Kiss of the Vampyre Ch. 02

"You need to fight it." She heard Elly say, somewhere in the distance. "Fight it! Can you hear me? Becca, listen to me!"

A sharp tug on her throat brought her back to her senses. She focussed wide-eyed on Elly, looked at her blank, serious face.

"You're feeling for the first time an urge which has remained dormant inside you since the day you were born." She said forcefully, firing each word at Becca as if it were a bullet. "All humans have it, only our condition activates it. It is stronger than hunger, it is stronger than thirst, it is stronger than sex. You will do anything -- anything -- to get this blood. When you need to feed, you will do anything for blood. You will kill, if you have to. You must learn to control it."

Becca heard, felt the words sink in to her subconscious, but wasn't really listening. Her brain was too busy scheming up ways she could get to the blood. Perhaps, if she kicked the trolley hard enough, Elly would let her go to save its contents, and she could make a dive for Chelsea's arm and devour it. Perhaps she could kick Elly's knees out with a swipe and tumble her to the floor. Perhaps she could sidle close enough to the trolley to grab the razor and slice at Elly's arm until she let her go.

"Becca! Look at me!" Elly bellowed, her voice echoing closely in the small room. Everything became silent, save for Becca's rapid breaths and those that echoed them from the girl on the table. The screams in her head were gone. "You must learn to control it now, before it takes control of you." Elly continued. "If you don't beat it today, you will never beat it. It will be inside you for the rest of your life, and you will kill every five days to get your next feed. Do you understand now? This is why we are so clinical. This process is like methadone to a heroine addict. If we don't take blood this way, we must take it the old way. If we don't do this properly, we're back to the dark ages, when we used to kill for blood. Do you understand?"

Becca stared at Elly's eyes, then at the bottle of blood, held just out of reach, then at Chelsea's bloodied wrist, then back into Elly's deep, beautiful eyes. She felt herself softening inside.

"Do you understand?" Elly said again.

"Yes." Becca replied, letting her arms sag to her sides. It seemed that, for the moment at least, the beast in her head had been overcome. She looked at the blood with a kind of detachment, as if it was nothing more sinister than tomato juice.

Elly held out the quarter-filled bottle. "Here." She said. "Drink it, slowly."

Becca took the bottle, lifted it to her lips, touched it to them, upended it slowly. Thick blood ran up its side, trickled into her mouth, ran over her tongue. She closed her eyes, savoured the divine rapture as it coursed down her throat. It was like a hot shower after a day so cold that icicles formed on her eyelashes, or a strong, skilful massage after a day of hard manual labour. It revitalized and rejuvenated, she could feel it doing her a world of good, but above all, it simply tasted delicious.

She watched as Elly knelt by Chelsea's side once more, tending to her bleeding artery. She fastened an elastic tourniquet with a plastic clip-lock, pulled it tight until the blood flow reduced, pressed a finger over her artery while she mopped up the area, then applied a drop of glue with a brush as tiny as a toothpick. She held it a moment longer, until she seemed satisfied that the glue had held and the bleeding stopped. She let go, unclipped the tourniquet, and stood up.

"Thank you, Chelsea." She said. "You just lie there for a few moments. The bleeding is stopped, but don't move your hand too much in case it pulls the glue. I'm going to clean you up now."

It took Elly a few minutes to thoroughly clean Chelsea's hand with a roll of tissue and some solvent spray before she unclipped the funnel and placed it on the trolley. "All done now." Elly said to Chelsea. "Is there anything you need?"

"My right hand." Chelsea panted.

"Alright." Elly stepped around the bed and unclipped the strap around Chelsea's uninjured wrist. Immediately it bade a grab for the elasticated waistband of her trousers. "You want them down?" Elly asked.

"Yeah." Chelsea breathed through a throat as tight as the neck of a party balloon.

"OK." Elly said softly, as she placed a hand on the waistband at her hips. Her fingers scrabbled until they held the elastic of bother trousers and white cotton panties. "Lift your bum."

Becca watched wide-eyed as Chelsea tensed her legs to lift her buttocks from the bed, and Elly deftly pulled down trousers and panties to reveal pale white thighs and a shaven mound. The smell of hot feminine sex filled the room, almost as strong as the smell of blood. Chelsea's hand found its place quickly over her puffy, glistening mound.

Elly turned her attention back to Becca, who pulled her eyes from Chelsea's working fingers to stare into Elly's eyes. Elly took the bottle from the clip on the bed, which was three-quarters-full, took the empty one from Becca's hand, transferred blood until their contents were equal.

"You know why I did what I did, don't you?" Elly asked.

"You mean, stopped me from taking it?" Becca replied.

"Yes."

Becca nodded. She understood. For a moment, she'd actually wanted to bite Chelsea's arm to get to her blood. She'd seriously considered attacking Elly with the razorblade to get hold of the bottle that was being held tantalizingly out of reach. But she'd mastered it, with a little willpower; she'd swallowed it down and maintained her composure until Elly had freely given her the bottle.

"I want you to know this: if you ever decide to leave, you're always welcome to come feed with me. If you don't want to learn how to use a blade, you can come here, and I'll do it for you. I would rather you come here to feed in safety, than succumb to your drive and start killing people."

Becca nodded again.

Elly's expression changed again, from empty and businesslike to sensual and alluring. She stepped close enough that Becca could smell the sweat that glistened on her skin. She hadn't realised how much Elly had been perspiring, lost as she was in her own bloodlust, but evidently Elly had been fighting the same sensation all along, and had not let it show. "Drink with me." She whispered.

