enjoy the fall Who: Sylvia and Aidan Where: Sylvia’s House When: night Warnings: nsfw
Her home was like a menagerie of odds and ends, almost like an antique store. There was clutter everywhere, organized in ways that likely only made sense to Sylvia. Collections sat together, covering most flat surfaces, though there were shelves put up all over the walls as well, holding everything from rough quartz rocks to figurines, both broken and intact.
There didn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to her collections. They could be anything, some that seemed to fit her personality, others which clearly did not. Her living room had been converted into a library, with the only other real feature being an old crank powered turntable and a collection of records shelved neatly beneath it.
On a jewelry chest in the hall by her room, she had a collection of keys laid out neatly, all kinds. Some old, some new, modern and antique side by side, seemingly arranged by finish, as opposed to type. There were also a few objects in there that did not seem to be normal keys, if they were keys at all. Inside Sylvia’s room, it was dark. She had blankets up over the window, nailed to the frame to ensure no light came inside. The only light was provided by a small nightlight, that projected stars on the ceiling and walls. There was a vanity against the side wall, her canopy bed set into the corner, jutting into the room. The vampire was curled up in the middle of the bed, still as a corpse. Small burns decorated her, one harsher one on the back of her hand, another two on her face. Those two were thin but angry looking, one smaller one on her cheek below her eye, the other just above her eyebrow, almost forming a crude heart.
Sylvia had had a terrifying ordeal at the gathering in the park. After Lance had stolen her umbrella, she’d been left unprotected, with only the leaves of the tree she was sat in to protect her. And there was a breeze now and then, so the leaves shifted. She’d burned fast when she had, even if she kept herself as protected as possible. She just hadn’t been able to manage perfection. When she got back home eventually, after dark, she’d dropped into an exhausted, deep sleep.
Aidan waited until it was late to head over to Sylvia’s, hoping that she’d be out for the evening. It didn’t take too much work to track down which house was hers, and when he found it, it was all dark inside. Either she was out or sleeping, which made this as good a time as any. Flashlight in hand, he knelt by the front door and picked the lock in less than a minute, slipping inside and shutting the door quietly behind him.
Turning on the flashlight, he waited a second for his eyes to adjust and then began to explore. He’d expected her to have a small collection, but that wasn’t the case. Her collection was massive compared to his, taking over the whole house, yet seemingly organized in a way he couldn’t understand. While he wasn’t much of a reader, he could appreciate the number of books she had in her living room and scanned the titles as he slowly walked from one end of the room to the other. The figurines caught his attention, specifically the broken ones, and from there he moved to the records, flipping through each one before moving on to the keys. Half the things he saw, he wanted to touch, and he found himself picking them up, turning them over in his hands, then placing them back exactly where he found them. All except for an odd shaped key that didn’t look like a key at all. That one he put in his pocket.
When he finished in the living room, he crept back towards her bedroom, figuring that the lighter must be there, though he could have easily missed it amidst all the things in her living room. Her bedroom was even darker than her living room and it took shining the flashlight up towards the window to understand why. Aidan swept the room with the flashlight, freezing when he realized she was there, in bed, sleeping.
This was generally the point at which he would abandon his search, but seeing her there, Aidan just stared. She looked like something out of a fairy tale, curled up in the center of a canopy bed, waiting to be woken by a kiss. It was a direction his mind didn’t need to stray, but he couldn’t help it. Walking closer, he could see that she was hurt, burned maybe, and he wondered when that had happened, how, and was there anything he could do to help her heal faster. It took a great deal of effort to pull his eyes away and look for his lighter. He would rather sit there and watch her, even while he realized that was just about as creepy as he could get.
She became aware of him mostly because the sound of his heart filtered through her slumber. After that it was his scent, cigarette smoke underlaid with beer, beneath that his unique Aidan-smell. She opened her eyes without moving, watching him as he looked around the room. She was happy to see him, something that was only really shown by the slight hint of a smile that lit her lips. She was glad he’d opted to try for the lighter so soon. And that he had made it this far in. "If you can find it, you can keep it." she whispered, voice slightly raspy from her heavy sleep.
Aidan froze, a smile curling on his lips as he sighed. He thought he’d been quiet enough not to wake her, but apparently he was wrong. Maybe he’d been too slow, which was his own damn fault for getting distracted. Either way, he was caught. “Am I hot or cold?” he asked as he turned to face her, still standing over by her dresser. Her house was big and his lighter was small, which made it significantly more difficult to find.
"Cold." she told him, propping herself up on one arm, stretching her other above her head. Then she dropped it back down, and sat up properly, eyes on him. "How long have you been here?" she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Aidan said, circling around towards the vanity. It looked like the kind of place she might stash his lighter. “Maybe half an hour?” It was longer than he should’ve stayed, but he’d become distracted the second he’d walked in the door.
"Warmer." She provided, thinking over the timeframe. "I suppose I'm unsafe then." she mused, not sounding upset about it. "I didn't hear you til you came in here. Then I could hear your heart. But you would have been able to kill me had you wanted to." she said, poking a little at the burn on the back of her hand. It hurt, and it still wasn't healed. In fact, it didn't look like it had healed at all. Which was unfortunate, considering everything else healed at record speed. "Do you like my collections?" she asked, refocusing on him.
His eyes scanned the vanity before he moved closer to her, aiming for the nightstand, though he’d lost his focus. Her burns worried him and, as much as he wanted his lighter, he wanted to know what happened too. “I’d like to think it’s because I’m good at what I do, but you should set up some little alarms, just to be safe,” he said, now standing beside her bed, looking down at her. Aidan took her hand in his, running his thumb over the burn. “I do. I could get lost in them. They make mine look insignificant.”
She let him take her hand, but when he touched the burn, her face pinched ever so slightly in pain. Which pulled a little at the ones on her face, which also were rather high levels of painful. The sun was unkind. "What kind of alarms?" she asked. "I don't think I know how to do that. Plus, if someone really wanted to hurt me, I imagine that would not deter them." she continued, ever logical. "I'm sure you already have, but feel free to look around." she invited. "I'm sure you'd find something you like, if you have not already."
