Beckham Aston (sin_with_a_grin) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-05-17 21:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | #flashback |
A Blood Filled Night
Who: Adair & Beck
What: Beck finally pays the price for his obsessive curiosity of the being known as Adair.
When: During the 1920's, evening.
Where: Charlotte, NC; some ritzy hotel.
Rating: NSFW
Dinner with the family was annoying and something he wished that he could do without. Instead he was forced, once a week on Sundays, to spend dinner at his parents’ home with his wife. He guessed she was somewhat pleasing to the eyes, with her golden hair and pale blue eyes, but her personality left so much to be wanted. That and after four years living with him was wearing on her, finally, making a slightly bitter attitude beginning to give birth.
Maybe the change in his wife’s personality would have normally caught his eye, causing him to spend slightly more time around her. However, Loretta was far from his mind now. No, the woman who occupied his thoughts nowadays was the fiery redhead that should now be waiting for him in the over-priced, fancy hotel room.
As always, as soon as dinner was over he escorted his wife home, and then left to go about his business. And that business now usually meant coming to be in Adair’s arms. He picked up the key to the room as he entered the hotel and made his way to it. By now they had a room that was almost exclusively theirs. After two months of coming here in ever increasing amounts of time the hotel owner had recently started giving the same room every time.
He unlocked the door, stepped in and relocked it. There would be no interruptions, not now. His blue eyes immediately sought out Adair and he strode further into the spacious room richly adorned in deep jewel tones and ornately carved furniture. His coat was quickly discarded into a chair off to the side, quickly followed by his hat and his tie.
“Been waiting long,” he asked once he had her successfully located.
She knew he was close before lucky Beckham had even stepped off the lift and into the hallway that lead to the opulent suite. Adair could smell him... more potent than any time they had met before, the subtle tang of copper and heat that drifted through pores and even the expensive frock coat.
Already, the poor velvetesque cushions beneath her fingertips began to suffer. Just a little more pressure: cold, bird-thin digits curled inward with the gnawing reminder of the redhead's intentionally unsated hunger. She smiled at the opening door, careful as always to keep the grin carefully closed and pulled more into one cheek than the other. A luring smirkish grin. It kept her aloof, and mysterious. It kept her fangs in the dark.
"I was just about to leave." Lies. As unpredictable as the 'dancer' was, half strewn comfortably on the love-seat placed in front of a roaring fire, she was a very patient creature when she wanted to be.
The matte warmth of black velvet beneath her contrasted greatly to the halo of red hair, like flames in the night--the lengths coiled and pooled across the pillow that cradled her head, and reached for the expensive rug beneath the couch. One bare leg, long and lean hooked off the edge and swept back and forth in thoughtless movement. It and it's sister wrapped by flesh colored silk and held in place by garter straps that matched the midnight hue of the furniture that supported her.
As soon as his eyes had found her they began to roam over her form. As always she was mysterious, and yet so very appealing. As he stepped closer to her he slid the suspenders from his shoulders and began to un-do the buttons of his shirt, slowly.
His eyes started at her face, always at her face. Taking in the shocking red hair... the dark blue of her eyes, made dark in the dim, warm fire light that filled the room. Then on down, taking in how the red corset pushed up her breasts, causing a nice swell. There was just something about the way red with a touch of black always made her look so sultry. By the time his eyes were on her legs his shirt was undone and pulled out of his pants, but he did no more himself.
"That would have been a shame." Now his voice was deeper than before, one of the first signs of his arousal. Just looking at her most nights when, like tonight, he had a disappointing time of it, made his body react. He walked over to where she lounged, one leg bending at the knee and coming to rest on the edge of the love seat as a hand gripped the back of the seat. He leaned close, though he kept his face scant inches apart, his eyes on level with her.
"If you had left it would have been a very lonely night for me. Lonely and torturous." Oh yes, it would have been akin to torture. Leaving him alone, here, with nothing but thoughts of her to run through his mind. He rather liked having the real thing, right here so close to his body, within his grasp.
Pouty pout pout.. Adair's painted red lips pursed in mock-pity as the rich-man's son spilled his potential woes. The expression didn't last long, given the sudden presence of perpetually chilly fingertips parting the open lapels of his shirt, drifting, exploringly possessive on the skin beneath. Skin that was hot in comparison: radiant heat that almost reached out and grabbed her back--magnetically drawing the upward curve of the woman beneath him to close the gap.
No words. Not in that moment, when the beat of his heart picked up the instant she touched him--screaming its presence at her senses and pricking them, like a beast prodded by sharp sticks from the other side of a weak, flimsy cage: Adair had not eaten for a week. She had been forced to go much longer before, in punishment locked in a basement cell of some House owned facility.... but this was intentional torture. And to drag it out just a little longer, she stifled the sudden pang of ravenous hunger by curling a grip around his shoulders beneath his shirt.. and occupied her lips by taking his.
His eyes half closed as he felt her finger touch his skin, the coolness of her skin a stark contrast to the heat of his own skin. It felt good, like having an ice cube pressed to your skin on a hot summer day. Then she was arching her body up to him, closing the gap between their bodies. Immediately his free hand slid under her, supporting her as well and pressing her ever closer.
