There was only so much one could take. So much abuse, so much pain, so much of everything before they reached their limit. Most people possessed limits that were far too short or just right. However, there were too many souls out there who had not the shred of hope of ever withstanding anything bad that should happen to them. Those select unfortunates would crumble instantly and be no more. Sometimes Socrates pondered over if she was leading this army of unstable mental cases with virtually no self reassurance and no chance in hell of standing up for themselves. And yet even now and then when she crossed the street to see a few kids picking on another smaller one or even a bunch of thugs trying to mug and then beat the phuck out of some guy that had no business walking down dark alleys in a suit and expecting not to get his ass kicked. Idiots they were yes, but that didn’t make it right to just keep walking. Although she may very well be too far messed up in the head to be salvaged, her sense of right and wrong was as concrete as her taste in clothing, good lord. She knew she wasn’t entirely right upstairs if she fended sleep just so she wouldn’t have the nightmares that came with it. She had stopped dreaming since she had last seen Jaami, let alone Delavar. However now in the past months her sire had come to take her away where she quite possibly could be a better person as well as embrace what he was, not what he had done to her but for her, as well as what she was. They weren’t bad people. It wasn’t like he was a monster. He was a saint in her eyes, among other things. She could hardly believe it when he said they might get to see Dallas. Instantly just the humans name made her head swim and her vision blur enough to feel mildly buzzed. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling she got when she heard his name, as much as she girlishly giggled as she fished around in the small trunk for something more simple to wear. In one hand she did have such a summer dress that Delavar had hinted she wouldn’t be so bad in, however in the other she had something she hadn’t worn in such a long time that she feared as she plucked it up that it may have cob webs. "Poor thing," she frowned as the swiftness with which was shown in getting the particular two pieces of clothing on was such that there was no way it could have been humanly possible. Her movements went from slow, into nothing, and back again resulting in her figure that had just been wearing those cheeky pair of underwear, into having a thick wool plaid patterned skirt whose only colors were white and dark grey. The shirt she shrugged on after hooking the clasp of thin silver chain that went around the skirt for a belt, was white and of a course cotton material. Dense. Terribly comfortable. As she buttoned it up with one hand, she ended up missing the bottom three and top two buttons. With her other hand she was rolling up the spotless white stockings over her hairless legs one at a time before stepping into the little clog hopper shoes with their chunky heels that couldn’t decide if they were an off white, or a really light grey. "Eh, shabby," she said while folding up her sleeves to her elbows, even though just how low the skirt was sitting on her hips at a slight tilt was bad enough. The skirt was dangerously short naturally, as was just about every skirt she owned. It wasn’t that she wanted to show off any part of her body but, she really liked the designs or way they were cut. She did have two knee lengths and even a ground length skirt but she never could figure out where to wear those ones. Too fancy and not enough impressiveness in the world for them she would reason as she shook her head to get that bed head look by mistake before she nearly skipped out of the room in that outfit that she felt was as plain Jane as she could be, but in reality it was probably not bad attire for a hooker. An expensive one. Closing her door behind her, but leaving it just cracked, she stretched both arms above her head as she descended the stairs to the foyer where she greeted Delavar, if he was there, with a, "I don’t think I packed that dress, so I had to improvise." A shrug was made as she gathered up a coat made of the same thick wool that was not the colors of her skirt, but a sage green hue. Sliding both arms into it after letting go of it, then stepping back into it. A wrinkle of the nose was given as she smelled something and immediately fished around in the pockets of the coat that ended at the waist, finding something of a piece of paper in it. Black writing. Unfolding it, those black eyes would loose some of that happy mood they had. Words, a phrase of light hearted humor and hopeful promises. The piece of notepad paper that was tattered and torn around the edges, why was it in the pocket of this coat? Why… In her minds eye the scene played out like an old black-and-white movie whose toner had gone out on it, and everything was out of focus… except him. It was the note Socrates had written to Dallas the first day they had met, back at the coffee shop she use to own and loved very much. It was just a piece of paper and yet, it drove a hole the size of ones fist right into her middle. Why had it ended up this way? For now she would let the questions whose answers might be more than one twisted and very much odd heart could bare be folded up along with that notepad scrap and tuck it neatly back into her pocket as a faint smile was given. Truth was it felt like if she did go much longer without even knowing weather or not Dallas was alright, she would drive herself to the brink of madness and then… there would be no helping anyone after it. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Delavar with all her heart. It was just that she didn’t think her affections she gave him felt the same to him anymore. She thought they were, but every now and then she would get that cold sinking feeling and realize that perhaps it was she who couldn’t seem to move on when everything and one around already had. Delavar included.
Delavar smiled as Socrates met him in the foyer. His gaze absorbed her as he laced his arm with her own and threw the door open with the other. "I could easily forget you were a man, Socrates," he conveyed in suggestive tones as he led her outside, Hobaer closing the door behind them. Kusar was waiting for them at the limo, and opened the doors for them. Delavar actually needed the room in the back of the limo for his wings, which he folded around himself life a cloak. "You must prepare yourself, Socrates, for what you may witness at Club Deviant. You must call on your inner strength, and whatever you do, don't lose your head," he stressed gravely. "Doing so will not help Dallas in any way." Yes, he spoke as though he knew what to expect, which he did in fact. When they arrived at the club, Kusar opened their doors for them, and then got back in the car to drive it back around to the parking garage. He caught up to them at the door as they waited in line to get in. People were dressed in all kinds of bondage outfits, glam apparal, and other provocative fashions. Kusar had their backs as they entered the club. Delavar broke his strides rather suddenly as the music splintered his senses. His eyes shut fast for a while whereof his gaze cut hard on Kusar who pulled a pair of earplugs from his pocket to hand them to the vampire. After stuffing the small, padded objects in the shells of his large bat ears, he continued across the floor, skirting the dance floor and the flux of undulating, jerking, and writhing forms there. His keen eyes swept the guts of the club slowly, then thinned as he saw a small mob of club-fiends gathered around an isolated private table in the far corner of the club. His arm tightened down in that weave of Socrate's arm and he led the way towards the group of eight odd people on the far side of the club. Before they reached the outside of the cliche gathered around the open side of the table, Delavar curled his arm around Socrate's waist. By that time they could hear the shattered cries of Dallas. Three people were taking photographs, while a couple stood grinding against one another as they watched. There were also five strong men, and one vampire, standing with their arms crossed at guard on either side of the table and the crowd, one man on either side of Argenta. They held loaded guns. Argenta's back was to them as his hips thrust forward and back in an indecent public display, while two other lucky others took liberties with Dallas as well. Dallas was laid splayed back down on the table, his eyes rolled back before fixing in a glazed stare at the ceiling. "Argenta Maldante. I need a word with you." Without even raising his voice, Delavar's words rose above the sexual exhaltations of the public exibition.
Argenta's head turned just enough to cut his eyes on the vampire. His sexual violence increased as his sex-laden eyes focused on the magnificent vampire which came into view. "Have a seat, Delavar," Argenta growled, exposing his fangs in a lust stricken yawn. "I will be with you momentarily...I am almost ****ing there..." he groaned blissfully after. "And so is my beautiful pet," he added with a feral hiss.
Delavar's cheeks clenched, his arms deadlocking Socrates from doing anything foolish. "As soon as you are finished then," the vampire obliged the man while Socrates struggled against his powerful embrace of her slender form.
"As soon as," Argenta sang out as he buried himself inside of Dallas, and then told the girl deep throating him to suck him harder. He also grabbed that arm partially imbedded inside of the unnatural tunnel he had gifted Dallas with, and shoved hard to thrust it deep, the wails which erupted from Dallas music to the sindicate king's ears. It was hard to see Dallas past those huddled around him, either having their way with him, guarding, or taking photos.
Delavar drug Socrates over to a table five booths to the left of the table Dallas was being ravaged on, and sat her down rather forceably, to seat himself beside her on the leather uphoulstered bench, his hips shoving against her to urge her to slide over and make room for him. His right wing draped around her back, curling her, but was also wedged against the wall, the other folding awkwardly around the edge of the booth, while his long legs stretched out beneath the table. "No sense stopping it now, Socrates. It's not like it is the first time. He has been Argenta's sexual bondee for over six months now. You need to accept this, for it is a fact. Dallas will not be the same man you knew. We talk to Argenta first, and see if we can make a deal. Piss him off, and all chance for cooperation shall fail. If he will not accept what I offer for Dallas? I have other plans," he informed her. The Volucris vampire's poise was impertable, and yet the clench of his laws, the flare of his bestial nostrils, and the dark burn in his eyes betrayed his disgust with the sexual exploitation of Dallas. Humans sickened him, and what pissed him off even more, is that they had poisoned his own people with such deviant acts. Vampires had never been prone to such behavior before humans appeared on Nosgard. Now? There were a few vampires who indulged in such unspeakable acts themselves, if only to spite humans. "Whatever surgery that man has had to make him look like a vampire, he is not Kaenas, Socrates. He is a poser who tries be what he worships. He reveres our kind as you could see by his reaction to me. If he truly honored us, he would not be spreading his corruption to Kaenas children," he sneered. Only the ancient ones refered to vampires as their true name any more. Kaenas is what vampires called themselves many ages before humans ever peopled the world. When a waiter dressed in a bondage outfit came over, Delavar ordered Socrates and himself each a bottle of blood.
