Thirst 2.0 Ch. 06

Later, back at Monroe's Haven

Down, concealed beneath the protective embrace of the earth and cloistered by meters of concrete, rebar and dirt, the Damned One prepared her resting place. She was still human enough to have an apartment, albeit a barely decorated basement unit that she'd worked hard to seal. That it lacked heat in the winter or air conditioning in the summer was inconsequential; the corpse she inhabited was a frigid thing no matter the season.

Well, except for now, with that man's warm blood soaking the ensorcelled meat. The radio played distorted songs from the 90s - songs that reminded her of how sunshine had felt like against her skin, or waking up to actually live out a day. They were songs that reminded her of what it was like to dream, because that too was a luxury denied the Damned. It was a simple comfort to fall unto Daydeath like this, her mattress lain low to the ground and piled with cotton and satin blankets... probably the finest things in this whole bare-walled concrete cell, the most luxuriant thing she owned, but truthfully she wouldn't even know if she slept on the cold stone floor.

Wrapping herself in quilts that were pointless since her body didn't produce any heat, she stared up at the ceiling, illuminated by a single, shaded bulb. Monroe closed her eyes, and nodded slowly with the music.

"I will be strong, I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on"

"A new beginnin'"

"A reason for livin'"

"A deeper meaning, yeah"

Thank god nobody could see her as she took hold of the little stuffed fox - a fat, misshapen, thing named Lommy - and held him above her, smiling back as she sang in tune with the music. Against Lommy's belly she held Yusuf Mizrah's driver's license, looking into his pretty black eyes.

"I wanna stand with you on a mountain"

"I wanna bathe with you in the sea"

"I wanna lay like this forever"

"Until the sky falls down on me..."

If any of her friends or fellow Kindred saw her doing this they'd experience Final Death from cringe, she thought... And then the sun rose officially at 6:32am, and her arms went limp as Lommy collapsed against her still chest, and she died.

For thirteen hours, twelve minutes and forty six seconds she lay there, unbreathing as the earth turned, the daystar tracked across the sky, and the world lived on.

At 7:44pm, when Sol finally dipped down past the hills to the West leading toward New Orleans, Monroe's heart changed from an atrophied husk curled in her chest to a glowing thing, thudding with unholy life. Vitae flowed through her veins, a portion burning away to keep from the long sleep of torpor, and she arched her back to slowly sit up. Eyes still closed, she stretched her arms and caused the blankets to fall away, joints and tendons snapping as they filled with blood. She yawned a fanged yawn and opened her eyes to look at the driver's license, still clutched in her fingers.

"Mornin' prince charming," she sighed wryly at it.

"Hi," came an unexpected voice from directly in front of her.

Monroe blinked slowly, her jaw falling open as she stared in disbelief, for there were only two possibilities here - the first was that she was suffering hallucinations, for the Damned did not truly dream; the second was that he was actually there. He was sitting on the shitty metal folding chair that counted as her other piece of furniture. Wearing the same outfit as last night, he smelled of the storm charged air and looked a bit worse for wear, but... there he was. Yusuf Mizrah, hands in the pockets of that leather jacket hanging on his strong shoulders. He was not looking at her kindly, but despite herself she felt an immense flood of relief.

"But... the hell? How're you alive, I drained you dry - "

She began to put two and two together. Unusually potent blood... surviving what should have been utterly lethal for any other human... irresistible magnetism...

"Oh fuck," she wheezed as he got to his feet without a word, that handsome mouth splitting into a grimace that was full of sharp wolf fangs. He threw the leather jacket off as his chest expanded, muscle packed onto his arms, and his eyes filled from the bottom with crimson, blood pouring into a glass sphere.

She was scrabbling backwards against her cold wall, palms splayed against the concrete as she made a show of her own fangs, hissing savagely at him to ward him away but she felt like a coyote challenging a bear. Already easily seven feet tall and still growing, she watched in shuddering terror as his legs cracked and bent from plantigrade to the digitigrade limbs of a wolf, jet black fur covering his body. Those claws, bursting forth from his nailbeds, hurt to look at, and when he was fully Changed into a half wolf, half human monster he fucking charged at her on all fours.

