Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Vagaries	By : viciousv Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 2100 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood or any of its characters, and I profit in no way from this work. Blood play, violence

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Six Months Later
His Tara was a new person, he thought, and yet she was still Tara. Swathed in a black velvet coat, a slim black cigarette to hand, she looked cosmopolitan in a way only achievable in a cold climate. A touch of black on her eyelids, a gloss on her lips. Her gloved fingers elegant as she lifted the fag to her lips.
Moscow was busy, unimpeded by the snow. Franklin had not spent very much time here in recent years, but the atmosphere was just right for him. He shrugged inside his sable coat, looking out at his girl under a sharp black fedora. Moscow had been her choice, her desire to see somewhere cold, experience it for the first time. She had, in her wisdom, observed also that Moscow was a paradox of permissiveness (for those who could afford it) and common bigotry. A shadowy government, a powerful anti-vampire sentiment in the upper reaches, and yet a tolerance of all manner of vice made it perfect for them. Vampires were trendy among the glitterati, and even more in demand because of their taboo status. TruBlood was only sold in speakeasies and underground clubs and vampires did not go to those clubs to drink TruBlood.
Vampires did not walk openly on Moscow’s streets, but it was a badly kept secret that they were becoming part of the city’s life. And what Franklin knew that mortals did not, and what the Vampire authority suspected, was that Sanguinists were diligently infiltrating the Kremlin. Vampire murders were quietly covered up. Franklin wasn’t interested in the politics, but he did appreciate how much easier it was. For the moment, anyway.
Tara liked the billionaires. She liked the drug dealers. She wasn’t interested in the peasantry of Moscow. She liked to hunt in society, and enjoyed bringing down those who imagined themselves to be powerful.
This one had a young wife with a coke habit. She was skinny, but enough for a meal. The man himself was built like a linebacker- all shoulders and chest inside a twenty thousand dollar suit. They had been tracking this couple for days. Classy townhouse, off to a club, to a fine restaurant. They made a circuit that was fairly regular- wife goes to get her nails done, he is off to confer with his business interests. But what they- he and Tara- were waiting for was about to happen. The pair owned a yacht, the Falcon, which was much bulkier than the name suggested. Some trip, some river cruise is in the offing. It was ideal.
“Don’t they have to invite us in?” Tara asked, flicking away the cigarette as she watched the couple get into the back of their limo.
“No,” Franklin said, touching a hand to her shoulder. “I’ve never been able to work it out, but there’s something different about boats.”
They were there ahead of the couple, hiding in the light tight holds below. Ships were always a safe bet, as certain compartments needed to be watertight, which meant there was no space for light to come in. They waited, they slept, and in the dusk they woke hungry.
Tara didn’t like to glamour them. She prefered the blood boiling and seething, pumping in great waves from the terrified pounding heart. So they had faced the couple to each other while they fed. Franklin took his time with the woman, the poor little addled trophy, sipping from her. They had information from her, while Franklin promised she would live. Where was the ship going? To the sea, to the sea. Was she being expected by anyone? Ah, a party, one of those...a sex party. There were going to be cameras. So no one will report you missing if you don’t arrive. Good girl, good girl.
He left her a little bit alive, as good as his word. Tara had made no such promises. The big man was a shell by the time she was finished.
“You little glutton,” Franklin said, amused. She looked at him, her mouth slathered with blood.
“Pot calling the kettle black, honey,” she purred. “Why didn’t you finish that one? That’s cruel, Franklin.”
The little coke wife was twitching, convulsing now. Still alert, but dying as her heart exhausted itself. Franklin shrugged. Tara went over to her, reached down and tore the woman’s throat out with one hand. The twitching stopped. Tara licked her fingers, and smiled that come-get-me-smile that gave him an instant cock stand every time he saw it. She could do that to him, wash waves of desire over him, invoke his arousal with her blood as he had once done with his. He only did it now when she was already open for him, already craving him.