he would always insist when Delavar’s tone turned serious that he worried too much and that it would give him red hairs. Silly talk of a silly mind whose only solace was the nightly sittings in the middle of his vast front lawn looking at the night sky and how it changed into day. How naive she was to think that the path of life Dallas had been plunged into was full of hugs and kisses. Well, perhaps hugs and kisses with the threat of being abused in front of the masses for another own personal gratifications. The bit about being mistaken for a woman brought a fierce rosy color to her cheeks and caused nervous laughter followed by side stepping around a few pieces of furniture until there was four yards or so distance between her sire and she. “Seriously,” she said through that laughing as he ushered them into the great out doors and into a vehicle she hadn’t seen in a long, long time. The chitter chatter that rattled out of her was due to the excitement of getting to see Dallas again, if anything and that perhaps with hope she could show Delavar that even though there were enough bad humans to ruin it for everyone else, the majority of humanity were good and they just needed to be given a chance. Blind hope? Perhaps. Or maybe it just stemmed from a dreamer that never truly should have been wakened. With those nylon like covered legs folded up underneath herself as she tinkered with something on the door, it was then that Delavar’s words perked her ear and made her unconsciously become extremely defensive. “I happen to like my head being on my shoulders,” she said, a tiny bit childish because her feelings did have the unfortunate ability to go from one extreme to the other and rarely was there ever a middle ground to just be on that it was so tiresome. A slight pout would crease her lips for a moment or two before it went away into a ponder of what had Delavar worked up so badly. Was where Dallas was not up to par? Was it a place that sold drugs? It was beginning to irk her that Delavar always knew so much, and yet she knew so very little and she seemed to be content with it. What of that? Life and its little unexpected surprises. Those big pupil less looking inky black eyes would gaze out the window as the landscape changed from trees to buildings to concrete, to people and lights. She wasted time in not sprawling but curling against Delavar’s left knee, more or less sitting on the floor rather than in the actual seat. However as they arrived, that anxiety that something was wrong, and that Delavar had only brushed the tip of the ice berg, nagged at the back of her mind as they emerged out of the vehicle and into the sea of bodies within the club whose choice of music made her tingle all over. Weird melodies yes, but not alien to her as they might have been annoying to Delavar’s ears. So close the fae like thing in white plaid would stay to the taller more terrifyingly sexy vampire as they moved here and there. Once in awhile a glam goth or hardcore person in bondage who was frankly naked, would pause in mid dance step to just stare at Delavar and then the white dressed one by his side, and then back to Delavar. Well, okay not once in awhile but just about one out of every two people they passed would gasp or whine in admiration and surprise at the sight of Socrates’ sire, so much that at a few club goers even moved out of the way to clear a small space around the winged one just to get a better look at him. Some reasoned it was the most fantastic costume they had ever laid their eyes on. Others proclaimed he was what a vampire should be and he owned righteously. In any case, Socrates got the distinct impression that she was transparent again. And that was fine with her. Her fingers pet continuously over the side of Delavar’s left arm that she had curled both of her own around, resting her face against his side as the lights reflected what appeared to be an abyss in those eyes of hers. “I know this song! It’s called, um… uh,” she shouted, letting go of Delavar’s arm as she thought on what particular song was blaring at the moment when suddenly her ears became filled with the cries of pleasure, and pain. She hadn’t seen the events happening within the group of sickest and twisted minds but, at a closer inspection from knowing that she had heard someone she knew, those eyes would level pass a shoulder or two to view something she really never thought anyone should have to see? It was a man, no, more than just one and they were doing things to Dallas that… At first she was filled with so much joy at seeing Dallas that it nearly pushed out the reality of what was being done to Dallas. Just as quickly as she had been all grinning and eager to see him, a shadow would descend over the very feminine male who wasn’t entirely sure if he even wanted to be a guy in the first place but, had no clue as to how he could survive as a woman. That grin cracked. The glimmer of glee shattered to pieces as she felt herself grow terribly cold inwardly. Instantly her skin heated to well beyond a feverish pitch and had Delavar not taken control of the situation and spoke first, the entire scene might have become ugly far too fast. What were they doing?! What few glimpses she had caught of Dallas’ nude body displayed for all the whore mongers and gossip seekers pleasure as well as Argenta’s, it wasn’t right. None of it was right. They were hurting him in the worst way, and this she understood on a level that she had not related to Delavar because she thought he might feel disgusted with her. Those lips thinned into a line as she was hauled away before she could even say anything, which was a good thing. Nothing that would come out of that pouting glossed mouth would be good. Not one word could be thought of that was above a curse, and this only fueled the smolder that her gaze became as she was shoved and scooted into the booth to sit with the blankest of expressions on her paling face. It didn’t make sense. Why was he here, of all places? With these people that… The picture burned her brain to see Dallas like he was, knowing full well that wasn’t what he was about. That was not Dallas god damn it! And yet, he was there. Had he been here all along? Playing this creep of a waste of flesh named Argenta’s sex toy? Had the gorgeous little human chosen this life style over the simple clerk in a coffee shop? The questions started to slink into her mind as she gritted her teeth at what Argenta had said as a response to Delavar asking for his company. I’m phucking here. She hadn’t said anything though through the entire ordeal of having to keep her yap shut so as to not incur something on Delavar’s shoulders. Or would it have been her own? If it was the latter, then it wouldn’t have mattered to her. Truth was she was also growing numb from the shock of Dallas being here and maybe he just didn’t enjoy her affections after she had pushed him into that cob web hallway in blind fear of provoking Delavar’s wrath. She wouldn’t fault him then if that was the case. Thinking back on it now as she folded her hands in her lap very carefully where she sat next to Delavar, not touching the drink he had ordered for the both of them, she had over reacted. The lighting at the table threw a faint light grey tint to her hair as she sat perfectly straight in that booth, her legs crossing underneath the table, now giving off the appearance of a business person here for a nightly ****tail instead of someone searching for a love they hoped was still real. Outwardly, she looked perfectly fine. She even managed a “Thank you” to the person or whoever it was that brought Delavar’s ordered drinks to them before relapsing back into the blank staring she was doing off to the side. The only thing to give hint to if she was even feeling any kind of emotions at all, was the barely visible quiver in her lower lip that stopped the moment she felt Delavar’s eyes on her, if he did look that is. After a few minutes of silence, she would lean forward against the table quickly and look pass Delavar, placing her hands on the table top as she leaned across it. Unable to help herself. The link of thin silver looking chain around her belly clanged against the table as she bumped into it, trying to strain or crane her neck to get another glimpse of Dallas or these… these severely phucked up people that were abusing him. She had seen things like that on bill boards or in the back of magazines but this was… real. None of this was pretend. It wasn’t pre-rehearsed and…. Rehearsed. The movie with the… Socrates slowly sat back down beside Delavar and she said nothing more. However, her hands would grip the edge of the bench they both sat on hard enough to turn her knuckles from pink to white, to a nasty purple…
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
Delavar regarded Socrates closely as he sat by her, sipping on his sanguine beverage. He could only imagine what she was thinking. In truth he could have known had wished it, but he saved such trespasses for his enemies. When he had emptied the rest of that crimson nectar into his throat, his smoldering gaze settled on Socrates once again. "He is on his way, dearest. Be careful what you say," he informed her and warned her in one breath. Argenta had gratified himself, and maintained Dallas's state of carnal stasis to ruthless heights, when at last he uncoupled with him and pulled the leather bands which served as pants up and buckled them, before making his way over to the table Delavar shared with Socrates. Argenta stood a moment as he arrived to admire the tall vampire, and afterwards seated himself across from them. He reeked of Dallas and his exploits with him, causing Delavar's bestial nostrils to flare. "To what honor do I owe this visit from Lord Delavar Vorego?" His voice as sly as the smile which curled the wickedly handsome man's split lips. It was obvious the two men had heard of one another.
"Lord Argenta," Delavar greeted him with a nod of his head. "It is your pet Dallas which brings me here. I would like to purchase him from you."
Argenta laughed, and as his laughter died to a disbelieving sigh, his gaze locked on Delavar with a simmer. "There is not enough money in the world. We are bound to each other in ways you cannot imagine."
Delavar took a turn at smiling, the expression never reaching his eyes nor betraying an iota of warmth. "I don't suppose all the money he is making for you in the movie industry, underground and otherwise has anything to do with that, hmm?" He implicated.
Argenta smirked. "Not at all," it was only a half lie.
Delavar shook his head. "You know as well as I that you shall tire of him, Argenta. Name your price, and I do mean any price."
The sindicate lord eyed Delavar,wondering what possible reason he could have for wanting Dallas so badly. "Why does he interest you so?" he asked, his gaze trailing to Socrates to hold her intently in his gaze awhile before averting his gaze to Delavar once more.
"I know how you came by him, Argenta, and he was the fiancee of my daughter. I wish him returned to her side." Delavar's answer cool as a winter frost.
Argenta laughed. "So for love then! How quaint. Dallas happens to be in love with me now, I am afraid. Whatever he felt for your daughter, is gone. Tell her to get over him and get on with her life," he related and advised.
A faint but clever smile etched Delavar's lips. "If that is true, then you should not mind her seeing him, much as he is wrapped around your fingers, yes? She can be no threat to you. Has my daughter your consent to visit him, and see him as she wills?"
Argenta thinned his eyes on Delavar. The vampire was cagey, and though he did not trust that, he was intrigued by the man, and the lady at his side. "Is the beauty at your side, your daughter?" he asked, glancing Socrates.
Delavar nodded. "Yes. Argenta, I give you Socrates. Socrates, Lord Argenta Maldante," he introduced the two properly.
Argenta rose from the bench and reached across the table to take Socrates' hand in his own, whereof he would raise her hand to his lips and press a kiss to her knuckles. "Pleased to make your acquaintence, Socrates." The burn in his eyes betrayed that his thoughts were hardly pure as his gaze devoured her. If she showed any signs of resistance, Delavar would mind speak to her and command her to show the man respect, if she wanted to Dallas and have any chance of recovering him. If she balked, Argenta would take offense, and with a sneer, relay his consequence to her insult to him. Otherwise he would seat himself again.
"What do you have in mind exactly, Lord Vorego?" Argenta taking no trouble to conceal the suspicion in his tones, or the slits of his sea-blue eyes.
"The opportunity for her to see him, to accept that he has moved on, and to remain in contact with him as her friend if that may come. And I must have your solemn promise that you and yours shall not touch her unless she permits it. That is all. As I said...If he is yours, she is no threat to you, for he is a faithful sort of man from what I know of him."
Argenta nodded. "That is true." He gave Delavar's offer some thought then locked his eyes on the vampire. "Very well. She has my consent to see him, and you have my word that I, and my people, shall not touch your daughter lest she give me her consent." Such was his confidence in his control over Dallas, that he truly believed that he had nothing to worry about. That and he liked the idea of having another vampire around. One he hoped he could persuade to engage in carnal acts with himself, and perhaps, in time, with Dallas as well. The sidicate king then trained his gaze on Socrates. "Do not put any hope in him returning any affection he may have for you. He has given himself to me heart, mind, body and soul. He is not the man you thought you knew either." Argenta ordered a bottle of deer blood when the waiter came back around, and ordered the same for Socrates and Delavar as well. "Have you seen his newest movie, Socrates? Rising Star? He is a wonderful actor, perhaps one of the greatest actors of his time. Perhaps you can come over and watch the unedited version at my home. I produced and directed the movie you know, and we have plans to make more films together. Perhaps you could play a role in one of them," his tones were perfectly casual and amiable as he spoke. "He is currently filming a movie here called The Metropolis Underground, so he is often on location. You will have to call before coming to see him. I shall provide you with my sat phone number. Do you wish to see now?" He scrutinized her carefully as he spoke. Delavar had successfully preyed on his intrigue and reverance for vampires, but he was not easily fooled, and his conversation was a tool he used to examine the girl.
Dallas meanwhile had collected himself, still trembling now again as he sat at Argenta's table soaking down hard liquor. It was the only intoxicant Argenta allowed him. Meccan Evori, Argenta's vampire body guard, was seated at his side.
"There is one thing I would like to ask of you in return for my favor," Argenta then piped up.
Delavar had expected it. "And that would be?"
"Something I need to speak to you of in private. Will you accompany me to my office, Lord Vorego? Socrates can go sit with Dallas in the meantime."
Delavar nodded and rose. "We shall not be long, Socrates. Go enjoy your time with Dallas," he smiled faintly and the retreated, with Argenta leading the way, two of his body guards falling in behind them, while the rest remained posted at the table where Dallas and Meccan sat.
ules, there were so many rules she had nearly forgotten they were even there as the deadly tango begun with one mans body coming to their table, and the exchange of not only words, but glances and stares, mixtures of twisted desires and severely phucked up trains of thinking. It so utterly floored her when Delavar spoke of Dallas’ and hers “relationship” so cool as a cumber like that she had to swallow the lump in her throat the size of a foot. Back and forth the beast and the man would go until she cared not to fall so closely to their conversation, for it just added to the raging fire within her mind that was only held at bay by how tightly she was keeping a lid on her increasingly warring emotions. This Argenta, she had heard of him through the shady lot that came in every now and then to the coffee shop to ask her if she would attend some random gathering of souls at one of the Syndicate lords “parties” but she would just scoff, grab the number of under aged punks by their throats and throw them out the front doors of her shop into the gutter. Literally. It personally offended her when people tried to muscle in on her when she was trying to work, not that she ever thought they wanted her to go with them because of her looks or personality but because she might appear to be rich? She never thought of the reasons as to why but it didn’t matter now. That shorter frame of slightly pale flesh and now that the lightening had changed again, her hair became glacier white, did not flinch at Argenta’s approach or his all too clear lust for things out of his reach. Like Delavar for instance. That too instigated an inwardly howl of animosity so great that Socrates had to reach up to swat at her hair lightly as if she were fixing it into place before Argenta’s presence. A sort of sign of respect in wanting to look her best for Delavar in front of Argenta when, that wasn’t the case at all but it was a means to an end. Upon the introductions, a shy smile and even a blush was what Socrates produced for Argenta before her hand was taken from its placid spot atop the table to have her.. Was it her knuckles he kissed now? A cheeky grin slipped over her now pouting lips as her hand coiled about the back of Argenta’s hand with all the liquid like grace their kind seemed to have when they wished it, turning the Syndicate Lord’s hand over to look at his palm that she brought mere inches in front of her face. Such an action was rash? Could be. She was not hostile or even condescending to Argenta even though he boasted of his obvious strangle hold over Dallas and that her silly girlish ideals would be on deaf ears. That raspy sounding voice filtered through the music for just the two at her table to hear, and no other unless they had the innate hearing of something most inhuman. “My, my,” Socrates said in a mock woe-is-me fashion to coax laughter out of Argenta, for she only acted in such a way as to get on the sick minded mans good side, “For a man such as you, I would have left me sooner.” The last bit of her words abruptly became heavy with this ungodly loneliness yet it was not the kind from lack of company. Oh no, this was something of a faint purr of the sexuality that would now be coming off of her in invisible delicious waves. Such was the unpleasant side effect of the tremendous range in her emotions that one minute she could feel sad and the next she could want to have wild hot monkey sex in the middle of a grocery store on an apple stand. Odd one Socrates was. Those glossed lips pouted humorously at Argenta’s palm as her thumbs played over the inside of his wrist to outline the veins in his arm or lack there of, before she let his hand slip out of hers, folding both of her hands underneath her chin to regard the human with his delusions of madness almost… cheekily? How coy they could all be when they wanted to. And yet for all the polite manners and show of respect she showed this human, in this club of people in various outfits that varied from full suits to things next to nothing, Socrates felt she was breaking. It wasn’t okay. None of it would be okay, would it? At the prospect of seeing Dallas when Argenta spoke of a favor Delavar would have to do for him, she almost couldn’t contain the renewed excitement. It hurt and was joyous at the same time to have waited all these months to see the man whose eyes she hadn’t forgotten but, only remembered them in her sleep now. A bow of curtsies was made for Argenta’s leave and then before Delavar could leave her to engage in whatever depraved and probably phucked up terms that were to be agreed on, she caught Delavar’s right hand to squeeze it as her gaze simply could not meet his for what she thought he was about to do in the name of her being able to see Dallas this one time that could quite possibly be their last. There was so much guilt and remorse in those big black eyes at that moment she held onto his hand with both of hers that, maybe this wasn’t the great idea she had thought it to be. She wanted to tell him not to go. Not to be anywhere near this weirdo Argenta and his goon looking henchmen and whatever else he kept locked away in his houses of torture. But would Delavar have listened? Something had been clawing at her on the inside since the second they had stepped into the club and now it just howled to be heard. However, she couldn’t give this sinking feeling a name but, she dared not share it with her Sire on account of how much he had and was doing for her. Playing along with her girlish fantasies? Wretched. The word seemed mildly befitting for the time being she thought as she slipped her hands from Delavar’s to turn away and quickly walk away from him before all those chaotic emotions welled up to the surface in front of him, yet again exposing him to the utter insanity that lurked just beneath the first layers of consciousness and skin. Through the crowd she would slink, passing her hands over this shoulder or that to a person who might have crashed or bumped into her to catch them before they could. At one point a rather large man in a full body suit of shinny leather with a mask covering his head stumbled after being ridden by mean looking black haired woman who had the area of her chest in her matching leather outfit cut out had whipped him and called him useless. Socrates blinked as she caught the burly fellow by his shoulders then set him upright with a faint gasp of shock from his Mistress. “Dancing doesn’t involve falling Sugar,” she said to the clearly distraught human who had angered the overly bitchy witch behind him that glared at Socrates for helping him stay on his feet when she obviously wanted him face down on the floor to humiliate him. A smile as warm as the afternoons in the countryside’s was given to him as she patted his arm but, it had escaped her knowledge that the two pairs of teeth on either sides of her two front ones still had the make of fangs and these were unfortunately bared at the man that out weighted her easily by three hundred pounds or so. Miraculously, the fae like little fluff in all white plaid couldn’t have looked menacing, could she? No indeed. Before any sort of thank you or phuck you could be said, Socrates meandered on by him and the swearing female behind him to come to an abrupt halt before the table that now seated the intimidating body guard Meccan sat with the youth who had seen better days. For the first time but certainly not the last her breath caught in her throat and for a horrifying second she thought she might just fade away at the sight of Dallas throwing back so much liquor in the state he was in. Carefully ripping the composure and calm mask back down before she spoke as a hand was placed on the back of the bench on the opposite side of he and Meccan, she asked in that raspy tone, “Is this seat taken Kiddo?”
