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If an act is called a crime of passion does that make it better or worse for someone like him?
If life was the way James Rafferty wanted it, it would be irrelevant. Motives shouldn’t matter as long as you get the job done and secure your legacy in the process. But, he has to admit, he is currently pretty fucking passionate about Real Estate, and the fact that he can’t get what he wants on his terms is pissing him off enough to consider doing something illegal about it.
He's a high ranking vampire of the Camarilla court of New York City. At his level, at his age, Rafferty is more than able to control himself and his actions. He should know better than to resort to something as uncouth and deeply frowned upon as base criminality.
Building a new condo development in the Bronx shouldn’t be this difficult. So many other ventures of his, real estate, finance, shipping, have been so easy in this city. Other Boroughs welcome the influx of cash and local jobs, the sales pitch eased by human developers into the receptive ears of friendly human council members, but the Bronx was different. Their council seems less receptive to his contacts and more interested in hearing community members speak at their meetings, go figure. The permitting process has been so goddamn slow, maybe it’s not unreasonable that a few unexplained fires in Port Morris help expedite his plans.
Rafferty decides it’s time to cross that particular bridge and see what’s going on in the Bronx for himself. He gets lucky that most public meetings are held in the evening, and are pretty crowded. He’s content to sit in the back and just observe, picking out the main power players, seeing what makes them tick, and what their leverage is. It’s kind of a special skill of his.
He nearly nods off for the first half of the meeting. Zoning ordinances, presentations from staff about infrastructure repairs, something extremely dull about dog parks, and then it’s time for public feedback. The commenters are inane, mostly a small group of vocal “concerned taxpayer” type citizens protesting against a daycare in their neighbourhood, worried about noise issues. While Rafferty agrees with them in principle, human children make the most irritating noises, he also wants his new development to lure in professional families so this is a net benefit for him. Don’t these people have anything better to do with their Tuesday night besides hauling their desiccated corpses to a town hall and bitching at bureaucrats? He’s almost ready to just give up and leave when she takes the floor.
Suddenly Rafferty is fully alert and his predatory instincts hum taut like a violin string.
Margot fucking Walker, self-appointed community spokesperson, speaking in direct opposition to his development proposal. She speaks with passion, using all the left-wing buzzwords that Rafferty hates, cultural displacement, poverty, gentrification of course, but he can see how she connects with the crowd. She is a match thrown on a ragged pile of tinder. She glows in front of her audience, her voluminous bronze curls framing her face like a spotlight, drawing everyone’s attention to her words, and the tight red dress she’s wearing brings out the honey highlights in her dark brown skin. And makes her ass look great. Not that Rafferty gives a shit.
He knows how to appreciate beauty, sure, but he’s never just in it for the aesthetics. This Margot Walker has power . She commands the room. Everyone listens to her. She has the full weight of connections, history, and family in the Bronx, but she also does the work and knows how to talk about it.
All of his schemes are going to grind to a halt because of her unless he does something about it. Suddenly the Bronx actually feels interesting . Rafferty hasn’t had a proper nemesis in some time.
Rafferty stalks Margot for two weeks, watching her movements in the community, just gathering intelligence, nothing more. He knows he should probably send one of his people to trail her but he can at least admit he enjoys watching her work.
She’s often out at night, catching people coming home from work, out in bars and diners, knocking on doors after kids are asleep. She knows where her people are and the most receptive time to talk to them. She has influence . She’s known and welcomed into spaces Rafferty has never even thought about. Everyone sees her show up day after day, focusing on hyper local issues with seemingly no concern about the larger machinations of power players in the city.
Her single mindedness is either an incredible naivety or she's so skilled in her ability to find and apply her signature brand of pressure to all the best spots for maximal impact. She’s also fucking a city councilor so that absolutely doesn’t hurt. If Rafferty could make her a ghoul she’d be his best opportunity, hands down. Right now, she’s his biggest threat.
