From Her Vein to the Floor

"Dirty girl, getting' down.
Dance with guys from outta town.
Grab her ass, actin' tough.
Mess with her, she'll fuck you up."
- Theory of a Deadman

Torryn's back hit the cool satin sheets of a king-sized bed, and she could only moan. The vampire saliva was still coursing through her veins, leaving her to teeter on the edge of blissful consciousness. Antony had had to carry her in and remove her wet shoes.

"Antony," she murmured, noticing his scent all around her. "Antony..." She was in his room, in his bed, but she was too far gone to notice.

"Relax," she heard him whisper in return. She vaguely felt her torn shirt sliding away from her body, her ruined bra quick to follow. The air was pleasantly cool upon her bare breasts. "We're safe now."

"We've been safe," she replied, forcing her eyes open to find Antony hovering over her, only inches away. "Werewolves don't chase Ferraris."

At that, he cracked a smile. "I see you're feeling better."

"You should bite yourself sometime," she said with a small smile of her own, allowing her eyes to slip shut once more. "You'd feel better, too."

He chuckled. "If only it worked that way."

"It doesn't?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No. Vampires aren't effected by vampire saliva at all."

"Poor bastards." She opened her eyes again, eyebrow still raised. "Maybe mine could do some good." Sloppily, she tugged him onto the bed beside her and quickly straddled him. Her head spun from the sudden movements, but that didn't stop her from leaning down to bite his neck. Her bite was nothing like his, fangless and weak in comparison, but judging by his sharp intake of breath, he didn't quite mind.

"What are you doing?" he asked after she'd sucked and nibbled on his neck for a moment. At first, she thought he wanted her to back off; but when his fingers gently wrapped around her upper arms, she changed her mind.

"Biting you," was her simple response, murmured against the side of his neck. She then began to kiss the spot she'd been biting, slowly and seductively.

"What are you doing now?" he asked after a short pause.

"Kissing you," she answered casually, even as she kissed her way up to his earlobe. She took it between her teeth and tugged lightly.

"Torryn," he said softly, his hands sliding up her arms until he was grasping her shoulders, "is this you or the vampire saliva?"

"Both, I think." She leaned back, touching her nose to his as she held herself over him. Her bare breasts jiggled from the movement, nipples perked up by the slight chill in the room. "I feel like I'm drunk," she admitted with a sweet smile.

Surprisingly, his eyes remained on hers, far from her overly excited chest. "Would you like more?" he asked in a soft, nearly seductive whisper. His fingertips kneaded the back of her shoulders, sending pleasant tingles down her spine. Goosebumps rose along her arms.

"Are you using pheromones on me?" she asked in return, shivering as he lightly raked his nails along her shoulders. Goosebumps rose everywhere, and a hot tingle began between her legs. This can't be a natural reaction, she thought, though the logic was fuzzy beneath the lingering effects of the vampire saliva. She couldn't want him, not like this.

"No," was Antony's cool, sincere answer. "Would you like me to?" His breath brushed her ear as he leaned up, closer to her neck, and she felt hot all over.

"More saliva," she said. "Before the pain comes back." Before her reason returned.

There wasn't even a pause. The moment those words left her lips, Antony had turned the tables. He was on top of her; his fangs were in her neck.

She cried out at first, but the sound ceased quickly. A moan followed, low and throaty, and her back arched to thrust her chest against him. He was warm, she noticed, but she longed for the heat of his bare skin.

"Antony," she groaned, her hands already grasping his shirt. She tugged it up to reveal his toned stomach, his smooth, warm chest. "Antony."

He tore his fangs from her neck, throwing his shirt off faster than she would have thought possible. When he returned to her throat, his chest was against her breasts, his warm skin sliding against hers. He began to pull aggressively from her vein, his intention turning from saliva to blood, from function to pleasure.

Her hands found his bare back as another moan escaped her. Her fingers slowly traced his muscles, his shoulder blades, every dip and bump of his spine. A sudden rough jerk at her neck sent her nails into his flesh, a soft, pleased growl from him leading them down, tearing slowly through his skin.

