Bloodlife (V2)

((Closed for myself and Sweet-Denna))


IC: Donovan Durand

Donovan was a tall blond man with acquiline nose, sharp peircing blue eyes, and an animal intensity over him barely leashed by the exertion of his will alone. Yet now he was keeping that subdued, hidden underneath the farce of the disguise he wore. He was dressed in a grey Armani suit, a rolex watch, finely crafted glasses, all worth exorbitant sums of money. His attire, his manner all screamed rich wallstreet banker and someone completely out of place in the Manhattan neighborhood slum he trolled for his next meal. Here and there he looked back nervously as if fearful of someone following him. In truth he knew exactly where everyone was.

He could smell them, the had a man casually leaning against a streetlight tracking him, The alley his prey called home was just up ahead. He knew for he had stalked them last night.

It was late at night in New York, the city that never slept. People were up and keeping the streets alive with pedestrians and traffic, but not in this neighborhood, this was deserted, dark, silent like the black forests of his homeland so very long ago. This city was a jungle indeed with building instead of trees, and complete with pack hunters like the wolves that had haunted the wilderness of his youth.

The alley was down the street near the intersection marking the border of another gang's territory. Once he reached the alley he'd stumble and "accidentally" drop his wallet casting his lure for his prey to come to him.

He sought out scum like drug dealers, gang bangers, and gun runners. Not for any altruistic motivation, but for purely pragmatic reasons. Donovan had found that if he preyed upon these criminals few of the human authorities cared to pose a manhunt for a blood drinking monster like him. It would have been a different story if he seduced virgins, or upstanding members of their society. Drinking their more unsavory elements of their population invited them to just look the other way. Pragmatism. The human police would probably suspect the neighboring gang.

He headed for the alley maintaining his facade of the lost yuppie. Then someone walked around the curb of the street and stopped in front of the alley looking this way and that, as if she was the one truly lost.

Donovan gritted his teeth as the gang emerged in the darkness drawn by more enticing prey presenting itself to them than Donovan could compete with. soon they had her surrounded eyeing her up and down like hungry animals. He moved cautiously behind a nearby parked car waiting to see if he could find some way to take advantage of this woman's presence.

Pauline Meunier was lost. Lost and scared and very soon, probably dead. This was not how she had imagined her short trip to New York to conclude.

Currently working on her Ph.D., she had come to New York for an academic conference on urban anthropology. At 25, she was one of the youngest researchers in her institute at SciencePo in Paris, where she worked on a project on slum dweller's autonomy.

Pauline had inherited her Tunisian grandmother's curly black hair, and her father's dark green eyes. Her petite stature and her delicate features had people often underestimate her, both physically and academically. While she was not exactly tough, she could certainly hold her own. In the beginning, she had had to convince a few of her colleagues that no, she had not joined the research team to find a suitable husband or an intellectual fuckbuddy and that yes, she was capable of doing fieldwork in the slums of Beirut, Calcutta and Rio de Janeiro without any problems.

How ironic, she thought now. How very fucking ironic. She backed off from the men that were lewdly grinning at her, their eyes gleaming with brutal lust. 'Merde', she uttered under her breath. Shit. It had been a retarded idea to wander the backstreets of this neighbourhood in the first place. She cursed her own stupidity.

After the last conference panels had closed, she had decided to wander through the less touristic parts of the city instead of following her fellow participants to yet another pretentious organic restaurant in the East Village. Pauline was still undecided if she loved or hated New York, its hectic, its noise and its lack of sun. She had spent most of her life in Marseilles, before relocating to Paris for her studies, and was positively addicted to its over 300 days of warm sun a year and the comforting, glistening blue of the Mediterranean. She drew her warm coat a little closer around her and hid her face behind thick woolen scarf that she had wrapped around her neck. The sidewalks had started to slightly freeze over and she had to be careful not to slip on the grey asphalt.

Lost in thought, she had aimlessly wandered the streets, without paying attention to where she was going, and more importantly, to how she was going to get back to her hotel. Slowly, the facades of the houses around her looked increasingly run-down, and she was aware of the fact that she looked rather out of place in her pretty black skirt and her expensive-looking leather boots. The sun had gone down, and there were only very scarce streetlights that threw dirty yellow pools of light onto the pavement. Pauline stopped and looked around her. She had no idea where she was, and how she was going to get back. And there was nobody around that she could have asked for the way.

It was then that she saw a group of young men emerge from around a corner, and while at first she was happy to finally encounter somebody, that joy quickly turned into anxiety. They had seen her, too, and she had clearly seen the expression on their faces. Spotting prey.

This was not good. Not good at all. The men that closed in on her very much ressembled a pack of hungry wolfs, and Pauline had the very uneasy feeling that they were not lusting after her wallet. She threw hectic glances to the left and to the right. But the alleys were empty. Maybe, if she turned and ran? With a stumble, she realized that she had backed off into a wall.

"I give you all my money, my phone, whatever you want, okay? Just don't hurt me. Please." Her fear brought out her French accent even more, and she could hear one of the men growl: "French pussy. Cute. Never had that." Pauline started to panic. With her back against a wall, she was now completely at their mercy. "Don't worry about your money, babe. First, we'll eat." One of the guys reached out for her, grabbed her hair and yanked her forward. She screamed in pain and surprise, trying to wiggle out of his grip, her nails digging into his skin. With a sharp snap, he pulled out a butterfly knife and held it to her cheek, the cold steel of the blade pressing into her skin. "Cut it out, cunt", he hissed. Pauline stared at him with pleading eyes but did not dare to test his patience. "Please...no...", she whispered.

