Blood is the New Black by QueenOfTheDream
The Good, the Bad, and the Undead
The dark red strobe lights threw a gyrating splatter of scarlet across the pulsing crowd. She looked up at the dark chandeliered ceiling, watching the crystals quiver with each pummeling hit of the rhythm. Even in her black stiletto boots, she was unable to see over the undulating top of the crowd. She didn't belong, was out of place; then again, that's what made her fit in here. Ghostly pale faces with black painted lips passed by, and an endless array of corsets, Lolita skirts, and trench coats paraded past. Leather, spandex, vinyl, plastic: all sweat-slicked and doused in the glow of the ever-changing kaleidoscope of the overhead lights. The cherry lollipop wedged between her teeth produced a sticky sweetness that coated her tongue. A plethora of people was moving and pressing up against her: a pastie-covered breast here, a pleather-clad leg there, and hands… hands everywhere. The floor vibrated with the throbbing beat of a new song, and the thrumming ring of the bass traveled through her legs to rattle around the inside of her ribcage, igniting her veins. The reflections of the stained glass windows threw jagged colors haphazardly across the crowd. It was a menagerie. An all-you-can-eat buffet for the senses.
Of course, the tiny pink tablet she'd procured a couple hours earlier while waiting in line helped a bit.
"Don't look, don't look, the shadows breathe." Don't look, huh? She was drunk on this sensation, greedily lapping up the sight of every strap-covered torso, every Lolita draped in clicking beads, every glittering eye barely reigning in the hunger, the animalistic lust that was so contagious on the dance floor.
The tiny leather miniskirt hugging her upper thighs slid against one body and another, and her ripped black tank top seemed smothering. As she lifted her lace-wrapped palms to raise the wavy sable curtain of hair off her slightly sweaty neck, she backed up and ground into whomever, whatever was behind her, curling her lip above the cherry lollipop with a glassy-eyed hunger. She was fairly surprised to find masculine arms winding themselves around her torso from behind her, long fingers ghosting over her electrified skin. Her breath quickened, and a sultry carmine-rimmed grin bloomed across her cheeks.
This… this was why she left Tokyo. Everything there, from department stores to classrooms, even the goth clubs and specialty groups, seemed dreadfully rigid and artificial to her. This was tangible. Though this entire club experience was a façade, it was at the same time concrete and brimming with a captivating passion that ebbed and swelled with the music, spreading over each person there. San Diego was so mutable, its people in a constant state of flux and livelihood.
She leaned backward into a hard, definitely male chest with a smirk, burying her fingers in the thick hair at her temples as she let her hips lazily gyrate against his pelvis. The dark stranger's leather-wrapped arms snaked around her ribcage, trapping her in a snare of delight, to barely caress her collarbone, sending tendrils of fire shooting down her abdomen. She responded by grabbing his hands, so cold and hard under her own, and guiding them to her breasts. A tiny groan fell from her lips at the touch, and he slowly slid one hand southward, still covered by her own small fingers.
"Every night I scream your name," a cool voice whispered the lyric in her ear with a husky gravel in his tone that made her shiver. A sinfully delicious tingle shimmied down her spine. Just as his hand reached the hem of her skirt, however, she playfully turned around in his grasp, looking up to the predator that had come to dine at her feast for the eyes as she grabbed the buckles that ran across the leather vest covering his muscled torso. Spectral champagne-colored eyes seemed to glow in the dark as they hungrily took in her fashionably disheveled look. Platinum hair- almost silver- took on the colors of the flickering strobe lights like a canvas.
Pulling the lollipop out from between her lips, leaving a sticky coating of sugar, she let it drop to the ground, forgotten. She worried a bit of her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up at the devilishly handsome stranger through her black lashes. One second later, she had her fingers twisted in the belt loop of his pants and was backing through the crowd, her eyes screaming, "Come get me, heartbreaker." He allowed himself to be led, tilting his finely-angled face up to look down at her with a smug sensuality. The crowd parted easily, leading them quickly to her destination.
It was a shaded alcove near the gigantic wooden double doors. It still held a statue of the Virgin Mary from the days when the joint used to be a church. She vaguely wondered what manner of sins and perversions old Mary had seen in her recent club days before she pulled her stranger into the space with her. Gazing up at him through her dark fringe of hair, she watched the tall man's face stretch into a wicked grin, and he bent to lap at the cherry-flavored residue upon her pout, his own lips cool and reminiscent of rain- her very own Aquarius. She grinned upon his mouth.
Her arms draped around his neck as his hands found purchase upon her slender hips, gently parting her legs with one knee. His kisses were deft and expertly placed, and the situation gained a degree of urgency as she fisted a hand in his hair, to which he replied by pushing her just roughly enough into the wall to jar her surprisingly. He bent his neck to lavish kisses and nips upon her collarbone, earning a mewling, "mmh." She could feel the beat of the music rumbling through the wall and into her back, feeding the throbbing that seemed to have taken over her body. Her breaths came in shallow pants, and her nimble fingers traveled low to find his belt buckle.