When he finally decides to strike, he waits for her outside of another interminable Borough council meeting where she’s just given an impassioned speech and whipped up the crowd. Her face is flushed, she’s sweating in another of her signature red dresses, and there’s an iron undercurrent in her whole physicality, both in her posture and her scent, that sets his beast to growling. This is different. He’s followed her closely for many nights but tonight she’s teeming with life. He wills his blood up into his cold flesh to match her vibrancy, but it makes him a little hungrier. Nothing he can’t handle.
“Ms. Walker,” Rafferty says in a low voice that still carries and draws her attention as he steps out of the shadows, “you certainly were at peak form tonight.”
Her eyes shine in the streetlight as she looks him over. He knows he’s handsome, older and more distinguished than her little pup of a councilman. He’d watched them fuck in the guy’s car last night and that whelp was all too eager to get tangled up in her leash. She seems used to being in charge, a blessing and a curse.
“I’ve seen you at the last few meetings, are you new in the neighbourhood?” She fumbles in her purse, pulling out a cigarette, and Rafferty is already there, closing the distance just a little too quickly. She flinches as he offers his lighter but steels herself and leans forward to catch the flame. Their fingers brush and Rafferty is glad for the distraction from the fire so close to his flesh. He can sense the goosebumps on her arm but Margot doesn’t retreat from him, meeting his unspoken challenge without fear.
“I don’t live in the Bronx, no, but I have some special interests that bring me in from Manhattan regularly. I’m James.” He puts his lighter back in his coat pocket and extends a warm hand out to her.
She looks at him with disdain, takes a drag of her cigarette and blows the smoke in his direction. “James, ok, very suave, let me guess, your special interests include some of our local waterfront real estate? I’m Margot.” She shakes his intentionally warm hand with confidence.
“I’m wounded, Ms. Walker,” Rafferty puts a hand over his heart, “you have me pegged so quickly.” Her eyebrow shoots up and a sly smile curls at the corner of her lip, predatory in a way that makes his beast rumble. “Couldn’t I just be interested in the local culture? But now that you mention it, the view along the river is quite beautiful at night. Walk with me?”
Her eyes roam over his frame again, sizing him up. He’s a tall man with an athletic build, and people say he strikes an imposing figure. He smiles in a way that's disarmingly reassuring, carefully cultivated to be charming and lacking in danger. He knows exactly how his smile comes across. He's practiced it on people before.“I admire your public speaking and your impassioned ideas, and I would like to get your candid opinion on my proposal, the new riverside development you’ve been rallying against, if you’re free?”
“The Crescent! You’re Rafferty? Of course, perfect,” she says with scepticism, “a big shot from Manhattan in a hundred dollar turtleneck sweater just wants to hear my opinion on his business when I’ve been trashing him almost a full month.”
“The project is going through regardless, it’s only a matter of time and you know it. You’ll want your voice heard if you want the community benefit dollars to go your way.” He brushes the shoulder of his plaid sport coat dismissively, grinning inside as he sees the anger flare up in her eyes. “And, I’ll have you know this sweater was five hundred.”
“You asshole! That could pay some people’s heat for a couple months!” She moves closer to him, squaring up for a fight, and he can feel the tension radiating out of her body.
Rafferty smirks and steps back. “Well, it certainly keeps me warm. You should take this opportunity, Ms. Walker. It may not come around again.”
She looks conflicted but he can tell he has her, he just had to light her fuse. He keeps all of his gifts of the blood under control, and just looks at her with a dispassionate regard. He may have the ability to charm any human he wishes, but he prefers to make them come of their own free will. This goes doubly for Margot Walker. When he claims her, he wants her to thank him.
“Yeah, fuck, fine,” she relents, “you can hear what I have to say. You’re not gonna like it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
They walk down to the river, taking in the shining lights of Manhattan reflected on its surface, placidly calm but surging with unseen depths and dangers underneath. Rafferty can relate. Being so close to this woman is testing every last fibre of his self control. He can smell her intoxicating scent stronger now as the wind whips her into his nostrils and threatens the short hem of her dress.