"I wonder what my cock would look like in that sweet little doll mouth of yours, chérie." The others laughed at his comment, and he slowly forced her to her knees on the cold pavement. "Please...somebody help me....", Pauline sobbed.

IC: Donovan Durand

Donovan watched as six gangmembers surrounded the woman from where he hid behind a an old rust-covered VW beetle on the side of the street.

"I give you all my money, my phone, whatever you want, okay? Just don't hurt me. Please." She said with a thickening french accent.

Donovan watched as a short wiry gang-banger regarded the tall bald one with a tattoo pf a black widow spider on the back of his shaved head. Spider man was clearly the alpha-wolf of this pack. He growled saying, "French pussy. Cute. Never had that." The others snickered like hungry wolves at that. "Don't worry about your money, babe. First, we'll eat."

One reached out and grabbed a handful of the frenchwoman's curly black hair. "Let's get this cunt into the alley." He pulled her forward into the entrance of the alley.

Desperately she tried to fight them off, but one with a grill of gold affixed to his teeth held out a knife and held its razor sharp edge to her cheek. "Cut it out, cunt," He snarled.

"You're such a playa, Gonzo," The leader, spider man, nodded his head towards the alley. "Get the cunt in the alley already."

"Please...no...", She whispered terrified.

Spider man laughed, We're just gonna have a little party, cunt. Get you acquainted with real men, not those french pussies they got in Gay ass Paris."

Gonzo laughed with him joined by the other four. "I wonder what my cock would look like in that sweet little doll mouth of yours, chérie." The others laughed harder at that as they pushed and pulled and dragged her into the alley.

["Please...somebody help me....", She screamed.

Donovan exhaled resignedly and rose up from behind the VW saying to Spider man, "Let the girl be."

Spider man jumped at the sudden appearance of the man in the yuppie suit. "'None of your business, cracker, Fuck off." He raised the hem of his T-shirt to show the peice he had in low-slung baggy pants.

Again Donovan exhaled not intimidated in the slightest by the gun the thug was brandishing. "Let her go and I'll allow some of you to live." Part of him wondered why he was bothering to try and save the pathetic human girl. The other part was calculating how many he'd have to eviscerate before the others would run scared. If he was not careful he'd lose his chance to feed.

"You wanna play Hero, huh." Spider man growled pulling out his glock and holding it pointed between his eyes.

"I am far from a hero, but you, you will be one now." Donovan's eyes didn't focus on the gun. They were focused on Spider man's battering through the feeble defenses his drug-weakened mind tried to bar him with.

His hand shaking trembling Spider man turned pointed the gun at the short one and pulled the trigger.

Gonzo still holding the girl with a knife to her face cried out, "What the fuck?"

Donovan was on the next closest of the gangsters his hand slipped to cup his chin even as the man was pulling out his revolver. Donovan twisted the man's head until his neck snapped. Spider man took aim on one of his former comrades still trembling and a wet spot forming on the front of his jeans as he blew another one's head off.

Two of the gang-banger just looked at eachother and turned and ran one of them screaming, "Fuck this man."

That left Gonzo who was staring at Donovan and holding the girl hostage.

Behind him Spider man placed his gun under his chin and pulled the trigger blowing the back of his head and the tattoo that was on it away forever.

Donovan showed his fangs to Gonzo and glared with blood red eyes, "Who the fuck...What are you," He said as if holding the woman protected him from Donovan in the slightest. "Don't get near me, man, or I'll cut her."

Pauline was roughly being pushed, shoved and pulled into the alley, under the lewd laughter of the men that had surrounded her. Just when Gonzo forced her to her knees, another voice joined theirs. A cold, dangerous voice, that rang in Pauline's ears even though the words had been spoken at a low volume. 'Thank God', she thought, her mind racing in horror at the events that had so roughly unfolded in the last minutes. It would at least buy her some time. A few precious minutes. She felt herself yanked to her feet by her hair. The cold metal of the blade against her cheek reminded her that a few more minutes were probably all she was going to get out of this welcome interruption.

A blond man emerged from behind one of the parked cars. He looked at least as out of place in this alley as she did, wearing an immaculate suit and fine shoes, and an expression of annoyed disgust on his beautiful face. Pauline watched him come closer and realized that he was not going to be able to postpone her ordeals for very many minutes. Judging by his outfit and his attitude, they would probably kill him in the very next second. She held her breath in anticipation.

But then something very odd happened. After a short exchange of words between the stranger and the gangleader, uncanny events started to unravel, faster than any of them had expected. A shot exploded and the hit gangbanger fell liveless to the ground, with Spider Man staring at his hand holding the gun. Pauline screamed in horror. The strange man approached another one of the gang members, and with almost no effort, snapped his neck. 'Oh, mon dieu...', Pauline uttered, not sure if she wanted Gonzo to leave or to stay. She had to struggle not to lose her nerves.

Another shot rang out. Pauline could feel small drops of blood, and possibly other very gross bits splatter over her face and hair. The gangleader was either batshit crazy, or something very strange was at work here. With the blade still against her cheek, Pauline did not dare to scream, but a terrified whimper forced itself out of her throat. When she tried to break away from Gonzo's grip, he growled into her ear and twisted her arm tighter, making her scream out in pain. It was then that the bald gangleader put the gun to his chin to pull the trigger. Pauline could hear his body slump to the ground behind them and had to bite her lips not to scream. The tall stranger stood across from her and Gonzo now. They were the last three persons alive in the alleyway.