When she flinched from his touch, Aidan frowned and pulled his hand away. “Even a bell attached to the door would be enough warning to wake you.” And she was fast, so all she needed was a warning. It was so simple, yet effective. “I found something already,” he said, a little smile returning. “But I’m more worried about you at the moment. What happened?” he asked, finger lightly tracing her jaw, outside the line from the burn. He wouldn’t touch it again, not now that he knew it hurt her.
She looked up at him, tilting her face ever so slightly in the direction of his touch. "I'll have to look around to see what you've taken." she said, actually happy for the challenge. "How bad is it?" she asked. "I was hoping I would be healed by the time I woke up, but clearly I am not." Which was upsetting for her. Especially because she knew there were burns on her face, and she didn't know how terrible they were. What if they scarred? Was she going to be a marred figure for the rest of her potentially long life? She didn't like that idea. It would make things difficult. She waited for his answer before she would give him the details of what happened.
“There was a lot to choose from.” Aidan would’ve liked to take more, but it didn’t feel right to take more than one item at a time from her. Plus, he enjoyed letting her try to figure out what he’d taken. “Red, but not blistered. Like you’ve been seriously sunburned.” But not to the point where she was crispy. It still concerned him, since she usually healed much faster. “Would blood help?” He knew he shouldn’t offer so soon after giving blood last night, but it might be all he could do to help. If it was too much for him to handle, then he’d see about stealing some.
"It's painful. But it doesn't look too bad? I don't have a reflection anymore." she admitted, very much relying on his opinion. "And I'm not sure if blood would help." she added. Did she want to drink from Aidan again? Absolutely. In fact, the very thought had her fangs back into play. She probably wanted that more than anything. But she also was unsure of the risk factors. "I've never really been burned like this. I wouldn't have been this time either, but Lance stole my umbrella when I was at the park today."
“Not too bad,” he said, slightly disappointed when she turned down the opportunity to drink from him again. He knew that was a good thing, that he didn’t have blood to give, but he’d enjoyed it. And then her fangs came out and he caught himself smirking. Or he was, until she told him what had happened. “Fucker deserves to have his house torched,” Aidan growled. He was sure it was innocent fun, stealing an umbrella from a girl, except when that umbrella prevented her from catching on fire.
Sylvia saw an array of emotions there, all in rapid succession. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ve been...concerned about lasting damage. I don’t want to go through life with scars on my face.” She liked the smirk, it was a good look on him, but the growl and sentiment about Lance surprised her. Her head canted to the side as she gazed up at him. "You're angry with him? Do you know him?" she asked. She hadn't. She didn't know his last name either or where he lived.
“Maybe it just takes longer because it’s the sun,” Aidan suggested. He couldn’t imagine being a creature like she was and not knowing his own limits and weaknesses. It would frustrate him to no end to find them out trial by error. “I don’t know him, but I don’t like people messing with my friends.” And Sylvia was a friend at least, a very close friend if the last twenty-four hours were any indication. He wouldn’t admit to her being anything more, no matter how appealing the idea might be. “He could have killed you.”
She nodded at his assessment of sunlight burns versus other injury. She imagined that was the case as well. It just meant she was displeased with the state of things. When he called her a friend, her eyes widened slightly. She'd only ever had one of those, Noah. So to hear it from Aidan was both shocking and pleasing. Sylvia wound up smiling at him, a sweet sort of expression not usually present. She shifted on the bed, moving over so he could have room to sit should he want it. "He could have." she agreed. "I don't want to spend two thirds of my life inside anymore." she admitted. "Are you just angry, or would you do something if you saw him?" she asked.
Aidan took a seat, facing her, deciding he could get comfortable if he was going to stay a few. He was just going to ignore that it was her bed, or at least try to, though that was harder to do in practice than in theory. “I wouldn’t want to either.” While he liked the night, Aidan didn’t think he could manage if that was the only time he ever came out. He didn’t blame her for taking the risk with the umbrella, but it still worried him. “I might rough him up a little, but I wouldn’t seriously hurt him,” Aidan sighed. “Because I doubt he meant to hurt you, but he’s still an ass for taking what’s yours… while you’re using it.” He had to remember that he’d also taken her umbrella, but she’d been inside at the time, which was different in his opinion.
"He took my shoe first. He gave that back. He said he would give my umbrella back sometime." Sylvia said. "You would rough him up, over me?" she asked. A friend, now possibly a defendor? Was this because of her bite? She knew in some vampire lore that vampires could have a hold over people. But she didn't know if that was true, or what that might look like. She did know it made her feel better to think someone would do such things for her. Help her.
“There’s playing around and there’s putting someone in danger. He should have known the difference.” Aidan hadn’t been there, but he suspected her distress over losing a shoe and losing her umbrella had been completely different. He could tell the difference in someone’s voice when they were scared versus just playing around. This Lance should have noticed it as well, though he was making some pretty heavy assumptions about how it had all gone down. “Of course,” he answered, not sure why that should be a surprise. “Someone’s got to teach him a lesson, don’t they?”
"I don't know that he did. I don't always react as...animatedly as I should." she admitted. Sylvia had tensed up a ton, but she honestly wasn't sure whether or not someone else would have been able to tell. Aidan, maybe? Noah, yes, but she wasn't positive on things for Lance. Mostly it was the concept that intrigued her, however. "He seems to be arrogant, in my opinion." she admitted. "People don't usually want to defend me. They want to get farther away from me. I am alienating. I have it on good authority."
“Okay, well… I’ll only kick his ass if you want me to, then.” If she hadn’t spoken up, then Aidan probably shouldn’t go after him. He didn’t even know who the guy was, but he was pretty sure he could find out if need be. It wasn’t too hard to track people down, especially now that people couldn’t come and go. “I don’t find you alienating,” he said. “But I don’t think I’m like most people.” Most people wouldn’t have been so accepting of having their neck broken. He knew that. Most people would have had the good sense to get as far away from her as possible, but instead he’d offered her blood. He knew the logic was false, yet he was used to listening to his instincts and Sylvia didn’t set off any alarms.