They promenade along the riverfront like the Hudson is the fucking Thames and discuss his vision, his economic outlook for the Borough, his supposed environmental concerns that drove him to design denser communities and walkable urban centres. He can see her waver at his admittedly selfish arguments but she pushes back all the same with her concerns about affordability and the actual lived experience of current residents in the neighbourhood. She spits more jargon that Raffery lets slide in and out of his mind: food deserts, corporate personhood, globalization, outsourcing, neoliberalism. She knows her shit and stays on message well.
The wind makes its presence known again and Margot shivers in between her animated rebuttals. Rafferty feels a thrill of possessiveness as she accepts his sport coat over her shoulders.
“You’re a very accomplished young woman, Ms. Walker,” Rafferty says as they walk on. “You put so much time and effort into your community, you seem to be the one really holding things together. You’re quite a force to be reckoned with. That must be exhausting. I can’t imagine you get much time to yourself.”
For a second she lets her tough facade drop and pulls his coat on tighter. “It’s…a lot.” She straightens her spine and looks him in the eye, “why do you care?”
“Because I know what it feels like.” Rafferty spread his hands open wide in invitation. “I have a lot of people who rely on me as well, my colleagues, my staff, my daughter. I’m used to being in control of all the moving parts. It feels so good to surrender sometimes, to turn off your brain and be taken care of, even just for a night.”
Rafferty makes a note of the moment his words sink in. She stops walking, her pupils dilate, and he hears her pulse speed up as more of her scent fills his nose. “You didn’t say wife, I noticed, or husband.”
“No partner to speak of, not for a long time, Ms. Walker. It can be lonely, can’t it? Being everyone’s rock, always the most competent person in the room, it doesn’t always help our people be their best. It can infantilize them, make them unable to operate without our guidance. Being at the top makes it hard to find someone on equal footing within our own circles. We have to look elsewhere to find someone we can trust to take charge sometimes.”
He steps into her personal space and her breath hitches in her throat.
“What does a rich real estate guy want with a community organizer like me?” she asks, “We’re polar opposites, I mean, I literally speak out against The Crescent on the regular! I’m not some easy mark to be manipulated into changing my values because some Silver Fox Zaddy from the city wants to make me his good little girl for the night.”
Rafferty sneers, “I don’t believe anyone has called you a good girl in quite some time, Margot, maybe not since you were an overachieving, gifted program middle schooler. You call yourself an activist but what I see is a shit disturber, an opponent of progress, and a pain in my ass. But I have to admit you’ve caught my attention, and my respect.” He keeps moving towards her, backing her up into the railing above the river’s edge, but not pressing against her. He puts his hands on either side of her on the cold metal and speaks in a low voice. “Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me to get caught here right now, being led by the dick by my most vocal opponent? You have me at a disadvantage, Walker.”
The power shift seems to snap her back into her own commanding presence, anger flashing in her eyes. Good, he wants her to feel like she’s in control for now even with him looming over her. “I don’t want to be seen with you either, Rafferty.”
Perfect. “We could take this conversation to somewhere more private. I’m staying just around the corner. Your comrades and my associates would never have to know.”
“That sounds awfully convenient.” She can’t seem to help herself as she sways toward him.
And now for the final strike. “C’mon, would you really pass up a hate fuck with a big bad avatar of capitalism? It’s a feather in your cap, getting one over on me. At least I can promise to make you come so many times you’ll forget your mother’s name.”
She swallows a whine and the tension drains from her body. “Fuck. Lord knows I could use a break from the family. Fine…but don’t you dare touch me until we’re behind closed doors.”
“I’m nothing if not a patient man,” Rafferty grins. He knows some of the predator is starting to show on his face, despite his attempts to hide it. He backs out of her space but offers his arm anyway. She doesn’t take it.