Monroe refused to scream in her final moments. She instead clenched her fists down at her side, closed her eyes and let herself feel the iceberg-stark sorrow and despair, that her end would be terrifying... ripped apart by this man, returned an avenging demon against her. She held her face and head forward, clenching her teeth and waiting to feel his jaws close around it, crushing them to ash. She felt his hands grasp her shoulders - massive. Monroe whimpered in fear, shaking and awaiting her deserved fate.

... but the killing bite never came

She dared a peek at the Lupine, finding herself locked in contact with his eyes. They were bigger now, set in that enormous wolf head, but differed little from how he'd gazed at her through his human skin... the berserker red drained from them steadily. His lips were pulled back, revealing saber teeth that were clenched tightly - he clicked them together once, twice, but never closed them around her.

Mustering the last of her otherwise considerable reserves of courage before an imminent threat, she raised a shaking, cold hand and placed it on his face, shaking her head. She knew what she looked like without the Blush... a pale, strange thing - where once he'd seen healthy, teak-dark skin now she was sallow and sickly, golden eyed and inhuman. She didn't like him seeing her like this, as if he'd caught her... underdressed, but as for why she cared in this particularly tense, dangerous moment was beyond her.

"Don't do it," she entreated in a low breath. "I understand if you do, but please... don't do it." And like that, he didn't. The nightmare of black fur and knife-talons released her, took a step back, and shed his terrifying exterior in a plume of charged steam... soon there was only Mizrah standing there, panting and watching her with night-black, gold-rimmed eyes. Wiping sweat from his forehead as she clambered to her feet unsteadily, he gave her a resentful glare that pinned her in place before he bent down and plucked his driver's license from the floor.

"Shoulda fuckin' known all you wanted was a gulletful of blood, damn leech," he growled at her, and to her surprise it felt like a blow across her jaw. "The good ones are always too good to be real - "

"No, no. Don't say it that way, it ain't like that," she tried. It sounded pathetically unbelievable, but at least he wasn't throwing it back into her face. Cautiously she took a step forward, feeling exposed in her white tank top and boxer shorts, keeping a respectful distance. "I mean... I was starving, so yeah I needed to drink but I didn't just see you as..."

"A meal?" he asked dryly.

"If you wanna put it like that," she offered him a sheepish smile; this whole situation made her feel like a moth talking down a dragonfly. More often than not she came bearing leverage against others, but the neonate had evaded Final Death more than thrice. "I don't expect you to just believe me, y'know... all things considered between our... uh..."

"Species sounds kinda weird, doesn't it," Yusuf interjected. "Race does too."

"Yeah," she found herself agreeing, nodding with care and concluding that he probably wasn't going to harm her... not if she played her cards right. "We just, our situations is different. Right? It ain't nothin' we gotta go killin' each other over."

"I dunno," the guitarist's eyes became threatening crescents, his forearms crossed over his chest (Monroe, though she favored the gentler sex in matters of romance, found herself staring). "Your colleagues don't see it the same way I think, I recall a pretty awful year of culling that ended, ohhh, maybe a few months ago?"

"Hey, you all ashed a lot of good people who never wronged no Wolves," she responded with characteristic sharpness as the earlier timidity washed away, straightening and jabbing a manicured fingernail at him - a low growl in his chest sent her a few steps back, but she held her ground otherwise. "That's over now, ain't no need for us to dig it up."

"Fine." A pause, beat hanging in the air. "Never killed a Blood either, if it makes you feel any better." It actually did... he seemed to have a lot of restraint. She was struck by how he appeared to be taking his near exsanguination with clemency.

Seeing him again, once the initial fear had passed, excited a fluttering in her belly she knew couldn't be hunger. Maybe it was his blood, unnatural and overpowered in her body, rattling her judgment like high proof whiskey compared to the wine flowing through mortal veins. She tried to approach again, calling upon the Majesty that flowed through her Vitae, soothing his savage amygdala to quell what might remain of his resentment toward her. The effects were so subtle as to be invisible - the Disciplines weren't meant to be flashy, they were meant to help creatures like her survive, and in Mizrah's heart there was just enough recession of hostility for her to come close, touching his forearm gently and letting her hand slide up to his shoulder.