Sylvia smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." she said. It was definitely good to know. Interesting. When he continued, listened. "Do you think you're under some sort of spell?" she asked him seriously. "How do you feel? Actually..." she paused, then crawled up the bed some to turn on the small bedside lamp, which cast a pretty inefficient glow into the room. But it was enough for her, and she took out a diary from the drawer and a pen with it. Then she crawled back over toward him, sitting indian style as she cracked the book and started jotting things down. At the top of the page, there was his name, written in her thin, spindly script. "Have you experienced anything odd since I bit you?" she asked, looking up at him.
“Under a spell?” he asked, raising a brow. While it would explain quite a bit, Aidan didn’t feel like anything he was thinking or doing was the result of some magical compulsion. But maybe that was the problem, that he was the one feeling it, so he couldn’t tell the difference. “I dreamt of you last night,” he said, stretching out on her bed to lay on his side, his head propped up on one hand. “But I feel fine. Not like I’m being pushed to do something I don’t want to do.” Aidan was strong-willed enough that he knew he’d be fighting it, if that was the case.
Nodding, she wrote down what he said, looking up only when she was finished. Gazing down at him, she watched his eyes for a moment. "What did you dream?" she asked. She wasn't sure anyone had ever done that before. Or, if they had, they hadn't told her about it. It was fascinating, however.
Aidan clenched his jaw and swallowed, hoping that the blush he felt wasn’t crawling up his neck again. “Do you think it matters?” he asked, not wanting to delve into the details. If they were going to go down that road, the conversation needed to be taken elsewhere. Anywhere other than her bed.
She didn't see the blush so much as heard his heart's pace trip up just a little. She leaned closer to him, inside his space. "Why would it not?" she posed, now even more curious. "What did you dream?" she repeated the question. She internally struggled to know whether she wanted to know because she wanted to document the entire experience, or if she wanted to know to satisfy her own curiosity.
What if she was right? What if this was all a part of her biting him? He wasn’t sure if that would make him feel better or worse. His feelings felt so real, but they were so wrong that he almost wanted that excuse. “I dreamt of fucking you,” he said, eyes dropping away from hers and down to her bedspread. Now he was sure he was blushing. At least the room was dark. “How old are you?” he asked, since that was seriously bugging him. He was prepared for the worst.
She saw that blush, like the night before. His choice of words was interesting, so was the topic. He'd parted ways with her, then gone home to dream of being inside her? People had many different words for the act, of course, and while she was aware they were often defined differently and meant alternative things to the speaker, she wasn't sure what all those alterations meant. Or what it meant to him. She noted that he seemed unable to look at her when he said it. Sylvia quickly wrote down his direct quote on the subject of the dream before she set the journal aside for a moment, answering his question. "Sixteen." she told him. "Was it a good dream?"
Aidan had chosen his wording with care, even if it didn’t sound like it. He couldn’t say ‘making love’ because that wasn’t it at all. And ‘having sex with’ sounded too clinical in nature, at least to him. He’d said it the way he’d dreamt it and it bothered him on a multitude of levels. When she said she was sixteen, he sighed softly, the tiniest bit relieved. She was still too young for him, but he felt a little less like a pervert. “It was,” he said, lips turning up as he glanced up at her. “Do you think that’s normal? For me to dream of you like that after you bit me?”
The exhale confused her. In the end she wound up laying out on her stomach next to him, propped up on her elbows so she could still write, and look at him. "What is the sigh for?" she asked. She also belatedly noticed that her fangs seemed to have returned, even if she was unsure as to why exactly. Perhaps because he was talking about being bit, even if it wasn't the focus of his statement. "I think I'm still defining normal. I never much liked the word. I never fit into the category myself. Do you dream about people you just meet? Do you dream about fucking often? Do you feel like it's normal, or like it's a side effect from either my biting you or you getting some of my blood?"
“You’re not as young as I thought you were… and that makes me feel better.” He wondered why it was so easy to be open with her about this, when it made him so uncomfortable. Perhaps because she was asking from such a clinical standpoint. She was trying to learn about herself, and he understood that. He wanted to help, despite his discomfort. “Sometimes I dream about people I’ve just met. It depends on the time spent with them, or if something about the encounter stuck with me. I don’t normally have sexual dreams about them unless the encounter itself was erotic, which… ours kind of was. I don’t feel like it’s normal, but not because you’re a vampire or because you bit me. It bothers me because I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to think those kinds of things about you.” But he did. He very much did.
"People often confuse me for younger than I am." she confided. She knew it was how she dressed, and genetics. It just didn't bother her, though clearly it had bothered him. She supposed she could understand why. When he spoke, she flipped to a new page and continued noting down things about him. She bit lightly at the end of her pen, looking at him again after she was finished with notation. "Those are different things, I believe." she said. "It not being normal and it bothering you, and possibly that you are thinking those kinds of things about me. Though, if your evidence is that you dreamed of me, then it may not be the case that you're thinking about me like that, it could just be your mind interpreting things, and spitting it back in your direction, with the context mixed up." she suggested.
Her explanation confused him and he was quiet for a minute, trying to make sense of what she said. In the end, he tried to explain himself, hoping that might clarify it better at least for him. “So do you think my thoughts when I’m awake are the result of my dreams? And that my dreams were brought on by something non-human?” he asked. “I can’t make sense of what I’m feeling. It all feels real, but I’m not sure I would know if it wasn’t.”
Sylvia considered before she answered. "What are your thoughts when you're awake?" she asked first, feeling that was important. Just having a dream about her could be nothing. It could also be significant but dreams in general were alien territory. They were tricky things at best. She almost wanted to add to her description, but she didn't. Though she did absently run her tongue across the point of her right fang.
In his dreams, he hadn’t had to think about what he wanted. It was all so simple. But when he was awake, he couldn’t think about her without the barrage of questions and concerns. He didn’t remember feeling attracted to her before she bit him, but he wasn’t sure he’d considered it. Which was normal, in his estimation, because of her age. But now he couldn’t get her out of his head and only half of that was because she’d stolen his lighter. “Similar to when I’m asleep, but much more complicated.”