She stared at the strange man who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. His eyes were glowing, and when his lips parted she could see...fangs. Pauline blinked, too terrified to move or speak, or even breathe. Fangs.

For the length of a few seconds, there was absolute silence. Gonzo's words still hung in the air like broken glass and Pauline could feel her heart beat so frantically against her chest that she had trouble breathing. There was so much blood everywhere. So much blood! Pauline had the sickening feeling that she could smell it, that she could taste copper on her tongue. It made her gag and she had to force herself not to throw up.

The hand that held the knife against her face was shaking and Pauline was afraid that the guy who held her in his iron grip might cut her in fear. "Monsieur", Pauline whispered, addressing the strange man stand across from her and Gonzo. "Please." She was not sure what she was pleading for but she knew that she had never before in her life been this afraid. It was really was unclear if the stranger had come to save her from the bald Spider Man and his gang, or to simply claim her for himself. His eyes were dangerously glowing in the dirty light of the few street lanterns.

IC: Donovan Durand

Donovan showed his fangs to Gonzo and glared with blood red eyes, "Who the fuck...What are you," He said as if holding the woman protected him from Donovan in the slightest. "Don't get near me, man, or I'll cut her."

The blood of the gangbangers was spilling-seeping out of the wounds in their bodies. Bits of the blood and flesh had been sprayed everywehere on the alley on its walls on the woman's clothes. The coppery scent of it hung in the air like an old lover's perfume to Donovan. It stirred the bestial hunger already roused by the violence and the forever hollow space within him deepened in reaction. He needed to feed and soon.

The girl looked as if she didn't know of whom to more terrified of the man with the knife to her face or the impossibility of what Donovan was. He would've found it humorous if he wasn't just too damned hungry.

"Monsieur," The girl said meekly, "Please."

"Be silent little one." His eyes never left Gonzo's. "Let her go and I'll allow you to flee unharmed." He was finding it difficult to plant a suggestion past the barriers of the terrified gangster's brain. Fear was a fluid thing and hard for even the most skilled to peirce.

"Stay the fuck away from me." Gonzo shouted pushing the knife into the girl and pushing her into him. Then he turned and ran. Within heartbeats Donovan caught using a knife-edge chop to shatter the man's vertebra. His other hand snaking around his head and twisiting his neck around to clear space for his fangs to sink in, and he drank. The man's life'swarmth filled him temporarily filling that empty space within him.

His cock began to harden as he drained the putrid gangster dry. He threw the lifeless corpse aside and began to walk out the alley past the girl bleeding to death. He stopped looking down at her then to the end of the alley and back to her. She was exotic and beautiful his cock throbbed at the sight of her, but it was fleeting beauty. She only had minutes of life left in that fragile shell of a body.

He brushed a hand to wipe Gonzo's blood from his chin and then told her, "I am sorry little one. You'll be dead long before any ambulance will be able to get to you here."

Pauline was stiff with fear in Gonzo's grip. She could feel him losing it, and was very close to a nervous breakdown herself. His hands were shaking and she eyed the shivering blade with fear. There was short exchange of words between him and the terrifying stranger but Pauline felt that Gonzo was past the capability to reason.

It did not hurt as the sharp blade broke through her skin. Not much. The blade had slipped from her cheek to her throat, and there the pressure had increased shortly before Gonzo made a run for it.

Pauline felt herself propelled forward, before she stumbled, utterly disoriented, too terrified to realise what had just happened. After a few steps, she fell down on her back, her legs twisted to the side. She could feel herself breathe blood now, it was spilling from her lips in a crimson froth as she laid on the frozen street, unable to move a muscle.

Pauline did not see what the stranger did to Gonzo. All her fading brain was able to grasp was a chain of unhealthy sounds, a sick snap and some time later, the sound of something - somebody - slumping to the floor. Her thoughts started to swim. She did not hear him come closer again but suddenly her stood next to her, looking down at her pitiful form. The taste of copper on her lips was very real now, sickeningly strong. Unsure if her dazed mind was already betraying her, she watched him wipe blood from his lips. It had to be Gonzo's. It had to be... Coherent thoughts broke off into little pieces as she felt more blood, this time her own, spill over her lips, trickle down her throat. The stranger's face was a mask of indifference.

All he did was to tell her that she was going to die. His voice was calm, very matter of factly, as he looked down on the young woman who was bleeding to death rapidly. Pauline stared back at him, incredulous, unable to wrap her swimming mind around his words. She moved her lips in protest, tried to move an arm, a leg, even a finger, but her small body suddenly seemed like a burden that was much to heavy to carry.

Bu the stranger just stood there, looking down at her dying. He did not even do so much as crouch down to check on her wound. Suddenly she wished that he would at least hold her. It was so cold, and she was so very tired.

"Please", she finally whispered. Pauline was not even sure if she had actually spoken the word or just thought it. The wound in her throat made it difficult to do anything else than gurgling up more blood. She coughed, as more of the liquid ran down her windpipe and blocked air from coming in. 'I am scared of dying.' This time, she was sure that the words had not actually made it out of her mouth. They hung in her head, orphaned, echoing painfully.

His face faded, with his eyes two glowing pools of blue above her.

IC: Donovan Durand

Donovan watched as her life's blood made a pool beneath her at his feet. He wasn't sure why he did not just leave her to die in peace. Maybe it was the throbbing erection long neglected in his pursuit to sate other hungers, or maybe it was something as insidious as pity. But her fate here reminded him of his own mortal death so very long ago.

"Please," She murmured weakly to him.

He had died so long ago-nearly a millenium now-in the fields of Jerusalem like her a victim of forces he did not truly comprehend until a woman came and took pity on him.

