Just a bite of the cupcake Who: Ryan and Frankie What: First meeting When: 01.02.13 - Wednesday Night Where: Out and about Warnings: A bit of language and vampire biting ;)
Ryan knew that it was cold out, but he didn't much care. He had a jacket so who cared how cold it was. He was bored and tired of being cooped up in the shop so he went for a walk, heading off down the road from the tattoo parlor with no particular destination in mind. There weren't many people out on the streets, as a matter of fact, he was about the only person out save for the person he could hear coming closer, footsteps on pavement. His ears perked up and he halted his steps, backed up against the wall of the building closest to him and glanced in the direction of the sound. He didn't particularly like being snuck up on and he didn't plan on letting someone approach from the rear and startle him. "What's up?" he asked as the figure got closer.
She was hungry. Frankie felt her fangs inside her mouth and didn’t dare answer. The last thing she wanted was to be run out of town before she was even settled. It was cold, she should have been dressed warmer, but all she had was a tank top and vest without a trace of gooseflesh on her arms. There were about a dozen visible piercings on her face and the start of a tattoo on one arm. She sized the stranger up with a glance, and gave him a curt nod. Frankie ran a tongue over her teeth under her closed lips, trying to will her fangs to retract.
The woman - or girl, since Ryan wasn't all that sure which it was - towered over him. That, however, wasn't unusual. Most people towered over him and for the most part, it was pretty awesome. He ended up being eye level with a hell of a lot of breasts and what guy didn't like that? She didn't speak, she smelled a little off and he was pretty sure, even in the darkness, that he saw fangs. And the girl was wearing a damn tank top and a vest and it was freezing balls outside. He felt a little nervous, eyes on the woman's face. "Need something?" he asked her. "Aren't you cold?"
“Dead don’t get cold,” she said with a slow, measured drawl. Yep, there were fangs, obvious now that they were close and talking. She watched him carefully. Would he bolt? Scream? Call 911 or try to press assault charges? Maybe the supernatural were out in the open, but that was far from acceptance. “Unless you know where a girl can get a decent meal?”
She careful not to make one sudden move. If he ran she’d let him. It wasn’t as though she’d hit desperation yet. Blood and a shower would make her feel like a million bucks.
Well that certainly answered his unasked question. Vampire. He was torn between being terrified and being awesomely surprised. He didn't scream, nor did he run. She hadn't touched him so he didn't feel the need to give her a reason to chase him when there was no wrongdoing. "Depends," he told her. "I have the feeling if you said you like Italian food it wouldn't have the same meaning as it would coming from me." He chuckled a little and shrugged. "Do you always ask or can you just like run up, bite someone and haul ass? No disrespect or anything, just curious."
“You mean like assault? I try to avoid that best I can.” Her brows went up but she had a strong poker face. She might have found him hilarious or completely obnoxious, she gave him another look up and down. True, there were other things she could have tried, like using her gaze to talk someone into something they might not have normally agreed on but it was wiser to play that card close to her chest. “You ain’t got to worry none. Tiny thing like you? I doubt you meet the Red Cross weight requirements.”
"Oh, she's got jokes," he said, chuckling a little. It wasn't the first time he'd been called tiny. It never happened when it mattered so he didn't much care. He let it roll of his shoulders like he did most things. Her accent was different, old timey in a way. He couldn't quite place it, but being Irish coming into America tended to make all the accents run together. He shrugged that off too and focused more on the woman and the matter at hand. "Guess I wouldn't be more than a snack for you then. Oh well, I'm probably delicious. Like a snack cake or something."
“You offering, Hostess?” She looked a little surprised, but who was she to turn down the offer of a damn fool. Not that she would hurt him, but she could think of vampires that wouldn’t bat an eye at making some young, curious thing disappear. Her arms crossed, stuck between amused and annoyed, but keeping herself from lecturing. At least for now.
"I wouldn't say offering really. I mean I'm not opposed but I guess it depends on how much damage you plan on doing to me," Ryan told her, tilting his head a little. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that she didn't have the power to wipe him out with a snap of her fingers, but he was trying not to think about that at the moment.
“I wouldn’t think of leaving a mark, not on some friendly little snack cake like you. But if you ain’t serious, I need to find someone who is. No offense, but I can’t exactly roll up to some 7-11 whenever I’m hungry.”
He couldn't help but grin a little at what she had to say. "I've never been a snack for a vampire before," he admitted. "So do you like... want privacy or something?" he asked, wondering if he should take her back to his place or if she wanted to find some creepy, dark alley to bite him in. In a way he felt sort of like a prostitute asking a John for his preferences. "You've got more experience with this sort of thing, miss, you tell me."
