Vincent Valentine had just laid eyes on his prey.
She was young, younger than him, and she was shy. He knew that much. Probably the most conservative person in the dance hall, wearing something that looked like it was straight out of the eastern fashions, she stood out like a sore thumb amongst the barely clothed denizens of The Keep, the hottest, newest, clubbing joint.
Where there were short skimpy tops and even shorter skirts, she wore frills and fishnets and ribbons. She looked almost like a child's doll among the others dancing around her. She was clearly the most conservative person there.
Even Vincent himself wore a tight, crimson muscle shirt that cut off above his abs He wore a loose fishnet top over it. Leather pant clung to his hips like a second skin. He had a trendily torn half skirt hanging from his belt, deep red, and his ragged ebony hair hung free of any ties.
As he watched, she tried to maneuver through the crowds without touching anyone. And when she bumped into someone, he could see her lips moving in a customary, "Oh, sorry!" and then she would continue on her way. He wondered vaguely what she was there for…
There was a momentary loss of conscious thought when she let her eyes rove over the people of the club. They had landed on him. Deep grey, wide and innocent, they struck him with the force of a tsunami. She was the one he wanted, he decided swiftly.
"Oi! You want a drink?" Glancing languidly over his shoulder, he realized the bar keeper was talking to him. "Something like rum? You look like a hard drinker."
"No… But maybe I'll have a Bloody Mary later." Vincent smiled and ran his tongue across his canine teeth before pushing away from the counter. Weaving with practiced skill through the crowd, he began to search for the girl.
And there she was, momentary shyness gone, dancing in the middle of a group of bawdy onlookers. She was a natural. It wasn't any particularly erotic dance, she swayed and turned and it almost looked more like ballet than something the belonged in the club, but when she opened her eyes and realized she had an audience, she blushed and began to thread her way towards the outskirts of the crowd, declining any invitation to dance.
Vincent wasn't about to let her get away. So, he steadily followed that black mess of hair until he was close enough to reach out and grab her hand. With a twist, he pulled her up close and turned her face up towards his. The blush intensified. Her eyes were almost hypnotizing this close.
"Wh-what are you doing?" She struggled, trying to pull away, but his grip was iron strong, and she didn't move even an inch.
"I want to dance with you." He intoned simply, and twirled the girl in his arms. "I'm Vincent. Vincent Valentine. What's your name?" He nearly had to shout, but she realized what he was asking and gave a small smile before motioning to the side. An obvious "Over there" gesture. He gave her a pointed look, but complied.
It was actually a good thing. He needed a separate room for this. Heck, even a dark corner would do. She was so oblivious though, to the danger. It spiked his adrenaline and he smiled as he looked her up and down as she walked.
She wasn't horribly curvy, but what she had was well accented. Especially the corset like top, the way the lines ran up and down her torso, clearly outlining her figure… His eyes darkened slightly, and in the gloom, they almost looked red. Finally, she stopped away from any speakers and with a flip of her hair turned to face him.
"Vincent Valentine, huh?" Her face screwed into a frown. "That sounds like some ladies man's name. Are you a stalker?" She was so frank, and open, and cute, standing there with her hip cocked to one side and her head tilted. So like a child. But she definitely moved like a woman. He smirked.
"Well," she continued when he didn't say anything. "Regardless, I'm Yuffie, but you'll be getting no last name." She stuck her tongue out and with a swift tug, he had her close to him and he was kissing her and she must have had some sort of alcohol because it burned his tongue, but he didn't think she could possibly be old enough to drink. She barely looked legal. Oh well; he didn't care so much for legalities himself.
Slowly, she began to respond with a soft fervor, clutching at him here, pressing against him there. She was either very talented, or shed done this kind of thing before, but she was so… innocent.
Even when he pushed her down a hall and out a side exit, she only questioned, "Where are we going? Dinner? Cause I'm a little hungry." He laughed lowly, and she shuddered against him. He smirked and pushed her against the wall, concrete and mortar crumbling slightly at the impact. With practiced ease, he kissed at the base of her neck, and she sighed softly against him.
Pushing him away gently, she raised herself up to her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his bare shoulders, sinking into his warmth before nibbling gently at his throat.
Time, for Vincent Valentine, stopped. Two needled thin shots of pain stabbed into his throat and he pushed Yuffie away violently, eyes wide with shock. "What the… What the hell?"
She smiled, all of her coy personality dissolved. With a wide smirk, and a definite fang poking out from underneath her lip she grabbed the belt loops of his pants and pulled him close.
"What…?" She whispered, her voice carrying easily in the chill night. "You don't want me anymore? And you were so enthusiastic just a little bit ago." With a soft giggle she raised his arm to her lips and bit into the veins, watching the blood flow for a moment before lapping it up delicately, like a cat with a saucer of cream. She could tell he was terrified, too terrified to move.
"No…" He whispered. "Nonono…" it became a moan. "I don't… I don't want to die… I'll do anything you ask!" She threw him to the ground and knelt, her lips close to his ear.
"Yeah? I'd feel bad, but Vincent, I don't care what you look like, I don't think you could ever be him. And that's the only thing I want." Her voice was bitter, but he couldn't see her face, his vision was dimming and he knew instinctively that he wouldn't wake up if he fell unconscious now.
But as she took her time with her meal, he couldn't help but whimper. He pushed against her feebly, but unlike when he had held her captive in his arms before, she was the unmovable one now. "No…"
"You know what they say…." She kissed his cheek, a bloody image of her lips remained. "Turnabout really is fair play."
………
If this goes over well, I might be persuaded to add more… D