He fucked her in the slippery puddle of gore, taking his time about it. She stretched out languidly beneath him, her breasts glossed with blood, her eyes half closed with perfect catlike laziness. Full to the brim with human blood, he did not sink fangs into her, but simply watched her as he laid into her with long, deep strokes. She writhed like a snake under him, her bloody hands leaving wet red prints on his body. Even on his face, which made her smile. And when she leaned up to lick the blood off his cheek, he came in a hard jet. But she, always full of surprises, was not finished with him yet. His world turned and he fell back into the wetness as she straddled him. Her body glistened with red, and he reached up to touch her, but his hand was slapped away. Instead, she fixed her own hand around his throat, and rolled her hips. He arched into her, even as he fingertips dug into his throat, threatening to pierce his flesh. He almost wished she would, but she held back. Saving the real violence for later. The things he had let her do to him…
When she came, it was hard. The moment that control had gone from her, he leaned up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her pinned to him as she convulsed and cried out.
“Franklin,” she gasped. “Fuck. Yes.”
He licked her throat, cleaning a streak of brown under the red wetness. Tara shuddered, and clung to him. Together they remained, leaning into each other.
“I want to go,” Tara said, after a long moment.
“Hrm?” Franklin was still a little dazed. She did that to him more and more, he found.
“The party. The one she talked about, I want to go.”
He considered this. “Are you sure, princess?”
“Yeah,” she kissed him. “I want to go on a voyage. We could stay out for weeks with that kind of stock.”
“I love the way you think,” he said, pressing his mouth to her temple.
“I love you.”
He drew back, and stared at her. She seemed surprised at herself, and bit her lip, looking into his eyes with her own wide dark ones. Suddenly she was just a girl, a fraction of his age. So young.
“Do you mean that?” he asked seriously.
“I must be crazy,” she said in a shaky voice. “I mean...I still feel so much rage. But you feel so fucking good. And...you’ve been good to me. I’m surprised by that more than anything.”
“I was going to kill you,” he said suddenly. “At Russell’s. I was going to enjoy you first...maybe entertain the idea of turning you, but I would’ve forgotten and drained you dry. Might’ve cried a little after.”
“I know,” she said simply. “I knew when you didn’t. I said it before, you’re a fucking child.”
“I was an unutterable fool,” he admitted. “You’re right, a complete fucking child. But you’ve changed me. You’ve given me purpose. I adore you.”
“How much?” her eyes were bright, smile teasing.
“I’d die before I ever let anyone hurt you.”
She considered that. “No one can hurt me. No one human, anyway.”
“No one ever will, I swear it.”
“Not even you?”
He licked his lips. “Not unless you want me to.”
“Do you love me?” It wasn’t a test. She sincerely wanted to know.
“You know I do. You can taste it in my blood.”
“I can feel it, when your blood is inside me.” She closed her eyes. “I love that feeling.”
He moved inside her, making himself hard again, for her. She whimpered as he thrust up into her, making that sound he adored, that very same little moan she’d made for him when he’d had her first.
“Drink me,” he said, turning his head for her. She didn’t hesitate, her fangs- large, sharp, shaped like his own- dipped into his flesh. He turned his head, slid his fangs into her neck, and sipped on that spicy Tara blood. He could taste it in her, too, the uncertainty, the doubt, all of that shaking on the edges of her resentment and hate. More than anything, he could taste her need for him, her hope. He had teased her out, discovering her past, her trauma. She’d endured as badly as he had, in her short life. She needed someone so desperately to be her rock, and he, Franklin, had not been expected as a likely candidate.
“Don’t ever leave me,” she whispered when they broke away from each other.
Franklin pressed her down into the blood soaked carpet, and covered her with his body. “Never.”
He fucked her until she came, blood weeping from her eyes, and then did it again, pouring himself into her until dawn came, and they slept.
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Vagaries