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
Dallas had been turning that drink in hand, his eyes gazing in a blank stare down into the robust, russet-brown liquid which refracted the lights around him. His eyes shut fast when he heard that voice which rang so familiar, and which had visited his memory as auditory hallucinations, and even visual ones all too often when the horrors of his life were just too much for him. He tried to ignore that voice at first, having no wish to make another public scene which would only result in disappointing his captor. It was when Meccan nudged him with his elbow that he finally gathered his courage to lift his green eyes on the source of the voice. A deep breath jumped into his lungs and caught there, and a visable shudder coursed through his body. "She asked if the seat beside you was taken, Dallas," Meccan reiterated what Socrates had said. Dallas responded by standing up, his legs feeling liquid beneath him, and for a moment he just stared at her before abruptly flinging himself at her to embrace her tight. "Is it really you, Sss-Socrates?" his voice breathless in her ear. How long he held her, he could not say, and only when Meccan tugged at one of the leather straps binding his trim, muscular figure, and told him to get a grip on himself, did Dallas reluctantly unwind his arms from around her and sink back down onto the booth's curving bench, and the dark red leather padding of the upholstery. "Yes...Please, please do join us..." His eyes made a sweeping search for Argenta, when Meccan leaned into him to whisper in his ear. "It is alright, Dallas. Your lover invited her over to join us," he assured. Meccan knew Argenta's mind because he had received his instructions by tapping into the crime lord's thoughts. Meccan kept in close contact with Argenta this way. Dallas nodded to Meccan and his gaze then riveted on Socrates. The gaze which had been dull and listless for months now filled with a fragile hope which made his eyes glisten like jewels of moss agate. "You look wonderful, Socrates...How have you been all this time...Are you well? Are you living in the Met now, or...or just...just visiting?" Dallas kept his eyes locked on her as he rattled out his questions to her. His demure, if not nervous, countenance aside, Dallas looked very physically healthy, despite having had a heart attack while undergoing the surgery which had molded him into the bisexual creature Argenta had ordained him to become. Owed to that heart attack, Dallas had also received heart surgery which had corrected the damage steroids had done to his heart. Once the initial shock of seeing her wore off, and his mind cleared, Dallas felt torn...Torn between telling her he wanted nothing to do with her, so that she would not get involved with Argenta through himself, and between grabbing hold of her and never letting go. This inner conflict was betrayed by the way he lowered his eyes from hers after awhile, and fiddled with his drink between gulps while she spoke. Just to hear her speak...in the flesh...Her voice was like a balm to his spirit, and yet his guilt shredded him inside. The right thing...He told himself. Dallas, you have to do the right thing here and make sure she never wants to see you again...Yes, Argenta had changed him, but he was no more selfish than he had ever been. All he could think of, was what was best for her. The truth was...He wanted to be with her, but he would not risk it for his own selfish desires. It never occured to him that he could not dictate what Socrates wanted, or was willing to risk herself, and he could not possibly imagine what Delavar was up to. He did not even know she was at the club with her sire.
h the horror that would swell inside of the fluffy little thing of a vampire at seeing those green eyes waver in uncertainty, that wish not to know who was speaking to him or for what. For the slightest second, she thought Dallas really did not want anything to do with her, as the night terrors gave way to night after feverish night of waking up screaming, of crying, of slowly loosing herself until she was but pieces once again. In an ugly way, she had felt this way before. Only once, when she had done the unthinkable to her sire and fled into the night to seek a death that never came. A sharp ache would stab through her middle when Dallas shut his eyes. Did he despise her? Did he loath her for not including him in what she feared was a heated conversation when in fact, it was so far from the truth that now as she looked back on it she hated only herself for always over reacting… as some would say. But then as that very aware Meccan bumped at Dallas to ruse him from his not wanting to see point of view, Socrates felt that sharp pain turn into a hammering that filled her head so it was all she could hear. This consuming like hack saw roar whooshed round and round inside her skull, rooting her clogged feet in place with this very much deer-in-the-headlights look about her. Those black eyes that were so dark they appeared not to possess pupils of their in, when in fact they actually did, reflected all those colorful lights in them like a black floor made of glass. She blinked as after he rose, no sooner had he stood then he stepped forward to hug her. Or had he just leapt at her? It brought a startled cry from her but just the feel of his skin against her cheek, for her face buried automatically into the side of his neck without the action even registering with her mind, she felt the overwhelming sense of longing that calmed the fierce roaring in her head. She too would shiver against him as he held her, and she clung to him like a cheap suit, those arms entangling him and pressing her fingers lightly into his lower back to pet in a light and slow manner as she breathed in his scent. He hadn’t changed she thought, now suddenly so full of joy that she feared she might burst and go everywhere all at once. Dallas had that raw innocent smell Socrates thought. She missed it so much that she nuzzled her nose over his chest where none could see, and only Dallas could feel, just under his chin as they stayed painfully meshed up against one another… that is until Meccan ruined the phucking moment by restraining Dallas back to the table with a tug to these leather bits of strapping that covered Dallas’ chiseled frame. Those lips parted to inhale slowly over the nape of his neck in those few moments they held one another, as if nothing else mattered in the world. There was nobody else in that minute as she felt his frame against her own. In moments like these, there was only them. She even started to purr against him before he had to let her go to return to the booth, which brought an inward pout but she would slide in across from he and Meccan to cross that right white stocking covered leg over the other as her hands folded one over the other in her lap. She felt Dallas was walking on egg shells or some such ridiculous theory but she shrugged the paranoia off as just that, paranoia. A nod and a, “Hello, pleased to meet you.” Odd. She did not say her name but, did she have to? Call it a gut feeling but she knew Meccan already knew her name and why she was there. Clever Argenta and his henchmen. Although it wasn’t that but, the distinct sensation she got from Meccan’s direction. He wasn’t human. That much was clear, even to a dim wit. The petite thing of a gender confused vampire made no attempt at swatting the strands of white that fell over her face as her eyes laid on Dallas and only he. A laugh was given at how she had been. How? The question made her happy and sad at the same time coming from Dallas. “Things have turned for the better as of late,” she told him as she leaned against the table while extending her right hand off and up to the side to pluck a tall glass of something dark red and mighty tasty given how as she sipped it, she wrinkled her nose, smiling. It was the glass of deer blood Delavar had ordered her and that she hadn’t drank. The waiter that had cleared the table, she had kept an eye on him even as she came to Dallas’s table to see him, for she did want to polish off that glass as well as much, much more. In between sips she spoke and waved at a hand at any sort of questions Dallas might have asked her about her own life. Her affairs meant nothing, least to her they didn’t. Her life was of little importance and as far as she could tell, Dallas and Delavar were her world. They always had been, and that would never change. “This place is a strange one but, is it treating you well? A bit of a draft you might get from that sort of outfit but, do you own this club? A lot of profit would be made. Even so, do you come here regularly or are you just visiting till you go home?” So much she had to ask him. So very much and yet, so very little she could say would lessen this heart ache until she knew he was okay. And he was far from it judging by how close Argenta guarded him, no moments peace really. Bah! The side of her that had been tamed upon meeting Dallas, and now was virtually gone now thanks to Delavar’s own sort of affections, hissed back to life with the mere thought of Argenta putting Dallas into this situation, and that it wasn’t what Dallas wanted. She would keep asking Dallas about his life at the moment but never would she veer to the “before.” Never would she put him on the spot to explain where he had gone and why. She wouldn’t bombard him with 21 questions about why he was with Argenta either but… She wouldn’t except it either. The conversation was kept light and airy, for Dallas’s sake, not her own. Socrates would finish that tall glass of blood within minutes, and order not one, but two more in its wake. Seems she wasn’t as composed as she seemed, eh?
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
A faint smile etched Dallas's lips when she said things had gotten better, and expressed that she lived in the Met now. He felt relieved to know that she was not in Juvare anymore, but here, in the same city as he. He wondered if it was an accident that she had found him. People who knew each other could go for years without running into each other in a city as large as the Metropolis of Nosgard. "I...got the part I aimed for...the leading role as the vampire Forest Nexis in The Metropolis Underground. I am on location every day...Perhaps you could...could come on site sometime? I would really love it if you would...They might even ask you to play an extra." It was clear that Dallas did not have the same confidence or self esteem in himself as he once had, but as an actor, the world and all its nightmares slipped away, and he became someone else. What had once been his greatest passion, had become his escape. His acting did not suffer at all for it. Indeed if anything, he had become a world class actor because of it.
Dallas glanced at Meccan as he joined in the conversation. "You were spectacular in Rising Star, Dallas. I cannot imagine a better performance is even possible," he spoke fondly to Dallas and smiled, his black eyes then bending on Socrates. "Have you seen the movie? He played the leading role in it as well, and his performance would blow you away. The uncut version is much better though. A pity the public cannot enjoy it, although it can be viewed in Underground Theaters." Dallas stared hard at Meccan a moment, then looked away. He said nothing, just refilled his drink and polished it off all at once, before refilling it again. He tenses slightly as Meccan patted his back and then embraced him to give him a jostling squeeze. "No need to be so humble, Dallas. I mean it, you were incredible as Angel Cross."
Dallas smiled weakly up at Meccan and fought the urge to nuzzle against the vampire, who often took liberties with Dallas, and he knew how to make the human feel oh so good. Argenta on the other hand, balanced Dallas between agony and ecstasy. Meccan often comforted Dallas after a particularly painful session with Argenta, and had become a sort of security blanket for the handsome human. Instead of giving in to his slave mentality impulses, Dallas trained his moss-green eyes on Socrates. "Rising Star is a...a really weird movie...I...I doubt it is your kind of flick...really. You have not seen it have you? The Metropolis Underground is much better. Much cooler, and you get to see me as a vampire." His smile warming. Was he trying to disuade her from seeing The Rising Star if she had not seen it already? As subtly as he knew how, yes he was. Meccan could feel Dallas's heart hammering in his chest, and he gently stroked his hair. Dallas only pulled away from Meccan when he saw Argenta returning, with Delavar at his side. His green eyes bent on Socrates with a spark of surprise shining in them, and some concern. It was the vampire she had been so afraid of, that she had sent him off through that secret space between the walls. "Are you...Did you come here with him? Is everything really alright, Socrates?" he spoke quietly to her. Even as his eyes locked with her's, the desire to snuggle up to her overwhelmed him. He wanted to remember what it was like to kiss her again...and he wished...Wished he could have been her's instead of the monster who purchased his slavery.
When Meccan stood to let Argenta take his place next to Dallas, and Argenta pulled Dallas into his lap, Dallas looked numb. His eyes closed when Argenta pressed a kiss to his brow, and tears threatened to swell in his eyes. He squeezed them back though and unveiled his eyes on Socrates as Delavar sat down next to her, to drape his arm around the back of the seat behind her with one of his wings. Dallas could not help sliding his gaze over that massive wing span. There was no question that Delavar was one of those very rare vampires that could actually fly.
"Are you two...a...a cuh-couple?" Dallas cursed himself for stammering as he asked them this, his eyes traveling timidly between Delavar and Socrates.
It was Delavar who answered. "Heavens no, Dallas. She is my daughter. I love her dearly, but I am not a fan of having sex with other men, or of love affairs either."
Argenta raised a brow. "Socrates is a male?" his surprise apparant.
Delavar chuckled and nodded. "Why yes she is.
