Scott awoke as he often did - alone, feeling a bit of chill as he opened his eyes and gathered his senses.
Miya sometimes slept with him, and sometimes she didn't. He hadn't expected her to change her body's natural rhythm of sleeping during the night and awaking in the morning. Often he'd awake to her working on her art, cleaning, watching TV, or any number of other things. But sometimes when he was lucky, he'd awake with her in his arms.
He glanced around the room, looking at the time. The sun should be down by now, and if not, it would be soon. He rose and moved to the bathroom, flicking on the light and turning on the water. He took a quick shower, throwing on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, then decided to see if Miya was about, or if she was out. If she was inside, she'd usually have heard him by now and normally would have come to make sure he wasn't making a mess of things.
He padded to the sliding glass door that led to the yard. That's where he often found her - doing her art, or swinging, or any number of other things that keep her busy.
He saw the movement before he even reached the glass. Scott's hand rested on the door handle, unmoving, as he simply watched her for a time swinging on the tree-swing. She was incredibly beautiful, and just as innocent, and he smiled as he watched her. Their lives together might have been labeled 'perfect' by many, if not for the one sore spot that kept an invisible chain-link fence erected between them.
He was dead. She wasn't.
Several times she had mentioned her desire to join him, to be turned, and oh how his heart wanted her to! But his brain usually - usually - ruled his actions, and he knew without a doubt that one or both of them would regret it if he were to turn her. So he had denied it, and they had talked about it many times, and a few of those times she became quite emotional. He could tell how badly she wanted it, and she could tell how much he didn't want to give it.
Over the months, a new fear had begun to fester in his heart, as well. She wanted to be turned, badly - and what if she became so desperate to, that she went to another of his kind seeking it? Depending on who she found and spoke to, she might be murdered, her body never found after it was drained dry. She might be imprisoned and used as a food source. She might simply be slain, never heard from again.
Any number of terrible things could happen to her, yet the most terrible of all would be if she succeeded in acquiring what she sought.
There were times he was weak - beneath her hands, her lips, her tongue... he had nearly given-in to her on several occasions. But so far, he had denied her this one thing. Even though he had given her everything else, this one thing seemed to be a wedge between them, keeping them from truly being together.
But that other side of him, that predator side - kept whispering to him that to turn her would be the only way they'd ever really be together...
Still smiling, he gently pulled open the door and walked out into twilight, the sun gone, the demi-darkness just before true nightfall settling on the land around them.
He approached her, his hands in his pockets, as she swung back and forth on the swing.
Home (Attn Scott)
It'd been almost a year since they had settled in. The renovations were complete and Scott's library had been moved in. She had a studio in the back of the house, which let in natural sunlight. Not quite natural as it allowed Scott to come up behind her as she painted. It was wonderful to create again, to have the space to create. He'd even found her this beautiful antique wooden drafting table. Scott was good at taking care of Miya, he'd assumed all of her debt and just paid it off. It was an idyllic life, but there was one thing missing.
She wanted to marry him. To stand before God and their friends and proclaim her love for him. And in order for her to marry him, at least in her mind, she would need to be turned, and the few times she had mentioned it to him, he had been adamantly against the idea.
And so she had taken herself outside as twilight fell, swinging on the old swing that had sold the house to her. Scott had it repaired so that it would now take her weight but it looked the same, and that was what counted. She knew Scott would be out in a few minutes to check on her, as she pushed off with her feet and allowed herself to swing, fireflies lighting up around her as spring began the slow slide into summer.
She wanted Scott as badly now as she had when she was his student. Her body ached for him. And she was his familiar. And although the thought of her not being turned bothered her, she had an odd reluctance to bring the topic up again - as it was something that seemed to upset him, and the very last thing she wanted to do was upset Scott. And so she swung in her little grotto, waiting for him to come and find her, humming softly to herself a rush song. She broke into song, singing the lyrics. It was an odd song, but one that spoke to her.
And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
The blacksmith and the artist
Reflect it in their art
They forge their creativity
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
Philosophers and ploughmen
Each must know his part
To sow a new mentality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
You can be the captain
I will draw the chart
Sailing into destiny
Closer to the heart
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
Miya
12 years ago
Miya swang in the trees, her eyes closed, singing along to the lyrics of the music in her mind. She almost felt like she was flying on the swing. She often wondered what it would be like to be one able to fly. Some of the books in Scott's very large library talked about that. Those were the books he had kept in that locked case when they were in DC.
But none of that mattered now as she flew higher and higher in the swing. And as she opened her eyes she smiles seeing Scott making his way across the soft grass towards her. She used her heels to dig in to slow her momentum.