As she waited, and listened, she crossed her legs at the ankles, swaying her feet above herself back and forth, a slow progression. "Do you want to leave?" she asked. "Take your lighter and put me out of your mind?" Sylvia certainly didn't want him to do that, but she wondered if he might. If things were tangled up and complicated for him to the point where he would deem it best to just not deal with it at all. She would be used to that reaction to her. Many people over the years had decided she was far more trouble than she was worth. Her own parents had.
“No,” Aidan said, not even having to think on it. “I enjoy your company and I do consider you a friend. I’m just not usually drawn to girls so much younger than me and it weirds me out a little.” It didn’t help that she would never get any older, if vampire lore had anything right. Their age difference would just get worse. “But if I don’t make you uncomfortable, then I don’t want to leave.” He did care what she thought in all this and was curious on that point as well.
Sylvia's lips curled up at the immediate answer. That was good to know. She also felt the need to write down the words 'drawn to'. "You don't make me uncomfortable." she assured him. "I like you." she continued. "I like talking to you. You seem to be patient with me. You don't look at me like I'm strange." Among other things. She still couldn't quite figure out why her fangs weren't going away, but it could have something to do with the idea that she wanted to get closer to him. Even just a little bit. What did she want, exactly? To bite him again? Just get closer to be closer? She couldn't tell. "I would consider you a friend also." she wanted him to know. "Do you believe you'll get over being 'weirded out'?" she asked. "Should I not bite you again?"
“It’s not as weird when I’m with you,” he said. “It’s more… when I think about outside perceptions.” Every single member of his family would flip if they knew the thoughts he had about Sylvia. Even Darcy had been worried, though that was when Aidan had thought she was fourteen, not sixteen. Those two years were significant in his book. “I don’t usually care, so maybe I’ll get over it. I’m pretty good at talking myself into whatever I want, and I doubt this’ll be different. And I do hope you’ll bite me again,” he smirked, reaching out so his fingers barely touched hers. “I enjoyed it.”
He was being reassuring, at least. "Outside perceptions of me will always be negative," she told him. "They always have been. I assume they always will be. On top of me being...me, I'm a vampire now, which is technically a 'monster'." she told him, putting her pen down. She folded her arms, and rested her cheek against her shoulder, gazing now up at him slightly. "You may want to keep that in mind. Any association with me will splash back on you negatively." When he touched her fingers, she was distracted by that, and in turn she slid over the backs of his. If she turned his hand over, she knew there was a spot on the heel of his hand there, not quite the wrist, but close. Absently, she completed her thought by executing the motion, tracing her finger on that spot, a light circle. "I did too." she told him, voice softer than before. She'd enjoyed it more than anything ever. Ever.
“But I’m not talking about perceptions of you, personally. I don’t give a shit what others think. I like you. I don’t think you’re strange, nor do I think you’re a monster.” What he was talking about was the fact that she was so much younger than him. And when he’d thought she was fourteen, it was just so wrong that he couldn’t handle it. Now, it was a tiny bit better. “I can handle what people think of me. I always have, and it hasn’t always been positive.” He’d never dealt with something like this before, but he couldn’t imagine backing down from something he wanted due to the pressures of others. It just wasn’t who he was. “I’d let you now if I could,” he admitted, enjoying the way she was touching him, even if it made him want to touch her more.
"I meant that it'll always influence how people see you, if I happen to be around." Sylvia said. "I've...seen it." she admitted. "I appreciate that you don't care, and that that wouldn't bother you, but it is a consideration. You may want to keep any involvement of any kind with me to yourself. Even if it's to quiet your own mind about it and doesn't have to do with satisfying other's world views." she advised. What did people refer to things like that as? 'Dirty little secrets'? She wasn't sure the context was completely accurate, but she wasn't exactly sure what the criteria demanded either. So it was possible she qualified. "I appreciate you not viewing me as a monster, though I believe the term is accurate. I do have fangs and drink blood. Your blood." She found herself getting a little closer to him before she could quite stop herself. It reminded her of magnets when she recognized what she was doing. Her eyes were still on his hand there, that spot she was tracing circles around and around. Right there. She could sink her fangs in right there. "I find myself wanting to, even if it isn't for sustenance." she admitted.
“Why do you think that happens?” he asked, since his own perception of her wasn’t negative. She was a little odd, yes, but not to the point that he was driven away. It was the opposite, in fact. Her differences made her interesting. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He wasn’t going to ignore her advice, even if he didn’t like it. He’d just have to see how people acted around her to better understand what she was talking about, since he seemed to be one of the exceptions. “I think monsters are supposed to be frightening or hideous creatures. You are neither, nor do you insight nightmares,” he said with a smirk as he looked down at where she was rubbing a small circle on his wrist. “If you drink from my wrist, I’ll lose too much, too fast,” he added softly. “If it’s not for sustenance, isn’t it better to pick some place that you can take your time and enjoy it?”
"I'm not like them, and I have the audacity not to try to be." Sylvia said, which was the very basic version of her opinion. "People don't like things that are different. Also, I suppose I'm not a warm individual. I've been called cold often." She gave the ghost of a smile. "I suppose it's true, now." she said. She ticked her gaze back to him from his hand. "You don't find me frightening?" she asked reaching out to brush her fingers against the side of his neck. "I did break your pretty neck after all." Of course she'd done so specifically to fix it, but technically, she could have been wrong, and he could have wound up paralyzed. "But I'm glad I don't insight nightmares." she added. "Perhaps I'm part succubus."
When he mentioned taking her time to enjoy it, she considered, then held eye contact. "If you got to choose where, where would it be?" she asked. "Do you want it someplace specific?"
“I like things that are different,” Aidan pointed out, which was probably why he liked her. “But you’re right, most people don’t.” They didn’t trust different because it was unexpected. It made them uncomfortable. “You’re not frightening. Dangerous, maybe, but not frightening.” And he could be dangerous as well, but didn’t think he’d fall into the monster category either. At the mention of her being a succubus, he laughed. “If you bite someone else and they have similar dreams, then maybe.” Nothing about her made him think of a succubus, though.
