My Little Ventrue Pt. 02 Ch. 12

When was the last time someone cared for you, witch? The insult she had returned to the old Nosferatu rang clear, and dug at her own chest like old claws. She had struck a sore spot then, talking about Minerva, and she had done so again tonight. The old monster was never the same since then, and it hurt that she could not help him.

Jacob was smart, self aware, even wise, and she valued that. But...

Footsteps. She raised her eyes to the door at the end of the room of marble and curtains, and the joy that flooded her threatened to drown her. Jack was there, dressed in the most casual clothing she had ever seen him set foot outside his apartment in, nothing but a simple t-shirt and jeans with socks, and she could smell blood on him. He must have just fed.

"..." No words. She even opened her mouth to try, but it all just seemed inadequate. So they just smiled at each other, and she reached out for him to coax him toward her with a curling finger.

While her lover was dressed casually, she was in her black kimono robe. It was a soft and elegant fabric, and just slightly see-through, just enough that it would be unbecoming to wear in public.

Jack's smile only grew, and he climbed up the bed to sit down beside her.

Again, no words. With a slow hand he reached out, and took her hand in his; no coaxing was necessary. The boy netted their fingers together, rubbed her knuckle with his thumb, pulled her hand up to his chest to hold it dear, all before he settled his head against her shoulder, hip to hip.

"You fed," she said. He still had a bit of the glow Kindred received fresh from a feast; then he must have fed only moments before coming.

"So did you." He motioned to the two snoring ghouls. "And you regrew your arm and leg. That was ... yeah." His fingers tightened around hers.

"Indeed. Thanks to you." She squeezed his hand in return.

More silence. For a moment, she thought perhaps some horrible, uncomfortable wall had risen between them because of the attack. She had enthralled nearly everyone in the room, and that included Jack. But when she looked down at the boy resting his head against her, his smile never wavered. He started to rub his cheek into her shoulder too, and he put a small kiss on the hand he held.

"Jack," she said. She could hear the weight of her voice, no matter how much she tried to lighten it. "I ... am sorry, for that night. For so many reasons, but ... at its worst, I enthralled you." The way Rebecca did when she stabbed you.

"Yeah. That was a shocker." He chuckled, and unlike her, there was no weight to his voice at all. "For a minute there, I couldn't understand how you weren't being worshiped as a god by the whole world."

She groaned and looked away. "Fake admiration."

"Yea." But the boy just smiled up at her, buried his face against her shoulder, and squeezed her hand all the harder. "It definitely felt different than usual. Nothing like how I normally feel. Nothing like love."

The silence returned with a vengeance. For just a moment, she thought she would have to catch her breath, a reflex lost centuries ago and drawn up by the boy's words. When she looked back to him, then away, then back again, the boy had put his face back into her arm. He did not look up to meet her eyes, and did not even tremble, as he always did before. He only waited, and squeezed her hand with a tighter embrace.

He was confident with his words.

She lowered her head, and started to comb her hair with her other hand. The phrase was like puzzles on her tongue, and every arrangement she tried in her mind was a failure. Elegance, eloquence, artful inflections, dramatic prose, nothing worked. This damn fool boy had rendered her speechless.

"I..." Her voice cracked. A quiet inhale, something like ... a sob? Was she crying? No, but there was just the hint of that emotion, rusted and forgotten, starting to fill her chest. The beast in her gut, her vampire instinct, was sounding howls of warning and vulnerability. Push him away, put up the wall, forget this insanity.

She pushed past it.

" ... my little Ventrue." She turned then, and Jack was forced to sit up straight when she removed her arm from his leaning.

She replaced it with her chest when she reached out, wrapped both her hands around him, and embraced him. He was perhaps a little unprepared, as her hug left him bent over in a weird arrangement, but she could not help herself. She had to hold him, squeeze him, bury him against her, feel his presence within her grasp. Her lips found the top of his head, and she kissed it.

"I love you too."

" ... wow," he whispered, and he turned his knees about to face her. Her hug was returned, and when he looked up to meet her gaze, his green eyes swallowed her whole.