He tore his fangs from her throat once more. He leaned back to gaze down at her, teeth glistening red in the room's low light. His eyes were half closed, but she could see the lust in them. "What do you want?" he asked suddenly, his voice husky with restrained desire.

Her wounds throbbed, but it wasn't in pain. There was only pleasure, pleasure clouding her mind and blurring her judgment. "Fuck me." He had to be doing this to her. He had to be using those damned pheromones, confusing her, drawing out these unusual desires. "Now."

"Say it again," he ordered, his voice a demanding, sexy growl. He grabbed a handful of wet, tangled hair, jerking her head to the side to give him better access to her ear. "Say it again," he repeated in a bestial whisper. She couldn't help a shiver.

"Fuck me," she answered with a shaky breath. "Now."

She didn't have to tell him again. With a harsh jerk and the sound of ripping denim, he removed her pants, tossing them across the room. He made quick work of her panties as well, cutting through the thin sides of the black thong with a single fang. His tongue lapped against her clit twice, just enough to get her body aching for more, then he leaned away from her.

Slowly, almost tauntingly, he unbuttoned his pants and began to tug the zipper down. She watched his every move intently, eyes flicking from his slowly descending pants to his lust-filled eyes and back again. She was nearly twitching with impatient need by the time his jeans were on the floor. His black boxers were removed just as slowly, taunting her as the bulge they'd been hiding was finally revealed. But the second they were off, he was in her, hard and deep.

"Fuck," was all she could say, impulsively digging her nails into his back once more. He paused for an instant, let out a hiss of pleasure, then continued on.

Each thrust was hard and quick, accompanied by the loud creaks of the bed, the booms of the headboard slamming against the wall, and a mixture of heavy breathing and moans. Antony's fangs found her neck once more, his pulls from her vein so strong that she could make no sound for a moment, only gasp.

"Antony!" she cried, back arching again to thrust her whole torso against him. The needy sound of her voice only drove him more wild, his thrusts nearly tripling in speed and power. "Fuck," she gasped. No human could've done this. She swore the bed was about to break.

Her nails clawed their way up his back, tearing jaggedly into his flesh with each jerk of his body. When she reached his shoulders, her fingers tightened. She felt like she needed to do something, something more than getting lost in the pleasure of vampiric sex and saliva.

Using her Progeny strength, she tore Antony from her neck, from her body. He was tossed to the side, but he wasn't left there for long. Her own body crashed against his, skin against skin, as she straddled him. She guided him into her and began to ride him as hard and fast as she could, her hands on his chest to keep her upright.

The look on his face was priceless. Beneath the haze of lust lay an expression of slack-jawed shock. Torryn taking control of the situation had apparently never crossed his mind. But he recovered quickly, almost as soon as she began to move, and an animalistic groan escaped his open mouth.

He grasped her hips tightly, his nails digging into her skin to evoke a cry of pleasure. She dug her nails into his chest in return, and a growl rumbled beneath her hand.

But suddenly, he stopped her, his hold on her hips tightening further. Panting and confused, lost in a haze of pleasure, she gazed down at him, trying to figure out why he had stopped her. Slowly, he reached up, his fingertips gently touching her neck where blood still flowed from a pair of bite marks. They trailed down languidly, a streak of red left in their wake. It went over her collarbone, between her breasts, until it curved and faded away beneath her left nipple.

He leaned up, hands resuming their place on her hips, and took her nipple into his mouth. His tongue lapped gently against it, swirling around and around until he took it between his teeth. The light pain immediately turned into a pulse of pure pleasure, bringing a soft moan from her lips.

His tongue slid down to the end of the blood trail, beginning to trace it back to its start. As he made his way up, he pulled her closer to him, gradually closing the space between them until he was at her neck, their chests touching.

"Torryn," he murmured against her neck, his fangs grazing her skin. Her head tilted to the side, opening her throat to him. "What are we doing?" He teased her, his fangs ever so lightly grazing her skin once more.

"Aren't you supposed to be fucking me?" she whispered in response, shivering against him.

She was shoved off of him in an instant, roughly forced onto her hands and knees a moment later. She cried out again, feeling him fiercely reclaim his place inside of her. He knocked her off of her hands, slamming her face into the pillow as he began to thrust harder than before.

