The Lineage

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.


The Lineage
By 11


Chapter 06
The Vampire’s Assistant: Bloody Affinity

If vampires did exist, I could probably easily believe that this guy is definitely one. His skin is so pale and smooth looking. If I touch it, it looks like it'd feel like ice. It's like he was carved from alabaster and darkness itself embedded itself into his hair and fell into his eyes to circulate eternally in midnight pools.

He's advancing, but I can barely tell except for the sound of his feet. The motion is so fluid and my eyes seem partially out of focus. I can see only him, and before I know it he's right in front of me.

Even if I wanted to move to run, I couldn't. I'm too weak, my legs won't move, every muscle lax and strained at once. My breath is short and hurried, my inability to breathe only seems to worsen in his presence. I can't avoid it when his hand latches into the front of my shirt and he lifts me, as if I weigh less than a feather. Is this skinny guy really so strong?

I'm lifted to the same height, my feet barely brushing the floor; this guy's actually taller than me, then. Then my face is buried in silky dark hair soft and flush against my face. His cool breath ghosts my neck light as mist, then pain as two sharp aberrations pierce my skin.

I don't have the strength to cry out. Then the pain is gone, and I am absorbed with euphoria. Every part of me pulses white heat and throbs burning lust; but... I don't lust.

I don't want this.

I don't even think about it, but arm's rise and then they're slamming hard against the pale youth's shoulders. His jaws rip out of me, and I feel the blood trailing loose at my throat. The dark-eyed stranger stumbled away and coughs where I must have hurt his chest with that shove.

Since when was I so strong?

He would have wound up on the other side of the room, but he catches himself before he collides with my dresser. Dark eyes look up at me with an annoyed glare, he looks hot when he's irritated.

I hate and love his eyes all at once, since I can’t look away and at the same time I don’t want to. I want to fall into him and never leave, wrap myself around that burning core I felt a moment ago and never let go; such beautiful dark eyes set into an ivory face – I think I’ll call him darkeyes for now.

"Tch, so you're one of us?" he stands and brushes himself off, irritation giving way to indignation; "And that's all you can do?"

"You're pretty weak." He tells me pointedly, "What, were you just turned?"

I don't reply, I just focus on breathing as best I can, and not thinking about how much I want him over me again. What’s worse I'm so aware of my own blood on my neck. It wouldn't be wrong if I drank my own blood right? I used to do the same thing whenever I got bloody noses. It wouldn't be that different if I touched my neck then licked the blood off my fingers, right?

"Apparently." Darkeyes deduces the answer for himself. "Well, you need to feed, or you're just going to get weaker. Must be difficult around here though."

He turns to the dresser and looks at the pack of blood. Oh no! I do not want to be force-fed that crap. "Hm. This stale stuff really isn't high quality at all." he muses, then drops it back on the dresser, darkeyes stalks towards me again. This time he takes my arm, gentler than before though. "Come on, I'm taking you out to get some good food."

Food? Good food? My gut coils in response to the words, though my own mind is too sluggish to respond. My legs decide to work on their own as I rise to go with him. He takes me to the window; and I don't hesitate when we move to jump. He takes the blow with his feet; as if we just hopped off the bottom step of a stair and not the second floor of the manor.

My legs walk with him and let darkeyes lead me down the street, several blocks farther than I've ever usually gone. A few blocks away from the East End, to the other side of the train tracks. Near the liquor store, the strip clubs, and the porn shops he walks into a beat-up brick house.

He exchanges words with the woman with dishelved brown hair and too-thick red lipstick. Her dour expression changes to one of obliging helpfulness when she sees darkeyes. They exchange short words and she giggles cheerily, she leads the way for us deeper into the house.

We are admitted to a room with a large dent in the wall. There's a corner of the ceiling where the paint is pealing and water leaked through to damage the wall and the pain.

A girl with straight short red hair is brought to us, her eyes are gray and dead; her face powdered thickly with blush and foundation over acne and discoloration of her skin. Her lips are glossed thickly with pink and her eyes done dark with eyeliner and green eye shadow; her clothes are skimpy and nearly falling off her. She smiles coyly but it comes out broken and sad.

A whore. I feel sick and sorry; I didn't want to know this about the place I live; you know bad things go on, but it's just sick and wrong when you come across it. I feel like puking, but there's nothing in my stomach to give up. I don’t want to be here; I have no reason, no interest.

Darkeyes tosses me on the springy bed, and I can tell the girl thinks I'm drunk with the way I stumble back around to face her and darkeyes. I've left half the bed clear as it is; darkeyes turns to smile at the girl reassuringly.

