August 2013
"A day off," Winston said with a grin. "What are we supposed to do with that?"
We sat in the living area of our apartment. I was sprawled across the small couch and my slayer leaned against it from where he sat on the floor.
"Breakfast," I said, yawning.
"Blood," he acknowledged, pulling off his t-shirt and discarding it on the green carpet. There was something else on his mind, though. "And I was wondering."
"You want to try drinking from me again," I caught on, smiling. "I know I'm delicious, Winny, but it's barely been a month."
"Shut up," he said, blushing slightly. "Can I?"
I sat up and pulled off my blue sweater, tossing it at his head.
"Hey!" he protested, but there was no heat in the response.
"Come get it," I urged him. "Though I have to wonder...are you actually craving it, or are you just curious?"
"Both, actually," Winston admitted, climbing up beside me. "You know, I always thought you were scrawny," he said, eyes grazing over the muscular state of my abdomen.
"The training here keeps me in shape, and all I consume is blood."
"So vampires can get fat?"
"Winny, you ask the best questions," I said fondly.
He shrugged. "Well? Can they?"
"Bloated, more like. Drinking nineteen guards makes you look a little funny, admittedly."
Winston laughed. "Oh God, how bad was it?"
"Hazel claimed I looked pregnant, so I locked myself in my room for a week until the swelling went away."
Winston was laughing so hard that tears were starting to form in his eyes.
"Shut up, Winston."
He managed to get control of himself, but ridiculous giggles kept escaping his mouth every few seconds. I pushed him off the couch, but he kept laughing, curling up on his side and gripping his stomach.
"I can't imagine it," he told me a few minutes later, finally able to pull himself back onto the couch.
"It was stupid of me," I managed, trying to hide my humiliation.
"I'm in your head, Dom. Give it up."
I sighed and tilted my head invitingly to one side. "You want to go first?"
All traces of Winston's amusement seemed to vanish. He looked nervous. I felt a quiver through our bond. Correction: he was very nervous.
He leaned forward a bit, opening his mouth, and paused uncertainly, asking: "How?"
I smiled at him, saying, "You're adorable when you don't know what you're doing."
He blushed fiercely. "This is weird, okay? It's...um..."
"Arousing?" I said for him. "That's normal."
"Yeah, but it's still really freaking awkward, okay?" he said, squirming. "I haven't let you seriously drink my blood since the first time, because I wasn't sure how to approach the subject."
"'Domare, please drink my blood' would have worked." I suggested.
He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that was dumb."
I reached up and used my sharp fingernails to cut a line across the side of my neck.
"Um," Winston stammered at the sight of my blood, clearly entranced.
I pulled him forward. "Slowly," I instructed. "Suck, don't use your teeth."
He jerked back and let out a guffaw of laughter.
"What?" I mumbled, flushing. How the hell did he always manage to make me feel so awkward?
"Oh, God! Nothing, it's nothing!" he laughed.
I sighed and settled for plucking at the surface of his thoughts for the answer and...oh.
"Pervert," I accused, but laughed a bit myself.
"Alright, sexual innuendos aside, let's do this," Winston said, grabbing my shoulders confidently and leaning forward again. I felt the press of his mouth against my neck and closed my eyes, biting back a groan of pleasure.
It's alright, Winston told me as he slowly drank my blood. It's still weird, but I'll live.
I pulled him closer and moaned appreciatively.
Taste good? I asked mentally, though I already knew the answer.
Better than chocolate, he decided, then stopped sucking long enough to lick at the cut on my neck until it healed. Nothing should feel that good. I should be disgusted.
We could have done this intravenously, I told him.
Hell, no! He protested. I'm not going to turn into a moan-y mess in front of a bunch of nurses.
I couldn't help but laugh at that.
"Your turn?" he said out loud.
I grinned, baring my sharp canines and quickly leaning forward, biting directly into his jugular. Blood filled my mouth quickly and I groaned in unison with my slayer as pleasure overcame us both. I gripped his forearms, digging my fingernails into his skin as I sucked greedily at his neck.
"Fuck!" he growled. "Let go, Domare! I'm gonna pass out."
I pulled away with an apologetic look. "Oops. Too fast?"
He grimaced and swayed a bit. I steadied him and glanced down at where my hands were gripping his arms. I hastily pulled my claws out of his skin. The small wounds healed almost immediately.
"Your fingernails are like fucking knives, Dom," he whined.
"Waste not," I declared, leaning over to lick the blood from his arms and the last bit from his neck.
"I feel like a lollipop," Winston complained.
"You are a lollipop," I told him, flashing a grin.
He rolled his eyes. "Guess that was bearable."
"Good," I declared, "because we're due on the Training Deck."
"Huh? I thought Brucker gave us the day off today."
"So he did."
"Then why are we going to the Training Deck?"
"You're slow, Winny."
Winston was on his hands and knees, panting heavily and sweating from head to toe. We had been sparring for scarcely half an hour, yet he looked ready to keel over at a moment's notice.
"You are fucking fast," he said around harsh breaths, forcing himself to his feet. "Even with all the enhancements, Domare, I can barely see you move. How the hell am I supposed to fight you?"
"You were doing fine for the first ten minutes," I said proudly. "Come on. It's been so long since I've been able to fight anyone, and you can almost keep up with me."
Winston was giving me the deer-in-the-headlights look.
"What?" I said, bouncing from foot to foot, adrenaline keeping me motivated. "You're not stopping are you?"
"No, it's just...you like this, don't you?" he sounded amazed. "You like fighting?"