Another gasp from her, one she could not stop. Why were his eyes so powerful? They carried such emotion, such genuine openness and honesty, such brightness that it scared her. But they drew her in, and she was helpless but to kiss him.

Part of her felt cheated. There was no dramatic conversation or argument, no huge unfolding of secrets or opinions, no emotional music played by cherubs. But, instead of such fantasy, something real and tangible and heavy with truth was in her arms, kissing her, making her feel.

A tiny sob mixed with a sigh did escape her, and she did not care. Daeva were allowed a little lenience with emotional displays, she reasoned. She found her hands were trembling lightly, and with a moment to calm herself and settle her shaking fingers, she yet again squeezed Jack to her body with a constricting hug. Jack flailed a little, and she did not care, she simply had to hold him as close as possible, like a small child squeezing their favorite pillow to their chest.

It was an uncomfortable position for the two of them, trying to embrace in such an odd fashion on the bed. She chuckled at the silliness of it, let go of the boy, pulled her legs up beside her on the bed, and created lap for Jack. When she motioned to it, Jack's eyes lit up, and he turned to lay down upon his back with his head upon her lap.

"How'd you know?" he said. He put his hands on his chest, and smiled up at her, beaming.

"Because you are a young man, and what young man does not yearn to rest his head on the lap of the woman he loves, oui?" Oh Jack, you delightful little boy, now she was using the L word. It was the first time it had been used for an age.

With a pleasant sigh, she put one hand on Jack's chest to rest it there, and her other found his buzzed head and caressed along its curve. Such a tender position, her love laying down upon her bed, his head upon her lap, and her hands playing with his hair, caressing his ears and lightly dragging her fingernails along his scalp. The boy was melting under her touch, she could tell.

"I owe you for so much, little Ventrue. The last I saw before torpor took me, was you standing between myself and that vile Bishop."

"Damien, yeah. That guy ... that guy was broken." He sighed into her touch, and nudged his cheek into her leg as he turned his head, facing her. "I feel bad for him. I mean yeah, he deserved what I did to him, but ... but he was broken before I dominated him, let alone after I made him kill the Archbishop." Jack coughed on the last few words, like he was trying to spit out poison.

"Do you wish for me to spare him?"

" ... you're letting me choose?"

"He is no threat to me, my love." Ah, again, the L word. It made blood butterflies flutter inside her stomach; all the more, it made Jack smile. "He sits in my prison until I decide what to do with him. Natasha and Daniel think there is potential in him, but after what I did, and now what you have done to him..." She sighed, and continued to gently caress the boy's head. "But as you said, he was broken before he attacked. They may be correct, and we should give him ... a chance?"

"I ... um..."

"Please be careful, Jack. If we were to go through all this hardship, only for some compassion to cost you your life, I would ... please be careful."

He gave a nod, and nuzzled his cheek into her leg. "I'll have to see him again, talk to him, before I can make a decision."

"That is good. For now then, I will keep him locked away." If Damien dare hurt her little Ventrue, she would not hesitate to use him to test every torture she had learned in her second life; half a millennium of undeath had taught her many tortures she had yet to try.

"But if Maria finds out I'm the reason Lucas is dead..."

"I would not worry about Madame Turio, my Terry. I will deal with this in the next primogen meeting. If she does manage to find out that you are responsible for Lucas's death, she will know that only death awaits her if you suffer for it." She grinned then, and the hand upon Jack's chest picked up his chin and pointed his face up toward her. "Do you remember what I said, the first night we were together?"

"Um, mm ... you said you would ... kill anyone that threatens me."

"And do you think that claim has changed, especially now?" She caressed his chin, and grinned down at him with her red eyes while her fingertip touched his lips. "After you have nearly died to protect me? After we have ... we..." More blood butterflies fluttered, but she closed her eyes for a moment and forced them to calm. "We love each other, and ... I am sure you must realize what ... what that means to me."

"I wasn't sure before, thought maybe I was just being a dumb lovesick kid." He talked, but as he did she ran her finger lightly along his lips. More smiles from him rewarded her play. "Until ... until I was standing over you, and I dominated Damien and ... yeah."