He was warm... his heart beat very pleasantly underneath his shirt, and despite everything she felt an old, aching need she remembered from when was alive. It made her want to seek closeness with him, to put her head on his chest and pretend that nothing of the sort had ever happened with them... but she was a hideous, dead thing, coming to a crude simulacra of life every time the sun went down.

For them to be close with each other was transgressive, so... she'd be proper. Normal, as much as possible, not drag him into her perversions. "I meant it when I said you seemed like a great guy, man. You know what I am now though, and I lllmmppphhh... "

He was kissing her. Just like that, his hand had slid up the small of her back to pull her against him. She was, once again, aghast. Monroe's skin was cool and dead, there was barely any saliva on her tongue and she'd just risen from Daydeath - how could he be doing this?!

How could she possibly push him away? Monroe hated the fact that she gave a quiet moan against his lips, her other hand finding his arm and squeezing the rock hardness of his tricep. He had the build of a middleweight boxer, maybe, and as her fingers quested over his chest and stomach she felt myriad scars. Claws... bullet pockmarks... each one told a story of whatever wild, savage struggles defined his life.

Even though she was a wholly undesirable, accursed thing, his hands still explored her body with curiosity and what felt like desire. Monroe arched against his touch as his fingers drifted up her ribcage, a breathy exhalation when his hand roamed up the curve of her breast and found her dark nipple. "Fffuck," she whispered when she found herself pinned against the wall, and her fangs pricked at her lips when she opened her thighs to him and felt his arousal through his jeans. "Wait..." Monroe breathed as the blood coursed through her, livening her tissues and flushing them dark and shiny; her unnatural physiology was at odds with her rational mind, which was telling her this was extremely dangerous.

"Mizrah, wait, stop." She pulled her lips from his, breathing on unnecessary reflex and, to his credit and with a bestial sound of effort he stopped. His eyes were dark like lignite, staring into hers as the Blush gave her a human aspect again. "We... you know we can't do this." God it sounded so weak, totally at odds with the sharp woman who'd won a bloodless revolution through sheer will.

"I thought you said I was a great guy," he pointed out smugly; instead of the deadly snarl from before, he was grinning that bastard grin at her, still holding her up with his hand supporting her rear. "That you weren't just after me for a meal."

"Bruh shut the fuck up," she admonished, finding a bit of herself but she was smiling - again, against her will as her body betrayed her. "That was before you knew I'm a, you know... and you're a. Y'know."

"That sounds like a bullshit excuse," he leered, his forehead against hers. "I'm still into you, in case you couldn't tell." Mizrah rolled his hips against her groin and it felt wonderful, a tingling wave of warmth and arousal that made her gasp and close her eyes, clenching a fist and beating it against his shoulder.

" Mhaah...! Yes I can tell, but do you have any damn idea what my kind would do if they heard I was getting freaky with a Lupine?" she snarled at him.

"Did you just call me a Lupine? That's even worse than Werewolf," he complained playfully, completely disregarding the obvious danger inherent in their pairing. "Look, I'm not afraid of any of your buddies, and I'm not afraid of other, heh, 'Lupines'."

"Would you quit sayin' it like that? Damn." Monroe was perplexed as to how she'd gone from preparing for annihilation to... this. "It ain't like I'm not interested or nothin', you know that already, it's just that I got a lot riding on my shoulders, y'know?" Her hands reached up to cup under his chin again, supported by the solidity of his hips and the strength of his arms. "I've worked hard to get 'em behind me."

"Alright, so... just to be clear, Monroe Carter, who I saw shout down a cop in SWAT gear, climb up on top of city hall, and start waving the flag like a Delacroix painting... you're saying it's not that you don't like me," and he was moving in again, kissing her shoulder, toward her neck, speaking between the touch of his lips, "it's that you're... afraid of what others are gonna think."

You fucking cocky bastard, get that shit outta here! she shouted at him in her mind but found herself making out with him again, that delightful tongue-bead hard in contrast to his lips. She'd never really let anybody handle her like this before but it was awfully nice, and even if he was a fucking Werewolf of all things... maybe just once, she could say that she gave in to the Lupine blood flowing through her heart and had a slip of judgment. That wouldn't be so bad, right? Just to feel warm and wanted?