Aidan didn’t have some place specific in mind for a bite and had to pause and think for a second. He’d very much enjoyed her biting his neck, but knew that was as bad as the wrist when it came to bleeding. “I don’t know,” he said. “I liked having you in my lap last time, but that’s for purely selfish reasons. I find it harder to choose when it’s not the neck. Maybe my forearm?”
Sylvia listened, smiling faintly at everything. She appreciated his point of view, and not just because she benefited from it. It was similar to her own outlook. She'd liked being in his lap too, and she ran her tongue over a fang again, eyes falling to his arm, of course when he suggested it. Then she got up to her hands and knees, and moved closer to him. When she looked down at him when she was that close, and stayed there for a heartbeat. Then she dropped down with her back to his chest, curled up against him like that. Her head rested on his bicep, and she reached out to draw his forearm up, nuzzling at the inside of it for a moment. God, things had been so intense, last time. So amazingly good she couldn't even truly process it. Would it be this time?
His heart began to beat faster as she crawled towards him, eyes holding hers and wondering what she was going to do. For a second, when she was leaning over him, he thought he might just lean up and-- but then she was curling up against him, snug against his body. Aidan pulled her closer, taking a deep breath as she nuzzled his arm. He liked this position almost as much as when she’d bitten him before, his free arm wrapping around her waist. “Will you bite me?” he whispered, lips just behind her ear, her hair in his face.
Sylvia really liked hearing his heart speed up like that. It was enticing in a way she'd never experienced before, something she never would have really imagined. She liked that he pulled her closer, he felt warm against her back. The weight of his arm around her was pleasant as well. She shivered a little when he murmured in her ear. And she might have answered, but her restraint broke then and her answer was to bite him. She sank her fangs into his forearm on the inside, and while the blood didn't splash into her mouth like previously, it still welled and flowed freely, immediately bringing her right back to that place she'd been at the bar--as evidenced by the soft sound in the back of her throat.
Aidan hissed softly from the pain, but it was short-lived as the desire he’d felt the previous night returned. There was definitely something about her bite that he found arousing and now that it was happening, he didn’t care if the pull he felt for her was magical or not. It was there and he was willing to embrace it. The soft noise she made started it, sending a pulse down his body, and before he knew it he’d pulled her tighter against him. Breathing heavily, his hand moved to her hip, then slowly down her thigh and up again, tugging her skirt up. He wanted to touch more of her, but it was so hard to resist, his control as thin as hers seemed to be.
For some reason, she really liked that hiss sound. She wasn't sure why, but there was something about it. When he seemed to react so fast to things, his hand exploring, her back tighter against him, she felt a rush through her system that wasn't related to the blood. She didn't know exactly what he was going to do but she was dying to find out. The blood she was drawing was a slow thing. She was taking his advice and very much savoring the experience.
It seemed harder to keep control of himself this time and Aidan wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because he’d spent the last twenty-four hours thinking about their last experience and, while he knew there was something wrong with it, he couldn’t help but fantasize about it. How it could have gone. The things he’d wanted to do, but told himself not to. And so having her there now with the feelings returning, it was harder to hold back. Aidan pulled at her skirt until his hand was sliding over the bare skin of her thigh, all the way up till his thumb slid under her panties at the hip. He leaned in and kissed her neck, tongue brushing over her skin before he bit her gently. It was nothing compared to the bite she’d given him, but he didn’t dare bite her harder, not unless she wanted him to.
It was sensory overload. It was like every nerve ending she had was on fire, and picking up everything. She was drowning in it all. His hand on her skin, feeling almost hot to her, it's placement, even if he hadn't done anything further, it was still someplace she'd really never been touched before. And then, her first kiss. It didn't matter that it wasn't on the lips, it was the first time someone had ever kissed her. She gave little sounds at the other stimulation, but the bite? That she gave a gasp for, and she immediately responded by biting him a little harder, and pressing back against him more, even if she literally was as close as she could get without clothing removal involved.
Aidan groaned as she bit him harder, but took it as a good sign, his lips moving a little farther down her neck, kissing before biting her again, not too hard, but more than the first time. The way she pressed back against him felt delicious and he pushed back, his arousal becoming evident. He didn’t care at this point, not with the noises she was making. It was enough to keep his hands moving, down her thighs and back up again, finally coming to rest low on her belly. He had the feeling she’d never done anything like this before and he didn’t want to take advantage of her, except was that still the case if she wanted it too? His sense of judgement was becoming totally warped, adjusting just enough so that he could get what he wanted and not feel too guilty about it.
He got a moan when he bit her again, that coupled with his pushing against her all playing into the experience. She was lost in it all, feeling swept back and forth with everything. One moment she was concentrating on the taste of him, the next she was more aware of his hand, then he would kiss her, followed by the feel of his teeth. It was flickering focuses, something she was not used to. Normally, she would have found something wrong with it, something wrong with her that she was so distracted, but considering how it all felt? She couldn't even drum that up. All she could do was keep drifting all around, appreciating everything for flashes of moments, before something else brought her back there again. She realized only when his hand's exploration came to a halt that she recognized that it should be moving lower still. That wasn't a thought that ever would have occurred before and she didn't even quite know where it came from now, but it was there. She pushed back against him again, her free hand coming to rest over the top of his.
This should have felt wrong, but nothing felt more right. Aidan couldn’t keep track of how much blood she was taking, but it didn’t feel like near as much as last time. The bite was almost an afterthought, connected to what he was feeling, but not the source. Or that was how it felt. Sylvia was the source, every little moan and motion encouraging him where he didn’t need to be encouraged. When her hand come to rest atop his, he took that as a sign and slowly slid it down between her legs, over her panties, biting her shoulder at the same time.
