Vampire Good Guy Makes You Better

You sat at the bar with a tall, sweet margarita in front of you, getting dewy wetness all over the counter as it melts. Your friends ordered this for you, and you haven't even done the curtesy of having more than a sip. Now it just melts pitifully, kind of like you are into the cusp of your arm while you're leaned over at the bar and trying not to cry.

You had a terrible fight with your boyfriend just before you went out today. Or, at least he was your boyfriend. As of an hour ago, you had to assume the two of you were broken up and you were probably never going to see him again.

Good riddance, but it'd been a big fight. You'd all but thrown his phone at him and if you'd lived together, you would have thrown him out on the curb too. The dickhead decided that he was going to cheat on you, even though he was the one that asked you out and wanted to go steady in the first place.

Losing him was one pain, but this felt like the last break-up in a million that happened because your partner couldn't keep his dick in his pants and you were sick of it.

It just didn't make any sense. Why did this keep happening to you?!

You considered yourself a really liberal person... but what you saw in his phone wasn't just likes on pictures of pretty girls. It wasn't porn or text or even photos--photos would have been easier to see! It was videos, of him, and who knows who how many "who else's", doing every kind of sex act you could think of with dates as recent as yesterday.

You'd been floored.

That? That was too far for anyone! It was a good thing he would be gone now, surely, but heaping him up onto all your other troubles still depressed you.

Men were supposed to support you--you know, lift burdens off you instead of add a bunch more. They took care of stuff. The only thing the men in your life had taken care of was ensuring your heart was shattered into a million little pieces, over and over and over again.

It wasn't that you were high maintenance or difficult. Honestly, and this might have made you a bit more lenient than other woman, you didn't mind if your man looked at other woman, or commented on their beauty or their body. You didn't mind if he flirted with people--hell, as long as he talked to you about it first, you wouldn't even care if he wanted to sleep with someone else.

As long as at the end of the day the person he wanted to come home to was you, you could care less if he had some fun with other people.

You liked to have your fun too. Sometimes you could go two or three times a day, and it was hard to expect one person to fulfill all that lust even though you preferred monogamy. Your now-ex had hardly been able to keep up with you, in fact he called you a "nympho" more than once, and not always in a nice way.

So how dare he be out there, fucking other girls when he could barely even keep you satisfied. The audacity was astounding.

This is why you were in depressed slump, and no one could talk you out of it.

Were you just cursed? Or were men just awful? Maybe it was both.

As you mulled on this, honestly not nearly drunk enough, a man approached the bar. You looked over at him with big watery eyes, and took a gander at his person. He was handsome, you thought. With kind of shaggy blonde hair that fell over his brow line and a relax yet poised posture. He was smoking, which you didn't even know was still allowed inside anymore.

You kind of forgot how sexy smoking looked, even if it was terrible to do. The smell of him was kind of nostalgic, as the reek of tobacco clung to his clothes. He seemed like a person who would call himself a gentleman, dressed up in a white button up and a pair of well fit slacks. He was a cook, who worked in fine dining, and was more service oriented than most chefs.

Your eyes raked him up and down, really brazenly. You didn't care. If men could look at and touch whatever it was they wanted without any care of the consequences, why couldn't you? It wasn't like you were in a relationship anymore.

This stranger at the bar wasn't a stranger at all, but your causal friend, Cal Atkinson. He was a friend of a friend you sometimes partied with and ran into fairly frequently on the weekends. He was a renowned flirt, but a nice guy who was probably one of the most trustworthy people you'd ever met, even though he seemed to be in love with a new woman every other hour.

He'd taken care of you and your friends when you'd gotten too drunk to go home one time, always gave great advice, was an excellent driver and a really remarkable cook (which you learned the morning after waking up in his place, that night you and your besties got to hammered to safely take an uber back to your apartment.) You almost saw him more as one of the girls, even though he swore up and down he was straight.

Cal takes notice of your eyes tonight though, and shares his own glance across your figure. His lips quirk into a smirk as he seems to appreciate what you have on offer as much as you appreciate him.

You hardly even notice that theirs an unnatural reddish kind of hue to them this evening, as he turns his attention your way, or that his canines look a little sharper than usual. There's no kind of predatory glint in his demeanor, if anything, he seemed like he always does as he approached with a friendly charm.

(Little did you know that tonight, he's hungry, and for some reason you seem even tastier than normal.)

"What's a gorgeous woman like you doing alone at the bar?" He asks you, slipping in closer.

You scoff at the word gorgeous. "Please Cal, you don't have to start with me tonight. And you don't have to deal with my shit." You try to brush him off quickly. "If you're here to have a good time, you'll probably have it out there." You said, and pointed out to where everyone was dancing and the music was loudest. "I'm going to be over here, being sad."

"It looks to me to be a fine time, right where I am."

"You really don't want to know my problems. It's a bunch of shit you've heard a thousand times before, and I'm as sick of it as you. I don't want to talk about it." You say in a whining unconvincing manner, but he won't be so easily shaken.

"Don't say that and look at me with those eyes. My heart can't bear to see a lady so upset." He insists. "What troubles you? Tell me, you know I won't judge you."

