patterns_bloom | For Cassidy

For Cassidy

Alana's hands are already exploring Cassidy's chest as soon as she shuts the door to her room. She'd told him she wasn't opposed to sex, and not only is she willing, she's downright enthusiastic. She nips his ear between her teeth, pushing him against the door with her hands on his thin shoulders. Alana thanks her lucky stars that she's wearing her tallest heels; at 6' tall, Cassidy dwarfs her mere 5'1".

Her living room behind her, should Cassidy be distracted enough to glance at it, is neat as a pin. Decorated tastefully in sage green and white, the room hosts two plush chairs and a just-as-plush couch with soft throws. The seats are set up around a polished coffee table to facilitate conversation. A gas fireplace rests in the corner, waiting to be turned on. Dark bookshelves lined with color-coded books and silver and blue vases flank an open doorway, which teases at a bedroom beyond.

Alana tries to arrest Cassidy's attention by sucking on his collarbone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No sooner has Cassidy stepped through the door than Alana's hands and mouth are all over him.

And he reciprocates, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close against his body, bending his lean and lanky frame to wherever her lips want him most. He groans softly, an almost guttural growl, as her teeth scrape his skin. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he plants eager kisses there, his lips dragging over her pulsepoint.

Oh, she has all of his attention.

Alana sucks a breath over her teeth as Cassidy's hot mouth teases her, stoking a fire that was--until recently--thoroughly banked. She slips her hand under her shirt, scratching her way up and down his chest, leading to the button of his jeans. Her other hand rakes through his hair, tugging a little. For a woman who claimed she wasn't out to cause pain, it's clear that she's still willing to bend to suggestion a little. But only a little. She licks and suckles her eager way up and down his neck.

And he can take anything she gives. Her restrained willingness is actually kind of sweet, and his lips curve in an appreciative smile against her skin.

At some point he picks his head up and takes his hands off her body just long enough to tug his t-shirt over his head and toss it aside. His torso is tattoo-free, but the dark ink creeps up in random swirls and designs over his pale shoulders. Sort of a testament to his tolerance for pain.

He grabs her waist a little more aggressively, walking her backwards further into the room. And he bends to press his lips against hers in a hungry kiss that despite his appearance still has a hint of tenderness to it.

Alana appreciates the tenderness. She also appreciates his taking more of a lead, and gladly follows. Stepping back gracefully, Alana gives in to the kiss, her mouth meeting his with fervor. She bites his bottom lip and sweeps her tongue across his teeth, all the while tracing her fingers up and down his ribs and abdomen. Raising up on her tip toes, she tugs on his hair again, insisting that he keep kissing her.

abomination

Cassidy does keep kissing her, his breath warm and heavy on her cheek. One arm encircles her waist to steady her, his other hand buries itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head.

Their knees bump the edge of the couch. He urges her to sit down and lie back as he caresses her breast through her blouse.

monster

Lie back, Alana does, encircling his neck with her arms and trying to tug him down on top of her. She wraps her legs around his hips, pressing up against him and squeezing tightly.

Then she realizes she has a problem. She's wearing too many clothes. Still peppering Cassidy's face with kisses, she hurriedly unbuttons her blouse and divests herself of the top with only a modicum of grace, all need.

He moves with her, moaning into their kisses when she wraps her arms and legs around him. He only pauses when she does, to take her blouse off. And he watches, almost in a daze, wondering how she could ever go for a guy like him--

MONSTER

He dips his head to kiss the swell of her breast as one hand slides up her back, fingertips searching for the catch on her bra. His stubble scrapes her smooth, warm skin with every pass of his lips--

And then he pulls back, his head bowed, face turned away.

"Shite. Goddammit. I'm sorry, Alana..."

Alana stares at him with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. Her lips are kiss-swollen, and she's panting. Disappointment flickers across her features, but it's quickly overshadowed by concern. "Cassidy? What's wrong?"

He pulls back all the way off of her, turning to sit with his head in his hands for a moment, his fingers raking through his short, unkempt hair.

"Bollocks," he mutters to himself, because of course, he's fucking this up. As per usual. But he doesn't know why his conscience is jabbing at him like this, it's not like it was ever really important before.

"Okay, look," he huffs, raising his head but not able to look at her yet. "I've-- I've not been completely honest with you, alright, an' I'm sorry, and-- an' I think there's something you should know about me before we go any further, 'cause I-- I mean, I dunno if it'll make any difference to you or not, but I feel that I should tell you..."

Fuck.

Alana deliberates with herself over whether she should take his hand. Deciding to give him space, she sits up on the couch next to him, resting her palms on her skirt.

"Okay," she says, watching him carefully. "I'm ready and willing to listen."

He eyes her as she sits up so formally and he wilts, exhaling a sigh. Yeah, he's definitely fucked this up.

"Well. Y'see, Alana, the thing is--"

just say it

"--I'm a 119-year-old vampire."

Alana blinks at him. Twice. She draws a slow breath, and exhales through closed lips. Her thoughts about his revelation don't show on her face, but her pensive expression definitely means that she's thinking.

