Stepping into the amber glaze of the late afternoon, the duo finds an empty area of the courtyard, just around the corner from the liveliness of their teammates.
It's fully open on one side, revealing the stunning glory of the mountainside, full of bright foliage and colorful flowers. White bricks pave almost every surface, tall hedges making the spot feel almost private.
"This light doesn't bother you?" One skeletal hand rests in his pocket, the other tapping a swift pattern on his thigh. He settles in a shady spot, standing with his back to the wall and Tallulah in his sights.
Tallulah's footsteps make no sound. The sun-warmed stones cool instantly when met with her frigid feet. "Not anymore," she muses. "It would have once turned me to ash, back when I was still… unfinished."
The words should unsettle him. They don't.
Instead, he's distracted by the way she moves, the way she looks at him as if she's already planned the next ten steps of this dance and is simply waiting for him to fall in place. He's always on his back foot around her.
"But that's not what we're here to discuss." Tallulah moves with ease, lean muscles carrying her soundlessly to the wall. She leans on it, pulling him in with her electric gaze. "There's something I need—"
He cuts her off, making his misgivings clear. "You're not talking me into taking that muzzle off."
She sighs, tilting her head, her amusement clear. "You really do wound me, Phosphorus. Do I seem so obvious to you?"
He crosses his arms. "You seem hungry." He can't help but notice the difference in her mannerisms here. She's as casual as ever, but a little less sharp. Her gaze less intense, her smile less cunning. Or is he imagining what he wants to see?
Stepping into his space, her breath is a whisper of frost against his collar bone. "You burn so hot, my dear doctor." Her hooks are in him, sinking deeper by the second. Tallulah knows just how to reel him in."And I? I am cold enough to soothe that fire."
A flicker of something dark flits through his gaze, but he keeps his voice level. "You think you can help me?"
"I know I can," she insists, one hand reaching for his lab coat to pinch the fabric between her forefingers. "And you can help me. You won't even have to break anything. Just give us a taste."
He stiffens. "Taste?"
She leans in further, her voice lowering. "A little experiment, Doctor. To see how much chemistry we have."
He shifts his stance, hesitating for just a second. He hates that he's hesitating, weighing the pros and cons. She's not wrong about their chemistry, and he's actually considering giving her what she wants.
Radiation and fire bleed from him every second of every day, dispersing uselessly into the air, wasted. At least this way, he'd get something out of it. Some relief, some contact that was as human as he could get.
The logical part of his mind wars with the instinct that tells him to push her away. But the way she looks at him—like she already knows he's going to give in—makes him want to surrender.
"Fuck it." Finally extending one burning finger toward her, he braces himself against the wall with his free hand over her shoulder. "This better be good."
Her curled lips twitch ever further as his skeletal limb makes it's way inside her muzzle. He controls his flames, careful not to melt the muzzle. He doesn't know what she'd do if she were free from it and he doesn't want to find out... yet.
Awkwardly, he lets his finger rest in front of her lips.
"Closer."
He rolls his eyes, but the gesture loses it's oomph without visible eyeballs. He does as she asks, brushing his index finger across her lips. She's gentle, sensual in a way that speaks to how delicately she uses her mouth. She's beyond careful, making sure the sharp points of her fangs don't so much as scrape his skin.
Her lips open like the lid of a casket, a dark phantasm pouring from her lips in the form of subtle breaths that play tricks on his mind. He can't find it in himself to tear his eyes away, not when her tongue peeks out, it's wet surface sliding through his flames with ease. It swirls around his fingertip, provoking something hotter in the pit of his belly. His member starts stiffening, growing in spite of the danger.
Tallulah doesn't rush. Being to eager would only push Phosphorus away.
Her blood red lips close around his finger. Her tongue laves over Phosphorus' bone. His chest rumbles, a growl slipping out of him. In contrast to his burning heat, everything she touches feels cold. Her palm on his shoulder, her fingertips wrapping around his wrist to pull him closer.