She winced. "That is the first time you have killed, is it not? I know you had an accident with a beastly frenzy your first night, and later you managed to kill Tony and Viktor. But to feel the death of someone with your hands is a different matter, even if you were inside someone else's mind for it." Her words were too vivid, she realized, when Jack winced after she said them. "My apologies, I did not ... that was rude of me."

Everything their second life threw at them wore down on their humanity. That was what it meant to struggle against the beast, and that was the curse of the Kindred. And yet, while Jack had suffered enough to harden most, she saw no waning in his sincere nature.

"No no, you're right. But ... no regrets though." He kissed her fingers, and blew a little air against them. "And now I know what you meant when you said you'd do the same. Really get it and ... I..." He gave up on the words, reached up with a hand, took hers, and held it close to his heart. "No regrets."

"None." This time it was her that raised his hand, and she kissed it before placing it back on his chest.

Jack's smile was so beautiful, it threatened shatter what composure she had left. She had no self-control left, so she leaned down to try and kiss him instead.

The position lead to a colossal failure. Her breasts were large enough and heavy enough that they had already been next to Jack's face, with her robe grazing his cheek. Bending over just trapped the poor boy underneath them, head between her breasts and lap.

"Oh, my apologies once again," she said, and she sat up again before smiling down at the young man.

Jack's smile had turned into something of a sneaky grin. He scooted over across her lap so his cheek was directly against her stomach, and the underside of the breast closer to his face rested against his cheekbone and nose. Only the thin layer of silk of her kimono robe separated her skin from his lips.

"Jack," she said, and a coy grin crept onto her lips, not too dissimilar to Jack's. "Are you ruining this romantic, and emotional moment by rubbing your face into my breasts?"

In the past, Jack would not have realized she was only playing with him. This Jack though, the new one on her lap with the mischievous grin, he nodded a yes and hid his face under her breast. Literally. He slid in closer, as close as the position allowed, and worked his nose about to create some slack in her robe. Then he pushed his face underneath her heavy breast, and nuzzled his nose against it.

Now that she thought about it, she realized it was the first time Jack had ever truly made the first move. And she would be remiss if she did not reward him.

She blushed life for him. When he blinked at her, perhaps surprised that she was so easily persuaded, she took the neckline of her robe at the chest, and pulled it down to hook it underneath the breast closest to his face.

Whenever she exposed her body, Jack's face lit up with such excitement and awe that it always managed to make her insides warm. They had had sex many times now, many times, but all it took was one of her breasts left to hang outside of her robe to make the boy hypnotized, aroused, and nervous. His nervousness was considerably less now though, and she did not even need to tell him to blush life for her. He did it on his own.

Now her breast rested against his lips and nose, with no fabric to stop him from giving her skin a kiss. And another. And another. He let out a quiet moan against her while he took his time covering the underside of her breast in petite, loving kisses.

"My little Ventrue, forever infatuated with breasts." She talked as if it were nothing but playfulness, but those kisses were making her skin grow more sensitive. And the loving position of it, just holding the boy's head in her lap and letting him kiss her, his absolute trust in her, was arousing her. Her nipple was growing harder, rising on swollen areola, and the boy had not even touched it yet.

"Sorry," he said between kisses, "but I can't ... just ... it's so soft! And heavy!" He leaned into her, pushed his face up a bit, and her breast overwhelmed his visage. When he pulled away, her breast slipped down from his face, and her nipple was now at the level of his mouth.

The warmth of her own laughter surprised her; the silly fool had seen her breast a hundred times, and yet he was still enraptured. She took his head into the nook of her left arm and helped prop his neck up to keep his lips level with her nipple. Her right hand reached up to her robe, and pulled it down across her chest to hook it underneath her other breast, so now both were laid bare. Then, she took one of his hands, and placed it upon her newly exposed skin.

"No matter their age," she said, voice a whisper now and filled with summoned sultriness, "men love to be embraced and held to a woman's bosom."

Jack groaned with obvious agreement, and lightly wrapped his lips around her nipple. The sparks of pleasure were immediate, tingling waves of gentle sparks that spread out from her chest and down through her body. His other hand squeezed, softly, fondly, and ran its thumb over her other nipple in caressing circles.