Argenta smiled and pinned Socrates with his eyes. "I am a fan of having sex with men, and I happen to be Dallas's biggest fan. You should join us some time," his voice sultry with that invite. The vampire poser then kissed Dallas's throat, eyeing Socrates all the while he did, and when his hand snuck beneath the table to fondle his famous pet, he thrilled as Dallas's breaths quickened and his abdomin tightened against his arm. He thrilled Dallas's senses further as his arm applied pressure to his coiled gut. His lips smiled against his flesh as his throat arched to the heavy necking on the curve of his throat. Argenta's implanted fangs grazed his flesh to draw blood, making Dallas's heart beat faster, and he suckled the sweet crimson font which beaded on the surface of his skin. His gaze never once strayed from Socrates as he molested Dallas in her witness.
Both Delavar and Meccan's nostrils flared as the scent of Dallas's blood bit their senses. They were both old and could control the need, and did so by ordering bottled blood to ease the hunger pangs Argenta ignited. Meccan never fed from humans, never, but that did not mean the scent of blood did not effect him. Delavar on the other hand, did have a taste for human blood, only his victims never survived an attack for the feast. He only preyed on enemies.
"Will you be staying with us as our guest tonight?" Meccan asked Socrates. Argenta did not dismiss his invitation, which was as good as his own invite. If Socrates looked Delavar's way, he would nod his own approval for her to accept.
Dallas gasped and opened his eyes to peer at Socrates as his heart beat began racing in anticipation of her answer, and it did not help that Argenta had spilled his hard tool from its leather bindings to stroke him skillfully. It was as Argenta thrust his other arm beneath him to thrust a finger inside of him, that Dallas slid so abruptly off of his lap that he spilled himself onto Meccan's lap, that the actor lost all self-control and cried out. "No!" He did not even realize he had shouted this until his eyes darted around to find everyone staring at him. "I mean...I am tired...I am not up to company tonight...I have to get up early...and I need some sleep..." He rattled out his explanation, when in fact, he was trying to protect Socrates against getting involved with Argenta. His eyes then trailed reluctantly on Delavar as he spoke in his usual calm, poised manner.
"Socrates is her own person, Dallas. If she wishes to accept the invitation Meccan has extended to her, that is her choice."
When Dallas finally braved to look towards Argenta, he met with a smoldering burn from a pair of blue eyes which promised to make him pay later for his outburst. He resigned himself to the forceful embrace with gathered him up and pulled him back into Argenta's lap. Argenta waisted no time in arousing Dallas again, only he started with his fingers plunging deep inside of his sexual thrall again. When Meccan went down on his member, deep throating him, Delavar stood.
"I really must take my leave now," he announced, and Argenta nodded to him. Hence the vampire's gaze bent on Socrates. "You spending the night at Lord Argenta's palace, or coming home with me, dearest Socrates?" He asked her. If she came with him, his arm would link with her's and he would usher her out by her arm. If she decided to stay, he would kiss both her cheeks, embrace her, tell her to call him, and then vacate the club, with Kusar at his heels. Also, if Socrates chose to remain with Argenta's party, the man would invite her to join them in pleasing Dallas publically. It was often that Argenta took as much pleasure forcing Dallas to heights of pleasure, as satisfying himself with Dallas's new, improved body. Vampiric surgeons really were far more skilled than human surgeons. Just one more reason for Argenta to revere the ancient race.
ove. Hate. Rage. Sorrow. Not to mention guilt and a whole slew of other ugly emotions were what coiled the white haired gender confused fairy looking one at Delavar’s side after having listened to Dallas and yet, she didn’t hear him. The human, that gorgeous little human whose eyes she had never forgotten their shade, spoke of movies and of this and that. Had she seen any of his movies? No. Heard of them? Of course, for she had bought copies of them only to wrap them in twine and tinsel and then tuck them away in a box in her closet. Something had bent her into not seeing them and for whatever reason, she had obeyed that cold feeling in her gut and not popped the dvd’s or the vhs’s or even the burned disc into a player to watch. Now she regretted it because obviously Dallas was not proud of his “work”. It was in the tone he took when Meccan mentioned how wonderful he had been in the Rising Star piece. If he had been so grand in it, why did he pain him so to even mention it? Why! That brain of hers was working overtime as to figuring out why Dallas was here in the first place, mixed up with the likes of Argenta and whatnots when he could be at that very humble cozy nook in the wall of a coffee shop, occasionally sweeping the floors and signing autographs? She was so into wanting to know the why, when in reality her insides had already engaged and given in to the tide of animosity that she would slowly begin to drown in towards Argenta. Even Meccan, as nice as the vampire seemed to be, did not escape the back building wave of blind rage that started at her toes, and worked all the way up her spine to send tingles into her pearl polished nailed fingers. On the surface however, she was as calm as could be… that is if you didn’t count the way those bottomless pit mirroring black eyes seemed to widened a fraction at all these “liberties” that Argenta and Meccan took with Dallas. It was… was… Words. None would come to describe just how tight a ball of raw emotion she was rapidly becoming across the table, holding the glass of chilled deer blood in her left hand as her right hand curled into a fist that drained the color from her knuckles. A few of those nails would break the skin of her palm soon because she was restraining herself from utterly flying over the table at this point at how the drug lord was so cheeky as he molested Dallas right in front of her without so much as batting an eye. Are you phucking kidding me? she thought as that emotionally bent, dreadfully still lost animal piece of her howled in outrage at what her eyes were seeing. Not a word passed from between those glossed full set of lips. Not even when Argenta viewed her differently when Delavar plainly stated that she was indeed, a he and that he was his daughter in spite of everything… she had done to him. Her sire’s words might have warmed and soothed her heart, but now was not that time. It barely registered with her that Argenta invited her to stay in whatever horror filled home he fancied at the time. It was even less heard when Delavar finally asked wither she was staying, or leaving with him. The latter. Her soul demanded the latter for it was tattered and torn, and knew it didn’t really deserve Dallas at this point because he was the big star he had been working so hard to be now. He had reached that acclaimed fame and glory but… at what cost? His soul? Had the beauty sold his soul for a slice of pie? Ergo, her heart ripped her inner conflict within her soul to thousands of tiny bits, feeling that none of this was right, that everything was a sham and that Dallas needed to be freed from this monster in human flesh. It would be several, perhaps fifteen minutes or so before an answer came from that now glacier white haired one who was the most female looking of the bunch at the table but, certainly possessed all those tasty parts any male would, said in that quiet raspy tone she had when Dallas had first kissed her in her apartment and they had been bathed in moonlight, “The hour is late. Sleep would be best for us all. My sincere gratitude in allowing me to spend time in your company… Lord Argenta.” It was done. She would stay, much against her better judgment for she knew it would only be a few more seconds of watching this disgustingly violating display against Dallas that she would implode. That head would turn away for the first time after having her eyeballs glued to seeing these things that Argenta was doing to Dallas, and now Meccan? What the hell! She would nudge and then nuzzle over the outer side of Delavar’s arm before she would rise in this unnervingly fast fluid like manner she had sometimes, onto her knees so that she could lay a kiss to that very bat like ear her sire owned. Those digits would tangle in the cuff of his fur to give tiny tugs like a child would to the end of their parents shirt. She did not want Delavar to go. It was something she couldn’t bare and yet he wished to. Those pale cheeks would flush rose at the kisses he gave them and she would nod at him saying to call him. Oh for sure she would call him, right when they reached whatever Argenta had for a home. Suddenly she really did feel like a child. A stuffy, good for nothing, useless child that would never amount to anything. An inward glare would be made as she drew in a sharp breath at the proposal of her joining in on this public scene of perversion and such. Little did she know, but the painfully wide range of emotions she went through in that short span of time was mostly due to the spilling of Dallas’s blood. It was intoxicating for sure but in knowing that Argenta had harmed the human, on purpose, made her reach her boiling point till it exhausted her in moments. After Delavar left, and only after, would she speak again and this time she was much quieter than before. Uncomfortably timid was what appeared to become her demeanor. How… unfortunate. “Lord Argenta, I must decline your offer of… Pleasuring him in that fashion,” she said, and oh what was this? Those big black eyes would wander from the vampire and two humans, off to the side and then to the floor as she folded her hands into her lap where she crossed one stocking leg over the other. Cold. So cold. This sinking feeling in her gut. How could someone be so heartless? Dallas had done nothing to warrant this kind of abuse. Yes, in this highly confused ones mind, Dallas was being brutally abused, used and furthermore, murdered one piece at a time. She wasn’t entirely sure but by the way he was so reluctant, overly pained and now almost resigned like when Argenta had pulled him into his lap after his shout of no, Socrates couldn’t wrap her brain around why someone could be so phucked up in the head as Argenta. But what if this was what Dallas wanted? The thought crept into her mind and rooted itself in the only way pure unhindered paranoia could. What if… Dallas loved this man? The cold feeling in her stomach froze over as she watched the pleasure and pain that was reeked on Dallas’s body, on his mind, and within his soul. She watched those lust filled advances Argenta made with his mouth over that neck of smooth flesh. Out of the corner of her eye she even saw Meccan go down on Dallas before she had to turn her head fully to the left and downwards so that some of those light silvery white strands would fall over the front of her face to hide the degree of emptiness that had taken over her eyes. This must end… The thought was wrapped in blood soaked kisses. It hammered within her skull, causing a migraine instantly and a dull ache in her chest cavity. It did not end there however, for it made her abruptly tired as she lifted the glass of animal blood to rest the rim of the glass to her lower lip as that soft pink muscle slipped out from between those lips to slowly lick over the few droplets of blood on the outer edge of the glass. It was done as her index finger ran over the side of the glass, and as her free hand pushed down the hem of her skirt so that none of her naughty places revealed themselves as she uncrossed her legs uncomfortably to keep her hand against the booth seat between her legs. She was starting to despise herself for feeling this uncomfortable ache at seeing all this lust and sexual acts bluntly performed in public. She felt she shouldn’t feel this way at all. Wouldn’t that make her the same as Argenta? The thought made her bristle with fury. Yet would it not be rather cute in how the three of them were making Socrates turn beet red and fidget in her seat? Love. Hate. Just two sides of the same coin...
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
Socrates had it dead to rights what Argenta was doing to Dallas...He was murdering him one piece at a time. Meccan was the sly one of the two though and balanced Argenta's cruelty with a sensual kindness and affectionate intimacy. While Dallas hated Argenta with every fiber of his soul's tapestry, Meccan was hard to hate. In this way Meccan helped to control Dallas mentally. Dallas separated his mind from body as he was publically exploited, but it was impossible to detach himself from the fact that Socrates was present. He gritted his teeth to fight back the tears of humiliation and degradation that pooled in his eyes. On any other night in Argenta's company, whether at the club or in his high rise mansion, Dallas shut down, became a shadow of himself, having grown accomplished at detaching himself from the pain and pleasure alike. Meccan could never be fooled...not by a human, and even vampires had trouble, for he could see right through one's thoughts. When they had finally brought about Dallas' climax he could not control the convulsions of his frame and whimpered helplessly as he tried to mask the intense explosions inside of himself unsuccessfully. Before he knew it he was snatched off the seat and ushered through the crowd by Meccan and Argenta both, the later of whom had snagged Socrates by the arm to lead her with them. His assortment of well armed body guards had fallen in around the four automatically to escort them out to the black limo which awaited them. Argenta's vehicle was not the overly extravagent piece of machinery people expected of a drug lord, but a tastefully large car which accomodated himself, Meccan, his guards, and several guests. Dallas was hardly ever aware of what was going on around him until they were all settled in the back seats of the dusky black limo. It was only then that he fully registered that Socrates was with them. As his green eyes settled on her he shook his head, but said nothing. He hoped that she could see it in his eyes that he was terrified for her. Meccan shoved him back and reached across him to secure the seat belt for him, his intense eyes cutting from Socrates to Dallas and back again.
He smiled at their gender-bewildered guest. "I know what both of you are feeling," the statement manifesting more as a warning than anything else.
Argenta ****ed a brow. "Oh, and just what are they feeling, my friend?"
Meccan smirked. "A penny for my thoughts?"
"I will pay you more than that!" Argenta assured him with a grin, believing Meccan never hid a thing from him.
"Dallas is thinking he wished his friend had never showed up, embarrassed to be seen in his new light, and she is thinking she would like to bury his tool in herself when we are not looking," he lied.
Why did he lie? Dallas wondered. True...he wished Socrates was not there for her own safety, and that she had not seen him being used like a sex doll, but that is not what he had been thinking! He had been thinking...get out! Get out while you still can! What Socrates was thinking he dared not imagine, but he was sure it was not what Meccan had just quoted. He had never known Meccan to lie to Argenta before. Meccan also knew that there was a car following them, and he did not mention that to Argenta either. Delevar had proposed a deal to Meccan on the sly that he simply could not refuse. Humans had to be pitied when two vampires who could speak telepathically got together...though Argenta would be a hard one to pity anything.
Argenta smiled slyly at Dallas.