She siphons it out of him, consuming no small amount of his energy. It's a strong pull, like a tingling fluid rushing out of him. He can afford to wait, convincing his logical side to let her siphon as much of his energy as she wants.
He lets her take more than he should. He wants to let her.
All too soon, she pulls away.
"Wow..." The whispered word falls from his lips unbidden, putting a smirk on her face.
"I don't appreciate voyeurs," Tallulah says, separating herself from his larger frame. Her head turns, eyes narrowing. He follows her line of sight and meets Weasel's bulging eyes.
Phosphorus huffs a breath as he glares at Weasel. "Fucking mood killer." His hand curls into a fist against the wall, his other dropping from her mouth to grab her waist. Even through her dress, she steals the heat from his body. "Scram!" He growls at the gangly, furred creature, shooing it away.
Weasel lets out a garbled chitter, his wide, deranged eyes blinking in delayed comprehension. He scratches his ribs absentmindedly before scampering back the way he came. Voices greet him on the other side, and soft footsteps tell Tallulah she hasn't much time.
"I'm not finished with you, my smouldering star, but..." She drifts back, her feet leaving the ground when she parts from his gravitational orbit. As though distance makes the pull lesser, it becomes easier to turn away, to tell herself to play the long game. "We'll have to continue this later," Tallulah whispers. She disappears inside the castle before the rest of their team can walk in on them, before she loses control of herself.
She'd hate to leave a bad impression. She'd show him he was safe in her hands, prove that she has full reign over her faculties. No need to rush into it all at once, after all. She'd been waiting centuries for this moment, what would another day hurt?
His heat blazes under his hand and in his gut. Sparks fly like fireworks. Tallulah's image floods his mind as he recalls her icy touch. His hand, his prick, his body—all of it was hot, but he could still feel her cool breath on his collar, ghosting over him like a winter breeze. Her natural scent still clung to his nostrils—withered roses and ancient silk with a hint of sage and blackberries.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck... Ngh!"
Phosphorus' hips thrust to meet his grip until he spills his seed, tumbling over the edge of ecstasy. He shudders, exhaling a long breath. A few glowing green droplets run off his fingers, sizzling when they hit the floor. His radioactive ejaculate eats away at the tile before it burns itself out, vanishing entirely.
Phosphorus leans back against the bathroom counter, spent. His body had betrayed him then, and now, left alone with his mind, it betrays him again.
His slacks hang loose around his thighs and he always forgoes underwear these days. He wipes his hand on a towel and throws it away. The holes it burns into the monogrammed towel are someone else's problem now.
"Fuck," he sighs, giving his reflection in the mirror a side eye. He's a mess of fire and desire. "I'm fucked."
He pulls up his pants, stuffing himself back in and buckling up. He's got to have better control in the future, but he's not so sure he'll be able to stay away from Tallulah. It's not like she'd let him go now and he wasn't sure he wanted her to anymore.
He's deeply, wholly screwed. The first woman to touch him in over a decade and it has to be her. The worst possible choice. The only choice that made sense in some twisted way.
She's one step up on the food chain from him. This thing between them? It's bad news for him. Great for her. She's the alligator in this symbiotic relationship, and he's the bird.
It's a dangerous thing, to be wanted by her.
And an even more dangerous thing to want her back.
He's got to be as insane as she is, trusting her not to clamp down on him while he cleans her teeth. Deprived as long as he was, he knew it would end up like this, but it doesn't make it any easier.
He attempts to silence his mind, willing the thoughts away. Walking back into his attached room, he sits on the bed. He pulls on his gloves and tugs up his hood. It covers his illuminated body just enough to sneak about unnoticed, which is exactly his plan. Focus on something he can control.
The general's dresser is calling his name.
The castle seemed to be asleep, even the object of her affections. Instead of letting it get her down, she'd tried to entertain herself.
