Blood (Prequel to Vampires Will Never Hurt You)

Five

Damien and I were sat alone in my room, Mikey had purposely left us alone. Damien was admiring my record collection, sifting through them gently, his fingernails painted black.

"You have a very very good taste in music dude." He said, picking one up and holding it against the fading light shining through the blinds.

"Thank you." I said quietly, slightly on edge. I was hoping and praying that he wouldn't find anything from my past, after spending what seemed like forever hiding everything. I could still smell the metallic scent of blood, but Damien didn't seem to notice. He had placed an old Nirvana vinyl on my record player, turning it down so that we could still talk to each other.

"So, cut the crap, why did you and your brother move here? And how did you manage to get a massive house like this, all to yourselves?" He asked, sitting down cross-legged on my bed. I hesitated, going over and over the story that I had retold many times.

"Uh, our Mom, well she's not our real mom, she's kind of our foster Mom- anyway, she decided to move us here because of mishaps in another town. And, she decided that it would be better for our independence if we had our own place." I said confidently, believing in my own lie. Damien nodded with a pout, holding onto his knees.

"She seems like a good woman. Wish my Mom'd do the same. She doesn't trust me." He laughed, a flash of nervousness crossing his eyes quickly.

"And why would that be so?" I turned my head in his direction, staring into his blue eyes, noticing how he had tucked his fringe behind his ears. He was irresistible.

"I drink. I do drugs. I shout a lot, you know. Those 'teenager' things." He rolled his eyes with a smile.

"You shouldn't do that. It's not necessary. You should take up a hobby." I suggested sarcastically, watching him scowl playfully at me.

"What, like painting? Crochet?" He scoffed, continuing to look around my room.

"No, I mean like prostitution and croquet." I shrugged, crossing my arms, watching him stand and walk over to my side of the bed. He sat down next to me,

"What's makes you think I could be a prostitute?" He was flirting with me. I played along.

"Well, you have a great face. And I mean a great face. Most people like them young- who knows what else?"

"So now what? Shall I put on a skirt and dance for you? Like a stripper?" He giggled, and I knew that he wanted to take off all of his clothes completely, even though I couldn't read his mind.

"I don't object to that in the slightest." I admitted, cracking my knuckles, listening to the satisfying snap.

"What if Mikey were to walk in?" He laughed, standing up again, his was much closer to me know. I could smell the blood circulating in his body, the scent of whatever he had sprayed himself with before he had walked over to my house.

"I'm sure he'd understand. I mean, he did set us up." I said, whispering the last part of my sentence.

"He didn't set us up, you moron. I came to you, and I have been secretly admiring you since you came to school- for that one day. And I knew that Mikey would instantly fall for my sister, so that helped." He said, trying to keep his cool. He seemed a little irritable, and I didn't want to loose him.

"When can I see you in a little skirt?" I asked with a sly smile, changing the subject immediately.

"Oh, so that's a thing for you?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a sideways glance.

"Well, we all have little quirks don't we? I mean, some people like clowns, some people like balloons, I happen to like it when guys dress up in hot little skirts." I giggled as he turned towards me properly, an unmistakably large smile lingering on his lips.

"True. True." He said. He had pushed me down, crawling onto my bed, straddling my stomach. I could hear his heartbeat, feel it. Not to mention my pants were feeling a little too tight. We had met only a week ago, yet I felt like we had a very deep connection. I felt like his confidence could spur my own; which had been hiding away in the deep, dark recesses of my psyche.

"Why are you attracted to me?" I asked, it was a genuine question.

"Well, your scary, you've got a 'great face'. You're charming, sarcastic- a bit of an asshole, but it's everything that I ask for." He said, I could feel the warmth of his breath. I had hold of his hands, the goosebumps were already appearing across his skin; I heard him gasp from the coldness of my hands.

"What do you mean I'm an asshole?" I whined quietly, gnashing my teeth at him playfully.

"You can't accept compliments." He laughed, pressing his forehead against mine. The warmth of his skin singed mine- in a good way.

"Can too." I pouted, reaching my head up to kiss his neck, listening him gasp from the cold of my embrace. His skin prickled more, the more and more that I lingered there. He didn't squirm, he was basking in the moment. Our moment together; the one that we both knew we had be waiting for for a long time. Him a week or two, me a couple of decades.
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Song Of The Chapter- Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana

A.N
When you get that 'I'm obsessed with a new band' feeling and you just can't stop yourself. Yeah, I've had it for two whole weeks now XD and I can't stop myself (: I kinda like this story now that it's going in the direction that I like (: so I hope to update it a little more this week. Don't forget to comment and vote, it helps me out a lot (: