M FOR A REASON HERE, PEOPLE!

So sorry for the delay, but I kinda got distracted by a buttload of other things (three other fics, old-school TV shows, finishing making a dress, etc). Amee, I couldn't reply to your review (which was the kick in the butt I needed to even start typing this chapter), but thank you so much! I've got a plan for the ending, don't you worry! Reviews are actually what keep me going on this fic (what's the point of continuing something no one likes enough to review, right?), so keep 'em coming! Hope you guys like it!


Dinah made sure to keep herself out of sight while Jerry made Doris welcome in the den; the "entertainer" would more than likely be more put off by the deception than anything else. When they'd first met, Dinah didn't bother to mention her relationship with Jerry. He must have told her they were siblings or cousins or something equally as stupid in order to get the other woman to agree to have drinks with him alone. Or perhaps not; society didn't seem to value the institution of…whatever the hell she and Jerry had, but still. Aside from Jane and Amy, Doris was the only female she'd met in this town who didn't grate on her nerves. It didn't hurt that she was also the only one of the three who had no one to miss her. Rather sad, if she thought about it. But that was none of her concern. All she cared about was getting herself a girlfriend to go out on the town with when Jerry decided to be a putz, oggle over shiny jewelry in store windows, and watch retarded reality shows and laugh at the absurdity of them.

Dinah listened to every word exchanged between the two, waiting for her cue to enter and reveal the setup. She cringed at the blatant way the dancer flirted with Jerry, not out of jealousy but the sheer awfulness of the woman's acting; if she thought she was being coy she was sorely mistaken. At least she didn't make her living as an actress: she'd starve within a month. Doris's speech steadily became worse as she downed bottle after bottle of beer (she must have been a real lightweight), her inhibitions being shed like her clothes on the stage. Dinah heard her try to feel up Jerry's chest, rolling her eyes at his overly dramatic (and overly loud) proclamations of how she had "the magic touch" and other nonsense. Just hurry up and bite her, dickhead. He must have heard her stray thought: Doris screamed suddenly, sounding like a cat being run over by a semi, followed by a string of frightened expletives. Showtime!

Dinah practically flew down the stairs to Doris's side, the very epitome of care and concern. Both she and Jerry were now standing, his smirking lips stained crimson, Doris clutching at her neck where he'd bitten into her flesh. Dinah's embrace was loose, her touch as light as a feather so as not to further frighten the other woman. She was only barely coherent through the pain, shock, and alcohol coursing through her in a biological cocktail that would put her right into Dinah's arms. "Doris, sweetheart," she pleaded gently. "You've got to calm down. You'll wake the whole neighborhood at this rate."

"I don't fuckin' care!" Doris screamed hysterically. "He fuckin' bit me! He drew blood! Who the fuck does that?"

"Uh, me," Jerry answered smugly.

Dinah shot him a glare that clearly told him to shut up; he just shrugged. "Sweetie, seriously, you're making a big fuss over nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing? What kind of sick game are you playing here?" She wrenched herself away from Dinah, who raised both hands in a display of peace. "What the fuck kind of drugs are you on? You two are outta your fuckin' minds! Your asses are going to jail big time!"

Dinah sighed heavily as Doris started for the door. She darted to the door in the blink of an eye, startling the dancer and sending her stumbling backwards, right into Jerry. "Doris, it wasn't supposed to be this difficult (thank you, Jerry). Once you get used to it, this life is actually kinda fun."

Doris's outrage quickly dissipated in favor of utter terror. "Please," she pleaded pitifully. "Please let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear. I just wanna go home!"

Jerry's hands closed around her shaking shoulders as he began sniffing at the wound he'd made on her neck. The restraint it took for him to not rip her throat open right there was evident on his face and the way his entire body tensed. Dinah didn't have much time if she wanted to have a girlfriend rather than another corpse to get rid of. "Jerry, wait. Doris, listen. It only hurts for a bit. Well, it hurts a lot, but it doesn't last long. And we'll take good care of you, darlin'."

Doris heard none of it, her fear taking over completely. "Please just let me go home," she cried. "Please don't kill me."

"Doesn't work like that," Jerry growled into her ear. His teeth sank back into her neck as Dinah cradled her head and kept her arms down at her sides. She did feel a pang of sympathy for the stripper, recalling how painful her own transformation had been so many years prior, but the excitement of finally having a girlfriend pushed the feeling aside with ease. She started making a mental list of everything they would do together, starting with clothes shopping! Without a reflection, it was difficult (to say the least) to decide what looked good on her and what made her look ghastly; Jerry's answer was always that she looked better either naked or in her backless red shirt, so having a female opinion would be most helpful.