"What I sing rush and you appear? Did you think Geddy was back here singing with me?" She laughed at him, coming to a stop. "You should know better than that." She smiled brightly at him. In truth she had changed her hours towards being more in line with his. She went to bed a few hours before sunrise and woke mid afternoons. She'd cut her time at the Museum down to a bare minimum, about 20 hours a week. She liked the change of pace, but her world outside of Scott paled as it was he who brought sparkle to her life. When she was around him everything was brighter and in focus.
And when he held the ropes of the swing, and leaned down to kiss her, her entire body thrilled with emotion. How many times had they lain on a blanket in this grass and made love in an evening?
"Feed from me?" She asks him as she does most every evening. Sometimes he would oblige her, and each time she hoped deep inside that he would go too far and that he would have to turn her. She knew that he wouldn't, and the stab of despair deep in her heart at the thought of growing old, and dying without him, left her cold, drained and sad.
"And so it is said that Luthien Tenuviel of the elf kindred has died indeed. And they lost her who they most loved." She spoke quietly, more in answer to her own thoughts than to him. She tried to keep it out of her voice. "Please feed?"
For a few moments then she could enjoy that familiar, wonderful feeling of being beneath him.
But none of that mattered now as she flew higher and higher in the swing. And as she opened her eyes she smiles seeing Scott making his way across the soft grass towards her. She used her heels to dig in to slow her momentum.
"What I sing rush and you appear? Did you think Geddy was back here singing with me?" She laughed at him, coming to a stop. "You should know better than that." She smiled brightly at him. In truth she had changed her hours towards being more in line with his. She went to bed a few hours before sunrise and woke mid afternoons. She'd cut her time at the Museum down to a bare minimum, about 20 hours a week. She liked the change of pace, but her world outside of Scott paled as it was he who brought sparkle to her life. When she was around him everything was brighter and in focus.
And when he held the ropes of the swing, and leaned down to kiss her, her entire body thrilled with emotion. How many times had they lain on a blanket in this grass and made love in an evening?
"Feed from me?" She asks him as she does most every evening. Sometimes he would oblige her, and each time she hoped deep inside that he would go too far and that he would have to turn her. She knew that he wouldn't, and the stab of despair deep in her heart at the thought of growing old, and dying without him, left her cold, drained and sad.
"And so it is said that Luthien Tenuviel of the elf kindred has died indeed. And they lost her who they most loved." She spoke quietly, more in answer to her own thoughts than to him. She tried to keep it out of her voice. "Please feed?"
For a few moments then she could enjoy that familiar, wonderful feeling of being beneath him.
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
Scott chuckled with her reference to 'Rush', his favorite band. He nodded at her as he approached, his hands reaching for the rope holding up her swing. "Oh yes. I heard you singing and came running - think I could get your autograph?" he asked excitedly.
When she smiled, it was like a magnet for his lips. Slowly his lips descended, her head tilting back to receive him. He stopped short, her eyes searching his. A moment later, he closed the last little distance, their lips touching gently, a warm purr escaping his throat.
The kiss lasted some time, and as he pulled away to stand up straight, she asked him to feed.
"Lover... I fed on you two nights ago," he responded, his voice soft and comforting. "You know I don't like to do so more than once a week, at most."
Which was a lie. He -loved- drinking from her, but he loved -her- more than he loved to drink. It was a paradox, and at times, it was a curse. Sure, it drew them together, closer than most 'normal' couples were as a result of it. But he always had to be careful. The temptation was there - always there, lurking in the back of his mind, to -feast- on her.
He looked down into her eyes as she quoted Tolkien. He smiled, remembering the stories about the elven heroine that he had read several times himself - and which Miya had read to him before, as well. He didn't understand why Miya recited that specific passage at that precise moment, and his mind was mulling it over when she asked yet again for him to feed from her.
Scott could see the want in her eyes. He licked his lips - and in response, she licked hers... in that sultry way she knew would make him tingle in places made for tingling.
"Alright," he finally conceded, already regretting it. "Just a little."
How many times had he said that before?
He leaned down to one side of her head, and she willingly tilted it to the side away from him, to allow him easier access. Gently, one of his hands moved up to pull aside the cotton cloth of her shirt covering part of her neck and shoulder. The smooth skin beckoned to him, as if it were the soft outer shell of some ripe fruit.
She didn't tense anymore. She used to, in the beginning. Apparently she had grown used to the momentary twin stabs of gentle pain, but she knew it would fade quickly, as it always did.
Scott rested his teeth against the small curve where her shoulder met her neck, incisors pressing against the skin, prepared to puncture. He paused, letting the tip of his tongue taste her skin, slightly salty from a day's work and play. It was the familiar sweet taste of her before the rush of warmth and immediate coppery flavor that was unmistakable... and so delicious.
With the gentlest pressure, his teeth penetrated. He heard a soft sigh come from her lips - and anymore, he couldn't tell if her sighs were from the pain... or the pleasure.
Blood welled, and he drank. Both of them tightened their grips on the rope of the swing - one in pleasure, the other in hunger.