She let out another cry when he slapped her ass, never ceasing his movements. His nails tore through her back, ripping open the nearly healed wounds that lingered there. His fingers continued around her hip, stopping only when he reached her clit. The slightest touch had her screaming, so when he began to rub her, she could only grip the pillow and scream louder.

She heard him moan behind her, louder and louder until she could barely hear herself. An instant later, his "Oh, God!" clashed with her "Fuck!", and they came together.

The pleasure was like nothing she'd ever felt before, like nothing she'd thought she could achieve. It was no human feeling. It was the combination of vampire and Progeny, more powerful than she thought possible.

She collapsed on Antony's bed, out cold.

-

When Torryn opened her eyes, she was confused. Partially because she had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there, but mostly because the smooth face of a middle-aged man was only inches from her own.

"What the hell?!" she screamed in a squeaky voice she hadn't known she was capable of, throwing herself backward, away from the stranger. But he caught her wrist with little trouble, jerking her right back across the bed.

She kicked at him as he lifted her off of the bed's satin sheets by the single arm he held, managing to reach his stomach after the eighth try. He seemed as if he were going to drop her for a moment, but then, he tossed her to the side as if she were merely a ragdoll. Her back hit the wall, knocking the breath from her lungs, and a couple of picture frames slid from their nails. The glass shattered on the floor next to her as she landed, already trying to scurry away from the man. But he was quick, appearing before her in a heartbeat.

"Fuck off!" she shouted as she lashed out at him again, kicking him in the face hard enough to knock him to the floor several feet away. She lurched to her feet and started for the door, but once again, he was in front of her before she could make it anywhere.

He said nothing to her. His expression never left its emotionless state. He simply backhanded her with a surprising amount of force, knocking her against the edge of the bed and to the floor. She watched him from there, trying to figure out who he was and what was going on.

He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and sharp features. His hair was a dark brown, the blue of his eyes exceptionally bright in comparison. He was dressed in a very nice black suit, blood smeared across the collar, likely from her struggle with him. She'd never seen him before – she was sure of it – but his features reminded her of someone...

Instead of speaking to the man like a logical person, instead of attempting to figure out what was happening in a civil manner, she kicked at him again. She landed one rough blow to his knee, another to his thigh as he staggered back. He kicked back before he'd even stabilized himself, hitting her in the ribs so hard that she swore he'd broken them. She let out a quiet whimper.

He reached for her again, lifting her to her feet by the same wrist he'd held before. She hissed in pain, gritting her teeth and glaring at the strange man. She was trying to decide whether or not to fight some more when he jerked her body toward his, meeting her halfway with his fangs in her already-bloodied throat.

She shrieked, a single sharp syllable of both pain and surprise. She shoved at him with her free arm, tried to kick him again, but he had her pinned against the wall in an instant, his fancy black dress shoes crunching in the glass of the picture frames like gravel.

She recognized the effects of vampire saliva just as Antony burst into the room. He rushed toward her, shouting something at the man, but her senses were already fading under the weight of vampire saliva and the pheromones slowly filling the air around her. This wasn't like what Antony had done to her. It was stronger, and it worked faster. Much faster. She was already toppling into the man's blissful thrall when he was shoved away from her, his fangs tearing through her neck to leave a pair of deep gashes, pouring blood. But she registered it only as pleasure; there was no pain or alarm.

"Dad, what the fuck?!" she heard as she collapsed against Antony, falling limply into his waiting arms.

"So that's who he looks like," she mumbled, though neither male took any notice.

"It's been so long since I've tasted Progeny," the older man said with a blissful sigh, looking off into the distance as if he were remembering some great moment from his past. And considering he began to salivate almost visibly, a delicious moment as well. "She's not pure, but the hint of human only adds to the flavor," he stated once he'd returned to the present moment, his eyes going from the half conscious girl to his son and longingly back again.

"I've told you not to eat my friends," Antony nearly growled, and Torryn felt a fang graze her ear as he carefully lay her on the bed.