She was surprised, however, when the knee that so subtly parted her legs jerked upward and slightly slid forward, and she had to savagely bite her lip to muffle the keening sigh that bubbled up her throat. Her hair was sticking to her neck in curling tendrils, and her breath was becoming more ragged with each touch, each caress of sweet torture he was inflicting. Giving up on his belt buckle, she reached feverishly for the zipper of his vest, which she found under his left arm. With a playful giggle, she slid it down and hastily pulled her own tank top over her head while he removed the vest and uncaringly dropped it on the floor. His gaze rested upon her modestly-sized chest, which was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and almost heaving in anticipation. Not wanting to lose a moment, she swiftly bent over, sliding her red lace thong down her thighs and laced-up boots before stepping out of it and flinging it behind him as she threw herself against his torso, fervently laying kisses upon his collarbone and neck and running her hands down his hard pectorals. He once again pinned her against the wall and ground against her, nothing between them but the leather skirt and his pants. Her red nails dug into his shoulder as she cried out, drowning in the sea of hazy emotion and grating tecno-beat. She hiked a leg up to rest upon his cool hip, her nerves jumping and quivering with the promise of fulfillment. He slid one knuckle down her slicked folds, and her head fell backward, a laughing smile splashed across her face as he resumed ravishing her neck. The last thing she saw was crimson lace draped over the head of the statue of Mary.
Before she even realized what was coming, his arms locked her in place, one hand firmly pressing into her shoulder blades, molding her to him and the other pinning her leg to his side. As fangs sunk into the sticky flesh of her neck, hot blood ran in rivulets down her skin. Immediately, the heat that had been building in her belly snapped and released, sending a wave of pleasure crashing and ripping through her as her muscles contracted and pulsed. A gasp tore from her lips and her knees went weak as the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced rippled through her body. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, blissfully lost to unconsciousness as he lapped up the red ambrosia her heart couldn't help but pulse out for him.
…
When she awoke, she was lying upon a bare bed in a dimly-lit motel room almost in the last state of undress she remembered. Somehow, she was back in the tank top, and her hair was fanned out upon the sheet under her. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her faculties of logic and reasoning seemed to be impaired, as she simply could not figure out how she arrived there. All she knew was that a cold ball of anxiety had settled in her stomach. That is, until she espied her golden-eyed tormentor sitting in the armchair across the room, a red lace thong draped over one index finger. The look of indignation, shock, and primal fear that must have crossed her features apparently caused him great delight, as he chuckled lowly, tauntingly. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, making the flimsy lace sway as if to taunt her. There were lipstick smears still remaining on his jaw and collarbone.
She lay motionless upon the bed, frozen in utter terror and confusion. The predatory Adonis merely smirked at her, a Cheshire grin upon the face of a tiger. After a few seconds, she was able to swallow the thick knot in her throat. "Wh… where? How did I-"
"Are you that clueless, woman? Look around you. Can you hear it?"
She lay stock-still, straining her ears for any sound. Nothing. Her wide eyes stared, terrified and bewildered, at him, and she slowly brought herself to a sitting position on the edge of the sagging bed.
"Why, child, what happened to your heartbeat? It seems you misplaced it, or put it in the wrong hands," he stated mockingly.
Realization crashed around her ears. She heard nothing at all. No heartbeat, no breathing. Only the traffic outside and the ticking of the small clock by the bathroom and the loud thumping of the club a few blocks away and the whispering of the people downstairs and the steady pull of the ocean a few miles to the west-
Her hands flew to her ears as she cried out pitifully. She raised petrified eyes to search his face for answers, of which she received none.
"It will subside. Soon enough, you'll be able to hear what you want, when you want. Have you figured it out yet? Not quite the no strings attached hookup you were aiming for tonight?"
Her thoughts were frantically buzzing around her head. It was as if someone had taken all of her mental file cabinets and tipped them all upon the ground. Nothing made sense. Her bottom lip, still coated with the little remnants of her lipstick, began to tremble.
Palms flattened against her ears, fingers fisted in her hair, entreating eyes dripping tracks of tears, and the quivering lip made for quite a picture, and when she caught her reflection in the spotty mirror behind him, she nearly screamed. Where her average dark brown eyes sat in her average Japanese face, now sat two hyacinth-colored orbs swimming in a red tincture that spilled down her cheeks. Blood in her tears. She brought a hand to the left side of her neck, and to her dread, it came away with flecks of dry blood.
Out of nowhere, his head darted toward the door, features suddenly alert and very troubled. His short hair, which actually was silver, not bleached or platinum, fell into his eyes, and his eyebrows sank low upon his forehead. Before any words could leave her lips, he was prying the door open and clicking it shut behind him. She could hear his footsteps sprinting down the hallway. The first clear thought that came to her that night was pitiful and tore her heart in two.
"Mama."
By the time her brain registered that the door crashed open in the wake of two lightning-fast assailants, a crude wooden stake was driven into her chest by a hideously deformed creature she guessed was once human. Her eyes shot down to watch the blood surge out around the foreign object lodged in her sternum. Instead of screaming raggedly as she had deemed appropriate, her body decided to fall into unconsciousness.
And that was how Kagome Higurashi, college student and teaching assistant extraordinaire, was pitched head first into the world of vampires.
A/N: Whoa. The inspiration for this totally came outta left field. I don't know if I should make this a one-shot or a full-fledged fic. Opinions, people? Seriously, I want your guys' opinions. :D
Sigh. I suppose this is what happens when you play Vampire the Masquerade-Bloodlines (which I do not own) for too long: it gets in your head and fills you with nonsensical ideas for stories twisted in the VtM universe.
And snaps for me, this is my first fic set in the modern era!
If you've never played VtMB before, I highly recommend it. It's a little buggy and old (2003 I think), but it's become a cult classic. So good. So very good. :3
BTW guys, I recommend listening to the song "Burn" by The Cure while reading this chapter. It inspired me greatly and I feel fits the (tentative) theme of this story quite well. :D
This chapter was inspired by "The Good, the Bad, and the Undead" by The 69 Eyes.