The club was dark

Title: Blind Date – A Happy Hour fic.
Author: Cprav
Characters: Nameless Freshie & "mystery" vamp.
Rating: R
Spoilers: None

Summary: You can run, but you can't hide.

Disclaimer: Well, about the only thing I have to disclaimer is the word "freshie". Unfortunately that's not mine. Sigh. Nor is anything else that is fun. Like Mick.

Author's Notes: The stories in the Happy Hour series do not relate to each other in any way. They're just a collection of yummy bites – and sometimes more. They take place in different times and with different characters. Just whatever my freshie imagination comes up with!

The club was dark, but for the light show. The music was LOUD and fast. No one she knew had heard of this place. The mass of bodies meant she was left wonderfully ignored. She was surrounded. She was alone. She was free. She loved it. The music assaulted her ears, drowning out everything. Drowning out her thoughts. Every sound wave both caressing her and pounding into her; they reverberated through her body. It left her breathing heavy, wanting more. Her heart seemed to race in time with the pulse of the bass. Her body moved of its own accord, in perfect time to the music. Writhing. Grinding. Thrusting. Her eyes were closed, but she knew her movements matched those of everyone else in the club. Black hair plastered to her face and neck, the rest flying wildly, trying in vain to keep up with her movements. Every so often a body would rub against hers and she would partake in the dance for a moment before they moved on. All nameless, faceless, hot, wet bodies.

She had no concept of how long she'd been there. Couldn't remember what time she had even arrived. She just remembered the need to completely forget everything. Be blissfully blank. Losing herself in this throng of people was the safest way she knew to do that.

Sometime through the night, another body pressed itself against her back. She started to move with it, then felt a large, strong hand find its way under her tank top and splay against her stomach. Another roamed her leather-clad thigh. As she leaned back, she caught his scent. She may not be a vampire, but after all this time, she was familiar with his scent, the feel of his hands, how her body and her blood reacted to his closeness, the sound he made when she moved against him as he fed from her. To test the last one she ground into him and – yes. The deep growl/snarl that she heard despite the volume of the music, and felt as it sent shivers through her body. Breathing heavily, she finally opened her eyes and turned her head to him, but before she could focus on him, he nudged her face away with his chin. So, he wanted it like this? Her eyes slipped shut again. She was blind to him as she let the essence of the club flow back into her, but her other senses were hypersensitive to him. One hand found his arm, the other rose to find the back of his neck, tangling in his locks, and she writhed against him with the music. He moved with her, his hands on her never stilling, pressing her against him. She could feel how the rushing blood of the club-full of people was affecting him; she didn't dare hope it had anything to do with her.

As they "danced", she realized that she had never told him where she was going. Or, in fact, that she was going anywhere at all. That meant that he had been worried about her or craving her particular flavour enough tonight to leave the gaggle of other freshies that he kept around and track HER half way across the city. She moaned. She started to tilt her head in invitation and then stopped herself with a groan of frustration. He was a private drinker and besides, a freshie club this was not. They couldn't risk it. Or so she thought. He must have been feeling adventurous because she felt his fangs trail along her arm – caressing, not breaking the skin – as he breathed her in. Sweat and arousal and willingness and oh so ready and just her. She sighed in anticipation and, removing her hand from his neck, she swept her hair back and it had no sooner disappeared than his mouth had replaced it. She continued to move against him, but now it was in time to his tongue lapping at her throat.

He laughed at her – writhing and moaning and pleading and begging. But he was teasing her. Kissing and lapping and nipping and grazing but not biting – not yet. His mouth got more insistent, his roaming hands dipped slowly lower with each circle on her stomach and higher with each caress on her thigh, until finally…

Yes….

His fangs pierced her skin and her eyes flew open and a gasp fell from her lips. His hands stopped their roaming and he increased their pressure on her, pulling her even closer and trying to still her movements. But the music, and his fangs, and his closeness and the mass of people around them were too much for her and still she moved against him and he growled as he started to drink deep of her. She moaned again as, in the dim light, she caught the smirk of a fellow clubber as he enjoyed her reaction to the 'simple necking' she was receiving. She was certain he was hoping to have a go next. But there was nothing he could do that would come close to this. Having an outsider watch the two of them and not realize what was happening made it all the more intense. She closed her eyes again and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She drew the lip into her mouth and sucked the few drops that leaked from the wound. As her arousal spiked in her blood he growled in appreciation, and she clenched her fingers around his arm, nails digging into his skin.

After what seemed like eternity, but was still not long enough for her, he'd drunk his fill and withdrew his fangs, eliciting a whimper of disappointment from her. He kept his mouth on her, licking the wound as his hand made one last pass on her stomach. He dipped just slightly, teasingly into the waistband of her pants before his mouth left her neck and he reached up to move her hair back, covering the bite from prying eyes. She leaned heavily back into him as he held her and they stood still in the sea of writhing bodies until she recovered. When she straightened in his arms he finally turned her around and, laying eyes on him for the first time that evening, she smiled up at him before he led her out of the club and back home.