He bent down and lifted her up in his arms cradling her. Her eyes were barely moving, having trouble focusing. He lifted her arm to his mouth and spoke to her against the cold skin there. "You will live once again, Little one, and I hope you will forgive me for it."

His hand covered the open wound of her jugular. His fangs found and pierced the artery in her arm and his venom began to flow through her emptying veins beginning the transition to one of the children of the night.

As if he had read her thoughts, the stranger bent down to Pauline. She was barely aware of it, her heavy loss of blood had caused a feeling of fatigue that seemed to wipe out everything else.

He lifted her up without even so much as a groan. Pauline felt her body lose contact with the ice-cold asphalt that she had been laying on. When she was in his arms, and despite the fact that he was holding her so close, she did not feel any warmth, nor any comfort. He whispered something that Pauline did not understand, his cold lips pressed against the skin of her arm, while she felt that he closed one hand firmly over the wound in her throat. She was terrified, vaguely aware that she needed an ambulance, medical care, a hospital. Pauline realised that the stranger was not planning on providing her with any of these things. What was he doing? Her tired daze broke off this last chain of frantic thoughts. Pauline could not move, her eyes did not focus, and all she wanted was to rest. To sleep. To drift away.

Then the pain of his fangs breaking the skin of her arm bounced off her cortex from where it was propelled into every nerve ending of her body. Pauline twitched, and then cramped up in his grip, whincing. She would have screamed if her vocal cords were not drowned in her own blood.

There was something else, too. It was as if liquid acid was rapidly burning its way through her veins and her frail body started to tremble in agony. Pauline started choking in the attempt to voice her fear and her pain, before everything finally, mercifully, turned black.

Donovan took the wounded girl to the nondescript Lincoln he had hidden away in an alley. He quickly drove them to the rundown brick building that was his home. The change was becoming more and more evident as he witnessed the ugly wound begin to knit.

The girl would be in serious straits. The change was chaotic and confusing, with the very real danger of losing her sanity.

He brought her inside pulled her tightly up against his body. His hand over the curve of her add holding her roughly against his full erection, the other on the back of her head so her lips were pressed up against the pulse on the side of his neck.

"I am here with you little one," Donovan told her, "Embrace the animal within you. You must if you wish to survive the transition."

Pauline slipped in and out of consciousness, but was unable to speak, unable to utter a single syllable. Whenever she did surface from the bottomless darkness that she drifted into, the soaring pain in her body drove tears to her eyes and made her tense up in his arms. His arms. He still carried her, hurriedly, somewhere. Then her mind went blank again.

A car. The start of an engine.

Blank.

She felt being dragged from the car seat.

Blank.

Stairs. Bricks. The sound of metal against metal.

Blank.

Drop. Drop. Drop. Broken pipes, and cold air against her skin.

Her eyes had started burning, and suddenly, she was sure that they would melt. They would melt right through her brain, like glowing magma, turning her skull to ashes. She could feel it. Frantically, she tried to cover them, grab them, keep them from disappearing. She had to stay awake. Had to. Had to. She snarled, probably sure that the man who held wanted to take them from her. He had done it on purpose. A voice whispered in her ear. She giggled. The pain that had tortured her so, faded. Like colourful snakes it wriggled around her body, inched from her mouth, her nose, squeezed her ribs to the point of cracking. It was him. It was his fault.

But he held her tight. Would he make the snakes go away? His eyes were on her, intently, she could feel their warmth on her skin, his body was not cold anymore either. The voice told her to take his eyes. Because he had wanted to take hers.

Then he pulled her close to him, and for a second, the maddening voices, the snakes, the fear, all of it stopped. Pauline heard him whisper, and his voice rang in her head, she understood every word. Embrace the animal. The pulse under his alabaster skin throbbed against her lips, and she could feel his hard cock press against her crotch. It was intoxicating and frightening.

Her lips parted, slowly, and even though she did not understand why, Pauline felt a kind of hunger that she had never felt before. Without knowing how, she could feel her teeth sink into his skin, slowly, breaking it as easily as if she bit through butter.

For a second, she could feel his pulse softly hammer against her tongue, and then, the first drop of his blood burned its way down her throat. It felt like she could feel it inch its way through her body, making her eager to fill an emptiness she had not even known was there. Without being aware of it, she started grinding her crotch against his rock-hard member. Her grip on him tightened, and then, she started to drink, in long, deep sips, greedily, longing for more.

IC: Donovan Durand

Donovan growled low as he felt her draw swallow after swallow of his blood from the artery in his neck. His hand wrapped tightly-probably painfully-in the deep mass of dark curls holding her head hard against him as she drank his blood. Donovan knew she would need his blood to stabilize the alterations her own blood chemistry was undergoing like a puppy needed its mother's milk in the first few weeks of life. she would need his blood on a regular basis if she was to survive the next few days until the transformations were complete within her.

"That's it little one drink deep." His other hand clenched a handful of her ass hard enough that it would leave bruises and dragged her growing wetness over the tent in his pants faster and more aggressively. "The dreams and visions will try to lead you away to horrible fantasies and insanity, my little one. focus upon my voice. focus on the taste of my blood. focus on the orgasm building within you. These things are real. Do not be led astray, follow the sensations I am giving to you to reality."

His vision blurred as she took more and more of his blood. That was why few Vampires reproduced this way-it was very dangerous for both parties.

He planted her back hard against a nearby table. His hand ripped open the layers of clothing seperating his iron-hard cock from her gaping pussy. The head parted her lips and slowly so she would not miss a moment of the sensations pushed himself inside her inch by inch to the hilt.