They get back to his place swiftly with Margot leading the way once he gives her his temporary address. Her strides are long, she’s almost as tall as him, and he lets himself admire the view of her strong legs pumping under the bright red fabric of her dress, getting riled up like a bull with a Matador’s flag.
They get to the door and as Rafferty punches in a code on the keypad. Margot wrinkles her nose. “Is this an air bnb?”
Rafferty rolls his eyes. “Well I'm just visiting, I don’t have a place here. Maybe when the Crescent is built I can set myself up with a nice suite. We can be neighbours, would you like that?”
Margot returns the gesture. “At least have the fucking decency to stay at a hotel! One with a unionized staff, preferably. Shit like this is destroying the neighbourhood.”
“Staff ask too many questions, always wanting to know when I'm going to check out, whether I want room service, can they come in and change the sheets now Mr Rafferty. It's all so tedious." He opens the door and extends his hand.
“Should I be scared?” She puts her hand in his.
“Are you?” His fingers close over hers, probably too tight.
“Not at all, just curious. Why do you even need a place in the Bronx, you could just drive home over the bridge.” She lets herself get drawn up the dimly lit generic stairwell.
“I wanted to get the feel for the neighbourhood and have a place where I could rest my weary head after a long day of successful gentrification.” He slips a key in the door at the end of the hallway.
“Oh my god, fuck you! You’re not helping your cause by riling me up like this.” She keeps her gaze steady on him as she enters the apartment.
“Are you sure? What if I like you riled up? There's nothing more erotic than seeing a powerful woman let loose, let go of some of her self control and live a little.” He closes the door quietly and presses her back against it.
She falters. He can see her pulse hammering at her throat. It makes him want to feast. He needs to taste her. He gets distracted and allows himself to be pulled into another set of ridiculous protests while he watches her artery flutter like a caged bird. He leans in to finally kiss her in but she presses her palms against his solid chest.
“You fucking asshole.” She punches him in the shoulder in a way that would have been actually intimidating if he was a human man. “What is this really? A little love nest to bring your conquests back to?”
“I assure you, Ms Walker, you are absolutely the only person in this Borough who's piqued my interest in this way.” Rafferty tilts his head down and leans down to kiss her the way he’s been imaging all night.
His hands cup her face and his thumb sweeps across her full lower lip before he presses his mouth to hers. Her lips yield to his almost of their own volition and her hands reach up to grab at his shoulders. He angles his head so his fangs don’t scrape her tongue and remembers at the last second to breathe raggedly. He pushes a bit more blood to the surface so she feels him get warmer. He gets harder. He gets hungrier.
The surge of his blood and need seems to embolden her and she turns around, pushing him against the door. She grabs the lapels of his sport coat and mouths along his jaw, pressing her body against him and grinding. She pulls the turtleneck down. Rafferty notes that she’s stretching the cashmere and thinks about telling her but relents as she kisses his neck, scraping her teeth against his bare skin. He would laugh at the irony if he wasn’t so overcome by her. “Fuck, Margot, you’re amazing.”
Greedy hands roam down her back, pausing to squeeze her luscious ass before hooking his fingers in the hem of her dress. He teases along her thighs for a moment before slipping his fingers underneath the fabric.
Margot grabs his wrists and puts his hands back on her waist. “Listen, about that, you’ve caught me on an off night,” she looks guilty and licks her lips, “but there’s still a few things we can do, and then get together again, if you want to…”
Rafferty shakes his head, confused, “An off night feels like the exact opposite of what’s happening here right now, you’ll have to elaborate.”
“I mean, I have my period but I’ll still suck your dick, I can probably still get off a little, we just can’t fuck.” She looks into his eyes, pleading. His beast nearly leaps out of his skin. That was the extra something he could sense. Rafferty can’t believe his luck. This is one of his favourite treats. He has to tread carefully.
