He's pretty when he sleeps. All pale and innocent, dark lashes
against creamy skin, so tasty she just has to take a lick. A long
sweep of the tongue, feline-like as she bathes his skin with her
saliva, and he shifts slightly, unconsciously reaching for his mate.
Bloodied lips part, and a delighted smile emerges as she watches him
blindly grope around, half awake and half under the oh-so deep Sleep.
So pretty after he drained that brown-haired bitch. Didn't like her
much - all filled with dumb thoughts - thought her Xander was still
warm, thought his heart was filled with *her*. . .so strange, she
realises as she rises from their bed, contemplating the loud
brunette. That, and her skin smelt weird.
She walks over to the dresser, her pale, nude form casting a
deceptively fragile silhouette. Reaches out, tracing random patterns
over the scratched glass resting above the wooden drawers. Picks up
a
sliver. Should be fun to play with later.
Bored now.
Xander's pretty, but he'll still be there when the sun sets. Might
even come and play with her at the Bronze. Heard they're bringing in
a few new games to play with the puppies.
And speaking of which. . .
Picks up a long, metallic key from a place where nobody'd think of
looking and watches it reflect the first escaping residues of light
from the horizon. Random patterns. Sometimes hits her face, which
makes her pout. Her pain is expressly reserved for her Puppy and her
Master.
Another smile, as her tongue swiftly runs over her sharpened teeth.
Oh yeah - pain. She wants to make her Puppy scream.
****
Dressed now.
Usual leather attire, caressing her curves, spilling out milky white
breasts - all part of her natural charms. Both demons and mortal
males alike all stare in fascination, the silly men. Don't realise
that whilst they're ogling her prized possessions, stinking of
pheromones, she's poised to slit their throats. Aww. . .men and their
vulnerabilities. They're fun to play with, but only as a pet.
Sneaks downstairs to that damp little cage, only to find Puppy
waiting for her, looking out with those big, sad eyes. So wide and
doleful, full of torment and fear. Thinks it's going to make her get
all weepy? Screw that - It's too much fun watching him bleed.
Wait.
He's not looking at her at all, though, now is he?
He's looking *past* her. The lights are on but nobody's home. Did she
break her Puppy? Can't have that. She was too careful. Ponders the
subject awhile.
That's enough pondering.
He's close to the edge. She recognises the look. He's been up all
day, night and until dawn just *thinking*. Mourning over his poor,
shattered mind. Unhappy 'cos he killed so many, many, poor, innocent
people. Pity he never shares with her how just how he did it. She
could do with a few tips from the Masters ex-Favoured. It's hard
enough to make him eat, and if he's torturing himself, then he's just
being pretty darn ungrateful. If he wants the pain then all he has
to
do is ask. He knows that.
Click of the lock and they're suddenly so touchably close. Still
doesn't respond, though. Interesting. Usually by now, he's uttering
those little breathy gasps as he instantly moves himself as far away
from her as possible. Tries to curl into a ball, whimpers, shakes a
little, too. That is how he got his name, after all. But right
now. . .Nothing. Just continues to stare up into the ceiling, like
he's reading a real long book,
{remembers a girl}
written on the solid concrete. She takes a look for herself. Nope.
Just a big, grey splotch of stone, a few burn marks remain (oops. How
did they get there?), and a few cracks. Nothing interesting there,
and why should there be?
{sits on the steps in front of school. Books in hand. Trying to teach
Xan about the major themes of 'MacBeth'. He doesn't get it, though.
Just gives her that silly little candy smile. Makes everything
alright. Throws an arm over her shoulder and now's her moment to let
him know of what she feels for him.
Interrupted by the arrival of his latest crush and suddenly he can't
be further away from her.
'Hey Cordy. . .'}
She shakes her head. Too full of the blood and the kill now to
remember that. Too long ago. A memory of another lifetime. Another
little girl who never had to courage to say 'I like you'. Little Red,
and her pathetic little schoolgirl life. Little Red, and her head
full of sunshine.