When she settled her arms around his neck, permission granted, she found herself laughing with excitement and anticipation, throwing her inhibitions to the wind as they turned and collapsed upon the pile of mattresses and blankets, which for the first time since entering her Haven, felt the warmth of a living body. She eagerly peeled his shirt away from his torso, luxuriating in his manly heat, running her fingers along the ridges of his abs. "Yeah... yeah okay, you fine," Monroe conceded, her smile genuine on her normally serious face. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contentment that turned into a growing murmur of pleasure when that attentive mouth found the curve of her breasts, the hardness of her nipples poking against the white of her wife beater. "Yeah... mmmmhhh yeah, real fine, fffuck don't stop," she entreated him. She relaxed back and raised her arms over her head as he tugged her shirt off.

"Wow..." Yusuf whispered, running his fingers over the old lines and scars, some of which matched his own. "You know how some girls find scars sexy? Well..."

"You one of them girls, Mizrah?" she teased him, her fingers stroking through his bristly black hair and spreading over the back of his head... an affectionate gesture she should have saved for someone closer, but there wasn't anyone else. She pulled him to her chest. "Don't answer, just do what you was doin' before."

"Think you're the boss of me, huh?" he purred against her nipple, his lips pulling gently at it as his tongue made a circle, electricity dragging that from that stud that ran from her chest down to her groin. He knew what he was doing, rolling his hips enticingly between her thighs again so she could feel the bulge of his masculinity. She was flushed with excitement when she reached down with dextrous fingers to undo his belt, pull down his fly and get her fingers around what he was working with.

"Let's see what you're made of, Yusuf 'Avimalek'," Monroe purred as she closed her fingers around the familiar warm hardness of a man's cock. He exhaled a low, hungry sound, those pretty dark eyes of his closing as she curled them around his shaft and... found something she didn't expect. First of all, he was packing, that much was clear; she couldn't close her hand all the way around his manhood, and more surprising... she felt something hard - specifically six, small hard somethings - along the underside. Even though he was watching for her reaction her eyes still widened, mouth hanging open. "No. Way."

She pushed him up and back so that he was on his knees before her, probably trying not to grin like the proud peacock he was, pulling his pants down to reveal everything. In all her years she's never seen a man with... metal. Her fingers went to her lips and she made a quiet little laughing sound.

"What're you laughing about? Not everything you'd hoped and dream for?" He asked sarcastically but Monroe shook her head, her smile wide and hungry.

"No, it's more," she conceded, leaning forward to admire this man. Yusuf was... well for starters he was certainly on the larger end of the men she'd been with, no wonder he was so damn confident. She ran her index finger curiously up the frenum ladder, her other hand inspecting his crown. He was cut as she expected with a name like his, and she made a quiet little "tsk" as she wrapped her thumb and middle finger around it... they weren't able to touch. Not at all, but his notable girth alone wasn't what had her staring.

It must have hurt to get, she thought as she ran her thumb from the puckered underside of his glans to slowly travel along the Prince Albert through the end. It was clasped by a steel ball bearing, already sticky with his precum. She had no idea what it was going to feel like, but with a quiver in her lower belly and the slick of her arousal threatening to trickle down her inner thigh, she looked into his eyes.

I want you, hers said. I don't care what happened before, I want you with me, in me. "Come on, don't stop there," she cooed at him, lying back and arching her hips invitingly before him. That smile hadn't left her face as he pulled her boxer shorts away, his eyes falling on her bared, black thatched mons first, then her warm, inviting wetness. "See?" Monroe spread her fingers on either side of where her clit ached alluringly. Yusuf's eyes followed the path they made, seemingly hypnotized by her juicy, flushed netherlips. "This what you're after, horny fuckin' wolf?" She teased as her fingers parted her dark vulva, strings of arousal clinging to them

Yusuf agreed with a low, animal sound in his chest that made her give a breathy little laugh of excitement. She tugged at his wrist, pulling him over her, still grinning playfully. She hooked an ankle behind his own, sighing in satisfaction when she took his penis by the base and slid the clasp of his ring under the hardness of her clitoris

Volts of tingling, warm pleasure shot through her hips with each stroke, and she found her eyes fixated between his handsome face with that focused, intense expression; the muscles of his arms, his hips, tensed over her body; the way his glans crested over mons after meeting the resistance of her prominent, fat pearl of excitement. "You know you're sexy, don't you," he whispered against her chin as a wave of warmth and wonderful tension rose in her groin. "I'm gonna make you cum so many times you'll lose count," he promised her.