“Can’t fuck, don’t want to, or you think I won’t?” He asks, low in her ear, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want but I’d rather not waste this night with you on your knees, Margot. I enjoy when my lovers leave their inhibitions at the door. Sex is so much better when it’s a bit…visceral, don’t you agree? I want to please you and I’m not concerned with some extra cleanup. After all, this place is just a rental. Disposable.” Her eyes flare and she crushes her mouth into his, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.
“Oh I get it, Daddy Manhattan likes to fuck nasty in the Boroughs. Fine, it’s your deposit or whatever, but I’m still sucking your dick,” she snarls, pulling him off the door and towards the bed. Rafferty kicks off his shiny loafers and throws his jacket to the ground, hauling his sweater over his head. She sits at the edge of the bed and pulls him in between her legs for a better grip on his belt. As she undoes it and lowers his slacks he peels his tight black t-shirt off and watches her eyes follow its departure, giving a silent thanks that he was in pretty decent shape when he was turned.
Margot slides his boxer briefs down and her eyes go wide as his cock springs forward. Rafferty swears he can hear her mouth water. She gives him a few experimental strokes, leans forward and loops her tongue around the tip of his cock, looking up at him. He remembers to exhale and gives a genuine groan of pleasure when she takes him down her throat.
Nevermind the fact that he doesn’t actually get off from sexual stimuli anymore, she feels warm and wet around him and his beast scratches impatiently, wanting more, a sharper taste. What he really needs is her blood and the release it brings. He will please her until she can’t stand it anymore, and then he can finally get inside her the way he truly craves.
She’s still dressed, and that just wouldn’t do. Her lips look sinful around him, so he lets her play at being in charge, being the seductive young activist making this old rich man give up his power. He only has so much patience though.
“That’s enough, Ms. Walker,” he cups her chin and she pulls off of him with a wet pop. “I did say this was about your pleasure, didn’t I? Stand up.”
She does and then catches herself, jutting her chin towards him in defiance. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Rafferty moves around behind her and brushes her curls off of her neck. He leans down and breathes in her scent, watching her pulse flutter at her neck. “Margot,” he practically purrs, “isn’t it nice to not have to think sometimes? Just let yourself go soft and let me make you feel good. I’ll tell you what I want to do to you, if that would put your mind at ease?”
She nods and arches her ass into his hips, grinding against him. He holds her still and backs away. “Greedy girl. Listen to me. I’m going to undress you now,” he keeps one hand on her waist and moves the other up her back, drawing the zipper of her dress down. “Then I’m going to spread you out on this bed like a charcuterie board and get a little taste of everything until you’re begging to get fucked senseless.” Then I’ll sink my teeth into your neck and you’ll come so hard it’s all you’ll remember, I’ll get a real taste of your fresh blood, and give you my blood back, so you’ll finally be mine, my sweet ghoul. “Does that sound good, Margot?”
“Mmhmm,” she moans as he lets her dress fall to the floor and pinches a taut nipple through her lace bra.
“Use your words, greedy girl,” he undoes her bra and lets that drop as well.
“Fuck, what do you want?” she huffs, “Yes, James , please get me off already, I can’t stand it.”
“Impatient, Ms. Walker. Tell me, do you always wear matching lingerie when you speak at council meetings?” He snaps the elastic of her thong gently before sliding it down her legs. “Or did you have other plans this evening that I interrupted?”
“No!” it comes out more forcefully than she intends, whipping her head around to face him, “no, no other plans, don’t…talk about anything else right now ok? I’m wearing it because it just makes me feel…feel…”
“Powerful.” he states. It’s not a question, he knows the feeling. He sees the moment she gives in to him, feeling understood, ceding control, and he takes her mouth with his, hungrily. He pulls her close, letting her feel the strength surge in his body as he picks her up. She slings her legs around his hips, rocking against him, and lets him carry her over to the bed. He throws her down, hard, and she lets out a shocked gasp, unable to speak before his mouth is all over her.