When she smiled, it was like a magnet for his lips. Slowly his lips descended, her head tilting back to receive him. He stopped short, her eyes searching his. A moment later, he closed the last little distance, their lips touching gently, a warm purr escaping his throat.
The kiss lasted some time, and as he pulled away to stand up straight, she asked him to feed.
"Lover... I fed on you two nights ago," he responded, his voice soft and comforting. "You know I don't like to do so more than once a week, at most."
Which was a lie. He -loved- drinking from her, but he loved -her- more than he loved to drink. It was a paradox, and at times, it was a curse. Sure, it drew them together, closer than most 'normal' couples were as a result of it. But he always had to be careful. The temptation was there - always there, lurking in the back of his mind, to -feast- on her.
He looked down into her eyes as she quoted Tolkien. He smiled, remembering the stories about the elven heroine that he had read several times himself - and which Miya had read to him before, as well. He didn't understand why Miya recited that specific passage at that precise moment, and his mind was mulling it over when she asked yet again for him to feed from her.
Scott could see the want in her eyes. He licked his lips - and in response, she licked hers... in that sultry way she knew would make him tingle in places made for tingling.
"Alright," he finally conceded, already regretting it. "Just a little."
How many times had he said that before?
He leaned down to one side of her head, and she willingly tilted it to the side away from him, to allow him easier access. Gently, one of his hands moved up to pull aside the cotton cloth of her shirt covering part of her neck and shoulder. The smooth skin beckoned to him, as if it were the soft outer shell of some ripe fruit.
She didn't tense anymore. She used to, in the beginning. Apparently she had grown used to the momentary twin stabs of gentle pain, but she knew it would fade quickly, as it always did.
Scott rested his teeth against the small curve where her shoulder met her neck, incisors pressing against the skin, prepared to puncture. He paused, letting the tip of his tongue taste her skin, slightly salty from a day's work and play. It was the familiar sweet taste of her before the rush of warmth and immediate coppery flavor that was unmistakable... and so delicious.
With the gentlest pressure, his teeth penetrated. He heard a soft sigh come from her lips - and anymore, he couldn't tell if her sighs were from the pain... or the pleasure.
Blood welled, and he drank. Both of them tightened their grips on the rope of the swing - one in pleasure, the other in hunger.
Miya
12 years ago
He gave in, and she gasped at the pure pleasure of being fed from. She always loved it, and she could tell that he loved it as well. He was just so careful with her. And it was always over so quickly. She clung to him, his arms supporting her and she tried to keep his head at her neck. When he'd finished, her eyes were glassy from the pleasure and only his hands supporting her kept her sitting up on the swing. A twinkle of michievousness in her eyes as she held up her hands to him. "Carry me?" She asks in a very soft voice. And then, "Did you have plans for the evening?" Her tummy rumbled audibly, "I'm hungry."
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
He forced himself to stop, before it turned into something more heated, something more... dangerous. Scott was gentle, a few smears on his lips, clean and careful. The tip of his tongue slid softly over the twin punctures, and slowly he licked the area around the bite clean.
"Oh, so not -you- are hungry? Is that how it is?" he asked playfully. It was common for her to feel hungry herself after he fed from her. And she wanted to be carried. He smiled, as he knew she loved to be spoiled.
His hands slid beneath her back and thighs, gently lifting her away from the swing and into his arms. He turned and casually strode toward the house, carrying her as if she weighed little more than a pillow.
"No... I didn't have any plans for this evening. We can go out - or we can stay in and I could make you something," he offered as they reached the sliding door. He gently nudged it open with the toe of his foot, and stepped through, before closing it with the heel of the same foot.
"Oh, so not -you- are hungry? Is that how it is?" he asked playfully. It was common for her to feel hungry herself after he fed from her. And she wanted to be carried. He smiled, as he knew she loved to be spoiled.
His hands slid beneath her back and thighs, gently lifting her away from the swing and into his arms. He turned and casually strode toward the house, carrying her as if she weighed little more than a pillow.
"No... I didn't have any plans for this evening. We can go out - or we can stay in and I could make you something," he offered as they reached the sliding door. He gently nudged it open with the toe of his foot, and stepped through, before closing it with the heel of the same foot.
Miya
12 years ago
She laughed as he sat her on the island in their kitchen. "I'd rather you cooked for me tonight. I don't want to go out, I just want to be with you." Sometimes she got clingy and needy, and needed to be with him. She half wondered if it was the familiar bond. He had once told her that if she changed her mind that it could fade with time. "But I don't want it to fade." His back was to her as he was rooting around in the fridge. "Do we have omelette supplies?" She crossed her legs, now sitting 'indian-style' on the top of the island counter. She watched him with a dreamy expression, enjoying the way he bustled around.