Whatever words she had in mind were distorted in her mouth as he angled himself to enter her, already sliding without much effort past the grip of her inner labiae... but from there he'd have to work her open, an entirely pleasurable prospect that she suggested to him by whispering in his ear: "Don't hold back." She braced herself, grabbing his hips and pulling him into her insistently. She clenched her teeth together and groaned at the familiar, wonderful ache, heightened by the girth and length of the man she was taking.

Yusuf's hips began to move in rhythm, pushing deeper into her with each thrust. It occurred to her sex-soaked brain how incredibly scandalous, how dangerous this was; caught together, she could end up well and truly dead for good, so... potentially throwing her unlife away, just for this thrill? "Ooooofff, aaahhh so worth it," she moaned and laughed when he bottomed out in her. "Just... just stay... there, deep in me, ooohhh..." He was positioned in the perfect place between pain and pleasure.

His hands reached down and under, grabbing her ass and pulling her hips upward to push deeply into her, touching sensitive, wonderful places she honestly didn't know could be stimulated in this way. She gave a sharp gasp, the silken grasp of her sex tightening around him in surprise. When he did it again, her hands were on the muscular dip of his lower back, tugging at him in turn. "More than you hoped for?" He gently took her earlobe between his teeth, nibbling as he massaged her deeply.

Unable to articulate clearly she just smacked her hand on his ass with two loud cracking sounds - which was like snapping the reins of a horse, since he withdrew and brought entirely different pleasure when he angled his cock upward and ground on her G-spot before pulling out, leaving her frightfully empty. Her eyes rolled briefly into the back of her head; Monroe regained some composure and stroked her palm up his cheek, gazing at him dreamily. "Back insiiide," she placated with a playful smirk, her other hand cupping her breast. To her delight he turned his lips to work on her offered nipple and fell into the rhythm of fucking her really well.

Her first orgasm came like a rushing train, since it had been some time since she climaxed with another person. A sharp inhalation of breath; she watched with amazement as he supported himself on one hand, the other reaching down to find her pearl and stroke it in tight little circles. His lips at her chest, his muscles in his shoulders working deliciously and the sight of his thick, pierced cock thrusting in and out her...

" Haaaa-ahhnnNNNHHHHHNNNNAAAaaahh-hah, oh... ffffffuuuck, oh God don't stop, don't stop that's it right there right there riiigghh - "

She convulsed beneath him. Each thrust sent a seismic shock through her, from her throbbing clit to the deep places in her pussy, to her breasts, and she had to put a shaking hand on his wrist to hold, press against it as he milked her climax forth. Her body writhed and curled, threatening to push him out as she gasped and groaned but he stayed buried within her and at the very peak her fingers and toes curled.

About halfway through their frenzied, passionate fucking she indeed lost count... and it wasn't just because he was good, which he was: amidst the self-congratulation any boy feels when he makes a girl cum, there was something that was... kind, sweet. It was at odds with his stage personality, his cocky forwardness, but there it was, and it made her feel safe. Ironic, given the danger of what others might do if they got wind of this, and the fact that only moments before she thought he was going to behead her. She felt it in the way he touched her face with his fingertips. She saw it on his expression, so fiercely focused on sex with her and, it seemed, her pleasure specifically. She heard it as he whispered actual sweet nothings in her ear, and it was cheesy as hell but she loved it.

"Your eyes are amazing..."

"I knew talking to you was a good idea..."

"You're beautiful..."

Beautiful? She hadn't been called that in... years maybe. What was with this intimacy in a one night stand? It wasn't like they were together but it still left her head spinning and while she was riding him, holding his hand against her breast, she leaned closer and looked at him differently. She felt a pang in the defiled, unholy mechanism of her heart again and wrapped her arms around him tightly, taking in his scent from where his shoulder and neck met. "You can cum in me... ain't like I'm gonna suck your soul out."

"You still thirsty?" He purred to her, a hand clapping down on the tight curve of her ass and making her chuckle.