Half an hour later they pulled up to a pair of massive gates that were connected to an equally daunting fence which surrounded a high rise. The entire building was Argenta's. They went through security gates and checks, all spied on by cameras and motion sensitive lazer alarms which shut down as they entered an area, and came back on as they left. A guard met them at the drive around entrance and opened the door for Argenta who took Socrates' hand in his and guided her out of the car ahead of himself. He was not quite as polite nor as gentle with Dallas who he jerked roughly along with them as they left the car and tread a path between two immense colemns which framed the deep well of the entranceway. A lovely woman in a smart uniform opened the door for them and Argenta led the way inside ushering Dallas along by the crook of his elbow, the crime lord's arm linked with his tightly. The floors shone with polished marble and the walls which blurred past them were papered with exquisite silk-screened wall paper. The sindicate lord had good taste despite how ostenacious the expense of everything was, the furniture they bypassed included. Anything that was glass was crystal, the chandeliers, the vases that were temporary environments for the exotic flowers which filled some of the hallways and rooms with blissful scents, the wine glasses and goblets that would soon be offered to Socrates filled with the finest and purest blood. Where there were carpets they were plush and beautifully woven, their colors complimenting whatever room they lent quietude to. An elevator carried them to the top floor and Argenta's penthouse suite, where he showed them the way to a large parlor filled with deep, exquisitely soft, handsome, and comfortable furniture. Even the bar stools at the solid wood and brass bar pleased the contours with leather cushioned seats and backrests, the brass rungs padded with leather too to cushion the feet when propped on them. The shelves and refrigerator behind the bar were lined with bottles of blood, liquor and wine. Life was too short (and dangerous in his line of work) and Argenta meant to enjoy every moment of down time he had available to him. The suite was a split level with the bedrooms and a full bath with a steam room and jacuzi above the living areas and kitchen. Dallas' bedroom was hidden behind a wall panel which slid opened when a password was punched into a panel concealed by a painting. It closed automatically ten seconds after the threshold was crossed.
Argenta eyed Socrates a moment as Meccan poured her blood for her, watching her intently. He was trying to decide how best to test her. He had watched her carefully the entire evening and had deduced that Dallas was a certain weakness for her, and it seemed to him Dallas had a weakness for her as well. With a smile he carressed Dallas's hair, his gaze still locked on the vampire tranny. "Would you share Dallas' room with him tonight, Ms. Vorego? Correct me if you have not assumed your sire's sir name."
Dallas shook his head urgently. He would rather die than have Socrates see the machine which Argenta almost always forced him to sleep imbedded with. Even if Argenta was merciful enough not to strap him to it in her company...its use was rather obvious, and just thinking of Socrates asking about it made him feel sick. "I am sure she would feel more comfortable in the guest room, Argenta." He kept his tones as even as possible, for it really pis*sed Argenta off when he offended him by giving too much away, but he could not help how pale he turned with the thought of her seeing the room Argenta provided him with.
Argenta smiled all too sweetly to him. "We will let Socrates decide that for herself."
Dallas tried not to frown but looked unhappy all the same. What game was he playing anyway? What did he hope to achieve by digracing him as much as possible, and it seemed to Dallas he was trying to do just that. Was he testing Socrates? And if so why? Or was he simply trying to make sure she lost all interest in him by showing her how damaged he was? Argenta was dangerously jealous and possessive of him, and he was very choosey about who he shared Dallas with. He was also unpredictable though, and hard to second guess.
Meccan settled on the huge couch with a goblet of blood in hand, just watching the others curiously. He was as relaxed as a lion after gorging himself as he observed the three with a casual eye. Like Delavar he was old, though not as ancient, and he an unshakably relaxed poise which made him come off far more friendly and passive than he was. Meccan could smile at someone as nice as you please while he snapped their neck or carved their heart out with a dagger. He was called a traitor by some of his own kind for serving a human, but Meccan had plans of his own. An opportunity had thrown itself at him and he had caught it and held onto it. He was not in a bad position at all.
"At the club you said you were tired, Dallas. You still wish to bed down right away?" Argenta asked him.
Dallas stared at Socrates, hoping she would refuse to share his room with her. "Yes." The moment Socrates answered, Argenta would lead Dallas away to his room, with or without her, and lock him (or them) inside, taking care as always to use the painting as a shield from prying eyes that attempted to see the password he input. He would spare Dallas the humiliation of putting him on the machine that night, but before he left Dallas he whispered to him. "Tell her or anyone else our private affairs and she dies," he reminded him, then with a passionate kiss and tight embrace, he withdrew. If Socrates was there he would smile warmly to her and bid her a good night before taking his leave and securing the door from outside. It did not open from the inside. The first thing Dallas did when he Argenta left the room was to snatch an unopened bottle of tequilla off a table and distract himself by opening it with every intention of soaking down the numbing liquid within.
Dallas was dying. Argenta was smitten. Meccan was just as monstrous as the human he worked for. If the gender confused tid bit of a thing had not become quite the capable one at make-believe, one might have thought her to be an actress. The look on the pale haired femmes face was probably not the one Argenta would hope for. It was blank, to say the least. Not even a hint of surprise or even appall flickered through her eyes. Her mouth did not tick as it might have had she not exercised every ounce of self control over herself in those moments she watched Dallas be abused by the two in such a way as to tempt her into a fit of insanity. Oh yes, she could have snapped. That little switch could have flipped and she might have freaked out and caused quite the scene in the drug lords club if it wasnt for one thing. It was something that Jaami had known. Delavar had felt it, he must have. The club was not the place for it to end though, this much she had reasoned with herself amongst all that disgust and hatred that brewed within. When however Argenta snagged her arm to pull her with him after forcing into that climax that had him wiggling against the two assailants. Those lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. Looking back over Argentas shoulder at all those men around them. Then past them to all the bodies jostling one another to the loud music or lack there of. The smell of alcohol, smoke, incoherent and controlling stung the senses. Naturally humans were capable of horrible things. It was in their nature. But it was also in ones nature for change. So little time, she mumbled as she watched some woman sitting on a mans knee bouncing on and down on it as if it were a rodeo ride, and then realized what exactly the woman was bouncing on and nearly choked on her own spit. No shame. The phrase modesty was never entered into their vocabulary but then again, everyone had their own kick. That special something that got their rocks off. As they weaved in and out of people, or the crowd simply parted for their passing seeing as how it was Argenta after all, unconsciously she tried to be closer to Dallas regardless of the hold on her arm. Subtly at first, and then a little more and more, she tugged Argenta forward or in whatever direction Dallas was walking. But then they were all scooted into this fancy oh so spacious vehicle of the drug lords and it was all for not. Sitting where it was most likely to be wished, one leg crossed over the other as everyone settled in. Although her brow creased by a fraction at the way Dallas looked at her, only to immediately shake his head afterwards, the look in his eyes only fanned the hate she held for Argenta and everything associated with the sick phuck. Reaching up, she pulled her own seat belt across herself, never uncrossing her legs in the process. She was smoothing out the wrinkles in the plaid dangerously short skirt when Meccan proclaimed that he knew what the both of them were feeling. At any other time she might have scoffed. What came out of Meccans mouth though couldnt be ignored as much as she tried, so when the look of pure unadulterated shock and anger fumed in her eyes alone well, maybe that would have been entertainment enough for everyone in the vehicle. Composure couldnt be regained after that. For the rest of the ride to the fortress Argenta called a home, she would sit with her arms crossed and her head tilted slightly to the side. Staring out the window at something too far away to be seen, but too close for comfort.
Socrates was vexed by Meccan. Infuriated by Argenta. And yet she felt shame. Not of Dallas, but because she hadnt been there to protect him from these animals the way others had for her. Well once. A long, long time ago when everything had been so black-and-white that it was sicking.
Every part of her wanted to do nothing more than hurt Argenta. Even if the night ended badly, she would gladly take this abuse instead of Dallas if only it resulted in bodily harm to this human that was the cancer to the world. The very disease her sire had been fighting for centuries only to have it thwarted by some backwards treaty with the higher ups and for what? For this? There would always be evil in the world though, there had to be. It balanced out the good they say. But why did bad things have to happen to people like him? She would wonder as she interlaced her fingers with Argentas as he guided her out of the car in front of him. Those dark eyes spanned upwards then back to the gates they had passed through and all those guards at them. Then back around to the woman whose appearance was quite the striking one in the uniform that opened the door for the lot of them. No sooner had they gotten inside that she distracted herself from the building anger for this entire situation by slipping away to the side to ogle the source of the delightful scent that filled the humans home. Laying a hand underneath one of the blooming buds, and taking the goblet of blood when offered, her head lowered to run the tip of her nose over one of the flower pedals till it reached the middle where there might have been that allergy havoc reeking yellow pollen. Either Argenta would wait till the gender-confused guest had finished her mingling with his floral arrangement or he would leave her behind. It was his choice, after all he was the one that owned all the guns was he not? Some of the mans choice in the flowers sparked old memories in the femme as she rolled a green stem in between her forefinger and thumb and then ran her pinky across some of the more violet colored ones, if any. Then her cheeks would flush as she straightened up and offered a smile, taking a quick sip of the goblet filled with blood before saying, Deary me, my head was off in the clouds. My apologies. Quick were those thick heeled shoes to click and clack across the floor to catch up to them, falling in behind and a little off to the side. Distractions. She had to find something to focus on so that she didnt go crazy from the urges to just jump on Argenta right then and there. None to wise would that have been, she thought as she chewed on the inside of her cheek where they all stood in the elevator, that was taking them to God knew where in the place. As they would be led to this parlor where she actually was taken aback by just how luscious it was. Taking another sip of blood in her goblet, she let her eyes wander over the objects occupying the room but she could feel Argentas eyes on her like one would feel the thin film of a sheet laying over their naked body, faint but there all the same. By the time Meccan had came within ten feet of her she had polished off the rest of her drink so that as he poured her more, her head would tilt upwards to tell him thank you. Of course what she really wanted to say was something far less pleasant and obscene, most likely involving pain but that was besides the point. In mid sip, the drug lords question made a brow perk and then as she lowered her goblet, her tongue curled over her lower lip to lick off a few drops of blood. Still her lips would be stained that deep cranberry hue. No correction needed, she said, not showing the old sting that that name had attached to it whenever she heard it. Nobody else had ever spoken it, except Delavar. Maybe someone else had before but shed never paid any attention. The terror and pain in Dallass voice when he was so quick to deny her any shape or form of her being in the same room as him, it nearly speared her in half. Of course there were other reasons for this, there had to be she thought as she watched the exchange of words between the wounded and the wound inflicting. The thought of Dallas being alone though did not sit well with this one though. No thought really was given when she replied, running the rim of the goblet along her lower lip, smearing a little blood over it before licking it off. If its not to much trouble, Dallass room would do just fine tonight Mr. Maldante, she said, letting her eyes rest on Argenta instead of Dallas, even though she would rather have stared at Dallas all night. Even if she couldnt hold him, just seeing him could have made her content. She couldnt refuse the offer of being with Dallas though. She was crazy, but not phucking crazy. A few times her eyes strayed from those moss green eyes and head of sandy blonde hair, to the arsehole at his side, and then to the sprawling older vampire who seemed all too relaxed where he drank his blood. Although her priority was Dallas, Meccan actually felt more of a threat than Argenta did. Never mind how many henchmen the human had at his disposal, Meccan was vampire. That alone caused problems, or they would in time she idly thought over as her ear caught words said here and there, and it didnt matter who said them either. She said her goodnights to Meccan before she lost sight of the man, and then to Argenta before he locked them in the room he imprisoned Dallas in. Turning to look at where they had come in, and laying a hand over the wall, or door rather. It wouldnt open from this side, that much made sense. Then as she turned to look at Dallas and the bottle of tequila he was about to down, her brows drew together. In a freakishly quick walk she would be at his side and pretty much bat the bottle of liquor out of his hand, causing it to smash to the floor and spill its fiery contents everywhere. She didnt say anything except to stand there at look at him level in the eye. Not wanting to do that, but feeling it was for the better, she didnt think it best for him to be drunk when they got out of here. Tell me, she said, well more like a demand than an actual question. One hand laying on the edge of the table he had picked up the bottle of tequila from and the other laying on her hip. She wanted to hear it from him. Not that he wanted this lifestyle. Not that what Argenta was doing to him wasnt what he wanted. No, she needed to hear it from him. Just what she wanted to hear though, Dallas should have already known...
-- Edited by Alaina at 04:40, 2007-10-15
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
Dallas startled visibly when Socrates knocked the bottle of liquor from his hand to send it shattering to the marble floor. A breath caught in his lungs and he shuddered as his gaze met hers with a reluctance that spoke of his inner torment far more tangibly than words ever could. As her eyes held his with that demanding scrutiny which shot chills through his spine, his body stiffened. As quickly as his muscles had coiled they liquefied as she posed her terse question, he answered by sliding a quick step towards her and embracing her with all the desperation caged in his body then kissing her with a fiercely frantic passion. His arms encapsulated her and his tongue explored her mouth in such a way as if trying to bury himself completely inside of her. A quiet sob dissolved the kiss and his supple lips pressed against her ear as the sexual tension in his body coiled the muscles flushed against her. "Do not hate me for what I have become. I can share no secrets here...I am seen and heard at all times. I can only say...I am lost. I love you. I need you...I need you to forgive me...I need to feel you inside of me...to feel the one I love inside of me. Please...Socrates...I am begging you. Phuck me...If you still love me...Phuck me, please. His pleas were as desperate and urgent as the trembling embrace he clung to her with.