"How did a vampire learn how to cook?" She asked him curiously as he cracked the eggs into the bowl, whisking it expertly with just the right touch of spice. He was chopping the mushrooms and the peppers and reached over to pop a strip of green juicy pepper into her mouth. She murmerred around it, "That's not the pepper I want..." She waggled her brows at him and then swallowed to laugh at his expression. "Love you, Scott."
"How did a vampire learn how to cook?" She asked him curiously as he cracked the eggs into the bowl, whisking it expertly with just the right touch of spice. He was chopping the mushrooms and the peppers and reached over to pop a strip of green juicy pepper into her mouth. She murmerred around it, "That's not the pepper I want..." She waggled her brows at him and then swallowed to laugh at his expression. "Love you, Scott."
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
Scott nodded, pretty much as he did everytime she asked for something. He rarely said no, and that tactic had worked well for him so far.
"Sure, I'll cook. But YOU get to do the dishes, then," he replied playfully, and snuck around the island to the fridge to begin pulling out the ingredients he'd need.
He smiled to himself - she was being especially clingy tonight... he liked it when she was. The closeness, the nuzzles, the hugs... and often, it would turn into so much more, enough so that he often wonder how they *hadn't* set the sheets on fire by now. Maybe they were those new fire-resistant kind? He wasn't sure.
"Yep! I see enough stuff in here for omelettes!" he said, pulling them out one by one.
He moved stuff in waves to the counter, and each time he did, he snuck up behind Miya and nibble the back of her neck very softly. Not with his fangs, but with his regular teeth, playful, not breaking the skin. Each time it made her squeal.
"Where did I learn how to cook?" he asked, throwing a small hand towel over his shoulder. "Believe it or not - the army," he said. "World War One, in fact. Up until then, I had servants who did all my cooking. But when I entered the first World War, I was assigned to the corp of cooks. It was hard work - but, I learned some useful things while there," he said, talking to her while he worked magic with a knife, a cutting-board, and the various items she wanted in her omelette.
When she indicated her choice of peppers, his hands stopped chopping and he turned to face her. "I think... no, no we're out of jalapeno peppers... which kind of pepper did you want, love? I'll go fetch it for you if we don't have it."
"Sure, I'll cook. But YOU get to do the dishes, then," he replied playfully, and snuck around the island to the fridge to begin pulling out the ingredients he'd need.
He smiled to himself - she was being especially clingy tonight... he liked it when she was. The closeness, the nuzzles, the hugs... and often, it would turn into so much more, enough so that he often wonder how they *hadn't* set the sheets on fire by now. Maybe they were those new fire-resistant kind? He wasn't sure.
"Yep! I see enough stuff in here for omelettes!" he said, pulling them out one by one.
He moved stuff in waves to the counter, and each time he did, he snuck up behind Miya and nibble the back of her neck very softly. Not with his fangs, but with his regular teeth, playful, not breaking the skin. Each time it made her squeal.
"Where did I learn how to cook?" he asked, throwing a small hand towel over his shoulder. "Believe it or not - the army," he said. "World War One, in fact. Up until then, I had servants who did all my cooking. But when I entered the first World War, I was assigned to the corp of cooks. It was hard work - but, I learned some useful things while there," he said, talking to her while he worked magic with a knife, a cutting-board, and the various items she wanted in her omelette.
When she indicated her choice of peppers, his hands stopped chopping and he turned to face her. "I think... no, no we're out of jalapeno peppers... which kind of pepper did you want, love? I'll go fetch it for you if we don't have it."
Miya
12 years ago
Miya began to giggle happily as he asked her about the pepper. His offer to go and get her whatever she wanted made the giggles even more pronounced. Since he was facing her, she stretched out her long legs and twined them about him, pulling him closer. When he was up against her, she put her hands behind her and lifted herself a bit to grind against him.
"This. One." Each word it's own sentence. "I want this one right here." Her tummy growled audibly and she blushed prettily. "So. You were mortal then? I am not sure I can imagine a war that would allow a vampire the ability to hide in plain sight as it were. Certainly not in the modern age. Ugh! I don't want to think of you in some place like Iraq!" She shuddered delicately and then when he returned to cooking, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse, so that he had a truly excellent view of what was his.
"Yours Scott. All yours."
"This. One." Each word it's own sentence. "I want this one right here." Her tummy growled audibly and she blushed prettily. "So. You were mortal then? I am not sure I can imagine a war that would allow a vampire the ability to hide in plain sight as it were. Certainly not in the modern age. Ugh! I don't want to think of you in some place like Iraq!" She shuddered delicately and then when he returned to cooking, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse, so that he had a truly excellent view of what was his.
"Yours Scott. All yours."
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
Scott felt her feet gently brush his hips, and when he looked down, he watched long legs slowly envelop him like the twin tentacles of some alluring sea-monster. Slowly she pulled, reeling him in. She leaned back - a magnificent sight given her beauty - and replied to him suggestively.