He nibbles his way down her neck and chest, pausing to tease the nipples on her perfect pert breasts until she squirms impatiently. He shifts off the bed, kneeling between her legs and trails hot kisses up the inside of her thighs, teasing her and enjoying how she writhes under his touch. Her scent is rich here, the slight iron tang he’d been chasing all night, but still not enough. He needs more. He tries to be patient, nibbling at her labia, sweeping his tongue up and around her clitoris, sucking gently, but never approaching a steady rhythm. He can tell she’s getting just as frustrated as he is.
“Inhibitions, my dear, there’s still too much in the way of you truly letting yourself go. Please, may I remove this?” Rafferty slides his left middle finger and thumb inside of her, skimming the edges of the silicone menstrual cup blocking his pathway to desire.
“Jesus…no, James, I can do it…please…” she tries to get up but he gently presses her stomach down.
“I’m not some fumbling young man, Margot, I do have significant experience with these matters. It’s never as messy as you'd think, it’s not like you have an open artery down here.” The femoral is his favourite but it’s hard to control the excessive flow in the throes of passion. Better to go for something more subtle tonight. He breaks the suction of the cup gently and draws it out with a steady hand, not spilling a drop.
Rafferty quickly fills her with the middle finger of his right hand before she can protest, letting his thumb rub her clit. He grins with satisfaction as her eyes roll back and he crooks the finger inside her, drawing out a truly obscene moan. Her eyes are screwed shut as he moves inside her so she doesn’t notice when he tips her cup to his lips and takes it like a shot.
He feels his body react to her blood immediately. It’s not what he really craves, it's just a morsel, an appetizer before he can get to the main course, but it's enough to make the beast roar in his head. He dives in between her legs with renewed vigour, lapping at her clit and pulling more wetness out from inside of her with two fingers now. There’s a disappointing lack of blood flow, but her arousal has a sharp tang of iron that he chases, drinks in, picking up speed. The scent he’s been craving all night makes him lose coherent thought as she comes once and then twice in quick succession. He licks his fingers and gazes up at her wrecked face, forcing an exhale he didn’t have to hold out onto her thigh.
Margot giggles, free and utterly charming, and pulls him back down by his hair.
When he finally pauses to wipe his face on the white sheets she reaches for him.
“Get up here and fuck me already,” she demands.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he agrees, sending more blood to his flagging cock. He gets hungrier. Dangerously hungry. The smell of her blood is everywhere, smeared on her thighs and staining the sheets with rusty streaks.
He wrenches Margot’s legs apart and pushes into her, hard. His cock makes slick, obscene noises, she’s already so wet and needy for him that he can sink all the way to the hilt in a few rough strokes. His thrusts leak more blood onto the bedsheets as he fucks her relentlessly, kneeling between her legs, loving the way her walls clench around him every time he pulls out and the wet ragged sound that wrenches out of her when he thrusts back in. The pleas coming out of her mouth are half encouragement and half protest, and she writhes on her back like her foot is caught in a bear trap. He bends one of her legs back and then over his shoulder, driving deeper, the change in angle makes her scream as the head of his cock drags against her g spot. He hits it again and again, loving how her voice pitches up with each subsequent intrusion, how close she sounds to real panic.
Rafferty sees her hand start to move down between her legs and pins it back on the bed, harder than he should but he doesn’t give a shit. She’s lucky he didn’t just impale her wrist on his sharp teeth and bite so hard it cracks the bone. “No one makes you come except me, Margot.”
He pins her other hand down and leans his full body weight on her, grinding his hips roughly and catching her just right for him to hit her clit and angle his cock perfectly at the same time. Margot seizes up and grips her arms around his neck, squeezing so hard she might cut off his air if he could breathe, pulling him closer to her in a silent scream until she groans and goes limp.