They were being watched and any words spoken louder than those Dallas whispered to his true loves ear would be heard by Argenta, and everything they did he saw. The cameras and microphones were expertly placed in the room, well hidden and difficult to damage for the materials they were made of. Argenta was certain Dallas was speaking to her and was vexed that Dallas dared to defy him by speaking at a level the microphones could not pick up. Meccan on the otherhand, who sat beside him in the private monitoring room, heard those whispers plainly. When Argenta asked him what Dallas was saying, well aware of Meccans talents, the vampire chuckled. "He wants her to phuck him and is begging her to. He also begged her not to hate him for what he has become. He professes his love to her," he added, leaving out the rest.
A faint tick a jealously tugged at the corners of Argentas lips. It was just as Meccan had hoped. Socrates was right believing that Meccan was the greater threat, but not to she and Dallas. He was plotting against Argenta. He was not the loyal sidekick Argenta took him for, that Meccan had made him believe he was. He wanted Argentas kingdom and had no more love for humans than Delavar did. He was an infiltrator, plain and simple, an Occulto agent with the Sedition who had been with Argenta for ten years now, discovering all there was to uncover about Argentas contacts and business, while waiting for the perfect opportunity to take over Argentas kingdom as its syndicate king. The time was ripe as Meccan saw it, and Socrates was going to help him whether she knew it or not.
Argenta started to rise as Dallas stepped away from Socrates and began to shed the leather straps which scarcely covered his privates and after dropping the leather bondage outfit on the floor urged her towards his bed, imploring her all the while with sinful innocence to phuck him, feed from him, pleading with her how dreadfully he needed her to have her way with him as she pleased. Meccan grabbed his leaders arm and pulled him back down. "If you intend to remind him who he belongs to, wait until they are both at their most vulnerable, My Lord. What is it you intend to do anyway?"
Argenta growled as he sank back into the leather office chair. "I intend to put him on the machine and let her watch," he hissed.
Meccan laughed, his laughter like a tropical breeze. "And what if she denies him everything he begs of her?"
"I will still strap him into the pleasure taker, and let her see Dallas for the whore he is," Argenta insisted.
"You are the one who made him a slut. It should not surprise you that he wants that pretty boy to screw him," Meccan pointed out in droll tones.
The machine Argenta was referring to was in the corner of Dallass room. It was a sex toy from hell of sorts with hydraulic parts, stirrups, cuffs and straps to bind him to the bed of the machine. A metal arm with an intricate vibrating press with moving parts folded down over the subjects female essentials while an adjustable pump worked a pair of replaceable robotic, pulsing phalluses made of rubber which oozed hot oil at intervals when activated. There was also a pulsating sleeve for his member on another arm which folded down to fit the mechanized tool to his well hung muscle. Argenta had moved the other machine, called the chair, to his own bedroom.
"He is my slut and I shall remind him of that as necessary," Argenta stated dangerously. "I will expect you to accompany me," he added.
"You are not afraid of that little sireling are you, My Lord?" Meccan teased.
Argenta shot a smoldering eye on his companion. "Afraid? No. Wary? Yes. We have no idea what its capabilities are."
"I shall accompany you, My Lord," Meccan assured him.
Argenta smiled. "You will hold the tranny back while I place Dallas on the machine and force her to watch as Dallas is enthralled by its pleasures."
"Delavar warned us not to touch her, My Lord," Meccan reminded him.
"He meant it in a sexual sense or to do her harm. We shall do neither," Argenta related.
Meccan nodded, pretending to agree, but in fact he knew that things seldom went according to plan. He doubted that Socrates would cooperate.
If Socrates had not given in to Dallas by this time, the all too attractive human in all his nakedness would collapse on his bed weeping like a baby, albeit quietly, uttering that she did not understand how badly he needed to feel her inside of him while he could. He had no sense of the future or being able to depend on anything. She was there now, and that was what he was counting on...seizing the moment while they could.
If on the other hand she had relented to love him, he would shock her with the frenzy of his need for her. His body was a live wire for her slightest touch, and to feel her inside of him would drive him mad with abandoned lust and violent desire. His love for her could not be more evident in every kiss, roving and grasping caress, and if it came to it the frantic merging of their forms. He was not tight but felt like a backstreet male and female whore rolled into one. Argenta had seen to that and liked his lover to feel like whorish. Dallass eyes without any help from his body betrayed the vast depth of his need, love, and longing for her whether she joined with him or not.
Whatever happened between them, Argenta would enter the room with Meccan inside of forty minutes, and tear Dallas from Socrates to strap him in the machine and affix every sex pleasing device to him while Meccan seized Socrates and held her fast in a deadlock that could very quickly become a death grip. While Meccan held Socrates, even tight enough to bruise her fair skin, he whispered to her thoughts.
"Whatever it seems like, I am not your enemy," he promised her. "This has been done to Dallas many times. This will change nothing for him. Whatever emotions you have in concerns to Dallas you must control. If you do as I say you will have your vengeance on Argenta before the day is out. You have to trust me. If you want to free your lover do as I command. Play along...pretend to get off on everything Argenta does to him. Act as if you are as sexually twisted as he, and you will get him alone." Anything Socrates thought in response Meccan would receive. All the while he mind spoke to her his eyes remained riveted on Argenta as he sank the phalluses inside of Dallass male and female tunnels. He adjusted the pump so that the large tools he selected to please Dallas with would thrust fully inside of him and three quarters of the way out with each penetration. He set the press which he pushed and locked against his fem bundle on high and the pulse on the sleeve he pushed down over his stiffening member on high as well. He set everything for maximum pleasure and penetration.
Dallas did not so much as struggle against him. His surrender was pitiful and immediate. It was a painfully familiar act. He was like a puppet in his hands and from the moment Argenta seized him his moss-agate eyes avoided Socrates. He sobbed and whimpered as the things penetrated him and pressed against his most sensitive aspects, and when the machine was activated to ravish him tears spilled from his eyes and tremors shook his naked beauty. A gasping sob was muffled as Argenta leaned over him to seal his mouth with a possessively burning kiss, the perverse monster sucking hard on his tongue before he straightened and backed away to watch as the machine had its way with the actor.
"How beautiful he is in thrall of forced ecstasy," he breathed the words with intoxicated fervor, devouring with his eyes every jerk of his thrall's muscles, the hard coiling of his abdomen, and the quiet mewls of tortured elation. With a satisfied smile he swiveled around to face Socrates to absorb her facial features as raptly as he had soaked in Dallass sexual responses to the machine. "The machine will spill him over into bliss rapidly, you will see. But the beauty of it is how it sustains his orgasm, for as many hours as I leave him in thrall of its fabulous functions. Have you ever been tortured with bliss, Socrates? Until all the world bled away and all your awareness was imprisoned by the most intense pleasures imaginable? Of course you haven't. You are not equipped as he, as all females are. He has often spoken your name in this state, and here you are at last...The icon of his delirium, his inmost fantasies. Would you give yourself to me as he has and share in his explicit durations, the privacy of his darkest secrets? Are you capable of embracing such wonders as I have shown to him? Would you phuck him now, displace that sleeve with your gripping walls of lust? Have you the courage to do what in your darkest soul you know you want to do to him? I have no fear and have taken his fear from him. There is no place he will not let me phuck him. There is nothing in my nature he will deny me. Have you the guts to unleash your true sexuality on him? Watch..." Argenta walked around the machine to the other side of Dallas with the wall at his back, and while watching Socrates, he leaned down and whispered to Dallas, talking dirty to him. He practically chanted the disparagements which thrilled Dallass body, the sexual tension building in him with each word tangible to the eye. His jaw gaped and gasps stole his breath as Argenta called him you whore, phucking slut, you phucking cunnt, whore, slut, over and over again like some perverse mantra. This went on for five minutes and as a vicious orgasm quaked Dallas, Argenta straightened again and grinned as his eyes burned into Socrates through her black pools. "See how it excites him, how his body thrills to be a whore, my catamite?"
It was true. Dallass body responded intensely to the filth Argenta whispered with deep hisses in his ears and the orgasm which followed was violently rigorous. He wailed and sobbed in shock and despair as the eruptions within him were sustained by the machine, and as those ecstasies were brutally perpetuated by the machines relentless stimulations, Argenta approached Socrates. "Will you come with me to the security room and watch while I pleasure you, or stay here and replace that sleeve which milks him dry?" He offered her a choice.
~Consent to go with Argenta,~ Meccan whispered in her mind.
Socrates was not trying to scare Dallas with her demanding an explanation that couldnt exactly be talked out over a day. She was furious yes, clearly Dallas could see that in those dark pools he hadnt seen in so long. But she was furious with nobody but herself. That pair of plump lips set into a line, however they had begun to quiver when she saw the stiffening in his body. It had all gone wrong hadnt it? Half expecting a slap in the face from him at breaking his once only means of escape from the basturd that had enslaved him, the short frame of slightly pale skin and silver tinged white hair flinched just a hair when he stepped forward so quickly. Laying his lips to her own that already felt the heat in Dallas long before his mouth covered hers and his tongue would find great the fight in hers that pushed against his soft pink muscle and then curled around it to lick at his lips. The anger that had been boiling in her since she had caught her first glimpse of the tirade Argenta subjected her most precious one to, it seemed to melt away with each second he kissed her. And the minutes he let her kiss him back, where she laid her hands to the sides of his face and tried not to rip his head off from just how abrupt he could make her entire body feel like it was on fire. His sob alone caused her eyes to burn, but his words, this confession of love he spilled forth sent those crocodile tears rolling down as she kissed the sides of his face crazily. Not those little chicken peck kisses either but gentle ones. She gave him kind kisses against his feverish ones that were bringing faint whimpers from her increasingly aroused self on account of how she leaned into his every movement and curved her body along with his when his hips ground into hers just a little too agonizingly good like. Some were soft, while others were tiny open mouthed sucklings she made along the front of his neck, or the tops of his shoulders. Wherever she could reach even though she wore those thick clear hooker heels, she had to stand on her tippy toes sometimes just to nibble at the corner of Dallass mouth.
She was trying. So hard, she was trying not to just molest him the way he was pleading with her to but little by little she gave into his wants. His needs would become her own. His wants would be hers. I could never hate the one who holds my heart, she said to him in this faint whisper, pressing her lips to his ear as her arms tightened around him because she didnt want to let go. Not of this. She needed to know he was indeed real and that this wasnt all just a sick game that would or could end at any moment. I-I Those tears couldnt stop now as her thumbs ran over the bones defining his cheeks and then back into his hair that she gave tiny tugs to. She nuzzled at him as he clung to her, and she clung perhaps just as much or more to him, breathing out the words, Oh god Dallas I am so sorry. It wasnt said to make amends for everything that had been done to him. By far it was meant to be a spec of comfort to the human as his gender bent offspring of Delavar turned her head upwards, running her lips along the humans and then she caught his lower lip in between hers to begin suckling on. She was sorry, for this. For all of this even though there was no possible way she could have perceived this happening beforehand. There was nothing Dallas could say or do to ever slacken the blame she settled over herself for his kidnapping. His torture. His anguish. She felt it all too real in his kiss, the look in his eyes, the shiver that crept up his spine. I need you more than anything in my life, came that moanish sound somewhere near the middle of Dallass chest as the girlie boy had slunk downwards to nip and nibble all over the green eyed ones abdomen after he had removed all those leather straps. She couldnt resist it anymore. The smell of him alone had been chipping and eating away at her self control not to just pounce him and please him till he died of ecstasy, or they both did. With him naked, she found the white button up shirt all too restricting now. Having a little fight with her shirt to get it off of herself as her tongue slipped out from between her red stained lips from the blood she had drank all that eve, she would start to lick up the front of Dallas at about the same time that Meccan tried to reason with Argenta, who wouldn't be reasoned with. The pointed heels of the shoes Socrates wore dug into the floor as she pushed Dallas down onto his bed, not being able to help in wanting to feel him all over herself. She wanted his touch, needed it more than she needed to live now. To feel the warmth he and only he held that could be the sole thing able to undo the constant cold her skin possessed, at times. With one hand on the right side of his neck and the right one slightly digging its nails into Dallass left hip, those sets of fangs would nick at his smooth skin here and there. This was wrong though, however much she wanted to make Dallas happy, to see him and that glow in his smiles again. This wasnt the place to be with him in she knew. But did it stop her? Did these walls with their eyes and ears make her falter or slow in flinging her shirt to the floor or the unbuttoning of her skirt? The danger was so real. They could both be killed. Well, she would be killed and the arseholes would probably make Dallas watch but in these few moments she would not deny him any longer. She wouldnt tell him no to his hearts desires. Somehow or another the tart thing had managed to straddle the humans lap, grinding those hips into the other as they were both nude now. Except for the pair of white stockings running up high onto the kindreds thighs and the white stilettos that kicked each and every time he pressed to her, or she fondled his well hung self where they started to roll amongst his sheets. She had not forgotten where Argenta and Meccan had marred him in the club either. Visible as the marks were over Dallass otherwise flawless neck, she would cover the monsters wounds with her own. Dallas Dallas, I love you, it was let out in a shaky breath just before he would feel teeth sink slowly into the right side of his neck just above his collar bone. At the same time he would also feel his hips being tugged closer to his pretty boy lover and the hardness pressing down on Dallass stomach. For a brief moment she almost thought she might come right there if he let her just rub herself against his most peculiar male and female parts just a little longer. That tongue lapped at the few droplets of blood that came from the little puncture wound her teeth caused to the side of Dallass neck, for that was all she could bring herself to do to him and no more.