He gently ground back against her, just as suggestively as he looked into her eyes. "I don't think... you can handle... the spice," he whispered, winking at her. "Besides, you're starving, I can hear that tummy of yours rebelling pretty badly against you," he smiled.
At her question about the war, he kept his smile but grew quiet for a moment. "No, I was not mortal at that time. But... I was able to... circumvent certain obstacles, just enough to work around my... schedule," he chuckled softly. "It wasn't easy, but if there's one thing War has going for it, at least if you're a vampire, is.... blood. Lots of it," he said, his voice soft. "Seeing all those young men dying, knowing that you have the power to... to 'save' them. It was difficult sometimes. And of course, being near the front lines was like a buffet for some of my kind." He turned and went back to preparing the food for her the way she wanted it.
"And no, I-....." he paused, turning his head to her, immediately noting the abundance of cleavage now where a few moments ago, there was little visible. "I was never in Iraq, no. I don't suppose it's much different now, War - at least from the casualty side of things."
His eyes, though, were lost in a slender valley of flesh, taking a mental hike between her breasts. Snapping back to attention, he turned and continued to work on her meal with a wide grin. She might very well get her omlette, but -he- would be the one having dessert, most likely.
He gently ground back against her, just as suggestively as he looked into her eyes. "I don't think... you can handle... the spice," he whispered, winking at her. "Besides, you're starving, I can hear that tummy of yours rebelling pretty badly against you," he smiled.
At her question about the war, he kept his smile but grew quiet for a moment. "No, I was not mortal at that time. But... I was able to... circumvent certain obstacles, just enough to work around my... schedule," he chuckled softly. "It wasn't easy, but if there's one thing War has going for it, at least if you're a vampire, is.... blood. Lots of it," he said, his voice soft. "Seeing all those young men dying, knowing that you have the power to... to 'save' them. It was difficult sometimes. And of course, being near the front lines was like a buffet for some of my kind." He turned and went back to preparing the food for her the way she wanted it.
"And no, I-....." he paused, turning his head to her, immediately noting the abundance of cleavage now where a few moments ago, there was little visible. "I was never in Iraq, no. I don't suppose it's much different now, War - at least from the casualty side of things."
His eyes, though, were lost in a slender valley of flesh, taking a mental hike between her breasts. Snapping back to attention, he turned and continued to work on her meal with a wide grin. She might very well get her omlette, but -he- would be the one having dessert, most likely.
Miya
12 years ago
She heard, what was to her, a note of pain in his voice as he talked about the war. "Little potatos too please?" She asked him, just wanting to watch him cook for longer. She loved watching him, it was endlessly fascinating and if there was one thing she loved more than watching him, it was drawing him. She turned on the island, stretching across it on her belly to the other side, then up onto her knees, popping open the furthest drawer and pulling out the sketchpad and charcoal. She wiggled again, knowing that he knew every sound and likely was watching her, and now she was sitting back up, the sketchbook propped up on her knees, as her eyes never left his form, her hand moving on its own accord, flying over the sketchpaper.
Putting sketchbooks around the house was his idea, and it was one that she really enjoyed. Not that she didn't enjoy all of his ideas, even the ones she hated were ok because they were done with him. "Will you take me to the Clan's buildings? I know I'm registered and all, but am I part of the Clan? And why do you keep telling me no to turning me?" She pressed the issue just a little. It hurt to, she didn't ever want to make him upset or angry or unhappy. It hurt her, almost physically to do so. Did he understand how thoroughly he owned her? "It hurts to ask, Scott, but I need to know. Please." One single tear drop rolled down the page, marring the perfection of his drawn form.
Putting sketchbooks around the house was his idea, and it was one that she really enjoyed. Not that she didn't enjoy all of his ideas, even the ones she hated were ok because they were done with him. "Will you take me to the Clan's buildings? I know I'm registered and all, but am I part of the Clan? And why do you keep telling me no to turning me?" She pressed the issue just a little. It hurt to, she didn't ever want to make him upset or angry or unhappy. It hurt her, almost physically to do so. Did he understand how thoroughly he owned her? "It hurts to ask, Scott, but I need to know. Please." One single tear drop rolled down the page, marring the perfection of his drawn form.
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
Scott heard her request for little potatoes, and he nodded with a faint smile. He should have guessed. Miya always seemed to like them, especially how he prepared them with lots of butter and a dash of salt. He retrieved the potatoes from the pantry and as he did, he watched Miya turn and stretch, almost on her stomach, reaching across the counter for some of her drawing things.
He couldn't help taking the opportunity to pass by her, lying his hand on her exposed ass and squeezing playfully tightly with a soft purr. As she found her art equipment and began to turn around - he continued on his way to the stove, out of reach of any retaliation for the moment.
When she asked about the clan buildings, though, his smile faded, and his mood became more serious.