His skills had grown considerably. Countless times she had let the boy devour her breasts, and with time, he was learning exactly what touch worked best on her. Both nipples were now engorged, sensitive, and his touch was just the perfect level of obsessed but gentle to coax more of those sparks of bliss from her body. His lips pulled at her nipple in a slow, soft tide of gentle suckling, and between suckles his tongue massaged the swelling flesh with caressing circles.

She still had one arm free. While the left held the boy's head just slightly propped so he could suckle upon her, her right slid down to find his waist. With smooth dexterity, she undid the button of his jeans, and unzipped them.

"If you could remove your pants, little Ventrue?"

The boy nodded and reached down with both hands to slip both his pants and underwear free of his legs. As he did, she took his shirt at the collar and raised it up and over his head. He was left nude, and with a hungry sigh, she eased him back into the same position so he could resume suckling and massaging her body.

She did oh so love the lean shape of his form, small but defined. The fingers of her free hand found his chest, and her fingernails traced lines along his hard body down his stomach, across his abs, back and forth along his pelvis and apollo's belt, until finally her fingers eased around the base of his erect member.

"God..." He broke away from her breast to let out a moan, and he gave his own sigh of bliss to mirror her own.

"I am surprised we have never enjoyed this position before, my love. I imagine it is much to your taste?" She drifted her fingers down along his scrotum, teased the soft skin with her fingertips, and then brought them up the underside of his cock where its softest flesh was found. Then, she fondly wrapped her fingers about the base of him, and gave his hard member a slow, gentle stroke. The texture of his swollen shaft in her hands, that pleasant mixture of soft skin and hard girth, had her body craving his touch. She was growing wet with arousal already.

"I ... it's ... I thought it might have been a little pervy? You know? Mother son fetish stuff?"

She laughed all the more. Oh Jack, how were you always so capable of making her smile?

"I offer my lap for you, my little Ventrue, because I wish to be where you place your head when you seek rest. I wish to hold you to my breasts because I want that place to be warm, soft, and inviting. I seek your touch upon my skin because it both comforts and excites me. And I seek to touch you, because nothing delights me more than your pleasure." To emphasize, she squeezed his cock harder, just enough to make him wince in surprise, before she started to lightly stroke the hard flesh in a soft rhythm.

"O-oh... , " he said, stuttering on the realization.

She cradled his head back into her breast, and blew a bit of air into his face to draw his eyes. " ... could you ... say it."

"Say what?"

" ... what any woman wishes to hear."

Jack blinked at her, removed his hand from her, and froze with bewilderment painted upon his face. But, after another moment, his eyes widened with realization, and that lovely smile of his joined it.

"I love you."

Three simple words, so effective it was as if she had just been staked. Painful emotions that ached inside her, paralyzed her, blinded her with brightness, but she did not look away. She was embarrassed; they had reduced her to a lovesick puppy, only that was exactly what she wanted. Nothing else for now, nothing to think or worry about, just enjoy unearthed emotions she had left buried for so long.

"Thank you." With a few second's respite, she closed her eyes, sighed with euphoric release, and looked back down at the boy in her arms. "Please, continue," she said, and she cradled his head back against her bosom. She started to stroke his length again as well. Romance was no reason to spoil the arousal they had both earned, after all.

He groaned into her skin, a quiet noise filled with vibrations that sent blissful sparks through her nipple, into her chest, and down through her body. She rewarded him with harder, faster strokes of his cock. Drops of precum started to form at the tip of his length, and with a fingertip, she spread it along his foreskin before peeling it down to expose his glans, ripe and swollen.

The poor boy was helpless under her touch. She knew just how to slide her fingers along the rim of the head of his cock to make his body tense and flex in need, how to make the pleasure spread through his length, and how to get his fluids to rise with the inevitable. Once she had him at the point where a few strokes would make him climax, she slid her hand down to his testicles, and cupped the softness in her palm while she gave the gentlest massage.

Jack trembled a little, the way he did when he was about to cum, but switching to caress his testicles let his fluids settle, and yet kept him on the edge. It was a familiar rhythm for them, but this time there was an emotional weight to it that made everything all the sweeter.