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Vienna By Indie

Note:  I love Darla, but I don’t write her very well, to please bear with.  Angelus isn’t being a total bastard which is sort of a shame because he’s so good at it.

She was bored, terribly bored.

The city was hot, crowded and a nauseating stench seemed to permeate everything and everyone.  It had sounded like such a good idea to come here, but that was when they’d been stuck in the French countryside.  The quiet of the country always made her long for the city.

She should have been enjoying herself, gorging on plump young heiresses and feisty little street urchins, but she couldn’t seem to muster the appetite.  Even the more carnal pleasures did not pique her interest.  Not that she hadn’t been pursued, but if she didn’t wish to be caught, she was not.

She hated these lingering feelings of apathy and ennui that pulled at her.  She’d never felt like this before.  She’d never turned down the sins of the flesh.  But yet she did now.  She felt alone.  Not lonely.  Alone.  And she was.

On several occasions she’d brought home would be lovers, trying to snap herself out of her funk.  When they began to paw at her, whisper sweet endearments in her ears, gently molest her flesh she felt nothing.  No excitement.  No hunger of any sort.  The hard, young, warm flesh pressed against her cold body did nothing to stimulate her.  Each time she’d become impatient and drained them on the spot, but even the kill did not bring her joy as it once did.

Moping was not her style, she simply would not allow herself to wallow.  She was too old, too hardened to allow herself that weakness.  She went out, attended all of the social events she had always been drawn to.  She took rich, human lovers who could gift her with the view she desperately needed.  She would writhe beneath their sweaty, noisy, graceless bodies as reparation for their “protection” with all the skill the memories her human life as a whore afforded.

She didn’t socialize with humans out of need, but rather out of choice and habit.  Over the years vampiric society had become too stagnant and rigid for her.  Their almost complete lack of imagination at times made her ashamed of what she was.  They were a race with such limitless potential, yet it was hampered by custom and archaic codes of conduct.  She refused to abide by their rules and was left adrift.

Somehow this hadn’t bothered her until now.  Pulling on one of her exquisitely tailored dresses, she left for a party in search of distraction.

~*~

It was like waking from an unpleasant dream the second she felt him.  Turning away from her latest prey, she saw him.  It took a tremendous effort of will to appear unaffected, but she did just that.  She could almost taste his delicious rage as she slowly turned her attentions back to the simpering human, pretending to be interested in whatever he was babbling on about.

Angelus watched her all evening, too livid to even consider trying to amuse himself with any of the stupid tittering women who flocked around him.  As morning approached, he quietly stalked his sire and her willing victim as they snuck away from the party and into the darkened streets.  Darla didn’t finish the fop off quickly as her childe hoped she would, instead luring him all the way back to her apartments just to stoke her childe’s ire.

~*~

The couple were groping each other on her red velvet settee when Angelus strode into the room.  The food looked up, clearly startled, but Darla didn’t miss a beat.  This was the first time she’d felt alive in months and she was intent on savoring the moment, drawing it out as long as possible.  The more she ignored him, the more intense his fury.  She loved his rage, craved it even.  He was still so young, little more than a pup.  The intensity of his emotions would diminish over time as they did with each of their kind, but right now it was something to revel in, savor.  He was an open book, so vibrant and delicious, too inexperienced to guard his emotions like his sire.

“Ignore him,” Darla instructed the food.

The young man was not comfortable with the situation, but he accepted it nonetheless.  For his part, Angelus knew better than to interrupt his sire.  He sat down on a nearby chair, knowing his proximity would unnerve the food even further.  He hoped the boy would have serious trouble performing with an audience.

Darla buried her face in the boy’s neck, unwilling to let her whelp see her smile with glee.  He was home, and he was angry.  He would need to learn his place again.  She could hardly wait.

Aroused to a fever pitch by the proximity of her wayward childe, Darla climaxed at the boy’s first few hesitant thrusts.  Emboldened by her enthusiastic response, the boy thrust more forcefully, trying to ignore the clearly angry male only feet away.

After his sire’s second climax, Angelus decided he’d seen enough.  Reaching down, he tore the boy off of Darla, sinking his fangs into the boy’s neck so viciously he heard bones snap.  When the body had been drained, he turned his gaze back to his sire.  She was on her feet, staring at him with hooded eyes.

The force of her blow send him reeling backwards into the expensively papered wall.  He didn’t have time to recover before her grip on his neck pinned him.  He stared defiantly into her glittering eyes.

“I didn’t give you permission to have a bite.”

As he became aware of her proximity to his now warm body, his manner changed perceptibly, going from fuming brat to master manipulator in the blink of an eye.  She shivered involuntarily under the weight of his gaze.  She meant to punish him for worrying her so, though she would never admit the reason for it, but when he looked at her like that she found she could deny him nothing.  Releasing her grip, she did not resist as he pulled her roughly against his aroused body.

In mere moments, Darla was tearing feverishly at his clothes, desperate for the long expanses of pale flesh beneath her fingers.  He complied willingly, quickly aiding his sire and then removing her clothes as well.

They fell gracelessly to the floor, sire pinned beneath whelp, clawing frantically at each other as their lips, tongues, fangs, explored every inch of exposed flesh.  As she sunk her fangs into the side of his neck, he pounded into her.  She gasped.  It had only been months, yet her flesh was unused to his girth.  He stretched her in a deliciously painful manner as he stroked his cock into her grasping channel.

“Sire,” he half growled, half moaned as she continued to feed from him.

At the sound from his lips and the taste of his blood on hers, she climaxed again.  This time it was infinitely more delectable than the first two.  It was her childe that was buried in her body, her childe that was finally home.

In heretofore unimaginable moment, she screamed his name as she climaxed.

Though he was young and inexperience, Angelus fully understood the significance of that moment.  With one shout he ceased to be her whelp and became her mate.  He understood so clearly that she had missed him.  He slowed his thrusts, as she released her fangs from his neck and their eyes met.

She was so amazingly vulnerable, so needy.

Unthinking, he leaned forward and kissed her deeply, needing her to understand without words how blissful he was to be home, to be with her, how he would always take care of her.  He knew she hadn’t intended this to happen.  She had created him as a plaything, a momentary diversion from her boredom in Ireland, but he could not deny the powerful bond that existed between them.  He understood that she belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.

“I’ll never leave ya, Darla,” he said in his lilting brogue.  It was the only time he had ever addressed her by her given name.

She smiled at him, a genuine smile devoid of the biting cynicism he usually saw there.  “I know, my darling boy.  I know.”

With a rock of his hips, he buried himself in her again.  Her head lolled to the side, allowing him access to her neck. Biting deeply, he fed on her rich blood as he climaxed with in her depths.