Nonononononono. . . That's *so* not her.
Time to wake up the Puppy.
****
That little shard of glass was such a good idea. All jagged edges,
which are worth their own individual moments of fun, but it also
provides that well-needed reminder of What He Isn't. No reflection,
he can't help but notice, everytime the blade slashes into his skin.
No reflection, and he's not human, is he? Not one of them. For if he
was, surely the mirror would show his bleeding? Tears another strip
of flesh away from his forearm, digging the glass in deep. Now the
mirror bleeds, but no blood for our naughty Puppy. Because he still
cares, and that's just not natural for what he truly is.
Demon.
{'Vampires?' laughs Will as she playfully swipes at her best friend
with the comic he was showing her. 'Am I gonna have to break it to
you about the Easter Bunny?'
'Ha ha,' he scornfully replies, grabbing at the rolled up sheets of
paper. 'So very funny from the girl who still believes that Golems
are the 'in' creature of the night, and does that chanty New Age
ritual to stops the frogs from getting' ya'
'Jewish gal here! Don't mock the culture. And besides - Frogs are
evil.'
'So it's peachy for you to be an anti-amphibious Semitic hippy, but
I
can't get the wiggins over an evil bloodsucker?'. . .}
Ewch. Didn't know where she got that little memory from, although she
can confess to herself, at least, that she still hates frogs. What?
Like she needs a reason?
Never liked anyone mocking her like that anyway. Digs her nails a
little deeper into Puppy's soft flesh. He's flinching now. Good.
Showing a little bit of participation, for a nice change. Oh - she
can work wonders on her own, but as she's found - torture's always
more effective as a team sport.
Lights a match, watching the yellow flame dribble down the wooden
splint and catch the tips of her fingers. Frowns as she experiences
a
new sensation - Self inflicted pain. Lights another one. Again, it
burns down to her fingertips before hissing away into a wisp of
smoke. Puppy's watching her now, confused. Not in on the action.
Can't stand the pain, but can't stand to be without it.
Poor Puppy.
Hasn't seen the outside world in so long, he's grabbing on to
whatever he can get. Pleasure, pain, love, hate. It all comes round
in a big ole' circle anyway.
Brings her blistered fingers to her lips and licks away the rapidly
congealing blood. Doesn't taste as good as fresh from the source.
Tasting her own blood. . .not really right in her view. Self
indulgent, mastabatory actions. Needs something fresh and new to keep
herself amused, alive. However, that can soon be rectified.
Puppy doesn't taste so good at first, she remembers as her fangs sink
into his scarred flesh. Adjusts her position, so that she can lay her
head against his chest, her arms entwined in a parody of a lover's
embrace. Soon, as ever, he warms to her. Not literally, of course.
Cold, dead things don't have that pesky body temperature problem. She
adores the feel of his cold skin against her own, blood slowly
pumping away, torn into savage chunks of flesh and lust. Their shared
coolness. It pacifies her worries of being too human. Cold, clammy,
skin. Not natural. Not human. Not Little Red.
And he wants it too.
Not sure why, but she knows he needs it. Needs to have her love,
written upon his once magnificent frame in blood and violence. Needs
to know that, like her, he is still wanted. Desired. And she wouldn't
have it any other way.
Clambers off his bloodstained carcass. Looks worse than it is.
Doesn't know why, but tonight it was more about something else than
the blood. Something. . .shared? Maybe one day soon her frightened
little cub will grow into the glorious wolf she had been told about.
Another gaze of those hazel, souled, eyes, now looking slightly less
disturbed. Picks up her scissors and heads towards the door. A sudden
thought, and the silver instrument plunges through the air and lands
square between his shoulder blades, pinning him to the ground.
Shrugs. She'll pick it up later.
Think I'd rather keep my Puppy just the way he is.
***
Fin