Sylvia was getting distracted from the blood as well. She licked at the wound, but more and more she wanted to concentrate elsewhere. He was getting her attention, drawing her in. She drew in a sharp breath at the conflicting sensations of his hand versus the bite, and she forgot to exhale, her breathing stopping entirely as she seemed on a knife's edge of anticipation. She gripped his hand a little, feeling herself shaking just a touch.
He’d started the day swearing he wouldn’t even kiss her and now Aidan knew he wouldn’t leave without getting her off. That she was letting him do this was such a huge turn on that he hardly noticed when she stopped sucking his blood for a moment. The only thing that would make this better was the chance to kiss her, but he could deal with his mouth on her neck, kissing and nipping as he pulled her panties aside and slid a finger inside her.
What he got was a sharp cry, a rush of a gasp. She felt pain, having never been touched before. Definitely not like that. So, she understood the mechanics of it and all, but her mind wasn't working in it's usual analytic way. She pushed hard back against him, her grip on his hand got tight, and she only remembered to breathe because nothing had stopped. He was still kissing, nipping, and she was responsive to every one.
“Fuck,” he cursed softly against her skin, withdrawing his finger to tease her. He’d known. He would have bet his life on it, and yet he’d forgotten when it mattered, desire getting the better of him. Though while he was sure her initial response was one of pain, nothing she did afterwards made him think she wanted him to stop. He teased her for a minute more before sliding his finger gently back in and beginning to stroke her. He had the feeling that he was going to leave her house incredibly frustrated, but it didn’t matter at the moment, too focused on her to care.
Sylvia was aware as the pain ebbed back and pleasure took it's place that he was good at this. It seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing, no fumbling around whatsoever, and once the pain was vanished, everything was right. For her, it didn't occur to her to curb any sounds he was getting, so she was vocal. She was entirely swept away with it all, only a very distant part of her brain realizing that she'd really imagined things like this would never, ever happen to her. And yet there she was. His name slipped out in a soft, shakey breath, and she turned her head to try her best to look over her shoulder at him, even if she was aware she probably wouldn't be able to see him.
He would have never wanted to silence her, enjoying every noise she made as it only encouraged him further. His hips rocked with the rhythm of his hand, the pressure of her body against his providing the only stimulation that he could get. A shudder rolled through him as she gasped his name and when she turned slightly he took advantage of the opportunity to kiss her properly. It was a little kiss at first, but it quickly became a deeper kiss, one that captured the hunger he was feeling. It felt right to be kissing her as he added another finger into the mix, hoping to get his name out of her again.
Funny, how even if she didn't know how to kiss, really, didn't have the experience, she didn't overthink it when it happened. If she wasn't in the middle of things, she would have. She would have gone over the mechanics in her mind, likely taken far too long with everything. But wrapped up in the moment so thoroughly? It wasn't even a consideration. She was being kissed, and she returned it. She knew she'd already taste like blood, and her fang caught her lip just enough to make it bleed, something she did on purpose. To help heal his wound, to hopefully make this biting him thing something they could keep doing--because she was already viewing this as addictive. Even still in the midst of it all she knew she would want more. Would be preoccupied with it. Him. At more stimulation, she gave another cry out, and he was rewarded with his name again, something spoken into the kiss.
That little bit of blood didn’t even surprise him. It was there, in the kiss, and he assumed it was his own, since she’d been sucking at his arm. If it was the bite that turned him on, logic would say that he should stop when she stopped sucking his blood, but that wasn’t the case. He wanted her more than ever-- wanted to touch her, tasted her, and pound her into the bed. And the only reason he wouldn’t do all of them at once was because he wanted to savor the moment and teach her one thing at a time. He didn’t care how wrong it was, he would have her. Tonight was just a taste of how good it could be, his fingers stroking her as his thumb pressed against her clit, his tongue in her mouth, stealing a kiss.
At the pressure of his thumb, it was a little like she'd been hit by lightning. The response was immediate, her whole form tensing. She cried out, and shifted on the bed, just enough that she could drop down onto her back, allowing him to be more over her than behind. It made kissing easier, and she went for it, reaching up to keep him there, her fingers in his hair to do so. She felt everything building, that feeling rolling toward her so much faster with just that one addition from him.
He grinned into the kiss, pleased with her reaction, and when she shifted under him, he adjusted as well, the arm she’d bit now free to cup her face as he kissed her. Aidan let his weight press her into the bed as his hand kept at it, urging her on, wanting to feel her shudder beneath him. He wondered if she’d ever felt anything like this before, even at her own hand, but he was guessing not. And he loved that. To be the only one who’d ever made her feel this way, he reveled in it. He might not have her tonight, but he would soon enough, and she’d be ready for it.
All of the sensations played into what she was experiencing. Including feeling his weight above her, pressing her down. She looked up at him, eyes unfocused, as she felt everything in her seem to tighten up, then shatter. When it happened, she cried out, loud, and she felt like physically, her entire person was thriving, lit up. She clung to him as she trembled, like he was the only steady point in a world that had abruptly spun out of control.
Beautiful, he thought. Absolutely, fucking beautiful. He ached to be there with her, to have her hands on him, to be inside her, but he knew he had to be patient. How bad was it that he’d gone from not daring to kiss her to knowing without a doubt that he would eventually fuck her? Her age wasn’t even coming into play anymore, though he knew that he would have to keep this a secret. That part was a shame. And it was going to be a pain. But he didn’t care. He’d done far worse things in life than bring a virgin to orgasm.
She collapsed back, feeling much like she had last night after drinking from him. Like everything was fuzzy, but in such a pleasant way. She gazed up at him, recovering but not even attempting to rush that. Her breath was evening out slowly, and she reached up to put her palm to his cheek, just studying him. She could see how deep his eyes were there, pupils dilated. There was a faint trace of blood on his lower lip. She remembered pretty much everything, but in that moment she wanted to be sure she remembered this. Him, looking down at her like that.
He’d seen that look on her before, last night, after she’d drank human blood for the first time. His blood. It was a good look on her, one that he enjoyed producing. His eyes held hers as he slowly removed his fingers, but he refused to move away from her. As for himself, he was still breathing heavily, still aroused, but unwilling to do anything about it this time. Aidan looked down at her, not sure what to say, and so he kissed her once more. For him, that pretty much said it all.