The orgasm jolts her out of her fuck-drunk haze. “Christ, James, hold on…” Rafferty stills and stays buried in her to the hilt. She can’t seem to help writhing against him as her aftershocks squeeze his cock with a frantic rhythm. Her body is begging for more but he can see her brain scrambling to come back online.
“Did you even stop to put on a condom?” She moves on him experimentally and then pulls her leg off his shoulder.
Rafferty swears silently. Normally his companions are too charmed by him to mention this particular mortal affectation but he wanted her to choose him freely. He gropes around for an excuse, anything to put her at ease so he can get her back into her ecstasy and finally drink her hot fresh vital blood. “I had a vasectomy many years ago.”
“That doesn’t mean you can just stick it in,” Margot bites back, “rich assholes like you are so used to taking what they want.” She lets go of his neck and backs away further up the bed.
He bit back a retort about how she basically begged him to fuck her while he watches her retreat. He softens his expression, hoping it looks like reassurance and not irritation.
“Margot, I promise you that wasn’t my intention. I am in excellent health, you don’t have to worry. I don’t have any condoms here with me, so we’ll have to stop this for now, but if that’s what you really want, I leave it up to you entirely.” He can sense her resolve weakening and pushes her just a bit more. “You’re in control here, Margot, what do you want? Do you want to ride me, hold me down, fuck me till I’m bruised and beaten, totally at your mercy? I’m yours.”
He sees the hunger he feels reflected in her eyes. “You better not fuck me over, Rafferty.”
“Fuck me instead.”
With a frustrated growl she pushes him onto his back and straddles him.
Rafferty lets out another genuine moan of pleasure as she guides herself down onto his cock. Her molten core surrounds him, triggering something primal and fearful deep in his body. She’s so hot, still slick with her own blood, and when she pulls up to start fucking him in earnest he can feel it seep down into the cleft of his ass. The scent is overpowering now, it fills the room and his nostrils and his mind. He can smell her fresh blood, pulsing through her skin. Her femoral arteries throb against his hips and his hands grip her thighs as he tries not to tear them open.
She is incandescent as she rides him, taut breasts bouncing in time with her ass slapping on his legs, skin like polished mahogany gilded by the streetlights flooding in through the window. Margot is voracious, quickly chasing her pleasure with no regard for his, as if he doesn’t matter. She grinds on him in a way that would be painful if he was a mortal man and comes so hard around his cock that she pitches forward and digs her long nails into his chest. The sting and the smell of his own fresh blood snaps Rafferty’s last remaining thread of self control.
His beast roars, or maybe it’s him, surging upward and claiming her mouth with his. She’s fire incarnate, burning all around him as he drives up into her. He always fucks his food but it’s never been like this, this intense all-consuming hunger and need. His lips grind against her throat until his mouth is perfectly positioned over her thundering carotid, pounding and throbbing hot blood just underneath the surface of her delicious skin. If he could drool, he would. Instead, he bites down.
As Rafferty’s fangs pierce Margot’s throat, he feels her shudder and clench around his cock. She makes a guttural sound and her hot blood sprays into his mouth with so much force he can barely contain it. Her blood runs out the side of his mouth down his neck and leaks onto the white bedspread before he can stop it, leaving undeniable proof of the monster he is. He swallows greedily, one mouthful, another, drinking the very essence of Margot Walker down his parched throat. She tastes even better than he imagined.
The Camarilla have so many fucking rules . Rafferty is so polite and usually follows them, but if he doesn’t, he never gets caught. He never leaves a mess, always sends his lovers home feeling completely satisfied and filled with pleasant memories, doesn’t get greedy, only takes his fair share. Why does he always have to behave? Why does he have to take the high road in every conflict, always make the mature choice in every petty squabble, why does he always have to be good? Even the most polite, cultured vampire in the Camarilla is a monster, and a hypocrite for denying it. He’s a fucking animal in this moment, driven by need. He is hungry , fuck good.
