Stigmata

It had been all Brian could do to compose himself enough as to not strangle the tiny girl - she wasted a whole tray of shots and tried to command him like she was in control of his emotions. Meanwhile, the redhead had requested a bottle of their finest AB Positive, and had chalked the entire interaction up to feeling a bit “peaky” from lack of blood.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Brian asked tentatively from the safety of his seat, his head obscured by a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“I… I don’t know.” The redhead gave a start, as if she wasn’t aware she had been speaking aloud, and returned herself to the mental discussion the pair had been having. I sure as hell didn’t like what you were saying, though.

I kinda got that. Once again, Vivien reminded the guitarist of a frightened, frantic prey animal who had just found safety. The idea that any vampire could seem like a prey animal was foreign to Brian, seeing as vampires were instinctively and inherently the predators to almost all other species. Are you… alright? You seem off,

You did just scare me to death, telling me that Jimmy’s going to die…

No, not that kind of off. Brian signed, mentally straining to find the words he was searching for as a waitress came in to bring them their AB+ and clear out the mess of broken shot glasses and tumblers. He watched as the tiny girl filled and drained a glass and a half of blood. Something’s up with you, and you won’t admit to it. Or you don’t know. One or the other. Vampire women don’t get… periods, do they?

Vivien’s raised her brow in what she hoped conferred to Brian that she was genuinely insulted. No, that all stops… I don’t know, Brian, and frankly don’t care. Your visions aren’t always true, you don’t have to freak everyone out by being so macabre.

So I should just bottle them up until you guys find me in the back of the bus with a self-implanted stake through my heart?

That’s not what I…

Of course it wasn’t, Vivien. But it was implied that I keep them to myself. Haner sighed and poured himself his own glass of AB+. You know what I think? Viv bade her fellow vampire to continue. I think this stems from our relationship. The redhead guffawed at the thought.

If you could call it that,

You’re right, it’s not a relationship at all. I feel like the proverbial kindergartener, holding hands on the swingset with my “girlfriend.”

What’s that supposed to mean! The retort was more of a mental indignant yelp than anything, and Brian smirked.

Yeah, Vivien. I’m almost tired of courting you. You’re intoxicating, but I’m not getting what I need out of this. He watched as the redhead’s fingernails dug into the table, creating dents in the polished mahogany before producing splinters of wood. God, calm down, Vivien! I was trying to get a rise out of you!

It worked. Vivien threw back the last of her glass full of blood, stuffed the ancient book she had snagged off the bookshelf into her large purse, and stood to make her way out of the club - as if she had a way to get home. Brian threw bills onto the table from his wallet and followed the redhead out silently.

“Vivien! Vivien, wait!” The girl made as if to hail a cab - on a back alley with no traffic - and Haner had to jog to grab her by her shoulders, pinning her arms at her side. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Going home. Back. Whatever, I’m getting away from you.”

“Now why on earth would you want to do that?” The older vampire’s breath was hot on her ear, his fingertips cold and hard against the naked skin of her forearms. “Did I, maybe, possibly, pinch a nerve there, little girl?” Vivien turned her head, ignoring the fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Back off, Haner,” Her tone was fierce, and she dug for another cigarette in her bag with shaking hands. “Please,” Brian was slightly taken aback by her soft whisper, and loosened his grip on her pale forearms.

“Let’s… Let’s take you home then, Viv.” Hesitantly, the brown-eyed guitarist wrapped tender fingers around hers, and made as if to lead her out of the dark alley, down toward the street where they could get a taxi back to the fairgrounds. Suddenly, the grip of her fingers on his was tight rather than slack and timid.

“Brian,” Vivien released the guitarist’s hand, moving to take off her jacket. “I don’t want to go home. But I don’t want to be at a stuffy old ‘Club’” - and she imitated the quotation marks with her fingers - “I want to go to an actual bar. Please?” She revealed the tiny white dress Valary had put her in as she shoved the jacket into her purse.

“Well, I’m sure we can find something…”

Arm in arm the pair of predators walked down the dark alleyway, Vivien’s tall stiletto’s knocking softly on the pavement.

Several Jaeger bombs later, the pair were having the time of their lives in some dive bar - such a dive, in fact, that Brian had been forced to stare some biker-types down with dangerous eyes. Vivien’s laughter had turned raucous, and Brian’s had begun to follow, when he wasn’t telling awful jokes to make the tiny redhead laugh uproariously. It wasn’t very long before the pair hailed a taxi, and took the cab home to the tour bus on the fairgounds. Of course, Vivien ended up walking barefoot through the maze of busses while leaning on Haner, who was just as unsteady on his feet after a few drinks (and some illicit drugs). It was Brian who quietly pulled the door of the bus open to find the bus strangely unoccupied.

“Odd…” The lithe redhead inspected the back room as the older vampire filled a pair of tumblers with Jimmy’s Special Blend and followed her back.

“Are you going to put on a movie?”

“Sure…” Viv pulled a movie off the shelf with reckless abandon, and shoved it into the DVD player, uncaring as to what it even was (it ended up being Rambo: First Blood), and took the tumbler from Brian. She finished the liquid in one fell swoop, and placed the empty cup on the windowsill and turned to face the guitarist, blocking the TV with her narrow, bony shoulders.

“What are you doing there, kiddo?” Haner let his now-empty glass on the sill next to Viv’s, cocking a snaky eyebrow at the little ballerina.

“Looking at you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Instead of answering, the redhead’s lips crashed into those of the brown-eyed man, her thin legs wrapped around his waist as she straddled his laps, her fingers twined through his longer locks. Brian hesitated for a moment before his hands sought her jaw, the back of her head, so he could pull those delectable, pillow-like lips toward his. The redhead’s hands wandered from where they had settled on the sides of his face to clench at his hair, her thin fingers traced the line of his jaw down the front of his button up to skillfully untie his bowtie and unfasten the tiny buttons of his white shirt.

“Vivien…” The protest from the burly guitarist was sudden, he pushed the tiny girl’s lips away with measured hesitation. “What are you…”

Come on, Brian, don’t make me wait, She twined her fingers in her tousled red locks, giving Brian the best come hither look she could muster. This only served to make Haner giggle.

If you’re sure.

Vivien flashed her long, ivory fangs as if to prove just how ready she was; Haner pulled her face back to his own with vicious effort, his fingers fumbling with the tiny zipper of the white dress before he finally decided to pull it up and off over her head. There she was, in all of her bony glory, nearly naked in her matching lingerie - Brian had no time to admire her as she tore into his suit, practically ripping the fabric from his body in her hurry to divorce him from his clothing and to close the space between their bodies.

The tiny redhead couldn’t suppress a gasp as he sunk his body inside of hers - and could even less suppress the hiss as his fangs penetrated the soft flesh of her neck.