"Parched," she whispered, increasing the tempo of her hip movements. The sensation of his piercings pressing against wonderful places inside her she didn't even know existed was heavenly, but she watched his face as he came - that was her favorite part of sex, watching people's expressions when they orgasmed, hell she knew Yusuf had seen the whole range of her expressions in this one session alone. There it was, the focus, like he was building something, his eyes shut, tan cheeks flushed red. His lips pulled back, twitching, and she watched as his upper and lower canines sharpened.

"I'm gonna... nnnnnNNNGGHH, Hhhahhhhfffff unh! Unh fuck, ride me, rrr rrrgggghhhh! " It was sexy and, of course, amazingly pleasant when she felt his ejaculation. She gasped at the sensation of his seed pumping hard against the mouth of her dead, lifeless womb and closed her eyes... letting the cares and worries of her unlife drift into the background to enjoy this moment of oneness with this man. Her hips moved slowly, enjoying the hot slickness of his seed flowing down his shaft and over his testicles, making a mess of the both of them.

When he'd spent himself with her completely, he collapsed back and she lay forward upon him, her braids tumbling around her head and over his chest. The thundering rhythm of his incredibly alive heart played against her ear; his manhood was still buried messily within her, still hard. "Not... not bad, mistah Mizrah," she giggled, the cool she was going for undone by the warmth of the moment, of his incredible heat. She felt warm, especially in her loins... her inhuman lover's seed felt like it was practically glowing within her.

"Not bad yourself... Miss Carter," he crooned gently against her lips, his hands on her hips. She liked that, but was surprised as he rolled her over on her back. "But I didn't say I was done."

"But you came! Hard!" She accused him giddily, eyes widening in excitement and then closing in overwhelm as he slid out and then back in with an incredibly lewd, wet sound. "No way," she laughed in a gasping voice as he began to fuck her again, the back of her head striking her pillows.

"Should I stop - "

"No don't stop!"

He didn't stop, not for two more times afterwards and when she was finally laying there next to him, watching him pant, she couldn't stop grinning stupidly. Her own breathing was a relaxed reflex brought on by the Blush. She took hold of some of the blankets that were finally warm, and pulled them up and over them. Propping herself on her elbow, just above his head, she pushed his hair back from his eyes.

They didn't say anything for a long time, just gazing at one another, her fingers combing through his hair and the rings through his ear, spreading over the hardness of his chest. His hand on her thigh, traced a trail up along her ribs to find her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips to nibble on.

"Who the hell are you?" She mused, drawing a questioning look. "Yeah you heard me. Who is this man here? I just ain't met a guy like you is all. You're..."

"Handsome? Strong? Stunning in bed?"

"Weird," she deadpanned, even though all those things were true. "Gettin' all sweet with me like we ain't just pullin' a quick fuck - "

"That was not quick, it's almost 9 and you had a great time." Yusuf's sharp black eyes dared her to deny it, and... well, she couldn't. In fact, she even gave him the gratification of leaning forward and kissing his forehead.

"Well, I wasn't lying. You're a great guy, really. Most dudes, most chicks are just trash, so. Even if you a weirdo I'm glad we did this." She ran her finger along a scar that dragged from his lip down to his chin, fascinated.

"You're talking like this is the last time," he pointed out, rolling onto his side, elbow on the pillow, leaning his chin against his hand

Monroe was distracted by the sight of him, reclined there on his side, not an ounce of fat on his body. He was like some Grecian statue of a god, given a punk-metal makeover. Even flaccid, his manhood slung over his thigh was amazingly distracting, glinting for her attention. "It is the last time," she stated far more ineffectively than she wanted, forcing her eyes to make the journey up his torso, pausing briefly on his abs, and then to his eyes. "Like I told you, it's dangerous for us to be doing this... I blame that crazy wolf blood of yours, rattling my judgment, and that sweet talk BS of yours

Surprisingly, instead of expressing the defeat she was hoping for, he casually reached out for her hand and pulled her to him. She made a show off struggling but in the end she ended up the little spoon. The feel of his ripped torso against her back, his seed still hot and filled with life in her womb, and his powerful arms around her was a kind of warmth and security she'd all but forgotten.

"It isn't the last time. Mark my words, Miss Carter."

She didn't say anything. Instead, she simply resolved to herself, safe and sated, that this wouldn't ever be happening again.