Soon, she comes to a decision. She reaches out and grasps his hand.

"Only in Milliways, right?" Alana says, a smile curving her lips. "Thank you, so much, for your honesty, Cassidy. That must have been really difficult." She tilts her head, appraising him. "I've never been with a vampire before, but I'm still willing to try."

In that moment of silence Cassidy expects to be thrown out at any second.

So when Alana takes his hand instead, it's...pretty jarring.

He looks at her in disbelief, a bit at a loss for words.

"What-? You mean-- you're not gonna tell me to fuck off?"

Being a vampire is the least of Cassidy's sins. But he's gotten this far, and maybe there's a chance for him to do better.

"No," Alana says, squeezing his hand. She tries to be reassuring with her smile. "You are what you are, and have been for quite some time, if I'm guessing correctly. I'm not offended at your existence."

He snorts a bit of a relieved laugh at that.

"Okay."

A beat.

"But I'm not, like-- magical or sparkly or shite like that, like the vampires you might've heard about in books or movies or whatever. I don't have fangs and I'm not gonna bite you, so you don't hafta worry about that."

Alana's answering laugh is also relieved, though hers holds shades of amusement, too. "Not sparklely. Got it," she says, beaming at him. "But if you don't have fangs, how do you bite people?"

He's relieved that she's relieved, too, and still laughing.

"Ooh, well," he says with once again a series of sheepish expressions of the you don't wanna know kind, "messily, but I don't bite people. In general. Trust me, it's not romantic at all. Besides, I'm fine with other sources of blood, an' I only really need it to heal an' to just, y'know, keep living."

He counts off on his fingers. "Other things that aren't true: garlic, I love garlic, garlic bread is one of my favorite things; mirrors, I can see myself perfectly well, how d'ye think I put my fabulous outfits together every day; crucifixes, a symbol of centuries of religious oppression but they're not gonna burn me face off; sleepin' in a coffin, turnin' into a bat, fuck that nonsense; and....I think that's it. Oh, but sunlight, that's not good, not good at'all. I mean I can still go about outside, but I need to cover up every inch of skin, wear shades, sunscreen, all that. ...So. There ya have it."

That actually kind of felt good to get out of the way.

Alana blinks at the deluge of information, but eases into a smile when he finishes speaking.

"Well," she says. "I think you've answered all of my questions, and some I didn't know I had. Thank you for telling me, Cassidy. I appreciate that you feel that you can be open with your secrets."

Then she presses a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Cassidy does have a tendency to ramble, but at least the information was pertinent and there were no tangents.

The little kiss is a surprise, though. A pleasant surprise, as is everything that Alana's done thus far. Cassidy isn't really used to it. Or thinks that he deserves it.

"Well. Thanks for not tryin' to stake me."

Another pause.

"That also isn't true, by the way," he adds wryly.

And then he just goes ahead and kisses her, slow and deep, cupping her cheek in his hand.

Alana's about to answer, but then Cassidy kisses her, and all the thoughts fly out of her head. She doesn't protest the return to making out, at all. She scratches his scalp in small circles with her fingernails, parting her lips to his. Alana's breath is hot and sweet, and Cassidy's fills her lungs. She moans into his mouth, teasing his tongue with hers.

He tips his head and leans into the kiss, passionately meeting her tongue with his own as he sweeps the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. Encircling her shoulders with his other arm, he holds her close, content to indulge himself and let her indulge as well.

Eventually, after a few long, heated moments, Cassidy gently breaks the kiss and strokes Alana's hair.

"Shall we continue this in the bedroom?" he asks, his voice low and rough, like gravel, smoke, and whiskey.

"Yes," Alana says, arching into him. Her own voice is deep and husky, fueled by passion. She stands from the couch, her knees a bit wobbly, and leads him through the bookcase-flanked door, kicking her heels off along the way.

The night promises to be long and wild.

He beams at her with a toothy grin and gets up, following her with his eyes set on her cute behind. Which he reaches for to give a playful little goose. Because he can't resist.

Look, he may be old, but he's not exactly mature.

And there are a couple of good things about being a vampire in this situation: a century of experience, and stamina.

So once their clothes are shed, they roll themselves up in each other, and have quite a wild night indeed.

*

The sheets are rumpled and tangled. The mattress might have ended up slightly askew. And Cassidy might have accidentally knocked over the bedside lamp in his enthusiasm, sorry Alana.

But after Cassidy flops onto his back, sprawling out with a groan and a look of bliss on his face, all becomes mostly quiet and still in the room.

Mostly still and quiet, yes. Their soft breathing fills the room as the companionable silence stretches. But, eventually, Alana breaks it.

"Mmm," Alana says, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back off the mattress. She rolls over and loops an arm across his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his ribs. "That was good."

Cassidy utters a rough chuckle. "Aye, it was pretty damn good," he hums in agreement.

He folds an arm around her and lazily runs his other hand through her hair.

"Y'know, if someone told me yesterday that I'd end up in bed with a hot gun-toting psychology professor, I'd've laughed in his face an' called him mad."

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