"In time, yes, my butterfly. There are some that I might not be able to show you inside, but can point them out to you on the outside," he said, pulling several potatoes from the bag into the sink to wash and then peel and cut. In truth, he -dreaded- introducing her into this world. He didn't want to frighten her - or endanger her - and that's what he feared more than anything.
And turning her... she brought up the subject, slowly peeling away at his resistance. Likely she knew if she kept at it, she could get anything she wanted from him, but so far on this subject, he had been able to resist... so far.
"Lover... I just... you know how I feel about turning you. There are no 'do overs' when it comes to that. There are no 'take backs'. If you are turned... it's forever," he said with a whisper. "What would you do, Miya, never to be able to see the sun again?" he asked, knowing that she loved sunsets and sunrises. "How would that make you feel? You'd only get to see them in pictures, and believe me, that's -very- hard sometimes."
He turned his head and saw her tear, and knew instantly that she took his stance as some sort of rejection of her. He gently dropped the potatoes back in the sink and wiped his hands on a hand-towel, and moved over to stand in front of her.
"This life is a curse to some of us, Miya. What you give up to have it... is at great cost, a great sacrifice, even if what you gain looks so tempting," he said. Seeing her cry, though, only weakened his resolve even more.
"I tell you what - I will make you a deal. You -prove- to me that you have considered all the consequences of being turned. TRULY considered them all... convince me you've done that and still want it, and...." he paused, letting out a breath, "And I'll -consider- it."
He couldn't help taking the opportunity to pass by her, lying his hand on her exposed ass and squeezing playfully tightly with a soft purr. As she found her art equipment and began to turn around - he continued on his way to the stove, out of reach of any retaliation for the moment.
When she asked about the clan buildings, though, his smile faded, and his mood became more serious.
"In time, yes, my butterfly. There are some that I might not be able to show you inside, but can point them out to you on the outside," he said, pulling several potatoes from the bag into the sink to wash and then peel and cut. In truth, he -dreaded- introducing her into this world. He didn't want to frighten her - or endanger her - and that's what he feared more than anything.
And turning her... she brought up the subject, slowly peeling away at his resistance. Likely she knew if she kept at it, she could get anything she wanted from him, but so far on this subject, he had been able to resist... so far.
"Lover... I just... you know how I feel about turning you. There are no 'do overs' when it comes to that. There are no 'take backs'. If you are turned... it's forever," he said with a whisper. "What would you do, Miya, never to be able to see the sun again?" he asked, knowing that she loved sunsets and sunrises. "How would that make you feel? You'd only get to see them in pictures, and believe me, that's -very- hard sometimes."
He turned his head and saw her tear, and knew instantly that she took his stance as some sort of rejection of her. He gently dropped the potatoes back in the sink and wiped his hands on a hand-towel, and moved over to stand in front of her.
"This life is a curse to some of us, Miya. What you give up to have it... is at great cost, a great sacrifice, even if what you gain looks so tempting," he said. Seeing her cry, though, only weakened his resolve even more.
"I tell you what - I will make you a deal. You -prove- to me that you have considered all the consequences of being turned. TRULY considered them all... convince me you've done that and still want it, and...." he paused, letting out a breath, "And I'll -consider- it."
Miya
12 years ago
She wanted to cheer. This wasn't the no that he had been saying, and while it bothered her to find joy in something that made him so clearly unhappy, it was a victory of sorts. She felt at times like this that her skin itched. Like someone was rubbing a bristle pad over her skin and you couldn't get at the problem no matter how hard you tried, the itch just did not go away. She wondered if he knew, but she also wasn't going to tell him. She was scared that he would stop feeding from her. That he would take it the wrong way.
And then her traitorous mouth opened and spilled the beans, "Sometimes, when I'm... disagreeing? with you, or when I think about doing or saying something that will make you unhappy? It makes me hurt some. Not physically, but it feels really wrong. It didn't used to happen before, when we were in DC. But now, here, it does. I don't really understand it, but it just does and it's growing stronger. It hurt to ask about you turning me. Because I know it makes you unhappy. I feel guilty and a little ashamed that I did so. All I want to do is to make you happy. Like it's part of the reason I cut my hours at the Musuem. I knew me being around would make you happier. And I guess that some of it is that I'm so submissive to you, that you are my Master. But some of it.." She shrugged a little. "Scott, please don't stop feeding from me. I'm so scared that because I told you, you would and I don't want that. I love when you feed from me. Please don't leave me."
She catches his hand and places it over her heart, "If you want me to grow old and die, then I will do it. If you want to keep me from your Clan, I'll do it. I'm sorry I questioned you." The itch was still bothering her. She dropped her charcoal from the other hand and it rolled down and then off the island shattering into a thousand tiny pieces when it hit the floor. "Please, Scott don't leave me." She reached up to where her collar had been, a habit she learned to give her comfort. She missed it, but she didn't think he was going to lock steel about her throat anytime soon.