"Come for me now, little one," He demanded of her.

Pauline held on to the strange man, desperately trying to sate her hunger. It seemed as if his blood chased the voices away, as if the snakes that kept her from breathing shied away as soon as the burning liquid rolled down her throat, and shot though her veins. One hand was in his hair, pulling roughly, eager to bend his head further to the side, eager to drink more of his blood. His voice barely reached her through the mass of voices that were still screaming, tearing their way through her brain.

She vaguely felt him rip off the few clothes that had still covered her, and winced in pain as her back hit something hard, something that felt like a smooth, wooden surface. Her eyes were still burning, and she was unable to see anything besides contourless shapes. The hunger that had started to eat away her insides now merged into a very real, and very primal need to be fucked.

Feeling his hard cock against te soft folds of her pussy, she arched her back in his grip, before she wrapped her legs around his back, digging her heels into his upper thighs to pull him closer. When he entered her, her lips parted in a low, frighteningly inhuman moan. His blood still clung to her lips, and her tongue darted out to lick it off. Her hands roughly pulled on the fabric of his shirt, clawing through the material. Seams gave in in protest, and Pauline smiled. His cock throbbed inside of her, urged her on, fuelling her hunger, her needs.

"More", she whispered. "I want more."

IC: Donovan Durand

"Come for me now, little one," He demanded of her.

She didn't heed his orders, perhaps didn't even hear his words amongst the other voices she'd be hearing. He knew from his own siring a millenia ago just how disorienting and alluring it could be to follow those ghostly voices into lunacy. He would need to act fast if she should survive.

The Seracen vampiress that had sired him during the first holy crusade in Jerusalem had to beat the shit out of him to keep him focused on reality. He hoped his method would work better here not because he was a pacifist by any stretch of the imagination, but he did feel protective of this pathetic little girl-a paternal instinct perhaps-Donovan didn't know-she was the first he ever turned.

"More", She whispered licking the blood off her lips, "I want more."

"I will give you more," He said encouraged by her cognizence to form the words. He began to drive his throbbing cock in and out of her grasping pussy rocking the table in time to the beating of her heart. His hands clenched hold of her shoulders keeping her at arms length. Keeping his neck far from her neck even as she was arched from the force of his fucking of her. "But if you want more blood, little one, you will have to take it for yourself."

Pauline gasped in his grip, growling as the man towering above her refused her more of his warm, soothing blood. She struggled against him, tried to free herself from the hands that were holding her firmly down against the table. But she was not strong enough. She was by far not strong enough. "More", she hissed at him, but her voice was ragged, and barely audible now.

And then, the whispers returned, giggling and hissing in her head. He did not want to give her more blood, he wanted her to suffer. To die. How could he! How dare he! Pauline winced, and held her hands over her ears. Her ruby lips smeared with his blood, she started to whisper to herself, feverishly, as if trying to reason with the others who tried to convince her that the man now fucking her was dangerous.

The frail girl bucked against his cock, whimpering under his rough thrusts. She needed this. She wanted this. Arching her back some more, clenching her cunt around his shaft, she moaned, and at the same time, tried to fight him off. Kill him, the voices hissed in her ear. Kill him.

With a growl, an animalistic snarl even, she grabbed one of the wrists that pinned her against the smooth surface of the wooden table, and with a content sigh, she felt her teeth break through his skin just as easily as they had before.

IC: Donovan Durand

"More", she hissed to him as she struggled futilely against his greater strength.

Donovan watched her face as her eyes unfocused and the voices inside her head would be becoming more insistent. "Focus upon reality little one."

He thrusted deeper harder into her molten core, and in response she bucked her hips to meet each thrust.

"Good," He affirmed, "Now take what you want, what you need, from me."

With a growl more like tiger's snarl she trapped one of his wrists and bring it over to her mouth. Her teeth peirced his flesh and once again she drank of the blood she so desperately needed from him.

She drank, large swallows, and Donovan allowed her to even as his hips picked up pace and ferocity. Soon when he judged she had regained alot of strength from his blood. he lifted her up off the desk with one wrist trapped in her jaws the other on the back of her head supporting her weight. He held her so they were eye to eye. If she wanted to continue fucking herself with his cock she would have to take over. Which was good for he was nearing the edge as it was.

"Take it."

He did not have to urge her on to drink, her thirst for his blood, his strength, seemed unsatiable. Pauline was digging her fingers that held on to his wrist into his skin and droplets of his blood were dripping down her chin. This time, he did not deny her to feed.

As he lifted her off the table, Pauline was forced to cling on to him with her legs that were still wrapped tightly around his body. The mad voices started to fade as she lifted herself off his cock, only to slam down on it angrily, picking up her pace steadily, feeling pleasure building up quickly, in rhythm with the his lifeblood that had started to curse through her own veins with burning power.

When she tumbled over the edge into a mindnumbing orgasm, she had to let go of his wrist, overwhelmed by the shocks of pleasure that crashed through her tiny body in heavy waves. Her lips were smeared with his blood and her eyes had a strange, almost supernatural glint to it as she bucked against him, panting without reason, breathing heavily without ever sucking any air into her lungs.

As the climax slowly subsided, it felt as if a curtain was slowly being lifted from her senses. The snakes were gone now, as were the frightening voices, hisses, whispers. But she was still clinging on to this strange man, was still impaled on his throbbing cock, and she could taste blood - his blood - on her tongue. Pauline started to shiver, unable to understand, and utterly unable to cope with the situation she was in.