Although deep down, somewhere, she really did want to taste more of his blood.
Oh how he might push at her, only to have her pull on his hair as that desperate final act of sinking herself inside him made her press her mouth into the middle of his chest and muffle the loudness of the moan that erupted from her. It didnt matter if he had the feel of a virgin or that of a whore. It was indescribable it was she thought as she arched against him, linking her arms around him where she had come to kneel in between his knees and pull him upwards to sit him upright on top of all those aching inches she had for him. Sweeter than heaven, came that murmur of lust and need as the human was surely drawing out the beast in the femme fellow.
Unfortunately their ravishing of each other would only get so far as a few painfully delicious thrusts and a couple more bites before they were interrupted by Argenta and Meccan. Those black pools shifted over Dallass shoulder where she had oddly gotten him pinned to the wall, or the edge of the bed, at the two intruders. The hiss she made was low sounding. Barely audible at all, but Meccan would hear it in the way only their kind could. It was a fierce thing in its tiny stature but it was all she could get out before she attempted to gather Dallas to herself. A vain attempt at that as he had to be pried from her arms and the task of holding her nude form still as Meccan had the task of would not be an easy one. More than once she had wanted to go for the mans eyes and the only thing stopping her was what was being done to Dallas all over again. However the voice that infiltrated her otherwise current mad mind made her spine go rigid and her back straighten. What? Meccan stayed her hands from further pulling at his arm by the mere mention of getting Argenta alone. Indeed he would bruise the pretty boy something fierce on account of how he just couldnt simply stand there and watch Dallas be tormented all over again. Yet there was nothing she could do about it was there? That head of light toned hair turned to the side but her eyes would not leave Dallas as he was strapped and bound to this infernal contraption that the syndicate boss now used to bring orgasm after orgasm out of him, even if he didnt want it. Shed never heard the sounds that tore from Dallas now as the machine reeked its bliss and torture all over his most sensitive of parts. It made so little sense to hear someone in the midst of pleasure and yet at the same time, they were hurting as well. It made her eyes water all over again and she had to turned her head to the side and shut them, causing a slight accidental nuzzle into the crook of Meccans arm just to force herself not to bulk at this. Not now. For Dallass sake, have a phucking back bone she would scream at herself as she turned her eyes back onto the spectacle of Argenta sick ideas. She was silent where she was tense like a coiled snake underneath the other vampires grip, not saying anything at first to Meccans promise that it wasnt he that was the enemy, but he could help her get rid of Argenta. But to act as though she could get off on what was being done to her beloved, she could never condone such acts! This was ridiculous she thought, although she saw the reason to the other vampires logic. Her cheeks flushed a bright red when Argenta finally left Dallas to wither in the hold of yet another of those unnatural climaxes he seemed to leave him in for long intervals at a time, and the smell of Dallas was all over the man. Of course, she could still taste Dallass blood in her mouth and the slickness that those few, few minutes he had let her enter him kept her own male parts warm. Even if it was just the memory of it. What do you get out of this? she thought, shifting uncomfortably within the hold he held over her because it had to be a very painful one given how she squirmed every now and then. Dont trifle with me brother, youve no love for the humans. Ohhh, there it was. That unyielding thin steel wire that ran through the middle. The piece of her that had not died when Jaami had been murdered, and it did not disappear when Delavar had given her the stars that one fateful night. It was the part naturally that her first love had. The will to love, and to not expect to be loved in return. As foolish as it sounded though, Socrates would play along. Against her will and better judgment mind you. Slowly, almost timidly, one hand would slip down from the hold she had been digging her nails into his arm with, to feel over her abdomen and then down even further till she ran her fingertips over herself and the dampness Dallas had left behind. So perverse it was how her index finger gathered a bit of it to bring it up to face level, as if to study it. Those hips were set at an angle, leaning on one foot, she said with words laced with that intense lust Argenta had watched Dallas and her in, "I cant watch if I stay here now can I." Her index finger was rubbed along her lower lip, and then it slid into her mouth where she suckled on it just to be able to have some part of Dallas near. Even if it was inappropriate. It was the taste of the juices that now spilled from him due to the machine having its way with him again and again.
The taste of Dallas alone made her possibly only male part of her anatomy that was visible remain achingly hard
-- Edited by Alaina at 04:24, 2007-10-31
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
Dallas: For precious moments Dallas had glimpsed heaven, felt it surging through his body when she touched him, seen it in her lust laden face, and he basked in nirvana when she had buried herself inside of him. What passed between them, despite the degenerate corruption of their environs, felt as pure as a remote mountain spring to the prisoner of that devil watching them. His body boiled over in rebirth of her claim over his flesh and as her stunning rod filled him with her hunger, he sang out in elation. His body meshed with his and tremors ripples through him as every response pleaded for Socrates never to let go. His hands as they explored her and his body as it ground against her radiated his profoundly crazed passion. She stole his breath and his senses and bottled them in the raptures of her heart. As heaven had united them, hell tore them apart as the shadow of a terrible fiend blocked out the light reflected brightly in their eyes. Dallas nearly fainted as her engorged divineness was forcibly hauled from him and he felt so empty, so dreadfully empty as the terrifying devil flung its python arms around him and pulled him ruthlessly away from his angel. Paradise flew away and he was plunged into the abyss where a demon of steel and synthetic limbs and members raped him to fill the awful void left in his seraph's absence. The beautiful young man whose innocence had been plundered whimpered and his eyes rolled across the ghastly monster who had fed him to the ravenous demon which thrust its huge, branching phalluses fully inside of him. His glazed eyes drifted lost and then settled on the shining angel in the clutches of the fiend's imp and then his back arched as much as the forceful clutches of his metal captor would allow as every carnal nerve ending was shocked with hellish bliss. His hallucinations were as intense as the chasm he felt open up and swallow him in her absence. Its mouth spat flames and its throat enveloped him with horrifying ecstasy. He saw things which filled him with doubt and dread. The angel touched himself and nursed his flavor from his fingers and he saw a shadow overtake her as if the devil had poisoned him and made him one of its own. Black wings which unfurled from all their shoulders seemed to fill the room and as the shadows of those ominous membranes retreated, he found himself alone with the voracious demon which dominated him.
Mecca had gradually loosened his grip on Socrates as she appeared to relent to cooperation but kept close and maintained a rapt eye out on her just the same, as Argenta would expect. Argenta took that hand she licked in his own and tasted her with Dallas for himself, his dark eyes burning on her as he did. He expected the beautiful boy vampire to tense, but when she did not, the king pin linked Socrates' arm with his and ushered her out of the room, as Mecca activated the sliding, airlock door with a remote. It sealed behind them with a hiss as they entered the corridor outside, and he led her back into the expanse of the living area, through another door, down another hallway, and entered a sterile looking room. There was a computer station along which cornered the room in a half square L. Above it was a large wide screen monitor which he activated with his free hand to bring up an explicit view of Dallas held in sexual thrall of the machine his mind envisioned as a demon. A monitor behind the deep cushioned couch and other screens in the room also locked onto the feed from his boy toy's room. Mecca posted himself inside the room in a vigilant stance. He gave every indication of being the perfectly loyal and reliable guard Argenta took him for. The couch against the other wall was directly across from the movie-screen monitor and it was there Argenta escorted Socrates. He sat her down and dropped his pants to expose his erect member. He led her hand to the thick length he so often pleasured or hurt Dallas with. He was hung to inflict either bliss or agony intensely. As his hand closed over hers to squeeze her fingers and palm against his eager tool he sank down on the couch beside her. Unless she balked, Argenta would undress the fem boy to shed his female identity and reveal the male beneath the glamour, and then implore him with breathless seduction to straddle him and phuck him senseless. Argenta was sharp, and if Socrates so much as betrayed the slightest reluctance, his distrust of her motives would be immediate and the syndicate Lord would order Mecca to take her home. He did not trust teases, not under the present circumstances. If however Socrates caved and gave in to his lusts as wantonly as Argenta's desire was to bury his erection inside of him, Argenta would slick down Socrates tool with sex oil and ignite every pleasure center the transvestite had, and after Socrates achieved an orgasm he would send Mecca to fetch Dallas.
While Argenta seduced Socrates, the violent climax the machine had forced from Dallas even before they had withdrawn from his room had been perpetuated the entire time. He shook and jerked with muscle spasms every so often and his breaths strangled and whimpered, and sometimes he pleaded with the machine as if it was a living thing, or perhaps it was Argenta he made his pleas to, 'Stop...p-please s-s-stop...Too much...oh gods...I cannot...' Howls escaped him as well that always trailed into sobs or hysterical laughter which wept from his lungs. Argenta was thrilled by every reaction the machine extracted from his thrall, and encouraged Socrates to see the beauty and thrilling delight of Dallas's relentless excess as well.
Mecca's eyes were at times locked on the screens in an unreadable smolder. He was in fact watching Dallas for signs of distress that might indicate his heart was failing him. His bad heart had been replaced with a healthy one true, but transplanted hearts could be delicate, and even a healthy heart could stop under too much stress. He had also developed a rather twisted affection for Dallas along the way, and much as it shamed him, he was turned on by Dallas. The flames he had touched for too long had burned him. It was impossible to avoid when immersing yourself in an organization as corrupt as Argenta's.
If Socrates got through Argenta's exploitation of his body to attain an orgasm without betraying his true sentiments for the king pin, Argenta would send Mecca to fetch Dallas for them. Mecca planned to take his sweet time, wherefore Socrates would have the opportunity to attack the vampire poser. There was a reason that Mecca could not assist her in any act of violence against Argenta that would become clear to Socrates in time.
If, on the other hand, Socrates was unable to restrain his disgust or aversion of Argenta, the king pin would order Mecca to seize Socrates and escort her home immediately, and make it clear to Socrates that she would not be permitted to see Dallas again. Of course he could not control the possibility of Socrates tracking Dallas down when he was shooting on location for the film he was currently under contract of.
The taste on the pretty boys fingers was as they say, to die for. In a way it was betrayal, was it not? Knowing that what you were doing would be perceived by someone else the wrong way, and yet you had to do it just the same. Even if you ended up hurting the one you were trying to protect. In which case, was it worth it? Would Dallas understand was the only concern now to the petite thing that now had her arm looped into the humans and was escorted from the room, and the one of the two people she loved. As they exited the room, leaving Dallas to the merciless monster of electric lust and Meccan whom she still thought non too kindly of, she would force every single thought from her mind. Every intention to have or have not, it would all be pushed away and in its place would be something perhaps Delavar would be displeased to see had he been there. To enable no deceit or ounce of hatred to be revealed to the man that she hung from the arm of in her indecently dressed state, she would turn her hatred of him inward. The need to hurt Argenta morphed like some twisting hideous thing inside of her, and by the time they had reached that all too impersonal room where he said that she should see how the machine he had conceived of had its way with her beloved, the femme boy would seek pain from the human. Oh how Socrates knew this game, and she knew it painfully well. Perhaps Argenta would find it amusing. To where this couch they sat upon, the femme boys pale haired head would lift to the side and give faint lickings to the top of Argentas shoulder as he was undressed. It was a type of separating oneself from what they felt with every fiber of their being to be wrong, loath it, hate it, and wish it dead, and then shutting down that path of thinking and just run on animal instinct. That was the best summing up she could ever hope for, to explain how eager Argenta was to let her touch his hardness, even caress the human as she nipped at his ear lobe. Even if she hadnt spent all those years mastering things like this game of how long will your mask stay on, the touches and words Argenta made were quite the seductive ones. It would have been dreadfully hard to resist even sober. Socrates wouldnt just screw Argentas brains out, she would exhaust him to the point that he could barely move before he sent for Mecca. When she felt the humans hands feeling over her own sex she would make this loud cooing sound as she pushed herself against the man. It would appear sickening to Dallas had he been there to witness just how willing she looked to please Argenta. Occasionally, the crime lords fingertips would be caught in between that plump set of kissable and nibbled at after they both got over the initial shock of how achingly slow he lowered himself onto Argentas tool and different he might feel from Dallas. Or maybe it would just be Socrates that would be shocked, cause it had been quite awhile since she had ever touched anyone, except for the beautiful act Dallas had just done with her mere moments before. Hurt me, came that whispering purr into Argentas left ear before she nipped at him and ground her hips into his, driving his full length completely inside of her and causing her back to stiffen before she arched upwards and choked back a scream. The human had the potential to be an awesome lover, if it werent for the bassturd that he was and the horrific deeds he had done. They might have started out with the femme boy on top where his hands knotted up the sides of the couch on either side of the humans head, but they would in time shift to where Argenta would be pulled upwards and then sank back down against that couch with Socrates underneath him and his thighs squeezing inwards against his hips. The human would have his back clawed but slowly, so as not to be so painful as to warrant a smack or something. Argenta was going to bleed before the night was over with, that was a given. Yet it would be starting in those perverted acts they committed with Socratess nails raking up his back as the gender confused male forced himself to relent to Argentas advances enough to drive them both into that blissfully painful euphoric state. Even if she had soiled the crime lords couch with her seed, she would not let him out of arms length until he too was squirming in the beginnings of his own climax, the hot sea within the pale haired vampires mouth never seemed to leave the humans. She caught herself once from saying something foolish, and it ended up with tears being shed and her hands tugging Argentas to her sides as if demanding that he make her do as he wanted her to. It was easier this way in the end, or so she continued to tell herself as Argenta made her orgasm horribly all over the both of them. Perhaps she wasnt prepared for the double-edged sword she was holding though. When she finally could not take anymore of it, and had to beg Argenta to stop for surly she wouldnt if he continued, she would lay quietly half hanging over the arm of the couch. The thin silver chain around his belly glinted in the stark light of the room. His black eyes stared hard at the ground as he listened to the sounds Argenta made when he moved away from the sweat covered couch to make that fateful call to Mecca to bring Dallas in. Dallas?! he thought, and every muscle in his body pulled taunt like wet leather. He could not see him like this. Dallas couldnt see what had just happened between his long time captor and obsessed drag queen. Not that it helped in seeing that kiss he had given Argenta. As the syndicate bosss attention went into placing this call, by whatever means he had in that lavished mansion of his, the femme boys facial expression would harden. If Mecca came in then there would be no chance to get Dallas out of this hell hole. But if Argenta was out of the way then maybe this Mecca would re-think this whole thing and let them go? Oh how stupid! He thought to himself as his naked sat upwards, his neck craning in Argentas direction. The wild look in Socratess eyes just then would never really be able to be explained, not by him at least as he lunged at the human, and tore into him. It was a mixture of blood and lust one could say. The only thing that did skirt across his mind as he wrenched the humans left arm up behind his back, before smashing his face down into a console of this table or a computer pad, was that he had to die. He just had to. There was no forgiving him. Not for what he had done to Dallas. As Mecca took his sweet little time in coming to the room, Dallass inhuman lover would have descended into a rage as he would chase the human if need be around the room just to break another bone. Or have a little muscle to gnaw on...
