him, pinching up his skin between her teeth.

Their movements have her tugging his skin back and forth as she holds onto it in a desperate hunger, taking long pulls of his blood, slurping against him. It's only been a few minutes since the last bite but she can feel her mind go hazy, crazed, even with the smaller amount of blood she can get from this as opposed to biting into a vein or artery, her eyes rolling back as every sensation builds from being filled by him on both ends of her body in equally intoxicating ways.

He's going to beg her, huh?

She huffs against his skin through her nose, wrapping her arms around and under him to pull him closer to her, clinging to him as if getting closer will give her everything she wants. Then, abruptly, she jerks her hips up, pulling herself off of him completely with an echoing wet pop as the suction between them breaks. Her teeth pull out of him only to bite on his chest higher for a few seconds then higher again, climbing his body until she's right over his throat, no doubt probably one of the more dangerous spots she could puncture but something tells her he'd like that.

"What... What are you going to give me if I... Agree?"

Her eyes remain transfixed on his throat in front of her, half-lidded as she pants against his skin, denying both of them what they want right now for the sake of teasing and toying. His hips are trying to find hers again and, to his credit, he almost rams up into her again, so she moves her leg, puts her knee right up on his swollen skin and pins him down to wait.