In Adair he could sense a hunger that he immediately connected to his own physical hunger to have her and posses her. For what else could it be? Nothing else could or would come to mind in regards to that, so he simply reacted as he always did. He reveled in her touch and the feel of her breasts, confined as they were by the corset, pressing against his naked chest. And her lips, cool and soft, yet capable of kisses that could devour a man.
The hand on her back slid up, seeking the ties of her corset. He wanted it gone, even though it was so lovely on her. But what lay beneath it, yes, that was what he truly wanted. His fingers pulled and teased free the ties keeping her luscious body bound.
The corset fell away: pulled by insistent fingertips from where hot and cold flesh pressed together. It was a heat that surrounded her, swallowed her senses and fueled them to a painful acuteness. Adair breathed in against the corner of his mouth, inflating lungs that had no need for the half-desperate gasp that filled them. Only with certain instincts and impulses did the instinctive reflex return from some semblance of life. Like with sex.. or pain.
Black cherry tipped fingers dug graves into shoulder flesh. Strong for such birdlike structures, thin, pale and feminine... Adair opened her eyes and reigned in their strength for a moment more of control. She ached... the constant roar of need writhing and clawing at her insides made a siren's song of Beckham's pulse, beckoning to her from only inches away. Another breath.. a sigh, shivering with the tension her body exuded, went aimed up toward the shadow figures of themselves, distorted on the ceiling.
She concentrated every scrap of attention on the feel of his fingertips as they roamed, creeping low along the groove of her spine until they crossed a threashold of lace and silk at her hips: tickled by her hair and leaving unseen trails, white-hot under her cool skin.
There was a groan in her voice, purred --or growled-- lowly against his jaw: blue eyes, glassed by want that would not wait much longer, half lidded and unseeing--blinded by the promise of what she had waited so long for.
"...I have a surprise for you..."
As soon as the corset was no longer in the way it took all the concentration he had to keep going at a slow, but very heated, pace. He wanted to slide down her body and pay some much needed attention to her now revealed breasts, but he kept his mouth on hers. Kissing her deeply. He loved her kisses and the way her mouth tasted. A taste so very different from any other woman before.
His hand slowly began to slide down her bare back, fingers touching her lightly as they went lower, and lower... Down past the garterbelt at her hips and on to the tantalizing curve of her ass, beneath the bit of fabric that she still wore. Even as he hissed at the pain her fingers caused after they had dug into his shoulders he pressed her closer, hip to hip. If his arousal had not been obvious to her before, it certainly was now.
He brought his mouth to her neck, kissing her cool skin before teasing it with tongue, lips and teeth. "Mmmm... a surprise from you? I wonder what it could be..." while he spoke he ceased the teasing of her skin, but his lips still touched her as they moved, his breath ghosting across her skin as he breathed. This woman, Adair, was by far the most intoxicating woman he had met so far in his twenty-six years of life.
Thoughts in her head raced, as chaotic and unleashed as they always were. Offerings of what she could give him, as enticing as she knew they would be to him... promises she knew would come to fruition... strength, power, and worlds he had never seen. But they did not reach her voice: her's was a mind far too labrynthian to make the needed connections while in the face of what she wanted, and what she could take. What she had been taught to take, and now knew no other way of doing things.
Not to mention the constant bass tumming call of the heartbeat pressed against her. Adair's compsure faultered just a little bit, once more. Her top lip peeled back ever so slightly in a primal posturing show of fangs--unseen by her human lover as he caressed her throat with affectionate kisses and scrapes of teeth. She could hear nothing, except the rush of salt and copper and heat and spice beneath his skin, the tum of the muscle that pumped it everywhere: in his fingertips, in his lips and tongue, between his hips...
Adair's breath captured her voice, dark as the cushions that creased and hissed beneath their bodies and groaned into his temple. "Close your eyes..."
His body ached with the need to have her. He wanted the cloth between their bodies to disappear. He wanted to touch her and kiss her all over, to taste every inch of her body. Sure, but now he had seen her devoid of all clothing as well as had many nights to memorize her lovely body. However, every time he saw her the craving resurfaced. It was as if there was something more to her he did not know, some other mystery he could uncover in her body.
It didn't help his resolve when he knew that she wanted him just as bad, if not more, than he wanted her. He could feel the tension in her body, at every point where their bodies met. His breathing was becoming more labored, and he could not fight back a groan as he heard her voice. His control was beginning to unravel.
Before he did as she asked he brought his lips back to hers, a hungry and lingering kiss before he pulled back slightly, a confidant smirk that was paired with his darkened blue eyes. "As you wish..." His eyelids slid down, blocking the delightful body that Adair possessed from his view.
It was all she could do: the fingertips and glass-like nails curled desperately into her own palms, twisted in the loose material of the shirt that still hung from his shoulders--one last bit of self-restraint went into the smoldering intensity that was her gaze, opened...as his closed. One last look at what was a vibrant, healthy human man nearly bursting at the seams of restraint, comparable only in words, to the beast that pulled at it's leash inside his chilly lover.