OOC: sorry I haven't posted in a while, Denna, this past week has been crazy for me in real life.

IC: Donovan Durand

She drank her fill and Donovan began to fear that she would drink him dry as his vision began to waver. She clung to him as her literal life depended on it as he raised her up off the table. Flexing her legs she drove herself with furor impaling her tight pussy with his cock. Steadily she drove them on to earth-shaking orgasm. It was one so powerful that he had to lean against a wall as his vision blurred and his knees threatened to buckle.

As the climax slowly subsided he carried her panting body to his bedroom, and laid her down pulling blankets over her.

"The transition takes energy, little one," He told her, "You must sleep to replenish your strength."

He left her for a moment to open his fridge and retrieve a few bags of blood from the bloodbank he had paid well for. He despised these things. They tasted cold, limp, lifeless nowhere near as replenishing as fresh blood straight from someone's neck. Still it brought him strength and vitality the girl had taken from him. He then slipped on a bathrobe removing his torn and ruined clothes.

He returned to her afterward to find her still awake. She tried to rise as he approached but he raised his hand. "Lay still sudden seizures can occur after the transition."

he sat down in a chair overlooking her by his dresser. "My name is Donovan Durand I was born in Yorkshire England One thousand and twelve years ago. I was the third son of the Earl of Greyhill. As a naive and vain young man I answered the Pope's call to fight in a holy war to reclaim the holy land from the heathen muslims. I was defeated on the battlefield outside Jerusalem. When a Seracen woman came and bit me much as I did to you. She made me a vampire, as I have made one of you. Since then I have lived preying upon the dregs of humanity, those such as the men that accosted you in the alley, that would not be missed. So I have survived, and so I shall teach you to survive, little one."

He leaned forward so they were eye to eye, "You will have questions. Questions I may or may not answer. All you need to do is ask."

OCC: No worries, Veroe, I know exactly what that feels like.

ICC: Pauline held on to him while he carried her over to the bed, and only reluctantly let go of him when he laid her down on the mattress. The pain was gone and the voices had vanished. All that was left now was a strange, roaring silence that filled her head.

He left the room, and for a few moments, the frail girl laid on her back on the bed, still too stunned to move. Images flashed through her mind with confusing sharpness and speed. The dead end street, the gang, the fight, the knife. The blood.

The blood.

Pauline lifted one shaking hand to her chin, collecting a sticky drop of the crimson fluid that had escaped her lips earlier. The blood. She looked at it, its beautiful, dark red colour. And while it was just a small droplet, she could smell its overpowering aroma, it filled her nostrils and tickled her nerves in the most unnerving manner. His blood. Pauline brought the finger to her mouth and wrapped her lips around it, suckling on it with need she had never felt before.

Her body still burned with the need for him. One hand found its way between her legs and Pauline let one finger slide between her moist pussylips. What the hell had just happened? And why was she not terrified of the fact of having just fucked a complete stranger, and an obviously deranged one at that? But the image of him snapping that gangbanger's neck only drove a soft moan from her lips. It was truely disturbing. If Pauline could have looked at herself from outside, at her small body writhing under the blankets, at her blood smeared lips, her dangerously sparkling , she would certainly have been appalled. But as it was, she was still dazed, still unsure of what to feel.

Then he came back into the room, and her ruby lips curled into a smile, baring her fangs. She tried to lift herself up onto her elbows, but immediately he raised his hand to keep her from doing so. The transition? What was he talking about? Pauline tried to move her lips in protest, but found it hard to speak, and when she finally felt a hoarse whisper raise from her throat, he started to talk, and Pauline fell silent.

While he spoke so, she stared at him without really comprehending what he said. The words seemed to rain down on her mind in a cruel stream, keeping her from really grasping the meaning. So her rescuer really was a knight? Pauline laughed, but it sounded shrill and hollow, without even a trace of humour. He was...a vampire. And he had made her one, too.

Impossible. It simply could not be.

Yet everything seemed to point out that he spoke the truth, if that word still held any meaning. Pauline's truth had always neatly excluded things like...him. Vampires, ghosts, witches. She slowly licked her lips, felt the sharp tips of her fangs with the tip of her tongue. Panic rose from the soles of her feet, gripping her chest so tightly that she was afraid her ribs might crack under the pressure. A vampire.

He leant over her and looked her straight into the eyes. Questions. Yes,she had many, many questions. But for now, there was another need that she wanted to tend to first. Throwing back the blanket, baring her naked form, she growled: "I want more."

IC: Donovan Durand

Donovan knew she wasn't really listening as he spoke. The twin hungers for sex and blood that made both of them what they were was dominant in her mind. But when he lent over her she pulled back the blanket revealing her nude body to his eyes declaring in a tone close to a growl, "I want more."

He smiled rearing back, "I know you do, little one, but you won't get anymore unless you answer my questions."

He sat back fully expecting her to not like what he was intending. The drive to feed and for sex was dominant and she would have to learn control it if she wished to survive. She may answer the first couple but Donovan would continue asking more and more testing the limits of her ability to control the implacable behemoth for blood and sex within her.

When Semorah, the Vampire that made him, had tried this he hadn't gotten past five questions before he had tried forcing her. She had then proceded to-kick his ass-he believed was the correct modern term for it-though it seemed to pale in conveying just how brutal a beating she had given him.

He wondered how long this little one would withstand it.

"First tell me your name?"