She wanted to do something for him, but didn't know what. She could smell it, underneath everything else. The scent of blood, other things. Still. Desire to do that, however, warred with that pleasant exhausted haze she existed in. She was trying to come up with words when he kissed her again, and she returned it, happy to throw herself into that in order to communicate. She'd never felt anything like this, it even trumped last night.
It was going to be hard for him to leave, he realized. He wanted to stay with her, curl up in bed and make sure she healed. Which reminded him that he was there for his lighter, but now with even more purpose, because he refused to give her back her umbrella unless he walked out with his lighter. And she needed her umbrella. Parasol. He’d get the words right eventually. Aidan smoothed her clothes back into place and slowly broke the kiss, though he could have stayed there longer. “Hotter or colder?” he asked with a little grin.
The question actually got a laugh out of her. It was a surprised sound, and not one that happened often in Sylvia's life. She didn't find humor in much, really, so laughter was a pretty damn rare occurrence. But that got it. She also smiled at him, a beaming sort of expression. "Hotter than you were." she told him, looking up at him. She didn't really want him to move away either, but was aware he likely needed to.
His grin widened when she laughed, aware that she hadn’t done it that often in his company. It was a nice sound, one that suited her, and he thought he should aim to hear it from her more often. “Is it on you?” he asked, raising a brow as one of his hands slid up her body, eventually cupping her breast. “Somehow I doubt it.” Though he wouldn’t put it past her.
She hadn't expected that, though she smiled at him. "It is not on my person. Though the idea has merit." she told him. Perhaps if she stole something else small of his, he would have to search for it on her. "I'm afraid you'll have to search elsewhere."
“I like searching you,” he told her with a smirk, but then slowly pulled away and rose from the bed. Where had he been before? The nightstand? He moved to it, opening the drawer, but not seeing what he was looking for, so he moved back to the vanity. There was a lot there to go over, but he was drawn to the jewelry box. He put his hand on top and looked to her, hoping for a clue.
She felt like it was a loss to have him move so far away, but she composed herself. Sitting up, she adjusted her skirt, eyes back on him. When he touched the jewelry box, she smiled. "Burning." she confirmed.
Aidan grinned as he opened it up, going through all the little drawers until he found his lighter. He immediately wanted to light up, but doubted she wanted him smoking in the house. He wrapped his fingers around it and turned back to her with a grin. “Thank you for helping me,” he said, returning to the side of the bed. “I knew it would be difficult, but there were more places to look than I expected.”
The jewelry box itself was a tattered thing. The tinny strain of 'somewhere over the rainbow' played as a broken ballerina attempted to spin, but she didn't move well. The box wound down quickly, the song getting slower and eerier, until it all stopped. Sylvia's attention was on Aidan, however. "You're welcome." she said, looking up at him. She reached out and turned his arm toward her, however, just to be sure the wound there was healed. There was some dried blood there, but otherwise, he was totally fine. No mark whatsoever. "Eventually, you'll not get hints anymore. So you best learn the place." she warned, with a small smile.
The music in the background seemed fitting. Aidan found he liked it better slow and creepy, rather than it’s normal speed. “I can deal with that,” he grinned, watching her examine his arm. He couldn’t even tell where she’d bitten him. That didn’t mean she hadn’t, though, and he knew he’d need to drink as many fluids as possible in the next few hours. Giving her blood twice in two days was probably more than he should have. “I’m good with attention to detail. I wonder how long it’ll take you to figure out what I took.” He wanted her to have a chance to hunt him down next time, see if she could find her key. The only challenge would be Eily. Sylvia had the advantage of living alone.
"I may have an unfair advantage. I don't forget things." Sylvia told him. She brushed her thumb over his unmarred skin. "So, give me a moment to walk through the house, and I'll tell you what you chose." she said, sliding down off the bed. She glanced around her room first, slowly making a circuit of it. Then she shook her head. "Whatever it is, it isn't in here."
As she touched his arm, his eyes turned to her burns. He thought they looked better, but that could just be his eyes playing tricks on him. He liked to think his blood had made a difference. “You have a photographic memory?” he asked, looking around the room. If that was the case, she was going to figure out what he took fairly quickly.
She nodded. "Yes." she said. Then she headed out of the room, glancing at the collection of keys. She noticed it immediately, and smiled as she kept walking. "It's a skull key." she told him, reaching up to mime a key unlocking her head at the temple. "I keep moving it. I don't know if it should be with the other keys, or if it needs to be with my Trepanning skull boring tool. I feel like they should go together, but it still is technically a key..."
Aidan reached in his pocket and pulled it out, since she’d obviously figured it out. “It didn’t seem to fit with the others,” he said, looking at it, then putting it back in it’s place. He was both disappointed and impressed that she’d figured it out so easily. He’d have to do a better job at picking something out next time. “I couldn’t figure out what it was a key to, so I thought I’d look into it. How is it used?”
Sylvia reached out and picked it back up. "You slide in this end, then turn it, to flip the skull safely up after the cut is made." she told him. Then she held it out toward him. "You can keep it for a while if you wish." she told him. "It's interesting. I found it in a hospital along the way." she explained. "The Trepanning bore I got at an antique shop."
“I’ve never heard of it,” he said, turning it over in his hand before slipping it back in his pocket. “That’s kinda cool. I wouldn’t have known what I was looking at if I saw it.” He’d only known it was a key of some sort because she kept it with the keys. “I’m going to take a wild guess that trepanning is some kind of a skull drill?” He wasn’t sure how she knew these things, but he found it fascinating. Maybe he needed to check out a few of her books, since the ones he’d always looked into were boring.
Sylvia nodded, brightening of course with his asking about something she found interesting. "Oh, yes." she said. "It's actually an ancient practice. There are prehistoric skulls found with holes in them from it. It's considered by some to be the oldest surgical procedure. Or, at least, the oldest there's actually evidence for."
