A/N AU B&W story based on the 1982 movie of the same name. I have wanted to write this for a while. It is set in the 1980's and I am using some of the charters from the warehouse show in this story, so there may be some OC with some of them. There will be a B&W and yes, this is a Vampire movie/story so there will be blood, gore and all that fun stuff.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.
The nightclub was dark, sudden flashes of light; in sync with the band that was performing, highlighted the grind of the young, overtly beautiful couple that was center stage on the dance floor.
A few tattered threads on the tight shirt that strained against a toned chest, hairline cracks on the worn leather jacket, faint tears and the beginnings of a run in the fishnet stockings clued the older couple that the younger were more than likely, street urchins.
"No one would miss them," the accent brushing across the man's ear. He nodded his approval and begin the well-honed dance that was taught to him by her, long ago. His gaze lingering on the couple, his hand raised with the lighter, held near, as the woman lit another cigarette, her hand releasing its grip off the thick wrist that held the antique Ronson lighter up.
The flickering flame reflected off dark sunglasses as she turned away, only to lean slightly into his side as he stared at the young couple. The young man, lowering his mirrored aviator sunglasses, he leaned in to his young woman, his lips stilled her dancing for a minuscule moment, and then she returned to her sway as the young man held up two fingers, his arm stretched high above his head.
The older man's face stayed stone cold as he raised his hand up in front of his face, all five of his digits splayed, his head tilting to the woman next to him.
The younger man's face froze, his body stilled from the grinding of the music, his mouth mimicking the sound of the word five as his hand jumped out in front of his face.
…
"Make yourself at home," the soft English voice said as she walked to the living room, not bothering to remove her jacket, hat or her designer shades, the younger couple following close behind. The older man leaned back against the door, making sure it was double locked before he moved into the living room to join them.
The music filled the small loft, just loud enough to drown out any sound that would alert their neighbors to any wrong doing. The young, short haired woman rubbed up against the older woman, no reaction was had, shrugging her shoulders, she stood in front of the couch, swaying seductively as both men watched. The older woman turned her head in the direction of her companion, a slight nod was given.
"No ice," he said, holding up the empty ice bucket for all to see.
He smirked to his companion as the young girl grabbed the bucket, slinging it over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen. He pushed himself off the mini bar, nodding to the older woman as he turned to follow the younger woman.
The older woman stood in front of the young man who was sitting on the couch, straddling his legs, she tossed her jacket off, taking one last long draw on her cigarette, she flicked it away, landing near her coat. The younger man smiled, lacing his fingers together as he moved them behind his head.
The younger woman downed the drink that was made for her as she sat on the barstool next to the counter, her eyes never leaving the man's. She frowned, removing his sunglasses; she leaned back against the counter as his hands roamed under her tight, cheap, faux leather mini skirt. Her breath becoming more rapid as his hands then moved up, unzipping her old leather jacket.
Her moans were matched by her boyfriends as the older woman leaned down, her tongue raking over the two day old stubble on the younger man's throat. She stood up, tossing his hands away from her breasts. Her one hand then sliding over her chest, freeing the gold chain and odd looking medallion from her blouse. Her fingers toying with it as she bent her head down, sucking on the young man's throbbing pulse.
Ecstasy was building as the older man's hand brushed roughly against dark red nipples, throwing her head back as he bent down sucking on the left one, her not noticing his hand had freed a few buttons on his shirt, the gold chain and odd, matching medallion being toyed with.
Sighs of pleasure were drowned out by the other, as each young one leaned their heads back, sub coming to their passions, oblivious to sharp blades that were being exposed. Cries rang out as each struggled, rapid pulses spewed the red crimson as veins were cut, harsh mouths grappled, straining to suck every ounce of the life-giving elixsure out of them.
The subway noise rattled the windows as blood soaked medallions were tossed into the white porcelain sink. Red was slowly turning to pink as hands were washed cleaned. Two black bags were tossed into the trunk of the car as if day old garbage.
The older woman let a small smile cross her lips, nodding her thanks as the older man finished holding the lighter up. Her hand tuned the radio to her favorite classical radio station, her hand giving a gentle squeeze to the firm hands on the steering wheel, her head tilting to the side of the window. She never tired of the view as they crossed the bridge, heading back to the safety of their brownstone on the island, her eyes dancing with the first rays of light over the Hudson.
The bags were tossed into the furnace down stairs next to the car, them both giving the other a soft smile as they made their way to the private room.
He leaned back against the cooling tile of the oversized shower, watching as she rinsed the shampoo from her dark locks. "Forever?" he whispered.
