Title: Happy Hour – Those Who Like It, Like it a lot
Author: Cprav
Written: 19 October 2008
Rating: R
Word Count: 1255
Characters: Mick, Nameless Freshie
Disclaimer: If there's anything that needs to be disclaimed in this fic then I don't own it. CBS does. The Keith's Brewing Company owns the title. I just really like it! I only own Nameless Freshie.
Summary: Nameless Freshie takes a break from a party and is joined by a vamp.
Comment: "Those who like it, like it a lot" is the catch phrase for my favorite beer – Keiths. Brewed only in Nova Scotia.
The Happy Hours series is a set of freshie fantasies. Officially, this one takes place during Mick's freshie luvin' era.
The stone of the balcony ledge was cool against her bare arms as she leaned on it, looking out over the city and its twinkling lights. The music and chatter from the party inside filtered out to her, muffled by the closed French doors. She shut her eyes, savouring the almost quiet and the cool night breeze drifted over her.
The brief burst of music as the doors opened and closed was her only clue that he had joined her outside. She opened her eyes to find him in the same position as she, watching the city. As she studied him, she wondered what things he could pick up that she could not – what he was hearing and seeing that she hadn't been able to. As if reading her thoughts, he looked at her and pulled her closer to him. He pointed our things he knew she hadn't noticed, including the teenage couple making out in a secluded part of the park below. She turned to him and smiled, enjoying his closeness.
He could sense her desire – he always could. While he knew she was happy and perfectly satisfied to spend hours just talking to him, he knew that was always there. He was a vampire – it was hard to ignore the way her heart rate sped up when he was close or how her breathing changed; how she seemed to unconsciously lick her bottom lip or capture it with a canine much more than when she didn't know he was watching her. And it was always there in her scent. It had been a while since he'd had a freshie so responsive to his presence, let alone his bite.
Suddenly, he wanted to taste that in her blood. He growled low, too low for her to have heard it, but she shivered anyway and he had the distinct impression it wasn't from the cold. Perhaps she was getting just as good at reading him. He turned her around, pressed her back against the balcony ledge and stepped in front of her. She gasped at the sudden quickness of his movements and bit back a moan as she titled her head for him. He gave her a proper once-over with a heated stare and hands in a rough caress on the soft silk of her red dress. Her hands roamed his muscular chest, needing to touch him, even if it was only through the fabric of his shirt.
Then his eyes met hers – predatory and possessive even though he still wore his human mask – as his fingers found the hem of her dress and one hand disappeared underneath, just running along her inner thigh. Her hands stilled and that canine bit through her lip, drawing blood. He was there, licking the droplet up before she had a chance to do it herself. He moved to her ear, his cool breath against her skin causing shudders of pleasure as he whispered to her not to hold back. He wanted to hear and feel her pleasure, not just know it through her taste or in her scent. He wanted to feel her lose control. She whimpered and nodded in response as her fingers travelled up to tangle in his locks.
He brushed her long black hair off her shoulder as the hand under her skirt travelled up her thigh and moved damp silk out of the way of its goal. She was already wet with want and need and anticipation, just as he knew she would be. Her scent was overpowering and he'd only just started. He slipped two fingers into her and she gasped in surprise and delight and arched into his hand, exposing her throat even more in the process.
Holding her as close as he possibly could and lazily working her with his fingers, he lowered his head to one prominent collar bone and traced it with his tongue. He left a cool, wet trail as he made his way, agonizingly slow, to his favourite spot of her beautiful, pale throat. Hand in her hair massaging her scalp, thumb tracing along the other side of her throat, he kissed and sucked and pulled and nipped at the spot until she was writhing against him sighing and moaning and begging. Stop. Don't stop. Bite me. Fuck me.
He grinned against her skin as his vampire features came forth, hidden by her body and her hair from any prying eyes that might be out there, like that guy in the next building who liked to spy on people with his binoculars. He grazed one fang ever so lightly along the blue line that he was desperate to taste. She shivered against him. Not able to wait anymore he plunged his fangs into her waiting, willing flesh. She screamed in pleasure, fingers curling into fists in his hair and against the nape of his neck. He let out a growl of pleasure as a fresh wave of her desire coated his fingers at the same time as the first splash of her warm blood hit his tongue. Her spicy arousal was always there in her blood when he fed from her, but now it was almost overpowering. Her body's reaction to his bite was affecting him as well and he fought to hold back. He pressed the evidence of that against her and she started chanting his name. He wanted her to come from his bite alone; his fingers stroking her languidly just another way for him to feel the result of his work.
He coaxed the blood from her body with tongue and teeth, thumb still stroking her throat, fingers still massaging her scalp and inner walls, the vibrations of his purrs travelling through his body and into hers. She hand long since done as requested and lost control. The cold from the balcony ledge through the thin silk of her dress doing nothing to cool the heat she was feeling. She never quieted as he drew her blood from her – she continued to moan and scream and beg and plead. She never stilled – fist opening and closing in his hair, arching and moving against him in time with his tongue on her skin. He moved with her, never breaking contact.
He made the bite last a blissful eternity, drawing the pleasure out for them both. He drank slowly, letting his fangs and tongue and lips and teeth have their wicked way with her. Finally though, he knew he was almost at the point that he could safely take no more. He bit down harder and she exploded with a silent scream, her whole body tightened as she stilled against him, griping his fingers like a vice, evidence of her pleasure pouring around and down them. Her orgasm assaulted all his senses and he took two more long, hard pulls of her blood, growling at the change in her taste.
He finally withdrew completely from her, trying in vain to catch everything that ran down her thighs, then re-adjusting her clothing as he cleaned and sealed her wounds. Hazel eyes held her gaze as he brought his hand to his mouth to clean his fingers, the taste mingling with that of her blood and he moaned. Her gaze lowered to his mouth and she licked her lips. He kissed her slowly, sharing her own taste with her. She sighed as he pulled away from her. Finally, they turned back to watching the city below until she had recovered enough to clean up and rejoin the party.