The flash of red and blue lights through the window brought her out of her thoughts with a snap. She grasped Jerry's hand and nodded towards the window when he lifted his head from Doris's neck. He let out a low growl at the interruption, but kept his voice calm. "Take her upstairs." Dinah didn't argue, not with the cops just outside the door. She gestured for her mate to clean the blood from his mouth before practically carrying the other woman up to the holding cells hidden behind the spare room's closet. She didn't bother with being gentle as the gravity of the situation fell on her shoulders; she quickly shoved Doris into a cell and locked the door. Now the woman could yell and scream all she wanted, if she still had the energy, and not a sound would escape the walls.

She heard the front door open and two unfamiliar voices drift up the stairs. "Sir, we got a report of a woman screaming. Mind tellin' us what's going on?" That one comment gave Dinah an idea. Never let it be said that I don't have a sense of humor, she thought as she hurriedly stripped off her clothes and purposefully messed up her hair.

Grabbing the sheet from their bed and holding it up to her chest, making sure her legs could be easily seen, she heard Jerry laugh. "Well, yeah, she is a screamer." His solitary chuckle was followed by a brief, stunned silence, then a chorus that could only be described as a trio of masculine giggles.

I swear to God, men are such little girls. She rolled her eyes yet again and made sure to garner the men's complete and undivided attention as she sauntered down the stairs. "Darlin', are you ever coming back up?" she purred, her voice dripping with sex. She stopped at base of the stairs when she saw their visitors. "Oh, hello officers." She gave them a slight wiggle of her fingers as a greeting, the edge of the sheet dangerously close to exposing her breast. She grinned in sultry feminine satisfaction at the way the policemen openly gawked at her; Jerry licked his lips.

The taller officer was the first to recover. "Ma'am, we received a report of someone in this house screaming."

Dinah demurely ducked her head and delicately touched her lips as she chuckled softly. "My apologies, officers. Sometimes I just can't control myself. I'll be quieter." Eh, why not? She raised her right hand, three fingers upright, and added, "Girl Scout's honor." Give the boys something to think about later.

The officers cleared their throats uncomfortably; Dinah knew she didn't have to use her "special hypnosis" to make men forget their missions. After all, wars had been fought and kingdoms lost over the desire for the female form for centuries. What was the point in having such a body if one were not going to use it to its fullest advantage? Jerry broke the silence first while continuing to devour her with his heated gaze. "I'll be done here in a few minutes, babe. Go on back upstairs."

Dinah didn't like being dismissed so easily, no matter the circumstance. She put an extra sway in her hips as she closed the distance between them. Placing one hand on his jaw and turning his head towards her, she teasingly, torturously brushed his lips with her own. She relished the shudder that rippled through him and the quickened tempo of his breath. "Hurry it up, then," she whispered, still loud enough for the cops to hear. As if just remembering they were there, she turned to them and flashed a brilliant smile. "Don't keep him too long, boys." She looked back to Jerry, playing up her role as a sex kitten flawlessly. "He's got some unfinished business to handle." A soft, burning kiss to the underside of his chin and she was on her way back up the stairs, her nude backside on full display as an extra kick in the gut to the men. The soft gasps behind her were enough proof that she'd done her job well.

She stifled her laughter as she heard the cops tell Jerry he was a lucky man. Well, that was easy enough. She busied herself with replacing the sheet on the bed, utterly unconcerned with her state of undress. She didn't bother with making it too neat as it would just get messed up anyway, sooner rather than later if Jerry's reaction to her earlier was any indication.

She had just started to hum a song that had gotten stuck in her head a few days ago when she found herself pinned between a cold wall and an only slightly warmer mass of flesh and muscle. After her initial shock, she happily welcomed the hand in her hair, even when it gripped the strands to the point of pain. "You should know better than to do that, babe," came the harsh whisper in her ear. She shivered at the unspoken promises in that voice, in the fist in her hair, in the ragged breath that fanned over her face and down her neck.