No one knows they’re here. No one can see this vibrant woman in his arms, the heart of the community he wants to dominate, a symbol of resistance against his grand schemes, bleeding out into his ravenous mouth.
Take her ! His beast roars, and he does.
When the flow of blood slows down Rafferty realizes she’s already heavy in his arms. A wave of regret immediately washes over him. This incredible woman, this charming, decisive, passionate creature. It would be a deafening loss to the world if she was no longer in it. She is a natural leader, the perfect Ventrue apart from her upbringing really, why shouldn’t he have her? He could keep her. He deserves her. His head spins. He doesn’t have time to think, he has to act if there’s any chance of making her his.
Rafferty bites his wrist and presses it to her lips. His blood drips slowly, he doesn’t dare will it to move, hesitates to waste a drop, and leans her body over to let gravity do the work. His blood fills her mouth and spills over, and he tips her head back further to open her throat. For several agonizing seconds nothing happens and Rafferty feels the panic start to rise inside of him but then she swallows of her own volition. Her body twitches in his arms as some life force begins to reanimate her and then she’s sucking harder, drinking him dry while clenching her cunt around his still unnaturally hard cock, rocking her hips against him.
Rafferty lets himself drift, leaning against the headboard as she drinks and drinks, starting to fuck him and chase her own pleasure again, draining him dangerously as his vision starts to go black around the edges. She comes with a scream, muffled by his wrist at her mouth, and collapses onto him. She took so much blood, much more than necessary for the change, more than any Kindred of any sense was supposed to give. She’s out like a light but he can feel her heart hammering in her chest like a hummingbird, getting in one last sprint as her body starts to die.
He lays Margot down and pulls the bedding out from under her, knowing the inevitable transition and expulsion of everything mortal from her body wasn’t far off. Rafferty strokes her cheek reverently and nearly passes out when he tries to stand. She took so much from him. He could just lay next to her for a while, couldn’t he? He’s in no state to hunt. He never sleeps pressed against anyone, tangled up in their limbs. He needs her next to him.
Rafferty just barely remembers to draw the thick blackout curtains before a deep, dark stillness claims him.
He feels her go through the change. Her thrashing is enough to rouse him from his deep rest. He cares for her, cleans her body in the bath, changes the sheets. Tenderness bubbles up inside his dormant heart as he dries her off, she’s half delirious and pliant in his arms. She looks so young. His childer. His second, his youngest, his daughter.
Rafferty didn’t go through this with Kahlida. Her embrace was so much more straightforward, almost a businesslike transaction. He talked her through what to expect, provided all the amenities she needed, and had staff attend to her at the Stirling. Kahlida emerged as a polished statue, hard as marble.
Margot was born out of fire and passion. What kind of creature of the night will she become? Her embrace was messy, and certainly illogical, not to mention very illegal. The Camarilla will never sanction this, so Rafferty is determined that they never find out. He should urge her to stay hidden in the Bronx, teach her how to channel her blood to seem more human, how to drink without killing. She could remain visible instead of triggering a city-wide search for a missing community organizer. Yes, this will buy him some time to make a better plan. He’s good at planning.
They drift in and out of rest together and Rafferty loses track of time. When he wakes again he extends the apartment rental for another day, and doubles the cleaning fee. Eventually he feels her stir against his body, and bite her new sharp teeth into his shoulder. Oh. She’s hungry. He should order in. He has people he could call, even though the sun is up, or is it? He is so tired. He can’t resist her. Her hands are already groping his limp dick and she slings one leg over his thigh to grind on him. Rafferty smiles weakly. His feeding preferences seem to run in the family. If she takes much more of his blood it will be hard for her to shake his influence off. She’ll be overcome with want for him, and his voice will be in her head every time she feeds. The thought thrills him.
The sting of Margot’s fangs in his neck feels like heaven as she drinks Rafferty into unconsciousness once more.