You think about that a second, then sigh, feeling defeated. You end up spilling the whole story about your new-ex, all your other exes along with all your other troubles too. Work stuff, family stuff, health stuff. Everything.

This man says all the things someone should to make you feel better, as he always does. It's amazing how one conversation with him can make you feel so seen, and so heard, when no one else in your inner circle has managed to do the same. Then again, he's always been like this, just as a background character in your life.

You can't help but think that maybe he should be a "foreground" character more frequently.

"These men you've been dealing with, if you can call them that," he comments in a disapproving manner, "have no idea what they've had. You're a jewel."

"Don't even start with me." You roll your eyes.

"It's true!" He insists. "You understand the beauty of this world and pleasure--it's obvious. You and I have the same eyes."

You sit up a bit and turn more to face him, "What do you mean?"

"We see the human body for what it is." He explains, and gestures with his glass to the rest of the bar. "Everyone walking around is like a precious flower, blooming for us to enjoy. You and I, we can admire them all without ripping them out from the ground and ruining them for everyone. But I can see a lot of people have tried to do that to you."

That's too heartfelt and honest to be true.

You laugh. "But you're in love with half the women alive!"

"It's not love! I don't love them. I just love to love women." He admits sheepishly, "But I'm never taking advantage."

You roll your eyes, but instead he explains...

"What I do, I do to admire the world. Telling a woman how beautiful she is, that I'm obsessed with her, that the world should open at her feet--all that is just how every woman I admire should feel about themselves. Including you. I don't ask for anything in return and I'd never betray the trust of someone I swore my heart to. Though I would expect the person I love to trust me enough to express myself, without fear that I'm trying to throw myself into the arms of every passerby."

"I--" You sniffle when he says that, because it does feel like people keep trying to snuff out your life by treating you like shit. Your hand snaps forward to grab a napkin so you can blot at your eyes, hoping it didn't smudge up your make up. "Damn it, I promised I wouldn't cry!"

"No please, speak to me. I'm here to listen."

"I just mean to say, it's like, just what you said. I mean, there are a lot of pretty people in this world. Why not tell them how hot they are!"

"I agree." He nodded along.

"And I want to do that, and I don't mind my partner liking other people. I'd just want be able to be like that with someone who's having as much fun as I am without hurting each other. If no one can do that, I'm fine to just be happy on my own. But I keep getting tricked into wrapping my feelings up. I mean, if these assholes can't handle a relationship than why agree to be in one?" You weep. "I keep trying, but I feel like I should just give up on men all together..."

"I see we are in fine agreement, then. Men are terrible." He then tilts his head and puts his hand out to you, so that you may take it.

You grab his hand and give it a strong squeeze, hardly noticing that it was oddly cold, and look his way with a sigh. "I mean, you don't seem too bad."

"I don't?"

You shook your head. "You seem nice."

"I can be much more than nice. If you'd like, you can take a small sojourn with me, and I promise to make you feel better."

His offer lingers on the air a moment and he makes it with a baited breath. That line has never worked before, but he hopes it does tonight. Cal's eyes have been on you a while, and he'd love if you'd open yourself up to him instead of this man-children you've been hurt by.

He's practically jubilant when you take a second to think, and then share with him a cute private smile.

"Why not!" You declared and he grinned.

Gently and with an unregistered sense of gratitude, he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, then lead you outside. All the while he spoke many sweet words which made your heart flutter.

He takes you towards the carport, where it's dark and there are just enough people mulling about that voices don't echo in here the way they would if it were empty. You're a little too happy to be taken away to some dark corner near a big black Sudan that ensures you're both completely in shadow. When your away from all prying eyes, this is where he then pulls you into his arms.

With a suddenness, his attention snaps to you, guiding your bodies closer with his hand on your hip. He's almost unnaturally quick, but you don't really notice that because his mouth is suddenly on yours, his hands keeping your head in place, and soon your breathless with foggy thoughts. You'd just broken up with your shit-heal boyfriend, but it was a fresh relationship...

Was it alright to move on so fast? In the moment it didn't matter. He's hot, and coming on strong, and you like it.

Those hands, though, are not content to just grasp you gently. One moves down, cusping your neck than feeling down across your chest. His fingers pinch your nipple and drag slightly, involuntarily causing your moan to spill into his mouth.

"I don't know if this is right." You whisper between gasps.

He pulls back, intent on making this a torment.

"I can make you feel better." He promises, running a hand down the front of her body. "Make you forget all the troubles of your heart."

"I--" Your voice wavers.

You wanted that.

"Come on, just say you want it. You wanted it for a long time. It doesn't have to be loud, but it will feel good to just admit it. You want to be the one that feels good. You want to fuck."

You flush, a little mortified to hear it put that way, but you bite your lip.

"Say: Fuck me." He whispered in your ear. "Fuck me." He repeated, rubbing his hand down your side. "Fuck me." He then slipped his fingers between your thighs. "Fuck me."

You quiver.

"Fuck me." Cal eggs on, that eerie glow to his eyes gets a bit more intense. "Just once, and I'll make all your dreams come true. No man will ever bother you again, if I were to have my way with you."