-- Edited by Alaina at 02:20, 2007-12-25
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
Dallas could not recall how he had gotten to Delavar Vorego's manor, and he most certainly had no idea where he was. He was in a bed which defined the word heaven in its comfort and roused to feel the dread chill of terror which had taken up residence in every cell down to his bones' marrow. Tears which stood in his green eyes as a testament of the only emotions he had left inside of him, spilled from his pools of moss agate involuntarily. His mind was possessed by the singular awareness of the terrible things he had seen before he had blacked out completely.
As Dallas and Argenta had been privy to view Dallas on that panoramic monitor screen while the machine had its way with him, Dallas had been assaulted by visions of Socrates screwing Argenta from his room. When Argenta had set the feed in his observatory, he had likewise keyed in the codes which accessed the cameras from his room and linked them to the flat screen built into the wall in Dallas's room. Argenta's final moments as a human lover were relished by him and he took every advantage with Socrates to induce explosive pleasures enhanced by just enough pain to skyrocket the kindred vampire he was basking in. She was incredible. To say that he thoroughly enjoyed her would have been a huge understatement. By the time she was pumping her hot seed against his belly he knew he had to add her to his collection. He would use Dallas as the tool to bring her willingly to his wing, or so he told himself. He knew Delavar was dangerous, but what could he do if his daughter chose to be with Argenta? He was passionately debase and his depravity wetwired the sexual sensations he plundered from Socrates. Plunder was the only word for it. He was a sexual pirate who stole souls through coital acts, if not feats. When their carnal escapades came to a pause as Argenta rose to call Dallas in to join them, and he cut the feed to Dallas's room, Argenta was caught unawares by Socrates brutal act of well bought violence. Argenta dove naked for his gun and roared as her claws tore through his shoulders just shy of his throat. He saw stars when she clobbered his forehead on the console, and was dumbstruck by the strength of the small, slender boy, who looked almost frail compared to the terrifying strength of the monster which went berserk on him. Even dazed by that blow he reached for the gun hidden beneath a shelf on the station. For a human he did well to defend himself when he recovered his senses enough to respond. He spun and his leg snapped around to kick her with martial expertise, his hands and arms becoming lethal weapons and adept guards. Despite all his fighting skill he could not defeat her strength and quickness, and above all her shear rage of determination. The firearm he grabbed aimed level at her face but a rapid claw hooked his arm, tearing away flesh, opening arteries, and flung the shot aside so that the bullet hit the ceiling. The blow he felt across his own face afterward stunned him and knocked him flat on his back, and by the time he recovered Socrates was all over him. He could not stop himself thinking that this was what it was like to be eaten by a lion. Meccan in the meantime was escorting a trembling, sobbing Dallas down the hallway. When he heard the shot, he stopped dead in his tracks and shoved Dallas against the wall. "Stay here, Dallas. Do not move a muscle," he commanded him sternly and hasted towards the observation chamber. Dallas stayed put as ordered, not because he was obediant, but because he was in shock and could not have moved if he had wanted to. Meccan slid a pair of automatic Cobra pistols from their holsters, released the safety, and raced to the door, then burst into the room, both guns aimed with precision at Socrates. As he held the weapons trained on Socrates, he mind spoke to her. ~"I have now to place my life in your hands, Socrates. I am trusting you...Delavar is trusting you. You are going to lunge away from my aim, and I am going to fire and miss, then you are going to attack me and make the first blow count...it has to be good enough to knock me out but leave me alive. Do it!"~ Without further instructions he waited for her to lunge, and when she did, he fired, and barely missed her, a spray of bullets following her as she dodged the shots he pulled off. When Socrates attacked him to shatter a lamp against his skull, he dropped. Fact was, the blow had not actually knocked him unconscious, but he feigned that it had, and any blows Socrates dealt him afterwards he would take unless they were lethal. If she dared to break his trust she would find out just how powerful the old vampire and secret agent was. Whatever happened in that room, whatever reminders Meccan had to give Socrates telepathically to keep her under control, Dallas stood like a war child against that wall, his nude body shaking with violent tremors while tears streamed from hollow eyes down his pale cheeks. He remembered nothing beyond what he had seen on that screen...That monster's corruption of his best friend and the girl he loved. Yes, he respected Socrates decision to be female. The shots sounded far away to him. Surreal as if something which echoed from a dream or someplace else altogether. The next hand which took his arm was simply someone else's hand gripping someone else's arm, and hurrying that someone else out of the building and into a car. He was so detached from himself as he was rushed out of the building by Socrates, that movement, and his own, was a blur of demented articulation. He was blind, he was deaf, he was mute with dementia. The shock of his compound experiences dropped him and he scraped a knee just short of reaching the sedan which pulled up to the curb, but his foundering form was caught up quickly and dragged into the limo. There were voices but nothing they said was registered by him. Lights blurred past him with the sound of traffic.
Hobaer was driving and Delavar held Socrates tight in his arms trying to comfort him. He rocked her and whispered that it was over now, and repeated in a whisper that Dallas was free. He had never intended Socrates to go so far as to phuck the human monster. He would never have asked her to go so far, but she had made the choice and it was done. Delavar knew she would do anything for Dallas, anything. Dallas was laid across her lap, curled in the throes of the heinous shock which had stolen his psychi. "Socrates, I have contacted some doctors and they will help Dallas through this Hell. Have faith that he is strong enough to heal. You have to stay strong yourself if you hope to get him through this." He kissed her brow, the press of his lips lingering against her flesh, and held her tight. When Dallas woke two mornings after the extraction in that bed, he stared at the ceiling above him but saw only the face of a vile fiend defiling an angel. He blamed himself, as she blamed herself, only he was too weak to fight the horror, the shame, and the guilt anymore. His single thought was for death to sweep him away like refuse off the dirty streets. If he'd had the will to move he would have risen and looked for a knife or broken a mirror to obtain a tool to slit his own throat. When Socrates came into the room, having left only because Delavar had insisted she join him for breakfast, and he was hard to refuse, his lips parted as if to say something to her but his throat closed around his voice and his expression only knitted into a mask of anguish. He had done this to her...By his mere existance he had opened the door for her to be raped by a terrible monster.
Dallas would hear the soft patter of bare feet over the hard wood floor before he would see her come back into the oh-so-comfortable bedroom he had been tucked in to sleep for the past couple of days. He looked no worse for wear, to the naked eye that is. The smile Socrates gave him was not a forced one. However it was so gentle in its manner, and it was the same expression that blasted Argenta had seen before he had had his eyes bitten out of his face. It was like a quiet something just on the edge of the consciousness. Right there, within reach. Visibly hidden. As much as she wanted to put all of her attention into her new family, quite a dysfunctional one at that, her mind could only replay the horrific scenes of carnage and the way that the mans blood pooled easily on the floor. For a few seconds her minds eye would slip back to just a brush of the fury that had torn itself into the syndicate boss, to just how hard he had fought for his very life and how it made her want to hurt him all the more. All morning, even during breakfast with her beloved sire, there was very little else she could think of other then those brief minutes she had been left alone with Argenta that had led the sod up to his gruesome demise. She wouldnt speak of it though unless Delavar asked her of it. When he had let her return to the sleeper, she had left her sire with fond kisses to his chin and squeezed him in a tight hug. A faint mirrored version of how he had held her the night they had whisked Dallas from the demons
, she glowered at Meccan as he burst through the door to the control room from under pale silvery bangs and a blood smeared smile of insanity. His voice infiltrated her awareness once again and it almost spurred her to lunge at the older vampire the way she had at his now dead crime lord. As Mecca instructed her of what needed to be done in order to get her hearts desire out of this cursed place, her teeth would sink all the way into the side of Argentas face. Just to make it perfectly clear that the man was either dead or would be within seconds if he wasnt laying on an operating table in the middle of surgery. Had she not been so madly in love with Dallas, to the point of obsession, she would not have had half the gall or gut to mutilate Argenta the way she was now. Had she not loved Delavar as much as she did, she wouldnt have misunderstood it and used it too like a tool in slaying the devil that had hurt Dallas so badly. Fingernails slowly cut down the middle of the mans spine as she rolled him over and then sprang at Mecca not even a moment after he had told her what he had, to snatch a lamp off of the table and break it over his head and then shove him into the room with his cut up boss. She had no time to deal anymore attacks to the other vampire. Not that she didnt want to. Oh how she did for him doing nothing to aid Dallas in escaping the clutches of a mad man. Her brow furrowed at the mere mention of Delavar trusting her in the entire matter, and the tiny fact that perhaps Delavar had even spoken with this one did not bode well with her. But there wasnt time for that either. Dallas was rushed as quickly as possible from the mansion grounds and into a car would take him far from here and the nightmares he had been left all alone in all these months.
He was all alone, she said frantically as she curled her arms around the human that seemed to be in shock in her lap. Cuddling him to herself as Delavar tried to comfort someone that could not be, He was all alone with that monster and nobody tried to help him. The tears that burned in those orbs of coals spilled down the sides of her face as she turned her head away from all affections her sire tried to give her. She wasnt the one that needed it, daamnit! It would be her train of thought but, it was wrong. She needed it so much that her nails were starting to dig into the palms of Dallass hands from how afraid she was to let him go. Not one second was spared to thinking about what she had done to herself in phucking Argenta or what it had taken and or put inside her. That was another beast for another battle. Her left hand ran slowly through Dallass light locks. Curling a few strands of his hair around her finger as her body gave up trying to fight against Delavars warmth, his fierce passion that he hide so well, and relaxed against him with the human cradled protectively against herself. This must look familiar to her sire by now. It was bitter the way history sometimes repeated itself
She would get no further then a couple of paces into the room and recognize that look in Dallass eyes without him having to voice his thoughts. Shed seen that look before many times. In her hands was a wooden shelf with a bowl of fruit, buttered toast, three pan cakes, a dish of whip cream and a plate of ice cream. A side of bacon and eggs to top it all off, she wasnt sure what he even ate for breakfast so she had made a little bit of everything.
Your awake, she said, inwardly sighing in relief as she neared his bed, stepping over something on the floor to get there, good now you can eat and put some meat on those bones. Her ability to start conversation at a time like this was mighty unconventional. Or was it necessary? A pitcher of orange juice and an empty glass also found their way somehow onto the crowded breakfast-in-bed small table she set over Dallass lap if he would let her. To the empty glass she raised said pitcher to pour him his juice while toeing open the bottom drawer of the night stand a little off to the side of that enormous plush bed. She would tell him that the day was exceptionally beautiful and that there were birds outside of his window making Bach roll over in his grave with their musical. Perching on the edge of the bed by his side, she would fold her hands in her lap as her head canted downwards and to the side. Curious as to if he felt up for eating anything, if he would like what she had cooked for him. Or if it was too salty or sweet. Such a character to have the mind set and will power to set certain things aside, and furthermore push even more upsetting emotions deep down to forget about them for now.
__________________
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