Her eyes lit up. Fang curious -- she couldn’t have planned that one better. She grinned a little, too, letting a real emotion read on her face for the first time during their brief conversation. “You can call me Frankie. Feed on you here and someone’s likely to call the police. Or stake me through the heart. It’s safer for me if we go somewhere private. You take your pick. Whatever makes you feel comfortable or safe or whatever.”
Ryan pondered over the option briefly. "Do I have to invite you in?" he asked, thinking that he'd heard somewhere that he'd have to. "I've always wondered if that meant that if I don't want you there I can take away the invitation and you have to leave right? Seems safe to me." Though it was possible that all the things he'd heard were untrue. And it was also possible that she could rip him in half if she felt like it before he got the chance to take back the invitation. Oh well. You only live once right?
“Only if we’re going to your place,” but Frankie didn’t answer the rest. She wasn’t keen to explain the rules for her own selfish reasons. The less people knew about the undead the better off she’d be. “Lead the way, Cupcake.”
She grinned, happy enough to give him nicknames until he gave her something else.
He didn't really care if she gave him all the dishy details of the vampire rules and ways of life. He didn't really give too much of a damn about them anyway. "Promise I'll live through this encounter?" he asked, flashing her a little smile and letting his eyes flick over her, a little more comfortable with the woman now that she was smiling. Even if the fangs were still kind of scary.
“You ain’t even showed me your house. You havin’ second thoughts it ain’t too late to back down now.” The smile faded a bit and her eyes took on a serious gleam. She was a predator, no matter how humanely she treated the living, and he was smart to be reluctant. She could have pressed with a look, but she could make it a few more hours. No need for desperation yet.
Ryan shrugged a little. "If you were going to kill me, I think you would have done it already," he finally decided before turning and heading towards the building that housed the tattoo shop and his apartment on the floor above. He paused after a couple of steps and looked back at her over his shoulder. "You coming?"
“No need to tell me twice.” She looked like she could have been a regular client of his. Frankie followed him, careful to give him some space. He was curious, sure, but she wasn’t going to risk spooking him, either. He was only human, after all.
It didn't take long to get back to the shop. He opened the door and led her through the parlor, through the back exit that led to the stairs that went up to his apartment. Once that the door, he unlocked it and stepped inside and looked at the woman on the stairs. "Should I be all dramatic and give a song and dance about letting you inside?" he teased, flashing her a smile to let her know he was teasing. Waving a hand, he motioned for her to enter. "Come in."
She followed him and waited patiently at the door, expressionless until he let her in. Frankie didn’t mind being teased but an invitation was serious business. Unless he thought enough to revoke it -- she’d be pissed even if he did it in jest -- it meant she could nearly come and go as she pleased. Not that she intended to take advantage, not of the first person she’d met in this town.
“You gon tell me your name, Cupcake? I can keep up the nicknames all night. I figure since you’re being so generous, there no need to act ungrateful about it. I’d also take off your shirt. Not that I’m messy but blood ain’t fun to wash from your clothes.”
Well she got right down to business. He closed the door behind her and led her through to his bedroom. Might as well at least be comfortable if he was going to be bitten and half naked. "Ryan," he told her. "Ryan Gallagher. Not that I mind cupcake though," he admitted. Cupcakes were awesome, why be upset by being called something awesome? He pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it into his hamper once inside his room, letting her come in before closing that door as well. She was still in control, still the one leading the show so he looked to her for the next instruction.
“You are remarkably pale, son.” Frankie was impressed, but resisted calling him Snowball. That might have been pushing it for snack names. She moved slowly, again careful to not act threatening or make any sudden movements, positioning herself behind him, turning him so he could face their reflections in the dresser mirror. “You can watch if you like, or close your eyes if your scared. You get nervous at all, you tap my shoulder and I stop.”
Frankie did not restrain him, but snaked one arm across his chest and other over his stomach. It was remarkably close and intimate but then, feeding was an intimate business.
It wasn't the first time he'd been told he was pale so he just shrugged a little. "Don't get out much, the sun hates me and I'm Irish," he told her. "Pale kind of happened." It worked for him so he didn't much give a damn. When she positioned him to be facing the mirror, he was pretty thrilled with being pale because the contrast of her dark skin against his light was fucking sexy. He nodded a little at her words, watching her arm as it snaked its way across his chest. "I'm not scared," he told her, tilting his head a little to make things easier for her. It was hard to be scared when he was being held onto by a willowy, raven haired beauty. Yeah, this was so difficult for him.