Everything slowed: the crackle of the fire that back-lit his frame, the beat of his heart and rushing throb of blood just under pink, healthy skin. Time itself lingered on the teetering edge of the burn that consumed Adair from the inside, tracing smoke trails from his face to the crux of skin where throat and shoulder met.
The next instant, existence rushed forward to meet it's normal state, and with it in less than a blink of an eye, one palm clamped on his mouth the instant two fangs tore into the flesh that beckoned with the subtle throb of heat. His skin popped when it gave, bursting the sudden, forceful flow of blood into her mouth and already coiling down her throat. Her other hand held him across the back, tight as an iron chain despite the tense and desperate flail she knew came next.. Every bit of fight met only with more strength: every resistance reminded her--unwillingly--of the night she was in the same exact position.
The instent he felt her hand clamped on his mouth, far to strong for any good surprise, his eyes flew open. However, it was also at that moment that her fangs pierced his skin. He tried to call out, mind racing frantically as he tried to think and act past the pure pain driven panic the situation made. But he couldn't get free, couldn't get her off him. She was strong, too strong. Something was wrong, not right.
However, pain and the rapid lose of blood was taking effect on him. Eventually his hands stopped grabbing in attempt to pry her off him, and instead they weakly held on. All thought of pleasure was gone, replaced by the pain and confusion. He could not win against this creature.
The haze blood loss was creating in his mind did wonders for bringing about a numbing effect. Slowly the pain began to fade, but so was his own consciousness. Beautifully mysterious Adair, exotic and different... inhumanly strong... pain in neck... blood loss... Those were the last thoughts that flitted through his mind as he fell to unconsciousness.
The flail and fight for life: the vibration of screams beneath her hand and under the fangs that only clamped down harder with each attempt at freedom: all of it, familiar as yesterday. Nostalgic, in a way.. she remembered the pain as easily as she remembered childbirth, three times over. That thought was a drop in the ocean beneath the tempest that was Adair's broken mind, now laser focused into this one primal act, which every part of her body had been designed for since it's rebirth.. and sustained by with each fading pump of his heart.
As his strength weakened, she could literally hear the surge of his blood through her body. It rushed through each vessle and vein, screaming like a freight train, infused with the same dark magics that had kept his would-be killer alive for over two hundred years. Only when poor Beckham's grip completely slacked did Adair forcefully hault herself: a chore of more monumental proportions than most could understand. Even as his heart struggled to beat, the beast inside her refused to relent, until with a feminine-touched snarl--she managed to pull away.
She dropped them both on the velvet couch in the process, the rich man's son, pale and weakened to the point of death, half-cradled in the lap of who he thought was only an enticing dancer. Her focus began to return: black pupils widened by the frenzy of finally feeding slowly narrowed to the pinpoints of focus, smoothly turned down at the blond in her lap.
"Almost over..." She cooed at him, even though she knew for a fact he was off somewhere far, where her voice wouldn't reach. Adair's hand pushed gently through his hair, smoothing it back as the other moved toward her wrist. It angled to one still pinkened fang, which tore the flesh and brought a spring of fresh crimson to the surface. Adair wasted no time to place the wound to Beckham's lips.
At first Beckham had no sense of what was happening. He saw, heard and felt nothing. He was wrapped in a cocoon of nothingness. The first thing he noticed was the taste. Tangy, tasting of copper, at first not pleasant. However, the more he drank the more he wanted it. He clutched her wrist close, drinking it. He could feel something different, but his mind was still blank. He was driven, at this moment, just to drink.
Adair watched him carefully, though there wasn't much of a change in her demeanor. Stoic and calm: the twinge of tingle and subtle pain spread like tiny fronds of ivy from the wound and climbed, coiling through her fingers and along the veins in her arm.
Each pull, just a little more deliberate. A little more desperate. His strength was that of a November leaf in the beginning, but slowly began to harden, like ice in the wind of a winter night.. Inch by inch, as the mixture of her own blood and his returned to his system, coiling around each nerve ending, sending broken messages to a rewired and rebooting brain. He was not her first... she knew how much to allow him, and when the simple act of transition could become dangerous to her (Adair's first protege nearly killed her)... She just kept watch, the other hand poised still on his brow and in his hair. Just in case.
While Beck was slowly regaining his strength, and then surpassing his human strength, he still was not coming back to himself fully. His mind was a hazy blur that only knew that he was very thirsty and what he was drinking was quite good. There was also a small part of his brain that was cataloging the responses in his body. He was dimly aware of the lack of pain, the strength in which he held that dainty wrist to his mouth...
What he wasn't aware of, though, was that fact that he'd just been bitten and changed into a vampire, that the woman he'd been bedding for two months was in fact a monster. He also didn't notice the heightened hearing he was now being blessed with as his ears were filled with the roaring noise of his own feeding. He was also blissfully unaware that what he was drinking so ravenously was, in fact, blood. A potent mixture of Adair's vampiric blood with with his own.
He was only aware of his own thirst.