Her fault for not giving more than her first name? And what would her surname have given him? Not much more. Besides, he was so eager to get inside her panties, he wouldn’t have cared if her name was Bob. Sorry, but this was all on him. If he’d wanted more than her first name, than he should have asked. Too bad for him that he didn’t, hmm?
But Charlie always had been a bit more like Val in that regard. A bit more of Act first, Question later. It was a policy that suited Val just fine, though… even if it did sometimes get her into trouble. Trouble suited her as well. Kept life interesting after all. And with a life as long as hers well… Val took all the excitement she could get. Maybe if she weren’t busy getting into trouble she might have to pause once in a while to consider the questions Charlie was asking. And no, sorry, that just wasn’t anything she was going to think about.
One who acted without thought tended to have strong instincts, or rather, to act on said instincts more commonly than others. Hunger, desire, lust… need. It was what Charlie must have felt right now, what Val felt as he stole away her blood, and she his, and she felt the pressing need of his rock hard body pushing against hers.
Oh he was so strong now. Stronger than he’d known he could be, then he’d allowed himself to be since turning. More full of life, even more virile. Could he feel it? Val could. This was what she’d wanted to share with him, what she’d wanted to make him understand. So far he’d done nothing but fight what he could be, Val just wanted to give him a little taste of what it was he denied. Superego? Pfft. Superman!. Damned, saved, whatever. Val was no theologian, but she didn’t believe one’s race determined that, but their actions. And her race, and now Charlie’s as well… was no longer human. When he stopped trying to be human, he would see how much more he now was.
Val didn’t fight him as he took control and pushed her against the wall. Ok, maybe she fought a little, just enough to cause the hit to be that much harder. So sue her, she liked it rough. She met his kiss, open mouthed and hungry, and while her tongue battled his she thrust it against his fang to spill more blood into his mouth, feeding his senses as they should have been. Poor dear had been so denied. She moved, pressing her core against his hardness as her hands pushed up inside his shirt to trail sharp nails over his skin.