Dinah met Jerry's black eyes and nearly melted to the floor at the blatant lust she saw radiating from his gaze. She bit her lower lip to silence the groan that would have escaped her mouth, inadvertently drawing his attention there. He lifted her against the wall so that her head was level with his, his denim-clad knee going between her thighs to keep her in place. Her eyes fluttered closed at the spark that shot through her body at that simple movement. Before he could unleash an assault on her neck and retain his dominance, she lunged for his throat and caressed the sensitive skin with her lips. He gasped in surprise, making her smirk against his flesh. She trailed her kisses and nips up to his ear, where she took the lobe between her teeth and tugged it sharply. He growled and surged forward to make sure not one inch of their bodies remained separated. She laughed again, the throaty sound driving her mate crazy with the amount of restraint it took for him not to take her right there against the wall. She paid no mind to the dangerous proximity of his fangs to her neck; in fact, she reveled in the anticipation of his bite. "And you should know better than back me into a corner and expect me to roll over," she chortled hotly.

Before she could even comprehend being moved, she felt the unforgiving wall replaced with the softness of the sheet she had just replaced to their bed. Jerry moved away from her just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and throw it into a corner. Dinah's fingers went to the exposed flesh, pale and beautiful as moonlight, caressing, fondling, re-memorizing the sharp angles and planes she already knew by heart. He allowed the gesture for a moment before taking her hands in his and trapping them beside her on the bed, his fingers lacing intimately with hers. "'Roll over'," he echoed contemplatively. "Sounds like a plan to me, doll." Their smiles to each other were a blend of primal lust and genuine humor, a rare moment of tenderness in the midst of their lives of blood and savage hunger.

A gentle kiss to her lips and Jerry raised himself back onto his knees above her. He made quick work of his belt, eagerly returning to his lover with a sound kiss and wrapping the strip of leather around her wrists. He raised her bound hands over her head, keeping his grip on the belt to tighten and loosen as he saw fit. She could easily break free of the restraint should she choose, but she quite liked this side of him. Besides, it gave her the opportunity to surprise him, something she could do only rarely nowadays. She heard his heavy boots hit the floor just before the fingers of his free hand went to the fastenings on his jeans, undoing them with practiced ease. Before he could move to rid himself of them, Dinah lifted her legs around his waist and slipped her toes under the denim, pushing them away fluidly. Jerry released her lips and looked down at her in astonishment. She simply smirked back up at him and, acting quickly, used her feet to pull his hips against her until he filled her completely.

They both groaned at the sensation, never tiring of the ancient dance they'd turned into an art form over the decades. Dinah felt the heat first, that slow burn that began in the lowest pit of her gut and spread out to her fingers and toes like a flower bursting into bloom. Jerry's nips at her throat and the friction of his skin on her sensitive breasts only fueled her cries and incensed her lover to his breaking point. The fact that she could not touch him frustrated her to no end, but simultaneously made that fire burn even hotter. A low growl suddenly tickled her ear. "Didn't you promise the cops you wouldn't be so loud?" he rumbled hoarsely, prolonging his release until she arched beneath him as she'd done so many times before.

Dinah laughed through her gasps for breath. "I was never in the Scouts. You know that." Her pleasured purr quickly turned into a brief scream when he gave a particularly deep thrust at the same time he yanked the belt, the leather cutting into her wrists. Once the initial sensory overload faded, she locked her now-black gaze with his, taking note of how he grinned down at her like a Chesire cat. "Dick move, love," she muttered half-seriously. She'd had enough. One sharp pull against the belt and her hands were free. Another abrupt move had them both on their knees, her thighs at his sides, and her arms wrapped around his neck. "I do believe this is check, Jerry."

Her mirth was short-lived when his grip on her hips became like a vise, raising and lowering her onto him with a triumphant smirk. He halted his movements just before her orgasm ripped through her; after so many years he knew all the signs to look for, the better to leave her wanting if he was in a playful mood. He laughed breathlessly at the confusion in her face when she looked down at him. "You suck at chess, Di." He gave her no chance to argue: his lips descended to her throat once again, nipping, teasing, bruising. One hand slid purposefully up her back and tangled itself in her long hair, tugging her head back to bare her neck even more to his eager mouth. There was a time when she didn't understand his obsession with her hair. After all there was nothing special about it: black with a slight wave hanging down to her mid-back. Only until she mirrored his actions one night and ran her fingers through his roguish locks did she understand how unbearably erotic such an action was to such hypersensitive beings as they. He'd practically purred at her touch then, giving her the impetus to do more than just pet his head like a dog. When he'd snarled in orgasmic pleasure the first time she'd pulled his head back and exposed the long column of his throat to her teeth and fangs, she'd known she now had an ace up her sleeve. However, she still didn't quite get his fascination with her ass.