"Of course, I do," I replied. "It's fun, I get to hit people, and I'm good at it."
"No shit, Domare. I mean this in the best possible way: you're a monster."
I grinned widely. "And you're my slayer, so get it together, Winston. What are you going to do if I try to run away?"
He raised his fists and took a deep, steadying breath. "Watch your back," was the determined response.
"Good answer," I whispered, and flew at Winston as fast as I could, no doubt a blur across the mats. He dodged just in time, stepping cleanly out of the way, and I was delighted, because no one else had ever managed to do that before. Even Hazel, who rarely sparred at all, had trouble following me in a fight. She claimed it was because she lacked my enthusiasm.
I spun in time to block a punch from my left, then a kick from below. I threw a lefty at Winston's face and he blocked it beautifully. Then, the sneaky slayer actually wrapped a hand around my wrist and tossed me across the room, clear over his head. The brick wall was close enough for me to turn and land against it, feet first, about seven feet off of the floor. I maintained my momentum there, holding myself in place just as Grandmother had taught me, and Winston laughed.
"You can walk on walls? That is so not fucking fair!" he complained, but he looked and felt pretty happy about it. I flipped off of the wall and landed before him, ducking as he threw a reckless kick at my head, then twisting my body and trying to knock his feet from under him with my legs. To my shock, by the time I had spun back around, he was close enough to pin me to the floor, and so he did. I froze, completely stunned, cheek pressed against the mat.
"You beat me?" I gasped.
Winston released me, stood up again, and laughed. "You seemed so smug," he told me as I sat up. "I had to knock you down a few pegs."
I looked up at his laughing brown eyes and smiled. "You're amazing, Winny."
"I know."
"If it were anyone else, I'd never tolerate such a defeat." I sprung back to my feet. "I think that's enough for the day,"
"Ego deflated?" he asked cheerfully.
I nodded, not at all upset, but couldn't help myself as I walked to the closest wall, adjusted my balance and walked cleanly up it.
"Freaking unicorn!" Winston called out.
And for the first time, I kind of understood what he meant.
Defeated.
By a toaster.
I stood inside our kitchenette at the counter. Before me sat a rectangular metal contraption. I regarded it with the blackest look that I could muster. The toast sticking up from the little box was most certainly burned. Winston poked his head out from the bathroom and steam from the shower wafted into the kitchen. I could feel his eyes on my back, amusement flickering through the bond in sharp, humiliating bursts.
"Did you burn it again?" he asked, trying not to let any amusement slip into his voice.
"It's broken," I tried.
He burst out laughing and shut the door. I glowered at the blackened bread slices. It had been three days of this. I had made the mistake of asking Winston to teach me important things about the outside world, so he went to Storage and brought back this monstrosity.
"It's a toaster," he had said, assuring me that it was the easiest kitchen appliance in the world to use. At this point, I sincerely doubted my ability to ever contend with a microwave, which Winston had explained was a lot more complicated.
"I don't even like human food," I had told him, and he brought up the point that blood did not magically heat itself, which was unfortunately true.
"I'll always have you, though," I'd argued.
Winston had not been happy with that. "I am not your slave, Domare. Besides, what if something happens to me? What if I die, or we get separated?"
I had not liked that argument at all.
"Teach me," I had finally said, and so he did.
Now there was a pile of distinctly burnt toast next to the sink, and I was about to add to it. What was I doing wrong? Three mornings I had failed to cook something as simple as toast, and three mornings Winny had come right up after me and cooked it perfectly on the first try. I heard the water turn off in the shower and lowered the mental walls I had been practicing on perfecting. Winston was utterly incapable of blocking me from his thoughts, but I was starting to manage it.
With all due respect, Domare, I'm still naked.
And the walls went back up.
"You're slow," I said in a level tone, knowing that his sharp ears would detect my words. I often wondered if his enhanced abilities would ever match mine. Surely, he was closer to it than anyone else so far. I was far superior to almost everyone in Pluto when it came to the physical aspects. It was very surprising that Winston was so very close to being my equal.
Perhaps, in time he will be, I thought hopefully. I liked the idea of him being able to match me. Equal in ever measure.
"A perfect ally," I muttered under my breath.
"I'm your friend," Winston insisted, coming out of the bathroom, attacking his noticeably long hair with a towel. He kept the sides shorter, but the top of his head was covered in pale brown locks that simply flopped over to one side when dry.
"Stop judging my hair, and get back to burning toast," he commented. "Oh, and your walls are down again," he added, gently tapping the side of my head as he walked closer. "Watch," he instructed, removing the black slices of toast from the toaster and tossing them to one side. He pulled two fresh pieces from a bag and dropped them in. "There's a dial at the bottom," he explained. "Usually there are numbers that indicate how long the toast will cook until it pops up. I know the numbers have faded on this one, but it's usually safe to just turn the knob to the middle."
He did so, then pressed the lever down to cook the toast.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me that three days ago?" I demanded unhappily.
He smirked. "Two reasons. One: because I enjoy seeing you suffer."
I rolled my eyes, realizing that he was simply teasing.
"Two: for three days you didn't get to look into my head and figure out what you were doing wrong. I can't block you, like you can me, but I can avert your attention to the thoughts on the surface of my mind. It's not as good as blocking, but it's handy."
I recognized the logic in that. "So you've found another way, but how did you avoid thinking about it, when I couldn't get it off of my mind."
He smirked. "It's just a toaster."
I glowered and stomped into the bathroom.
I'm not talking to you anymore today, I declared, and locked my mental walls into place. Unfortunately, my ears still worked just fine. I heard Winston laughing from the other room.