Becca raised the bottle to her lips again, delighted to have Elly so close to her while they drank. Their skin touched, their bodies brushed as they raised their bottles and savoured their bittersweet contents. Elly moved closer to Becca still, the only sound the shuffling of her feet on the plastic and the heaviness of her breath. Even Chelsea's stifled panting seemed to disappear into the background. She reached out, gently took Becca's neck, persuaded her with her gaze alone to lower her bottle. Elly's lips were blood red; she allowed a little blood to dribble down her chin, and Becca needed no further encouragement. She leant forwards, bloody tongue extended, sensuously licked it clean, followed the trail up to Elly's mouth, where the taste of blood was strong and pungent.

Their tongues entwined, the taste of Elly's sweet breath competing for the taste of blood, two totally different flavours that contrasted and complemented one another perfectly. Shivers ran up and down Becca's spine as they slowly kissed, letting the blood in their mouths intermingle and spread across their faces. Heat rose within Becca's body, and she was no longer uncertain of what she wanted. She wanted Elly.

"Drink the rest of your blood." Elly slurred, eyes narrowed, as she broke free from the kiss and took a step backwards. "Then go and wait for me in the bedroom. I have to finish up here."

Becca obeyed, the heat in her chest growing tangibly with every passing heartbeat. It wasn't the tortured, urgent heat of the past two days, but something far more natural; a giddy, pleasant sense of arousal that warmed her as it grew, instead of scalding her from within.

The last of the blood slipped silkily down her throat and spread out into her chest, filling her with a divine rapture that felt like it would last forever, as she padded out of the feeding room and into Elly's bedroom. She made herself comfortable on the bed, leaning back into the padded headboard for a moment, before she decided to make herself more presentable for Elly.

She stood, peeled off her t-shirt, folded it neatly and placed it on the floor out of the way. She removed her jeans, folded them too, put them on top of her shirt. She straightened the blanket, propped up some pillows, adjusted her bra and panties, wished she had some clean ones, instead of the same pair that had been worn since Hallowe'en. Sweet as they were, they weren't the sort of thing she would have chosen to wear in front of a new lover, and she didn't feel quite as attractive as she thought she would have done if they were fresh and clean. Perhaps Elly had something that she could wear?

She found a drawer full of underwear, but it was clear that it wouldn't fit. Elly's perky breasts were perhaps two sizes smaller than Becca's and her slinky chest was narrower. She managed to squeeze herself into a lacy pair of green panties, which were too tight, but she didn't mind so much -- she had good reason to believe that they wouldn't stay on long.

A little voice in the back of her head, familiar and loathed, began to tell her that she was too fat, that somebody as slender and sexy as Elly wouldn't like her for long, but she swallowed heavily to knock it from its perch where it tumbled into her belly and was buried by the weight of perseverance. Hadn't she learnt not to give in to the silly little voice? She hoped, for the time being, at least, that she had. She'd had a lot of practice at making herself feel bad, and she'd got very good at it. Now it was time to start making herself feel good.

In Elly's wardrobe she found a selection of hangers containing lingerie items, mostly green or purple but some black lace too. She found a loose-fitting green chemise that was a similar shade to the panties, if not exact, and threw it over her head. It seemed that Elly mostly bought clothes to match the colour of her hair or wings. Perhaps Elly would be upset that she'd gone through her lingerie and helped herself, but she decided it was worth it. She'd make it up to her somehow. She felt sexier being presentable in clean clothes, even if they didn't quite match and didn't quite fit, than she did in her less-than-glamorous two-day-old underwear.

She climbed onto the bed, pulled herself up into the pillows, tousled her purple hair, bunched it up over her head, let it fall across her shoulders. She found a forelock, pulled it free from the tousled cascade, dragged it down over her eye, held it there for a moment before letting it spring back. It bounced a little, then hung in front of her vision.

A second later the door opened. Elly stepped in, fixed Becca with a smile. "Wow." She said, her voice husky with barely-controlled breath. "You got changed for me?"

Becca tried to return a sultry smile, but she couldn't stop a girlish grin that spread across her face. "Yeah."

Elly began to unlace her tied top. "I am one extremely lucky vampyre." She breathed. "Euwan and Chelsea have gone. It's just the two of us now." She giggled a little as she tossed her top aside and unbuckled her jeans.

"What are you laughing at?" Becca asked, her smile slipping slightly.

"You've got blood all over your face."

Becca turned, shifted to look in the mirror on the dresser. A wide ring of blood was still plastered all over her face. "Oh!" She exclaimed, and made for the bathroom to wash it off.

Elly, free of her jeans, climbed onto the bed and pushed her gently back into the pillows. "No," She whispered into her ear, dragging her sensuous body so lowly over the bed that her perky breasts rubbed over the green chemise that covered Becca's skin. "Leave it." Her tongue extended, wetted the dried blood, turned it liquid once more, and with deliberate pause, began to lick it from her until she was clean and pure, her skin damp and her flesh alive with desire.

Becca raised her hands, touched Elly gently on her flanks, moved her face until her lips fell under Elly's, kissed them delicately. Elly broke free for a moment, lifted her head, and once again Becca felt herself falling into those deep green eyes, and she realised for the first time that Elly was also falling into hers.

Elly smiled. "I am one very lucky vampyre." She said. "Now, young lady, will you make love to me?"

Becca smiled back. "Yes." She whispered.

Slowly, they kissed again.

* * *

A final word from the author:

I was in the finishing stages of the 2nd draft of Kiss of the Vampyre 2 when I heard of a new BBC Television series called Being Human, which is about a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost living in a flat in Bristol. By this time, I had already devoted significant effort to sculpting the story around Elly's flat in Bath, which is but a flap of a vampire's wings from Bristol.

Since I wanted to keep my story as original as possible, I have not watched any episodes of Being Human. Any similarities between the two productions is entirely coincidental, and only serves to highlight how clichéd the vampire-werewolf genre has become.

Now that my story is published, I may indulge myself in the BBC series to find out what I've been missing.