Dinah's mind snapped back to the present when she felt the tight coil in her belly ready to release. Her quickened breath was the only the first warning she gave; the deep bite into Jerry's neck was the second. He roared at the pleasure/pain of her fangs in his flesh combined with the shuddering spasms rippling through her and passing into him. He clutched her to him as his own orgasm tore through him, his talons piercing the soft skin of her back and his fangs bared to the ceiling as it passed. The silence that followed hung like a dead weight, punctuated even further by their ragged breaths. Dinah released his neck from her hold, watching through hooded eyes as the muscle and skin mended itself within seconds. They remained upright for several moments as the sweat evaporated from their skin and their breathing returned to normal. She would have been more than happy to call this night done and go to sleep, but it seemed he had other ideas.

Jerry took her left hand in his right and brought it to his lips, softly kissing the angry red mark on her wrist left behind by his belt. The sight of the blemish on her otherwise unnaturally flawless skin prompted a flashback of a time when she'd been given similar wounds, but not by him. He couldn't remember too much about that time given the state of blinding rage he'd been in at having had her stolen from him for a second time (again by a human!), but he recalled all too clearly the way she had been strung up like a freshly poached pig. She'd been locked in a cage, her arms held over her head by chains, and her clothes stained with her own blood as it poured from her side where a crossbow bolt, probably blessed by some saint or other, had pierced her torso; the bolt had remained lodged in her side to prevent the gaping hole from healing. And yet, even through her torture she still had the strength to smile at him when he'd finally found her. Her captor had escaped (he'd thrown holy water in their faces and used their distraction to slip out the door), but his day would come…and it would be a brutal end for the fucker who dared touch what belonged to him.

A soft thump at his temple brought him out of his murderous thoughts. Dinah looked at him with more than a hint of concern in her lovely face. "Stop it."

"What?" His hand slid up and down her arm as the last vestiges of the memory waned.

"Thinking whatever it is you're thinking. You always end up in a bad mood when you make that face." Her right hand went to his jaw, her thumb unconsciously stroking his cheek in an attempt to soothe his troubled mind. His smile was without warmth as he looked down at her wrists again. Even though these particular marks had been made out of lust, they still brought back those images, as fresh in his mind's eye as the day he first witnessed them. His touch was light on her skin as he traced the now-fading marks. Dinah shifted in his lap and took her left hand from his grasp, bringing it up to the other side of his head and forcing him to meet her eyes. "Seriously, what is it?"

His gaze softened as he looked into those deep, expressive, affectionate eyes, once again their normal green hue. He removed her hands from his face and kissed each one in turn. "Just remembering something. It's nothing."

Dinah wasn't convinced but she didn't argue. She'd learned long ago to pick her battles with this man and she wasn't about to start a war over something so small. She nodded in surrender. "Okay." A gentle kiss to his mouth. "Okay," she repeated quieter.

"Sun's coming up," he said matter-of-factly.

Her internal clock told her the same. "So it is." Well, now this is just awkward. "You know the one thing I miss? Flapjacks."

Jerry froze. When he raised his eyes to hers his brow was furrowed in total confusion. "Do what now?"

Dinah smiled at the turn of the mood. "When I was a kid, Rosa would make us a stack of flapjacks every morning. Most of the time they were plain, but if we'd had a good week she'd throw in some blueberries or strawberries." She stopped herself before her thoughts turned back down that road, instead beaming down at her mate like a child. "I know! Let's have pancakes!"

Jerry just titled his head to one side as if trying to see straight through her. Then he laughed. The sound made Dinah's heart swell with happiness; it had been too long since she'd last heard him laugh like that. "You're not making any sense, doll."

She rolled her eyes dramatically for the third time that night. "I. Want. Pan. Cakes. What part of that are you having a tough time understanding?"

"You can have them anytime. Right now, I'm going to sleep, and you" - without so much as a warning he pitched himself forward so that she lay trapped beneath him again – "are gonna stay right here."

"And if I refuse?"

"You never do, babe." His arms tightened around her, drawing her against him so firmly that the chances of her wriggling away were slim to none. Not that she was complaining. A final kiss to her forehead, one more loving smile that demanded no answers from her mate. While her last thoughts before sleep should have been about how to proceed with Doris since her transformation had been interrupted, all Dinah could think about was making strawberry pancakes at dusk.


What story about vampires doesn't involve pancakes? :P