Oh dear gods of stupidity and misfortune; I do not want to do a threesome with a sick whore and a psycho-vampire guy I don't even know the name of.

He whispers something in her ear that makes her blush and then moves to her neck. I watch all of this in some morbid fascination; I can't take my eyes off darkeyes' mouth...

His canines seem to lengthen slightly before sinking into the side of her neck. I hear her moan as she collapses into his arms, darkeyes suckling lightly at the wound drawing red fluid from her.

Then he withdraws and brings her to the bed, lying her next to me, so her bloody neck is facing me.

"Feed." He commands casually, sitting on the edge of the bed; like Shikamaru when he's bored and exasperated with me when I don't want to get up on Saturday morning so we can go see his friends and says something along the lines of 'just do it already'.

For a moment that makes it seem normal. That I'm sitting here barely able to keep myself propped up on my arms, with a dying girl bleeding at the throat less than a foot from me. With a guy I've never met telling me to stick my mouth there and suck.

Yeah, not too normal when I put it back in context.

"What? I didn't take much." Darkeyes says as he looks over at me when I don't immediately swoop into the kill, "I saved it for you; that's why we're here."

That's great, I would express my gratitude except for the fact I feel vaguely sick to my stomach now that I'm not concentrating especially hard on darkeyes' hypnotic eyes, lips, hair or other feature. At this rate I could probably look at his toenails and be utterly captivated. His toes are probably slender like his hands... I did not think that.

"Go on, she'll get cold."

I fix my eyes back on the girl; she's not breathing and her skin is getting paler. With her make-up thick and slightly smeared on it's like she's died of a parasite festering inside of her rather than the bleeding twin holes on her neck. I don't want to be here, I don't want to look at her. I want to puke.

"No."

"What?" darkeyes prods, unsure of what he heard me mutter.

"I won't drink her blood." I tell him stiffly, like I'd told the old man before when he kept telling me to take that packet and tear it open. When my guts pondered to me how simple it would be then to drain all that red down my throat. And how nicely that would quench this scarring thirst and abate this agonizing hunger.

Darkeyes' glares into me, and I refuse to look at him. I shut my eyes to try to block it out; but it's safer to keep my eyes open or else my gut seems to know where the blood nearby flows; and I become intimately aware of the warm body not to far from me as well as darkeyes' burning form.

My guts say that he burns. He radiates something akin to what my guts roil with whenever crimson lust dulls my sense of self, and prompts me forward to do what my mind knows is not right.

"I won't." I repeat stronger, more to convince myself than anyone else. My arms shake as I force them to move more; to bear my body fully upward; so I can leave. I can't run, my leg's won't work, but I can walk from here; slowly and surely I can get away from this dead and dying girl and from darkeyes too.

I refuse to do something so disgusting; ever.

Darkeyes scowls and when I move to stand, finally on my feet, he grabs my arm. Not hard enough to bruise; but nonetheless I can't escape. I'm already weak, if I wasn't, maybe I could have shook his hold off of me.

"I said, feed." Darkeyes' voice drips venom, but I can't seem to make myself care. As long as I don't look at him I won't be brought back into that mindless daze.

"I won't!" I say, stronger this time, and I yank hard to try to pull away; but his grip is still so strong. Now he's pulling me back towards the bed.

I don't want to! "Let go of me!" I tell him that, but I'm already falling. When my back hits the bed my breath rushes out of me. It's all I can do to lay flat, and keep breath sucking in and out of me.

The bed creaks and shifts as darkeyes looms over me; barring any hope of escape with his body over mine.

I don't want to. "Let me go!", I raise my arms to shove him off, but he catches my wrist - which was off target anyway - and pins it beside my head. His eyes are cold and boiling; dark caverns that draw me and hold me immobile in emptiness.

All my senses that at one point seemed to die then become muggy and slow are now fiercely attuned; but only to him. To his body over mine; the soft of his skin holding my wrist; that firm hold not yet tight enough to bruise but strong enough I cannot fight it.

My body is as lead but I can smell his musky scent, like blood and darkness and something else. Something else that causes my gut to coil and writhe in joy; urging my body to move; to arch against him. If I could will my hands to move it wouldn't be to push him away it would be to drag him closer.

"So you won't drink from a human?"

Darkeyes is so close to me; if I leaned up even a bit I could kiss him. I could lick his mouth and eyes. His throat – that pale gentle throat. I want to lean up and bite it; bruise it until it's dark with color. I want to mark him.

"Get off of me!"

But it comes out as a whisper; there's no conviction behind the words. Not when every part of me would rather lie here with him on top of me; or else with me on top of him. I want to see him writhe; and want to hear that sweet shadowed voice of his cry out and gasp; in pain or pleas, I don't care. I want to hear him more. I want to move into him.

