NaNoWriMo Story Snippets

56. Excerpt from Rose & Thorn-esque vampire story

I'm really not sure what to do with this one, so it might have to sit for a while. Basically, think Rose & Thorn (more sex than plot) but with supernaturals. In this one, Finn's a vampire and he feeds from Becky, but his fiancee wants that to stop after their wedding.

"I don't want to stop."

She said it almost every time, but it felt different this time around to Finn. Normally Becky's pleas were simply about pleasure, about being able to spend time with him alone. Wrestling was a hard business for women and she spent so much of her time trying to be tough as nails that she relished her downtime where she could let her guard down and be vulnerable. So many post-Divas women led sharply dual lives: bad-asses or bitches in the ring, anxious and yearning outside of it. Finn was grateful crossed her path at the start of her wrestling career; otherwise he figured she would have fallen prey to the first man who paid her any sort of positive attention. Or maybe that was just you, he thought darkly, and you were lucky enough to be first in line.

"Finn? Please." Becky clutched the back of his head, running her nails through his freshly shaved bristles. "If this is one of our last times...."

Finn made himself pull back from her neck. It was always hard letting go, no longer feeling the sweetness of her blood on his tongue, but he knew he had to. "You had two matches tonight, Rebecca. You were wrestling for almost an hour, all told. You need to rest."

Sighing, Becky pressed her forehead to his. "You know I sleep better after this. Please."

It wasn't the first time he had regretting ever biting her. The first time had been at his erstwhile wrestling school, back when she was his student and not yet his lover. The memory should have been stark and crystal clear in his head, but he couldn't recall what move or sequence they were practicing at the time. He could only remember that it ended up with her hand bleeding and even though he had managed to control himself through countless lessons and so many matches of his own, for some reason that day the call of the blood was overwhelming and before he knew it, he had her wrist in his hands and was sucking on her fingers. Her blood had smeared his mouth like kiss-smudged lipstick and he was sure his eyes had gone almost white, but when he glanced up at her, she hadn't looked scared. Startled, possibly, and confused—and more than a little intrigued—but not scared.

That was the second time he fell in love with her. The first was after she had taken her first bad bump. Since she was the only girl in the class, Becky always felt like she had something to prove, but no one would have blamed her for wincing or crying. Instead she had held her injured arm close to her chest, took a deep breath, and said "Good thing I'm right-handed, yeah?" No matter how bad she was at it—and she had honestly been awful for a long time—she was always the first to volunteer, the first to drill, the first to watch hours and hours of tape so she could learn and improve. He did his best to fight the attraction: not only was she his student, she was also several years younger—though he didn't know the truth about just how much younger until later. As soon as she had officially graduated, however, and the class was celebrating the few who had stuck it out to the end, he asked her out. He also asked to bite her. To this day, he wasn't sure which question had shaped her life more.

"Fergal?" She rarely used his real name these days, out of deference for their new jobs and new lives. "Maybe you could talk to her—"

"Maybe." Finn held Becky's chin and gazed into her eyes, looking for any sign of haziness. "But I had promised her I wouldn't feed from anyone but her after the wedding, Becks, and I don't want to break that. I'm grateful she still allowed me to have this." He and Becky had broken up years ago, but she had never really stopped giving him blood. When they were working in different companies—sometimes in different countries or even continents—he had fed from other people out of necessity, but he would always bite Becky when she was available. His fiancee understood their complex bond, but it didn't change the fact that she didn't want to share him any longer.

"You're used to having an athlete's blood," Becky pointed out, running a hand down his neck. "Will her be enough for you?"

"We'll see." He cupped the back of her head and drew her into a kiss. His fiancee knew this was part of it too: the intimacy, the touching, the hungry kisses. Fingers and fangs, that's it, she had declared. She didn't care if Becky gave him a blowjob or if he went down on her; she wasn't worried about them using hands or tongues to work through the tangled knot of pleasure that always ensnared them after a feeding. To her credit, Becky never pushed. If anyone wavered, it was always Finn, and Becky was always the one to bring them back to their senses, though she never did turn down an opportunity to peg him if one arose. "I'm more worried about you," he countered, stroking her hair.

Becky laughed, cuddling up to his chest. "Wondering what I'll do with all that extra blood coursing through my veins?"

He turned her around so her back was against his chest and then slid his hand down her panties, the only thing she was still wearing. Naked or near-naked feedings were much easier at the club, and definitely easier to clean up. After decades of practice, they rarely made a mess, but the contact was too comforting to pass up. "No. I don't want you chasing a high, Becks. There are too many unsavoury types out there, too many who don't look after their feeders like they should. If... if you want someone new, I can help you look around...."