Fangs out, she leaned into him and bit. There was no warning, not before the bite and not about the bite. She could have told him the kinds of things humans tended to experience when bitten, but why spoil the surprise? Her arms were there to support him in case his legs suddenly gave out and she drank slowly. It wasn’t to draw out the experience, though it would, Frankie’s intention was to be careful. She needed at least half a pint, but if she could take a little more without hurting him, she would. At the rate she was going, though? It’d take twenty, thirty minutes at least.
He watched her fangs as she leaned in but despite the slow movement she made at first, he was a little startled by the bite. It hurt a little at first, the breaking of his skin, the sinking in of her teeth but he had to admit that once the initial shock was over, it felt pretty good. He didn't struggle, he just watched, eyes on her reflection in the mirror. There was something pretty damn hot about a girl sucking on his neck, with or without the blood involved. He bit his bottom lip and tried to focus more on staying still than on the woman. The last thing he needed was to get all hot and bothered at that moment. He would have said something to her, asked questions, but her mouth was pretty busy so he kept his own shut.
Some reactions were more dramatic than others. Frankie had experience with all ends of the spectrum, from those who struggled for their life to those who writhed involuntarily. Blood was blood, or at least it normally was, but there was something different about his. He tasted different, and it was warm in her mouth and down her throat and her skin felt pleasant and flush. Frankie exhaled hot from her nostrils against his skin and made a noise of approval as if to say, My, my! Mr. Ryan this is the most delicious cupcake I have ever had! And he was, but if that Mmmm sounded awkward as she fed slowly from him, well, she could apologize for it later.
The sound she made was pretty fucking awesome. Anytime a woman made that sort of sound while her mouth was touching Ryan, it was a good fucking day. Or night as it was. "Guess that translates to 'you're pretty damn tasty', huh?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he watched her in the mirror.
Her lips smiled against his skin, but was otherwise too occupied to answer. If she wasn’t careful, she’d spill and she wasn’t about to waste a drop if she could help it. He might have been charitable tonight, but if he got it out of his system he might not be so willing to take in a stray again. She hugged him a little closer, the hand on his stomach stretching down toward his hip, nails just grazing the skin. Might as well make the experience as pleasant as she could to increase the odds she might be invited back for dinner again.
The smile was enough of an answer for Ryan, distracted and occupied as it might have been. His eyes followed her fingertips as they slid from his stomach towards his hip, fingernails ever so slightly pricking at his flesh. Yeah, she was making it really hard to keep his body from responding to her touches, to the bite, to the way her arms felt around him. He might not have been the fangbanger sort, but he wouldn't mind a repeat performance if it happened anything like this one.
Good. He hadn’t recoiled. Frankie became more affectionate with her hands, moving them over his body. Some vampires likened it to showing affection to a pet, others to embracing a casual lover. Frankie just didn’t want him to get bored or tired. He was handling the feeding well, and while she might have normally sped things up, he tasted too good not to savor. Her hands, at least, never went anywhere inappropriate. She had just met him five minutes ago, after all. Course, she’d be lying if she wouldn’t have enjoyed getting a bigger reaction out of him. Frankie wasn’t a complete saint. She ran a few fingers up through his hair.
Ryan didn't want to recoil. What she was doing felt good and he'd be damned if he stopped her from making him feel good. This was mutually beneficial as far as he was concerned. She got her meal fix and he got a hot chick touching him, sucking on his neck and running her fingers through his hair. So if she wanted that bigger reaction from him, she was getting it. At least in the form of involuntary responses from his body. He didn't even bother to try and hide it, there was no point. He wasn't sure how keen vampire smell was, but she certainly could see well enough.
Frankie smiled again before slowly finishing, barely more than half a pint which was more than safe. Worst case, he might feel light headed if he didn’t regularly drink a glass of water or two a day. Pulling away from his neck the wound bled slowly. Frankie pricked the tips of her index and middle finger and used her blood to erase the bite mark as though it had never happened. It probably wasn’t enough to create a bond. Probably. Most of the time she wouldn’t have bothered or taken the risk, but if she was laying low she might need to visit him again. “Not even a mark, Cupcake.”
Ryan watched as she healed the mark on his neck. He had to admit that was pretty damn awesome. "Oh cool," he commented, tilting his head a little and looking at the spot she was just sucking on. He was a little light headed but it wasn't bad. Not enough to bother him. "You feeling better now?" he asked her, curious if his blood had helped her.
“Right as rain,” she replied. She sized him up, but in the context of what happened, it looked suspiciously like checking him out. “Can’t stick around though, Shortie. Jus’ got into town. Need to find a place to hole up for the day. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
He nodded. "Yeah," he said. He would have offered her a place but he doubted she'd have accepted. "Good luck with that," he added, eyes wandering over her again. "I can give you my number if you want," he went on, shrugging. "Up to you. Lemme walk you out."