My hands strain against his hold; I want to feel him so badly. I'm glad he's holding me down or else I might have jumped him myself; even before he jumped me. If he does rape me, I don't think this part of me would care too much.

"Then drink from me." he growls, and it takes a moment for those words to filter through my fuzzy head and for me to understand him; if I even hear him right. He smirks down at me as I pause in my struggled to regard him.

"You're so weak right now, you've just been turned." he sounds like he's going to laugh, "And you haven't tasted any blood. You won't last long if you keep this up."

I don't want it.

But I want it so badly; I need it as much as I need to breathe!

I watch him as he opens his mouth for me to see. He skewers his tongue on his right tooth and I watch as that pink tongue pokes past parted perfect lips. Red blood wells to the surface where he punctured the tiny muscle.

My body goes rigid and suddenly more than anything I want his mouth; I want his lips against mine and I want that bloody tongue in me.

My gut coils in lust and desire; and I feel my blood burn beneath my skin. I hold myself with muscles tensed to keep myself from moving. Because if I move even a little bit I know it will be to lean up and capture his mouth and that tongue.

I want to devour you, darkeyes.

Crimson drops of liquid sit on the surface of his tongue; tantalizing and teasing. Then he draws the wet member back into his mouth. Coy little tramp - give me your mouth, now!

My eyes sting and a horrible flood of want fills me; I don't want to stay still; I want to lunge at him and do whatever it is my body wants me to do with him. This darkeyes is strong. He can take it!

But I don't have to. He's descending on me. I open my mouth already when his lips touch to mine. But I snap it shut just before I can reach into him for the thing I want.

It's wrong! A shocking moment of clarity in me with the touch of his cool lips against mine own, hot with desire. One: it's a guy; two: I really DON'T want to be raped, really! Three: it's blood! I don't do blood!

But I want it. I want it all! Darkeyes, who cares if he's male! If it's sex he wants then I am only too eager to have him! And blood; haven't I always loved blood. I want it so badly. So give it to me!

"Don't deny yourself." Darkeyes pulls away barely a centimeter; his words sending cool soothing air across my lips, "I know you want it."

I accept.

I close the distance this time; small as it is I lift my head and my tongue plunges instantly into his mouth. He does not stop me. My tongue finds his, and they wind against each other.

The silky texture of his soft wet flesh against my own sends ripples of pleasure through my nervous system. It blocks everything else out but him and these sensations.

My tongue finds the puncture on his tongue and mine thrusts against it; drawing a cloud of crimson into his mouth; and I drink it into mine. His tongue comes with it; and I close around him with my tongue.

The taste is metallic and sweet at once. My gut coils and loosens itself in a frenzy of movement; excited and agitated; it wants and it feeds and it howls for more. I want more. I love the way he tastes.

My tongue continues thrusting into that wound to keep that flow of delicious dark coming into me. His hands have released mine sometime; and my one arm is around his neck; the other at his waist; he's so slim.

I'm pulling him down to me, he allows his mouth to follow mine as I lean back into the pillows. I am relaxed and satisfied to drink him as he is, above me. He won't let my other arm pull his body down onto mine; perhaps that’s a control issue - he can have it.

I'm already kissing him back. Everything burns and his skin is cool next to mine. His hair is soft like raven's feathers, tactile silk the color of midnight. Pale skin like snow or an unblemished moon; darkeyes, you fascinate me.

My tongue is still stabbing into his; and the soft flesh with sweet metallic liquid beyond is delicious to me. Drawing ardent feelings of desire in me; I want him. Not just this bleeding tongue I'm feeding from; I love that too. But I want his body lower; I want him against me.

Blood tastes surprisingly good. It's strange and appealing, bitter and tasteful. His taste is of blood and darkness and something else strangely appealing.

I want him. It's something…

Rough.

I want his body against mine.

Animalistic.

I need his body against me; my leg's already trapped his and I want to pull him down to me. I want to feel him!

Needy.

It has been said desire is the rational description of an irrational want. But this is more than want; if I don’t continue moving my body up against him; if I don’t continue devouring his mouth and tongue…

The taste of metallic blood…

I’m going to die. I know I will; he and the old guy both knew; I need this. I don’t want to stop myself; so let me have it! Why is he pulling away? His muscles are so stiff all the sudden! What is-!!

He jerks away roughly; sending his own body flying from the bed in the hurry to get away from me. What did I do wrong? I accepted the blood; and I want it; I want him! Come back!

“What’s wrong?” I ask when I trust myself to speak, my voice is rough and thick. I prop myself up on my arms again I look at him; and I hope my upset and lust don’t show too clearly in my eyes – not that I really care, if he knows maybe he’ll come back.