Her small body was heaving in expectation. Pauline could almost feel a physical sensation of heat on her skin when his eyes travelled up and down her naked form. She closed her eyes, arched her back a little, her delicate fingers digging into the sheets. Waiting for the sensation of his mouth on hers, her ruby lips parted. The simple thought of him fucking her again forced a moan from her throat.

But nothing happened.

When she opened her eyes again, she could see him smile, as if mocking her. Her puckered lips faded to two thin lines of unpleasant surprise. He seemed perfectly composed and not the least tempted to even lay one finger on her. Pauline frowned, feeling suddenly utterly stupid for her little attempt at being a seductress. Could vampires blush? She certainly felt her cheeks burning, and with an embarassed grumble, she pulled the blanket back over herself.

Not only did he resist her offer to let him fuck her, but he sat back down, his expression calm and almost amused. Pauline did not break her stare, but felt that the hunger and the lust that had driven her to this embarassing little display still kept on growing. It took a great deal of concentration to keep her hand from creeping between her legs again, and her eyes shifted nervously from his, fixing his beautifully carved neck, his chest, his crotch.

Questions! If the things she had learned from Buffy and Anne Rice during a mercifully short phase of a silly teenage vampire craze, they would have literally all the time in the world to ask each other questions.

She glared at him, torn between growing anger and the desire to get the silly questions out of the way to finally get to the important matters.

"My name is Pauline. Pauline Meunier."

That name seemed distant and foreign to her already, a reminder of a life and a reality that were now over. Her green gaze fell on his wrists that were draped so elegantly over his this thighs. The hunger started to make her head spin and her mouth became dry. Pressing her legs firmly together, she tried to ease the tension rising from her throbbing pussy. Fuck this. Pauline's eyes narrowed, very much like that of a cat preparing to pounce on its prey. "And another very important fact you should know about me is that I get really pissed when I am hungry."

IC: Donovan Durand

Donovan could smell her arousal, Hear her heart pounding away in her chest. He noted the way her eyes lingered over his neck, wrist, and groin. she was trying, to her credit, but he doubted she'd be able to maintain her control for much longer. Instinctively she knew she desperately needed his blood to stabilize the changes still undergoing within her. And the need to feed was so close to the need for sex that only with the paramount of self-discipline could one seperate them, rein them in, recognize their effects upon each decision made.

Such as his own hungers. He'd probably pushed his own limits too far. He'd waited too long subsisting on the artificial blood packs stretching the times he had fed from live human prey to weeks at a time. And those weren't really the choicest sources of blood for a vampire to take. Most of Spiderman's gang for instance had been so polluted with alcohol, opiates, or narcotics to make it hardly worth his time to drink them dry.

Then there was his own need for sex. It had been over a year since he had anything other than his own hand around his dick. Looking at it now he could see how that self-imposed fast had influenced his decision to change this girl. He had wanted her. How else could he explain his actions, it wasn't pity for her, though it'd be all too convenient to claim so. The fact was he had needed a willing pussy to fuck so he turned this girl into someone who needed to have him fuck her.

That was the insidious influence the animal hungers within them had over their decisions. It took extraordinary discipline to keep them under control. Discipline he would have to teach this woman or else face the unpalatable choice of having to slay her before she became an uncontrollable monster.

"My name is Pauline. Pauline Meunier." She answers him.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Pauline Meunier," He said in a slow congenial tone. Keeping a careful watch on each movement she made. It would not be long until her control crumbled. She was already settling for a lunge at him.

"And another very important fact you should know about me is that I get really pissed when I am hungry."

"Then you will be pissed for some time to come, Madamoiselle Meunier." He crossed his leg over his knee knowing she was about to pounce. It hardly mattered he was faster and much stronger than her, and much much more lethal. "I have not been to France since Nazis marched through Paris, Madamoiselle, tell me how has your country changed in this modern age of men."

she would pounce soon. He would be ready. He could try to tell her of the importance of maintaining control of herself, but this was a lesson best left to the greatest of teachers: pain.

Pauline's jaw tightened at his casual tone. It was clear that he was not really engaging in conversation but that he was toying with her. He knew, he had to know what she wanted. What she needed so desperately. She scoffed at his next question, her anger obvious.

"You have missed out on a lot, then, Crusader." There was contempt in her voice, and a hint of soft humourless laughter. "You have missed out on all the fun you could have had." She moaned softly, as another shiver ran over her skin, thinking of his cock buried deep inside her. "May '68, New Wave Cinema, riots in the suburbs, a football team lead to victory by the formerly colonialized..." Not once did her eyes stray from his now, as the hunger for him, every piece of him, started to consume her brain, and all of her body. "And now we have the a funny little president who wears high-heels. We have come a long way."

In her mind, she measured the distance between herself and him and tried to calculate the chain of movements it would take to throw back the blanket, jump off from the bed, attack him fast enough to burry her fangs in his neck. Her eyes glittered nervously and soon, every other thought was blocked from even forming. Pauline licked her lips, hoping to find a faint taste of his blood still clinging to them.

"Why have you made me into...this, only to deny me what you knew I'd crave most?" Her voice was a low, aggressive whisper now, as she wrapped her fingers around the blanket, slowly, one by one. Her small body tensed, every muscle inside her was alert. She could feel the new strength that ran through her veins and her senses were much more refined than they had been before.

"If you don't give me what I want, I will have to take it then!" With that, punched off the bed and threw herself at him, with the speed and grace of a feline predator.

IC: Donovan Durand

"You have missed out on a lot, then, Crusader." He quirked an eyebrow at the contempt in her tone. "You have missed out on all the fun you could have had. May '68, New Wave Cinema, riots in the suburbs, a football team lead to victory by the formerly colonialized..."

