A/N A slight block hit me after the deletion of TJoTH. As you know, the reviews are unparalleled food for the muse, and loosing almost 100 of them in a single moment really took it's toll on me. Whenever I have tried to get back to my multi-chapter stories I have always lost my inspiration almost immediately. Finally I decided to just write and see where it took me - this is what I came up with.

Warnings: Dark!Elijah, non-graphic (for me) adult interactions.

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His right foot felt heavy. The trees outside the windscreen were flying by so fast that they turned into a blur. The heavier his foot felt, the blurrier they got. It took him a while to realize that whenever that heavy feeling came over him it resulted in an added unconscious pressure that caused added compressed fuel to enter the explosive motor of the machine he was currently in, which in turn caused the trees to blur further, due to an increase in forward momentum. Or, more simply put, when his right foot added pressure to the gas pedal his car went faster.

Something unused, virgin, special, untried, like a new car, a car not yet driven or a woman, a woman not yet claimed. This yet untested property has a very unique scent. Even humans pick it up. How many times has he not overheard humans talk about that 'new car smell' with a wistful note in their voice? Almost as many times as he has heard his peers discuss the virtues of virgin blood. The major difference being that the humans were blissfully unaware of what base instincts of theirs were being rocked by the new car smell. If you cannot differentiate a virgin by her scent, at least you know how to pick an unproven car. Rather sad, really.

A small gasp interrupted his musings. Where did the sharp inhale originate from? Oh yes, from his own lungs. Lungs that did not as such need to draw breath. His muscles worked just fine without oxygen, their anaerobic properties long since lost. His body now operated on instinct, driven by the fear of his prey and the oh-so-easily assimilated power of fresh blood. The oxygen contained in the red blood cells of his latest meal was enough to run his entire being for days on end. Weeks after feeding, like now, he may feel slightly less powerful than he normally would but not measurably so, unless his audience was composed of his siblings. Only another superior being could feel the difference between absolute control and almost-absolute control. None of their progeny could ever hope to attain that level of insight, but his siblings would know without even having to try that there was something off, something less-than-complete in his attitude. No surprise then that he had kept himself, and the cause of the discrepancy, far from his siblings since he found her.

Another gasp. Was this him again? No, this time it was not. His right hand relaxes, releasing the skin and the strands of hair it had claimed and owned, feeling the warm and supple muscles, previously vibrating from the restraint, relax. His right foot presses down ever so slightly beyond its previous position and the blurry trees turn into a single entity of out-of-focus surroundings. Sight is becoming lost, scent is less than believable. Mahogany strands. Spun silk to the touch.

1047 years of waiting.

His right foot becomes heavier, pressing down and causing the machine to respond with a loud purr and an influx of speed. His right hand gains weight along with the foot , the gasp is now unmistakably not his as his eyes settle on the horizon far ahead of the road his Viper is speeding along while his hand adds pressure.

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He had known, for the longest time that this blissful existence was not his. That receiving this love was not his due. That he was too wicked, too far beyond salvation to ever be worthy of the truest, strongest of emotions – no matter how much his own whole being projected them and his need for them. No, this was not his, it had never been and it would never be.

Yet, while the gasp may not have been his, the tailored Armani pants that the originator of said gasp carefully opened WAS his. They were tailored to him, after all. The throbbing erection released from said pants by gentle, warm hands WAS his. It was attached to him, after all. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of women had gasped at the sight of him, yet none had affected him like this gasp. Her gasp.

When she opened his zipper and he sprung free, the sudden release from his confinement caused his erection to spring like a coil from his pants to hit his rippled abdomen with an audible slap. Her eyes widened at the sight of him and without thought or intention her beautiful pink tongue came out to wet her lips – partly as a nervous reaction and partly as an effect of her quickly escalating lust.

He had chuckled, deep in his throat, at her reaction. 'See something you like, sweet one?' he had asked, smirking while never taking his hands off of the steering wheel or his eyes off the road. 'It IS edible, you know.' he continued with a raised eyebrow and a small laugh.

He had meant to tease her, tried to joke with her. Suddenly the joke was on him when she, without responding to his taunting words, simply leaned over the mid console, opened her lips and enveloped his manhood in her sweet, moist, hot mouth. Two seconds later she had him moaning and his hand buried in the mane of hair at the back of her neck, aiding her bobbing motions up and down his shaft. They had never even kissed, they had not reached the point where they could comfortably define what their relationship truly was, or was not. Yet here she was, in his car, giving him the best blow job in his thousand year existence while he was desperately trying to keep the car on the road.