"Hmm, what?" her dark, mahogany eyes fluttering open as she squeezed the water from her hair.
"Forever and ever?" he replied, moving to pull her flush to his body as she reached for his hand. The kiss, soft, slowly building to an urgent need.
The flame flickered, the tip of the cigarette glowing red as he ran his hand through his hair as he leaned back against the frame of the door, watching her sleeping soundly.
"Forever," the sound of their previous music lesson, his cello cresendingo as he closed his eyes. His long hair was tied back in a leather strap, his white blouse hang loosely from his young frame, the riding pants tucked into the black boots, one leg now pressed against the barn wall.
He sighed, taking another drag on his cigarette, his mind's eye clear to that day, watching as her white dress brushed over the hay that littered the barn floor, her hands rising up to uncover the veil over coiffed hair.
"Forever and ever," she whispered against his lips as her hands traveled up his chest.
His head was bowed, his fingers tracing over his lips, then threading through his hair, the memory of that day, hundreds of years ago was as fresh as if it had just happened.
Nate sighed as he watched Helena, her breaths even, her sleep undisturbed as he made his way out of the bedroom. These last few weeks had become unbearable, each time after feeding, he slept less and less.
He had taken to hiding away down in the basement, waiting for her to awake. Kissing her cheek, he would dress for the day next to her. Then talking of the day's events, of what piece they would play together. He was waiting in the living room, waiting for her to finish her cup of morning tea.
He heard the noise of that box coming from the other room, peeking his head around the corner, he watched as Helena's attention was diverted to the tele. It was a medical show, the interviewer god awful, pandering to the guest. He leaned back against the wall, listening as the doctor went on about her medical research.
"My guest today has been Dr. Myka Bering and her book is tilted 'Sleep and longevity,'
Helena's pupils dilated as she watched the blush spread over the young doctor's face at the praise the interviewer was giving her. Helena's lips parted, a slight breath escaping as she watched slender, but strong, giving fingers rake through brown curls as the woman blushed, her head down cast at interviewers hawking of her book.
His hands shook nervously in his jacket pockets as he walked into the drawing room, waiting for the show to end, knowing she would sense his restless. "How did you sleep?" she asked, setting her cup of tea down, patting her knee as she looked at his downcast gaze.
"Here. Come sit here," Helena whispered as she patted the chair next to her.
As Nate started to move, eyeing the seat next to her, the loud buzz of the door went off. Giving a sheepish grin and shrugging his shoulders, he turned, heading to the foyer down stairs. Helena's eyes followed him; she knew he had not been sleeping all through the cycle. Her lips pursing as she watched his shoulders slump, his hands fidgeting in his jacket pockets, leaving to answer the door.
Nate looked up to the video screen, the young red head throwing a peace sign with her fingers at the camera as he buzzed her in.
"Cheese," she said, the bright flash of the camera blinding him for a second. Claudia pulled the slip out, waving the Polaroid to dry quicker. "Geezers, you look like hell, what have you been doing," she said through smacks of her gum.
"None of your business," Nate retorted dryly, looking down at the Polaroid.
Claudia smiled over the tucked violin against her chin, winking at Helena as she waited for her cue to start. Helena was at the piano, Nate with his cello between his legs, His brow furrowed as he was lost in his solo.
His hand slipped, the bow raking over the strings at the last of his part, Claudia then joining in on the violin.
Both women stopping as his hand dropped his bow. "Forgive me," he whispered, setting his cello against the chair as he made a hasty exit from the music room.
"Poor dear, he has not been sleeping well," Helena said as she turned her sheet music.
"Luds," Claudia breaking the silence.
"What?" Helena asked, her eyes still trained on the sheet music.
"Luds, Quaaludes. Uppers, you know," Claudia shrugged as she readjusted her violin, looking over Helena's shoulder at the sheet music.
"Claudia!" Helena said in a stiff tone.
"What? My step-mother gets them by the gross," she shrugged. "I could bring Nate some."
"Poor woman," Helena mumbled, her eyes staying focused on the sheet music.
"Yeah, well my dad doesn't care. It shuts her ranting's," Claudia shrugged.
Nate leaned against the door frame, just out of sight of the two. He lights a cigarette, his fingers brushing over the Polaroid that was stuffed in his jacket.
He took a heavy, long draw, blowing smoke rings as the sounds of those two faded, his eyes trained on the photo. He went to the nearest bathroom, squinting in the mirror, and then turning it over to the enhanced side, squinting his eyes, he spotted the crow's feet that were not there yesterday.