As she spoke he could tell her mind wasn't behind the words, she was breaking. Soon she would pounce on top of him a lioness pulling down its prey. Unfortunately calling him prey stretched the meaning of the word quite a bit.

"Why have you made me into...this," Her voice was low, aggressive as she asked, "Only to deny me what you knew I'd crave most?"

She lunged then as fast as she was she would have had any gazelle before even its reflexes could respond, but he was no gazelle. As she sailed through the air between them his hand shot up and caught her by the throat casually. He held her there fingers tightening. he could easily crush her windpipe. Even Vampires needed air.

"Control of the animal within is what seperates us from monsters, my little one," He replied, "you must learn this if you wish to continue living rather than being hunted down like a rabid dog in this human world."

His free hand traced along her leg up over her flat stomach and up over the swell of a breast. Then down low to her dripping sex. "Those fangs in your mouth." He inserted a finger inside the furnace of her pussy. "And this is what is controlling you every thought and deed."

He moved the finger out of her and brought it up to his lips for a taste. She was sweet. Donovan felt a stirring in his own loins in response to the prospect, which led to the inevitable thoughts of how easily he take her, open her up, and drink every last drop of blood from her broken body like it was his chalice. He looked forward to sampling more of her, but that was for later. And that was the crux of the lesson she needed to learn now: Controlling herself at all times.

"Do not mistake me, Pauline Meunier," he informed her, "I may have saved you from death in that alley, but I am no saint." His hand then returned over to her side, fingers pressing into her flesh locating each rib before stopping over the lowest one. "Your lack of control has cost you a rib." His finger and thumb pressed into her flesh and there came a CRACK as the bone beneath snapped radiating terrible pain throughout her.

Pauline was literally caught by surprise as his arm shot out to grab her. It was as if the whole scene had been put on hold: The naked girl was suspended in mid-air, like a strange, helpless bird.

There went vampire myth number one: They did breathe, and for some irrational reason, they did need air. Pauline had to make this discovery in the most uncomfortable way possible. Wheezing and struggling, she tried to break free from Donovan’s grip but his hand around her neck was steady and wrought tight. He did not even flinch as he held her up like this, her whole meek weight in one hand.

It was hard to struggle in this position, but Pauline tried nevertheless, clawing at his fingers around her throat furiously, hissing and growling like the rabid little animal he told her she now was. But none of her efforts showed even the slightest sign of success. When his hand slid up her leg, cupping one of her sensitive breasts, she moaned, arching her back a little, hoping that he would give her the kind of attention she was craving.

He did better, and worse, as he inserted one finger into her burning pussy, torturously slow. Pauline clenched her toes, sighed despite the waste of air that it was. “Fuck…yes….” His words only half reached her. Her fangs. Her pussy. Hell yes!

But again, he withdrew his finger, leaving her hungry and utterly unsatisfied. Her rage doubled and she tried to kick him, landing several blows against his chest and thighs, but none of them did more than make him smile coldly. He brought the finger that glistened with her juices to his lips, his eyes locked to hers as he did so, obviously enjoying her taste. Never in her life – her life? – had Pauline experienced such terrible frustration. She wondered if all bloodsuckers were as irritating as the one who had decided to make her his plaything. Apparently, he was about to teach her something, his words hinted at a valuable lesson, but Pauline did not want to learn. She did not need to learn. All she wanted was to taste him again. She wanted him to fuck her. What was the problem about that?

It turned out that while she needed air, she could stay without it much longer than any human. Donovan seemed in no hurry to end her torment. When he brought his hand to her skin again, his touch was gentle, patient. Playfully, his fingers slid down her sides, rib by rib, and Pauline eyed him with suspicion. What was his fucking point?

He broke the bone with such nonchalance that it seemed like no effort at all. Pauline would have screamed as the pain soared through her small body, but found that without any air, she could not. A pathetically contorted moan escaped her lips. Tears started to run down her cheeks, simply because the agony she felt did not find any other outlet. Incredulous, she stared down at her rescuer turned torturer, half cursing him, half pleading for mercy with her stare. What the fuck…? Her breathing had gone flat with fear. Through all the confusion, through all the strange, unprecedented cravings she felt, the fear for her life was still a very defined emotion.

Her body had gone limp in his grip, like an obedient kitten she had accepted her fate. Hoping that he would let go of her and stop hurting her if she did not move anymore, she looked at him, quiet, waiting if his lesson was over.

IC: Donovan Durand

"Good," He told her bringing her close as she went limp. She was pulled into his lap like a child. "I commend you little one, when the Vampire that turned me, tried to teach me to control the hunger roaring with each beat of my heart it took much more pain to get the value of control through my thick skull than it did for you."

He stroked her cheek gently, feeling the animal within slathering to devour the little delectable morsel in his lap. It would be easy to raise her up, impale her on his rising cock tearing her still delicate womb apart, rip her open and drink her heart's blood as he crushed the beating organ between his teeth. She would not be strong enough yet to stop him. Yet he did not.

Control at all times.

He continued trailing his hands over her supple body curled up ontop of his lap, his erection throbbing against the cheek of her butt. He could feel the racing heartbeat pounding heart as he grazed his fingers over the slopes of her breasts to circle her nipples. He noticed her wince as the positioning agitated the wound he had left her with.

He clasped her chin to hold her head still squeezing finger and thumb to force her mouth open. He placed his finger just beneath her right fang. "You may drink now, little one, but only enough to heal yourself. Once that is done you will stop yourself or I will hurt you much much more than just breaking your rib. Do you Understand?"