Vincent

Freddy Krueger's Son

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"Come on," Vincent patted my shoulder.

"No," I complained, shoving my face back in the pillow.

"Doll," he moved my hair, bending down to kiss my cheek. "Let's go. You need to pee."

"What's the worst that can happen? I doubt people do anyway."

"You can get an infection," he said.

"Why, you have an STD?" I asked, unfazed.

"No, but the bacteria. Don't you read? It's basic health," he rubbed my back.

"I don't read actually. Would one time hurt?" I turned around so I could face him. "I just want to sleep." You just fucked the living daylights out of me, let me be!

"You can sleep after, Lex," he grabbed my elbows to force me up. "Your bathroom is like two feet away."

"It's like twenty," I chuckled. He smiled, kissing my cheek as I got up.

While I was in the bathroom, I showered off, brushed my teeth, and ran a brush through my hair. I went back to bed, cuddling with Vincent.

"You want anything?" he asked me after some time had passed.

"I'm thirsty," I declared, sitting up, holding the covers over my breasts. "You wanna come? We have wine. Or, I can make you something. I'm a good little chef."

"Yeah, your pie tastes pretty good," he flirted, running his hand down my thigh. His accent made it sound even better.

"God," I blushed, pushing away his hand, a smile on my face. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, let me put on clothes," he said, getting out of bed and grabbing his clothes from the floor. While he got dressed, I threw on some underwear, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. I sprayed some perfume on myself before I walked out. Vincent joined me, wrapping his arm around my waist as we went downstairs.

"I'll get you something to drink," I told him, pointing to the chair, silently telling him to sit down.

"No, no," he shook his head, "I can."

I walked over to our alcohol cabinet, opening it. "We have white wine, red wine, brandy-"

"Vodka?" he asked, looking into the cabinet, coming next to me.

"Oh, there's no vodka in it. It's just water," I explained, looking up at him.

He gazed down at me, a small smile on his lips. "How often do you drink? Michael said it was only at some dinners."

I didn't answer him, just awkwardly laughed, looking back. He grabbed a bottle of cognac before closing the cabinet.

"Can you get glasses? And ginger ale?" he asked.

I nodded, putting some on the counter. "Ice?"

"Per favore," he responded.

I grabbed our ice tray, putting ice in both our cups. As he filled his, I filled mine with water before refilling the tray and putting it back. Footsteps sounded as I closed the fridge. I turned to see Dante walking in. He took one look at how we were dressed and frowned.

"He just left two hours ago and you're already fucking his daughter?"

I cringed on the inside at his term. When you put it like that, I sounded like a whore and Vincent sounded like a douche. It was a terrible way to put it. Vincent gave him a long look, taking a sip of his drink.