“Like a prehistoric lobotomy?” He wasn’t all that familiar with the reasons that people might need to open skulls or bore holes in them, but he found the practice interesting. People did weird things, it seemed, sometimes without reason.
"Oh, no. It was used to take care of other things, like epilepsy, mental disorders...oh, and the bone that was cut out was sometimes used as a ward against evil spirits." she told him with a nod. "So, fascinating, really." She smiled at him. "I have a book about it if you wanted to see." she told him, starting toward the living room. It occurred to her that it was the middle of the night now, and he might need to leave, but she didn't want him to. She felt like she connected with him, on more than one level. She wanted to keep hold of that connection. It was rapidly becoming very important to her.
“Sure,” he said, following her towards the living room. He was in no hurry to leave, not now, though he’d need to go eventually. It was late and it would raise too many questions if he never came home. Eily gave him his space, but she’d definitely notice that. “It’s interesting what people have done and considered medicine. Like leeches. While I get it, it’s not something I would ever want to have done to me. But I guess when it came to mental disorders, they were willing to try anything and the person who was suffering didn’t have much of a choice.”
"Did you know that there was a time where surgery wasn't actually practiced by doctors that much, but barbers? They were unoriginally referred to as 'Barber Surgeons'." she told him. When they got to the living room she knew just which shelf to look on, and tipped out the old leather bound book with ease. Bringing it over, she handed it to him, pleased he might even be a little interested in learning about barbaric initial practices of boring people's heads open to poke around in there.
“You’re full of all kinds of interesting information,” he grinned, taking the book when she handed it to him. “Sometime you’re going to have to tell me how you learned all this stuff, if you found the books first or went searching for them after finding out elsewhere.” If the internet was still around, it wouldn’t have surprised him to know she had all kinds of crazy information in her head, but these days people had to seek it out.
Sylvia went to sit on the couch, curling up on one end of it. "I spent most of my time alone before the zombies." she told him. "We had a library at the house, and I could order any books I wanted. So...I read. All the time." And she'd already told him that she didn't really forget things, so that was why all the random tidbits were in there. "It was all I had to do that held my interest."
“You had a library in the house?” Aidan asked, coming to sit next to her on the couch, turned to face her. “Did you have any brothers or sisters?” He knew very little about her, he realized. Not about her family or her upbringing. He couldn’t imagine having a library unless she had quite a bit of money, though that hardly mattered now. It just mattered in how she saw things, which he already recognized as different from the norm.
Nodding, she leaned her shoulder against the back of the couch, so she could face him properly as well. "My parents were well off." she told him. "I didn't have siblings, no. I think I turned my parents off of the idea." she admitted. Which was the first time she'd ever uttered that out loud. There was just something about Aidan that made her want to share.
“I doubt that,” Aidan said, though that she thought it made him sad. “You’re different, but they wouldn’t have known how different until you were probably four or five, maybe six. Most people that want more than one kid have had their second before then.” It was a very logical explanation, but it was the way he saw things. Coming from a big family, he didn’t think that one child’s birth had anything to do with the others either. They were all different, even though they were all O’Reilly’s.
"While that's a nice thought, not everyone works that way. I know after me they wouldn't consider further children. There's technically 'something wrong' with me." Sylvia explained. "No one was ever able to put their finger on what, though. I just was brought to all kinds of doctors, and no one had answers. Also...with some disorders, you can tell at a very young age."
“Well, they’re stupid then,” Aidan said, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ears. It sounded childish to say it like that, but he didn’t have a better way of putting it. “Just because someone’s different doesn’t make them wrong. I know we already talked about that, but… I hope you know that I don’t see you that way.” There was plenty wrong with himself as well, such as his attraction to a sixteen year old girl and his addiction to stealing stuff. He hoped she didn’t see him as wrong either.
Smiling at his sentiment, and his tucking her hair behind her ears, she appreciated it all. "I'm glad you don't see me that way. But I think you're the only one." she admitted. She didn't find it sad or anything, merely fact. Even Noah got frustrated with her sometimes, she knew. He knew sometimes there was something wrong with her. But if Aidan didn't think so...she would hold on to that.
He wished he could reassure her that that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t know when it came to others. If she didn’t have any other friends, what could he really do about it? Nothing. In fact, if he got involved, it would be creepy. Not that he hadn’t already jumped into that territory feet first… “Then I consider myself lucky,” he told her with a small smile. “I should get going, though. It’s late.”
She sighed, but nodded. "Okay." she told him. "Did you bring my parasol?" she asked. She needed to know if she would have to try to get to school before dawn or not on Monday. She also wanted to ask when they would see another again, but she didn't know if that would sound needy or not. She was rather in the dark about all of this. Even what their 'status' might be, if there was one beyond 'friend'. She would need to work on the assumption that until otherwise stated, 'friend' was the appropriate title.
If she would have asked, Aidan would have told her that he didn’t do things like that with his friends, though he had no good title for what they were either. More than friends, that much was clear to him, but defining what was more difficult. “Of course,” he smiled. “It’s by the door.” If he hadn’t found his lighter, he’d intended to take it back home with him, but that was before he knew about her burns. Luckily, he found his lighter. “You’ll have to steal something new from me,” he said, rising to his feet. He paused, then leaned down to kiss her one last time, his fingers running through her hair. “And steal back your key.”
She returned the kiss, feeling like it was softer than the others. Like it was a goodbye kiss. Which, he was leaving, so it qualified. Still. Her eyes had fallen shut, and she had to reopen them when he spoke again. "I will." she promised. She kept her gaze on him, wondering what exactly she was feeling. All she knew is it was something. Something strong, a little blindsiding, and clearly not going away. "Be careful out there, Aidan."
“Always,” he said with a little smirk before heading out the door. He was no safer in the dome than outside it, even if the dangers had changed. If she was a monster, then ‘safe’ had become a much more difficult concept. He’d never put too much stock in the notion of being safe, and if being around Sylvia meant he was putting himself at risk, then he’d continue to do so. It was a cliff he’d already jumped off and he was enjoying the fall, rather than worrying about the crashing landing at the end.