Darkeyes actually looks shaken; his breathing is ragged and his body shakes ever so slightly. I can tell because my eyes are taking in so much more now; I can even hear his heartbeat across the room, erratic and excited. Is he scared…?

“You seem to have a taste for it now.”

He says it haughtily, looking away; shaking off what just happened – whatever it was – and now is pretending it didn’t happen. He walks over, composing himself; he’s fast, already his heart has calmed. He lifts the girl and shifts her towards me. Red blood still pools at the surface of her skin. She’s like a glass container now; if I drink I can sip all the blood out of her.

“Now that you’re stronger you have energy enough to take some more, right?”

But she’s still… human.

Yes, but I…

What am I?

My eyes shift from the girl to him; I want more of him. But his eyes tell me I won’t be getting anymore; and I don’t really feel like attacking him to get what I want. Like this; I’m still weaker than he is.

“Ready to try from a human?”

It’s a dare, as he prompts the corpse towards me. I don’t really want to; but I’ve never backed down from a challenge; and now… even if she is human… I don’t think I care to stop myself, even now. She’s already dead anyway; the food will just go to waste.

My gut coils and my body leans forward, my arms accepting the weight, little that there is, of the girl. My mouth sinks to her neck; and easily enough the red liquid swims to the surface. My body absorbs it greedily. It has the same metallic taste and texture; it’s cooler than his, but it’s blood.

Still it lacks something… I open my eyes to look up at darkeyes; he’s watching me too. With cold eyes that have wiped away all emotion, a passionless mask. But I know that’s not true. I know he burns; I know because there was desire in him too. I could taste it in him; he may not realize it, but he wants me just as much as I want him.

That missing taste; it was only in his mouth wasn’t it?

Still I drink; it is food, even if it is tasteless to me compared to what he gave me just a while ago. Eventually my gut settles itself satisfied; I have taken nearly all her blood. I’ve had my fill. I toss her body aside; she’s dead and she has no further use to me, as food or otherwise.

To a degree I’m disgusted with myself; sadly it’s only a minimal aberrance to what I’ve done. It’s not right, I should be horrified; instead I’m only mildly disgusted; and still thinking about darkeyes and making him writhe beneath me. I must be a really horrible person. If I still count as a person anyway…

At least my weakness is disappearing, I don’t feel sick anymore. That insatiable thirst and hunger is finally sated, and my gut is also satisfied. It’s purring blissfully in my head now, like some dark beast happily able to indulge itself after centuries of wait to do just that.

“Glad you’ve had your fill.” Darkeyes says as he stands; obviously wanting to head back. So do I actually, though I wish it was more because I didn’t want to be caught by the cops for murder or something – more it’s just to head back to that decadent place that feels like home. And to follow darkeyes, so I can get closer to him.

I want to taste him again; if I follow him maybe he’ll let me drink from him again?

Well if any of my questions needed answering before; they don’t now. I am definitely a vampire; so is this guy and the psychotic old man back at the manor. It doesn’t seem possible but neither does this.

Sometime ago I crossed the threshold from the normal world where things made sense to this world of monsters and blood. Strangely enough I think I like it here better on the other side.

Actually… I still don’t know darkeyes’ name, or the old guys’. Huh. Do either of them know my name either?

He’s waiting out front for us; he doesn’t look upset either. He looks mildly amused when he looks at me. I suddenly wipe my mouth; a bit of red smears towards my cheek; damn. I’ll need to clean myself up; and learn to eat better.

It’s terrible table manners – even if there’s no table.

“Surprising to see you two together,” the old man notes as we approach. Darkeyes is not in the least perturbed, I’d assumed they were friends of some kind. The old guy’s red eyes settle on me and the corners of his mouth turn up; not like a smile, more like a strange kind of sneer, jeer, or leer; yeah that’s right, he’s leering at me. “You look better.”

“I took him out,” darkeyes explains, that proud tone entering his voice again, he’s obviously pleased with himself – kinda want to kick him now. “He seemed reluctant at first, but I managed to persuade him.”

I don’t like being ignored.

“My name is Naruto,” I state loud enough and coldly enough for both of them to hear me, and draw both their eyes and attention. They really shouldn’t talk to each other as if I’m not here. “I don’t believe I know either of your names.”

“Foolish brat, I’m your master,” the old man sneers, “you should have asked my name a long time ago. I am Jiraiya.”

“I’m Sasuke,” darkeyes responds, then smirks, “As for saving your pitiful life; no need to thank me.”

I wasn’t going to.

Selfish jerk – why did it have to be him I want to throw against the wall and fuck?

---

Review.