Tallulah's room is covered in feathers. White, fluffy down cascades from the last soft pillow as she tears it to bits. The others had been just as fun and just as short-lived. The soft feathers mix beautifully with the sparkling shards of glass that dust every inch of the floor.
She sighs. Here she is, bored and lonely, waiting for the Sun to rise. She'd ripped up every pillow, shredded every drape, torn to bits every blanket and she's still in a rut.
She blows a strand of hair from her eyes, catching a bit of down in the process. It lifts away from her face, fluttering slowly to meet with the rest of its peers.
She sends a hungry glance to a power outlet by the vanity.
She growls to herself, forcing her gaze away, "No!"
She won't denigrate herself so, kneeling on the floor to feed like an animal. It's unbecoming, and entirely inappropriate for a woman of her status. She had made herself into someone respectable, someone of repute. Not some common gutter vampire.
She's much too powerful for that.
Not a moment too soon, a stirring from outside catches her ears. Her extra-sensitive hearing has always let her be a premier gossip, obviously, but it also helped her gather information for other reasons.
"I don't need a schedule, Sir Douche-A-Lot. I'm not your prisoner, so open the fucking door." The far-off voice is commanding and hints of barely-restrained anger. Tallulah instantly recognizes it as the Bride. Peering out her large, already-smashed window, Tallulah spies Bride and Nina making their way through the gate.
"That looks like fun. Maybe they'll know the way to the buffet?" Tallulah smirks to herself, turning so her feet hang out the window. She uses her bare toes to grip the bricks that make up the castle wall, pushing off it and hurling out onto another spire of the roof. She jumps again this time landing at the base out the outer wall. It's the last thing separating her from the other women.
Bride and Nina had gone through, but Tallulah thinks she'll go over instead. Taking a few steps back, she gets a running start. Sprinting as quickly as possible, she jumps at the last second, her minuscule fingertips snatching the edges of the brick with incredible strength.
Her toes find holds between the bricks. She clenches tightly to the cracks before practically throwing herself up, shooting into the air like a rocket. Her levitation helps her soar right over the top, grasping the edge and flipping over it. Her feet pad on the ground only for a moment and she's gone again, sailing over the opposite side.
When she finds the other two, they're getting into a yellow sedan, presumably a taxi. The best she can come up with is opening the driver's door before he can pull away. Forcing her way in, Tallulah lifts him by the collar and pushes him into the passenger chair.
The man, too thin to try and fight back, lets a fearful noise escape. A whimper, asking for mercy.
"Hello, my darlings. I thought we could enjoy a bit of a girl's night?"
Bride stiffens, then slumps in annoyance when she sees Tallulah. "Oh, God. It's her."
Nina at least has the decency to act polite. "Oh. Hi, Tallulah."
"Little Guppy! You look as svelte as ever! I'll drive you beautiful ladies about, don't worry." Stuntedly, Tallulah jerks down the parking break and gets the car into drive. Her foot, unused to the pedal, is clumsy with the gas and break. Flashing her pearly fangs at the cowering cabbie, Tallulah orders, "Little morsel, if you want to live, you'll tell me how to get where they want to go."
"Oh, he doesn't speak English," Nina says, leaning between the two front seats. "Bride can—"
"Oh, right! How could I forget!" Tallulah bumps her palm to her forehead, admonishing herself for her forgetfulness. "Naprav'te menya, i ya povedu."
She says it with a menacing chill, her rhotic accent strengthening the already distinctive sound of Pokolistani. The man nods his head vehemently, snot drooling from his nostril.
She wants to give in, the hunger gnawing at her stomach, twisting with the need for more. She stays her ravenous appetite, filling herself on the memory of noxious fumes and radioactive energy.
Besides, they still need him for directions. Maybe later she can swallow him up.
"Fucking hell," Bride huffs under her breath, her head falling back onto the headrest.