And then her traitorous mouth opened and spilled the beans, "Sometimes, when I'm... disagreeing? with you, or when I think about doing or saying something that will make you unhappy? It makes me hurt some. Not physically, but it feels really wrong. It didn't used to happen before, when we were in DC. But now, here, it does. I don't really understand it, but it just does and it's growing stronger. It hurt to ask about you turning me. Because I know it makes you unhappy. I feel guilty and a little ashamed that I did so. All I want to do is to make you happy. Like it's part of the reason I cut my hours at the Musuem. I knew me being around would make you happier. And I guess that some of it is that I'm so submissive to you, that you are my Master. But some of it.." She shrugged a little. "Scott, please don't stop feeding from me. I'm so scared that because I told you, you would and I don't want that. I love when you feed from me. Please don't leave me."
She catches his hand and places it over her heart, "If you want me to grow old and die, then I will do it. If you want to keep me from your Clan, I'll do it. I'm sorry I questioned you." The itch was still bothering her. She dropped her charcoal from the other hand and it rolled down and then off the island shattering into a thousand tiny pieces when it hit the floor. "Please, Scott don't leave me." She reached up to where her collar had been, a habit she learned to give her comfort. She missed it, but she didn't think he was going to lock steel about her throat anytime soon.
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
Scott looked up from his work when she began to speak. She wasn't often so forthcoming with things on her own. She was usually shy, reclusive, and would usually only talk about uncomfortable topics so deeply if he instigated the conversation. But now, she was sharing how she felt, and he stopped what he was doing, turned to face her by leaning against the counter, and placed his hands on the counter's edge to either side of his hips.
He could sense and hear the rising tension in her voice as she continued, but he didn't interrupt. He respected her too much to interrupt her before she was done sharing her thoughts.
At her last words, though, he moved forward and gently wrapped his arms around her lower back. "No one is leaving you. And I am addicted to your blood, my sweets - how could I stop?" he said with a warm smile at her, trying to reassure her.
"You worry much, and shouldn't. If I was unhappy with you in any way, I would tell you, I would talk to you. But I've been incredibly happy from the start - except when you moved away," he said, gently poking her in the side.
"But we're together now, and I couldn't be happier. How about after dinner - I show you just how happy I am?" he asked, leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips, a loving kiss, gentle and warm.
Scott did his best to remain calm and relaxed. The thought of turning her agitated him, but this wasn't the first or second time it had come up. She was being insistent, and he understood why. He also knew that, after she had some time to consider it - truly consider it - if she still wanted it, he would give it to her. Scott didn't want to be without her anymore than she wanted to be without him.
He could sense and hear the rising tension in her voice as she continued, but he didn't interrupt. He respected her too much to interrupt her before she was done sharing her thoughts.
At her last words, though, he moved forward and gently wrapped his arms around her lower back. "No one is leaving you. And I am addicted to your blood, my sweets - how could I stop?" he said with a warm smile at her, trying to reassure her.
"You worry much, and shouldn't. If I was unhappy with you in any way, I would tell you, I would talk to you. But I've been incredibly happy from the start - except when you moved away," he said, gently poking her in the side.
"But we're together now, and I couldn't be happier. How about after dinner - I show you just how happy I am?" he asked, leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips, a loving kiss, gentle and warm.
Scott did his best to remain calm and relaxed. The thought of turning her agitated him, but this wasn't the first or second time it had come up. She was being insistent, and he understood why. He also knew that, after she had some time to consider it - truly consider it - if she still wanted it, he would give it to her. Scott didn't want to be without her anymore than she wanted to be without him.
Miya
12 years ago
She smiled at him as he reassured her, holding her to him. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He just felt right. Again she wished for a collar, something to touch that would remind and reassure her. She shakes her head as he goes back to cooking her omelette and potatos. Soon enough he was plating the food beautifully, cut strawberries drizzled with heavy cream to one side.
"You really wanted me to eat, didn't you?" She teased him lightly and applied herself to the plate of food. She was always hungry after he fed from her, and she always ate a huge plate of food in order to balance it out. It made sense that he cooked for her, it allowed her to eat the sort of food that was nutritious and well prepared. She could burn water and had in the past burned down a kitchen trying to cook. Another brief smile touched her lips and she made a soft little sound of desire at how amazing the food was. He liked to watch her eat watch her reactions and she knew better than to hide them.
"The night is still young, can we go dance?" She peeks up at him through her lashes. "Please? It's been a while since we've gone out to a club or to dance." She kinda knew that he was afraid that while they were out that someone would try to take her away from him. But it had been a while. "Please pick out my outfit? Dress me the way you want please..."