"Then why are your friends always so naked and enticing?" the man retorted with a taunting smile. He seemed to enjoy pissing his son off. And Torryn, even in her half-conscious state, could see why. Antony was much weaker than his father – after all, he was still alive. His father, on the other hand, was long gone. At least, that was Torryn's guess. His skin was ice cold, and his power was far, far beyond Antony's. What other reason could there be?

"Why am I naked?" Torryn wondered aloud, glancing groggily down at her bare, battered, bloodied body. But again, she was ignored by the men.

"Just...go," was all Antony could say, clenching his fists and glaring at his father. He wanted to bare his fangs, to lash out, to fight the older male, but he knew better. He didn't fight like Torryn's dumb ass had.

"It's because I have a vagina, isn't it?" she asked, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. "Awesome."

"As you wish, Antony," the man said with another taunting smile before ghosting out of the room, licking the blood from his lips as he went.

"Are you all right, Torryn?" Antony asked softly, sitting on the bed beside her. She looked up at him, confused by the worry in his eyes. It was so...strange.

"I'm fine," she answered with a sweet smile. "But why am I here? And naked? And bloody?"

"Let's get you to the shower," he said while getting to his feet. He helped her up, keeping an arm carefully around her waist as he guided her toward the bathroom door, across the room from the bed.

"Are you showering, too?" she asked when they stopped in the bathroom and he began to take his clothes off. "Didn't you shower already?" she asked, noticing that his hair was already wet.

"Someone has to make sure you don't fall," he answered with a shrug. She couldn't think of anything to say to that; she simply allowed him to help her into the shower.

The warm water was amazing, she found as it beat against her back. It burned her wounds, causing her a bit of vampire-induced pleasure, but it was also soothing against the rest of her flesh. She leaned against Antony and closed her eyes, sighing.

"Is it nice?" he asked with a smirk as her head fell to rest upon his shoulder. He snaked an arm around her waist, an action she took to be helpful when, in reality, he was just pulling her closer to him.

"You have no idea," she sighed in response. The vampire saliva was slowly losing its power, the occasional sting making its way through the wall of pleasure, but she barely noticed.

Suddenly, Antony took her chin in his free hand, tipping her head away from his shoulder. She was thoroughly shocked when his lips met hers in the first kiss they'd shared. With the kiss came the memories of the night, and she could only stand there, wide eyed, as the boy shoved her up against the wall. Her back met the surface with a burst of pain. The memories had been one hell of a buzz kill, forcing the effects of the vampire saliva and the lingering pheromones completely out of her system.

"What the fuck?!" she screamed, shoving Antony away from her with every ounce of her strength. He fell into the shower curtain, pulling it from the rod as he continued to tip backward. But he was sure to grab her arm as he fell, dragging her right down with him.

They landed on the floor with a huff, her on top of him, him on top of the poor, defenseless shower curtain. She straddled him, dripping wet body hovering over his as she panted.

"I have a boyfriend," she started before she'd even had the chance to catch her breath. "Why the hell did you let me do all of that?!" She followed the first girly impulse to flit through her mind, slapping him full-force across the face. He could only stare at her for a moment, completely stunned; but the moment he recovered, he had her pinned to the floor beside the shower curtain.

"I'm not your keeper," he snapped, returning her glare. "You wanted it, and I had no problem with giving it to you."

"You're such a freaking manwhore!" she screamed, starting to struggle beneath him, all in vain. He was too strong, too heavy, too determined.

"No. You're hot, and you were horny. I'm an opportunist!" he shouted in response.

"You took advantage of me!" she argued, refusing to use her inside voice. "You pumped me full of vampire saliva and tried your damnedest to turn me on!"

"Yeah, well, sometimes, I make my own opportunities!"

She stared at him for a moment, unable to think of a proper response. In the end, all she could come up with was, "Manwhore!"

"Bitch!" He stared at her now, both of them silent and glaring intently at one another. Finally, foolishly, he leaned down and kissed her forcefully. She returned it passionately, using it as an opportunity to slide her arm out from beneath his hand. She slapped him again the instant she'd pulled away from him.

"Dumbass!"

He wanted to glare at her, but he could only sigh. "I'll drive you home."