And in the moment, that sounds so very sweet. Like exactly what you want. You bite your lip and all the logic slips away (after all, you already followed him out here) then breathily says, "Yes. Please fuck me. I just want to feel good; I don't want to think anymore at all."

He smirks. "That's all you had to say. Let me get you to my car."

And when the door opens behind you, you end up falling onto a mattress that has been laid on the floor, replacing where should have been seats. You'd never figured you'd ever see the inside of a car that someone turned into a mobile sex mobile--but here it was, and you were about to be another notch in its proverbial belt.

What you didn't know, was that he'd never managed to get a woman this far before. He couldn't have been more thrilled with this turn in events. Much as he flirted and befriended woman, they often didn't let him further in than a hug. He'd had eyes on you a while, hopeful that you might grow to like him as much as he did you.

You didn't much care about where you were, or how you were the first person this silly friendly vampire had ever managed to snare. There was only one thing on your mind, that you would get what he promised--pleasure.

He works your underwear half off your thighs and then helps you shimmy your dress off as you get distracted by the scratchy interior of the fabric. But soon as your nude he's moving lover, kissing down your stomach until he's about to reach between your thighs.

"Cal..." you keen, wanting more attention than he's yet offered.

He then slips a hand between your thighs and you moan, "How ready you are already..." He comments, then draws his fingers from between your thighs. When he does, he intakes a quick breath, as his fingers now appear to him red.

"Why did you stop?" you whine.

His eyes, all the more red, flicker between his fingers and your face, and drunkenly you look down to see yourself than cover your face. "Ah, fuck! I totally forgot Aunt Flo's in town. Shit." You curse again, then sigh heavier, readying yourself to sit up. "Sorry, I really mean it... I guess this is over."

"Who said that?" He sounds almost offended.

"But--oh...!" You trail off, when he dives between your thighs, cusping his arms around your legs and dragging your core to his face. You laugh than moan, as he veraciously begins to eat you out, as if you've offered him a fine meal instead of a chore.

Oral has never been your favorite, but he's so eager, and so good, he's making your toes curl and you grab his head and pull him up. His face is bloody but you don't care when you drag him up and kiss him.

"Fuck me, please." You beg him. "Please, you promised!"

He pulls his head up, satisfied enough for now by an unexpected treat.

"Whatever you want, my dear." He allows, though licking the last of the blood from the corner of his lips. He hadn't meant to get this hungry with you, but he was feeling a bit more monstrous than he started the night, and now it was very dangerous for you to be under his hands, alone as you've allowed yourself to be.

Don't you know the most dangerous thing to do as a lone woman, is to follow a man to a secondary location?

Well, you'll never learn that lesson (because he'd never let you be this vulnerable with anybody else.)

Meanwhile, his hands shook and he tried to control himself. He'd promised you a good night, and he did intend on delivering. But you were soft and warm. Fresh blooded and so sweet to his senses. He wanted more of you than you were to give if you understand what part of you he craved more than the tightness of your pussy.

Then again, you promise to feel very good. This he learns for certain when he puts a hand between your bodies, and slowly you take him. When he's in, you roll your hips in a most delicious way and he moans a pitiful kind of sound as his resolve wavers. It's at your urging that he scoots over and puts you on top so that he can savor the way you bounce on him as you take control. Moans fill up the cabin of his car all the while.

"That's right, fuck. Take your pleasure from me." He tells you, his head rolling back.

This was far better than he expected an early night tryst to be. When you start to run out of energy, he flips you over so he's fucking you in missionary with a strange sense of intimacy. It feels so good you cry, wet eyes pleading him for more.

It makes him swell up with a lot of emotions, as if he's finally grasped the end of his own loneliness and sees a clear way he could end yours.

"Baby, do you like how good you feel?" He asks.

"Yes..." You hissed out in a pleasured hum while he fucked you harder.

"Would you like to feel like this... forever?"

"Yes!" You cry out. Though it seemed to be more in answer to the thrust of his hips than to what he said. But that was enough.

There is no time to feel dread, no space in your pleasure fogged mind to realize what it is he's saying (and how seriously he means it).

He's also a little too excited, as you're warm and good. This is what he's been waiting so long to have. In a way that was probably too thoughtless, he bit you. Instead of sucking, you felt something rush into you--and it wasn't his seed. The change seemed through your body with an explicit cold, so cold it seared you, so, so cold...

But his arms could offer you the warmth of the little death, which distracted you from the much larger change that his venom in your system was soon to cause. In the following days of torment (when the hunger hit) you'd run to him for all your needs, and for his hands to soothe you, which he loved to do. Even if you'd thought you'd just be spending an evening of fun with him, you'd make a pretty bride in this second life for him, which was more than he'd dreamed of having.

The best part? With all that trouble, all your daily issues seemed like small potatoes. They were dealt with or forgotten as petty life issues are. And you didn't even remember your ex-boyfriends' names after a week, let alone a century.

In the end, Cal was the sweetest nicest man who spoiled you rotten, and he never ever left your side. The two of you enjoyed all the fineries of life, including each other and other people, until the sun went cold.