"K-konechno," the man stammers. Tallulah sneers, seeing a large wet spot forming in his pants. The stench of ammonia and urea fills the car.
Tallulah opens her window. She adjusts the side and rear view mirrors, gripping the steering wheel casually.
"You know how to drive, right?" Nina asks, her voice mousy and light. She's so darn nice that Tallulah can't help but enjoy her company. A giggle rises to the vampire's throat.
She takes a pair of aviator sunglasses from behind the sun shade.
"Sure!" She says, flicking them open with a dramatic snap. She slides them on like a starlet about to commit a felony, regardless of the shroud of midnight around them. "I used to drive the Model T around Gotham. Can't be that different, can it?"
She steps on the gas, the engine roaring to life. The tires squeal with how quickly they take off. Nina holds her seatbelt like it's a rosary. Even Bride grabs a handle, fearing the worst.
The taxi screeches to a halt, almost spinning into the wrought iron gate of the manor. The breaks squeal loudly, the marigold cab inches from slamming into the gates.
The sudden stop sends the passengers lurching forward. Nina gasps like she was out of the water, the seatbelt digging into her suit and neck. Bride's long legs are strategically placed keep her steady, her hand flat against the roof of the car. Tallulah braces herself against the wheel, smiling like a lunatic as the car's momentum dissipates.
"I knew you were a fucking maniac but you drive like one too," Bride spits, finally uncoiling her tight muscles.
After it stops, a chuckle filters out of Tallulah's carmine lips, drawing strange looks from the others.
Nina pries her webbed fingers away from the seat belt. She tries not to scratch the car door on it when she gets out, slipping through the gap carefully. Bride cares not, jumping out of the cab. She'd rather not spend a second longer with Tallulah behind the wheel. She ignores the bowing in the roof that wasn't there before, just as Tallulah ignores the smell of burning rubber.
The vampire leaves the driver seat like she's stepping onto the red carpet. Shapely, pale legs stretch out of the open door, thighs pressed together and knees slanted to prevent any upskirt photographs.
She runs a hand through her hair, then props the sunglasses on top of her head, taking in the view. She catches a glimpse of the cabbie kissing a wooden cross that hangs from his neck before he crawls into the driver seat.
The Frankenstein Estate looms darkly over the trio as the taxi fishtails away in a hurry. He presses the pedal so suddenly that the tires skip against the asphalt like a finished record before squealing forward.
The stately, Pokolistani manor is dilapidated and aged, but it holds a certain pretentiousness in it's maroon roofing and tall spires. The two yellow-tinged sconces at the front gates are the last bit of light on the entire property, leaving the building drenched in shadow.
Nina and Tallulah trail after Bride like ducklings after their mother, waiting for her to break the lock on the gate and bust down the front door. She made it look easy, but not even Tallulah's vampiric strength could compete with hers.
Tallulah doesn't often find herself respecting others, but Bride was one she found it easy to feel it for. It's such an abnormal feeling that Tallulah has to question her own state of mind. When was the last time she felt impressed by someone? Gotham? Paris? Bolivia?
"Am I going nutty...?" she breathes.
"More like trail mix. Nuts, dried fruit, and something weird that doesn't belong. Like, I don't know, jelly beans and rusty nails," Bride scoffs, her hips swaying over to the base of the foyer stairs.
Her pink orbs glaze over her surroundings, taking it in like an old friend who's hair went gray or who gained a bit of weight since you saw them last. Cobwebs crouch in corners of the ceiling, dust cakes the banisters, and moonlight shines through various holes in the roof.
"Careful now, Bride of No One. You're starting to sound a little poetic yourself." Tallulah's eyes, slitted narrowly at the tall woman, speak volumes.
Bride only grunts, leading them deeper into the mansion. Her face is stony and her gait steady. The light of the sconces becomes so distant, it's impossible to see as far as a foot in front of herself. The shadows seem to swallow them whole, accepting the women into it's embrace.