She smirked. What kind of guest would she be if she turned him down? He did taste good. Really good. Frankie still felt warm from the taste, comfortable as slept in bed. “Jus’ do me a favor? You taste different. Different than anyone else I’ve ever met. I know vampires are supposed to be mainstream now, but don’t let anyone else know. Not all strangers as polite as me.”
"I won't tell anyone," he told her. "Your secret's safe with me. And I guess I probably taste different because I'm not exactly human." He shrugged a little and looked back at his bed, then at the woman again. "You know, if you want, you could stay here. If not that's cool," he quickly told her as he grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote his number on it, folding it up and handing it out to her. "Why'd you come to Duskwood anyways?" he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.
“Maker got bored with me. Didn’t know where else to go.” That was her usual cover story. Frankie, despite sometimes using words like shortie, talked like the product of a by-gone era but her clothing said modern. The long braids and tattoos didn’t look like a fashion statement any grandmother would make. Posing as a young vampire wasn’t hard, and older vampires rarely paid attention to something as flexible as lingo. Frankie looked him up and down. “...You’re not human?”
"That blows," he said, because it sort of did. The person that made you just getting bored of you and letting you go off on your own? Yeah, sucked. "No," he said, shaking his head a little. "I'm a were. A red panda actually. Kind of like a mix of a panda and a raccoon only red. So yeah, that's probably why I taste different. Didn't know that different types of people tasted different to vampires but," he shrugged. "That's sorta cool."
In Frankie’s situation, her maker getting bored and releasing her was a long held fantasy. Not that she could ever risk saying such a thing out loud. As for Ryan’s explanation to why he tasted different? Her face fell. “You are making that up.”
Because how on earth could a were red panda -- a creature that sounded like something made up -- be possibly real? Frankie could take a joke but she did not want to be made a fool.
"Am not," he told her. "I'll show you if you want." It was really the only way to prove what he was saying was true. Most people didn't believe him but he could prove it easily enough so why even worry too much about that? He took off his shoes and his socks and unfastened the button and zipper on his jeans. "You wanna see?"
“If this is an excuse to flash me, I am so not impressed.” But Frankie didn’t avert her eyes either. Her arms were crossed, her posture straight but the authoritative body language was undermined by the small grin on her lips. Who was she to turn down an amusing exhibitionist?
He rolled his eyes. "If I wanted to flash you, I'd just ask if you wanted to see my cock," he pointed out with a shrug. Then he grinned at her and shifted, getting tangled up in his pants for a moment before walking out in his red panda form and twining himself around her legs. So he liked cuddles, he couldn't help it. Besides, she had wanted him to prove he was what he said he was and what better way to do that than up close?
“What the Hell is that?”
Frankie had, in her mind, been alive for some time, just barely over a hundred years old. Though she had heard of werewolves, she knew nothing about were creatures. The idea that there were people that could turn into random furry creatures was … surprising. Frankie had not been surprised like this in a very long time.
Ryan looked sort of like a fox, sort of like a racoon and very much like a teddy bear with a soft bushy tail. The vampire carefully crouched down and reached out to touch him, finding his fur to be soft like a rabbit.
“You sure some six year old girl didn’t put some magic voodoo on you or somethin’?”
Ryan made a scoffing sort of noise as he bumped his head against her hand for more petting. He knew he was adorable and used it to his advantage. Why not soak in all the nice touches and cute banter while he could? He spent a great deal of time in his animal form and he showed no discomfort in doing it now. He'd change back of course. Eventually.
“Well ain’t you demanding?” Frankie slowly picked him up in her arms and held him against her chest. It hadn’t occurred to her that might be awkward, the way most people didn’t think twice when holding a small dog or affectionate cat. Her fingers scritched behind his ears, trying to discover if there was some kind of red panda sweet spot. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Oh yes, Ryan was demanding. Human or red panda, it didn't matter. He liked attention and he'd do whatever he could to get some. He curled into her and made an approving little squeak as she found a spot he quite liked behind his ears. Yeah, she could keep doing that.
“Gunna need something light tight if I’m staying here. Bathrooms work sometimes but if you only got the one, probably won’t work out too well for you.” She continued petting him as soon as she heard his adorable noises of approval.
He would have said more but he was too enthralled with being petted to want to shift back so he nuzzled against her again and thought about places he could let her stay for the evening. He'd suggest the basement later. Or the storage room in the parlor. Both of which would be light tight and both of which could at least get a mattress put in. It'd do in a pinch unless she wanted to try more on her own. Either way, it could wait for a bit. Right now he was content to be petted at least for a little longer.