"You really wanted me to eat, didn't you?" She teased him lightly and applied herself to the plate of food. She was always hungry after he fed from her, and she always ate a huge plate of food in order to balance it out. It made sense that he cooked for her, it allowed her to eat the sort of food that was nutritious and well prepared. She could burn water and had in the past burned down a kitchen trying to cook. Another brief smile touched her lips and she made a soft little sound of desire at how amazing the food was. He liked to watch her eat watch her reactions and she knew better than to hide them.
"The night is still young, can we go dance?" She peeks up at him through her lashes. "Please? It's been a while since we've gone out to a club or to dance." She kinda knew that he was afraid that while they were out that someone would try to take her away from him. But it had been a while. "Please pick out my outfit? Dress me the way you want please..."
Scott Kinney
12 years ago
Scott chuckled when she mentioned that had really wanted her to eat. "Of course I did. Blood loss from my feeding on you can be a dicey thing sometimes," he said carefully. "You need to keep up your strength, stay well-fed, and all that stuff," he said with a smile. "That's easy to do if you stay well-hydrated, and make sure you eat a balanced meal," he nodded as he finished up her plate.
Part of him felt rather guilty - as if he were 'fattening up' the lamb for his own personal feast. The -least- he could do would be to make her decent meals, to save her from eating Top Ramen noodles or Cheerios all the time.
"Dancing?" he said, thinking for a moment. "Hmmm. We haven't been in awhile, and that might just hit the spot," he said, nodding slowly. "Ok then, dancing it is," he smiled. "I'll go pick something out for you and set it on the bed while you finish your food," Scott said, then moved to put dishes and pots into the sink for later, and then made his way to the bedroom and into her wardrobe.
He picked out a different outfit than she might be used to. A skirt that was slightly shorter than usual, showing more thigh than she usually did. The shirt was loose and comfortable, and cool which helped in crowded dance-club settings. The front of the shirt hung low enough to fuel his imagination, but not so low as to look trashy or silly. Most importantly, this time - he did not put any panties out for her to wear at all.
Scott smiled, setting the clothing neatly on the made bed, then made his way back out to find her finishing her meal, where he smiled at her and began to clean the dishes, prepping them for the dishwasher.
Part of him felt rather guilty - as if he were 'fattening up' the lamb for his own personal feast. The -least- he could do would be to make her decent meals, to save her from eating Top Ramen noodles or Cheerios all the time.
"Dancing?" he said, thinking for a moment. "Hmmm. We haven't been in awhile, and that might just hit the spot," he said, nodding slowly. "Ok then, dancing it is," he smiled. "I'll go pick something out for you and set it on the bed while you finish your food," Scott said, then moved to put dishes and pots into the sink for later, and then made his way to the bedroom and into her wardrobe.
He picked out a different outfit than she might be used to. A skirt that was slightly shorter than usual, showing more thigh than she usually did. The shirt was loose and comfortable, and cool which helped in crowded dance-club settings. The front of the shirt hung low enough to fuel his imagination, but not so low as to look trashy or silly. Most importantly, this time - he did not put any panties out for her to wear at all.
Scott smiled, setting the clothing neatly on the made bed, then made his way back out to find her finishing her meal, where he smiled at her and began to clean the dishes, prepping them for the dishwasher.
Miya
12 years ago
Miya hurried up the stairs, and got dressed quickly. She felt a little nervous as she tried to flatten the skirt to not show too much. She had brushed past Scott and he had that look on his face that said clearly that he had something planned for her. She trusted in him to protect her in her 'come rape me' outfit. Scott could be very possessive, which she loved.
"Scott are you sure that this is what you want me to wear?" She brushed her hair out, added some bangles on one of her arms. She looked around for a purse or clutch to throw her ID and some cash into. She didn't need a phone or any credit cards when she was with Scott but a little bit of money never seemed to go amiss.
She frowns at her expression in the mirror, touching where a collar should be, then shakes her head and hurries back to him. If this is what he wanted her to wear, then she would obey as best she could. "Do you think I need a wrap?" She asks him curiously.
"Scott are you sure that this is what you want me to wear?" She brushed her hair out, added some bangles on one of her arms. She looked around for a purse or clutch to throw her ID and some cash into. She didn't need a phone or any credit cards when she was with Scott but a little bit of money never seemed to go amiss.
She frowns at her expression in the mirror, touching where a collar should be, then shakes her head and hurries back to him. If this is what he wanted her to wear, then she would obey as best she could. "Do you think I need a wrap?" She asks him curiously.
Miya
11 years ago
The two had gone out dancing and had a wonderful time. Later that night she lay in bed with him, idly circling his skin with one finger, amusing herself as she often enjoyed doing. The earlier disagreement was forgotten and they had made love the way they normally did, then she had laid in his arms, held safe there, sure that nothing would part them. And it was with this sure knowledge that her eyes slid shut, head pillowed on his shoulder.
((out))
((out))