A wide and rather sinister smile spread over his handsome features. Yes, he tries to be a gentleman. Yes, his code of honor means a lot to him. But he is also a man. A vampire, but a man. And right now THIS vampire/man had the girl of his dreams go down on him while he was driving the two of them down the highway in a beautiful and very fast sports car. NO amount of good upbringing would be enough to make him stop her, no matter how much he knew he should. Her lips were warm, the hair in his fist was silky and his cock was throbbing, more so every time her tongue did that delicious little swirl around his tip. Thoughts of tomorrow was completely gone, gentleman Elijah was on hiatus and carnal lust was all-consuming when his hand released her hair to instead grab the back of her neck and his hips started moving on their own accord, thrusting his throbbing center into the soft, sweet mouth that had started this whole thing.

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He hears the sirens behind them and pushes her head further down, causing her to almost gag on his length. Pulling to the side as instructed by the lights his hand in her hair becomes frantic, moving her head up and down his throbbing erection with little or no regard for her need and release. Her hair is the right color. Her body is the right shape. Her needs and wishes are close to what he would have liked to hear Her beg for. For now this will have to do. And it does. He makes do. Oh dear Lord, does he make do...

He sees her eyes, sees her face while he briefly closes his own caramel orbs. Gently allowing the car to slow down and drift towards the curb as the Man wants, his hand stays locked on her neck and his hips thrust his rock hard erection into her mouth. He is searching for the release he knows is there and the forgiveness he knows is not there, needing this before again clamping down on his emotions and pretending to be just another human.

Moments before the car comes to a complete standstill his thoughts of Her, along with the warm suction of the mouth covering his throbbing erection, brings him to completion. He calls her name, thrusting himself into the waiting mouth. He feels the soft warm lips envelop him and the motions of her throat as she swallows every bit of the seed his erection released and shot down her throat. For a moment, brief as the breath he no longer requires, salvation appears to be within reach.

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Her neck feels the pressure, her mouth opens wider and she relaxes – allowing his hand on her to forcefully move his erection into her throat and beyond. She doesn't even feel the discomfort of the gear shift in her abdomen when she leans further into him from her passenger seat position to follow his unspoken command, nor the weight of his hand on her neck that urges her to swallow him ever deeper into her throat. His hands tighten while his eyes remain locked on the horizon, his hips thrusting upwards outside of his control, burying his length deeper into her mouth. He calls her name as his hands stroke along her mahogany locks and she finally feels his tension dissipate while ribbon after ribbon of his release fills her mouth. The unfamiliar sensation never the less feels like a victory of sorts and she reflexively swallows, noting his moan as the back of her throat constricts around his still swollen head as she does so. She files this away under noteworthy discoveries before straightening herself out to greet the officer that pulled them over.

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When they are back on the road she leans back into her seat, a small smile of satisfaction gracing her lips.

'You are a naughty, naughty girl.' He says, grinning while his eyes remain fixed on the road ahead. She smiles back, her own eyes alternating between staring at the black road ahead and glancing at his handsome features. The taste of his cum is still on her lips and although she has no idea what possessed her to act this way she does not regret it. 'I know,' she finally replies 'but what are you going to do about it?'

Ominous silence fills the car as a grin starts spreading across his features. Not a smile, not a sweet smile. No, a grin, a rather scary grin. Despite the moment they just shared she finds herself becoming rather afraid. Suddenly she is all too aware that she is sharing this car with the oldest vampire on earth and that she has just teased him beyond human, or vampire, endurance.

He allows the grin to completely spread over his handsome face before slowly turning his gaze at her. The car continues its breathtaking journey along the smooth asphalt despite his eyes no longer staying on the road. She does not know why she notices this, nor why it bothers her. He winks at her; in slow motion she can see each of his eyelashes move before he continues. At his words her whole being freezes and she remembers every warning her mother ever gave her in regards to playing with fire. It would seem it is suddenly too late; she will get burned.

'Why, punish you of course. Don't worry though, you will like it.'

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A/N One shot? Keep going? What do you think?