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Bring Your Own Blood	By : krypteria Category: S through Z > Vampire Diaries Views: 1726 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire Diaries, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

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Hannah woke slowly, feeling slightly disoriented. /Where am I?/ She sat up groggily and placed a hand against her forehead. A soft breeze flew across her bare chest. Off to her right, she heard curtains flutter. And then she shot out of bed, eyes wide in shock and pain.

Across her arm was a burn mark, bright red and searing. She looked from her arm to the bed where a ray of sunlight hit the spot where she had been sitting. She backed into a wall and slid to the floor. Memories came flooding back to her/the ritual... Marcellus... Damon’s lips brushing against hers... waking up in the morgue and- OH, GODS, she’d killed a man./

And now she was hyperventilating.

Damon had turned her into a vampire in order to save her life. And the look on his face... She smiled faintly. He cared. For now, she could believe that. It helped calm the raging storm inside of her.

Still thinking of Damon, she took a deep breath and made her way to the bathroom, carefully avoiding the pools of sunlight stretching across the room. She left the door cracked slightly and then turned to the sink. As she splashed a bit of cold water on her face, she heard the quiet click of the suite door. There was a rustle of bags and a tired sigh.

With forced patience, she dried her face and stepped back into the bedroom. Instantly her sense were overloaded with Damon. His scent, the sound of his heart beating, the mere sight of him; it all seemed to be heightened, drowning her in the wonder that was him. She leaned against the wall, weak with desire.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, setting the shopping bag down on the bed.

/Wouldn’t you like to know,/ she thought wryly.

“I’m... fine.” At his skeptical look, she added, lip quirking, “Or, at least, I will be.”

She wanted to go to him; have him wrap her up in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right, that he would take care of her. It wasn’t pride that stopped her, though. It was the fact that the curtains decided to shift at that moment so that the sun blocked her in her little corner.

“Uh... a little help here?” she cried out, pressing herself flat against the wall.

Damon laughed. “And I should do that because...?”

When she shot him her iciest of glares, he shrugged, amusement still dancing in his eyes.

“And hurry,” she added hastily.

He reached for a small shopping bag. He pulled out a silver ring and held it up, showing her an inset gemstone, midnight blue and about the size of her pinkie nail. Lapis Lazuli. She relaxed slightly; any more and she’d be in the sunlight, which was steadily getting closer.

Damon took her left hand and slid the ring onto her third finger. It was a perfect fit. He pressed his lips to her palm briefly, then took a step back. Hannah tested the pool of sunlight with her foot, and then, feeling nothing, immersed herself completely in the golden rays.

“Aack! Bright!” she hissed, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Sssssssss.…”

Damon pulled her back into the twilight. “That’s where the other bags come in. Sit.”

She obeyed. Kind of. She thought it better to lay down. On the bed. Damon gazed at her heatedly for a minute or so, realizing she no longer wore the lab coat from the night before.

“Well?” she asked innocently. “Show me.”

He smiled. “As you wish.” He took the big shopping bag and turned it upside-down, dumping its contents on the bed. “I didn’t know what color you’d like, so I thought black would be the safest bet,” he explained nonchalantly.

Hannah snorted. “And I’m sure your own love of black didn’t come into the mix at all,” she said, her voice laced thoroughly with sarcasm.

“Well, maybe just a little,” he admitted.

She sat up and motioned for him to sit next to her. After a brief hesitation, he gave in and then urged her to look at her presents. She took her time examining each article of clothing with eager fascination. A pair of low-rise jeans. Black. A black lace camisole. A minidress. Black. Some panties(mainly thongs, she noticed with amusement). Sunglasses. And two pairs of shoes: stilettos and converses. Also all black.

“I don’t think I’ve ever worn this much black in my life,” she mused. But she was grateful to have some clothing. She kissed Damon on the cheek. “Thank you.”

She took the jeans and camisole and slipped them on. She could feel Damon’s gaze on her, making the task that much harder. She turned to the mirror and nearly gasped. It was the same girl from the morgue, only now she looked sleek and dangerous all in black. A hunger lingered about her face, in the sullen pout of her lips and the heavy-lidded gaze that seemed to see everything and nothing all at once. She held herself with a confidence and power she never knew she possessed. Her movements were lithe and sultry and amazingly precise.

“Well, I never expected to see the day when I’d look like this. I finally look like a part of my family,” she murmured, still staring at her reflection in awe. “Damn, I’m hot.”

“I agree,” Damon said softly, drawing her attention away from the mirror. She turned to him, smiling. “Are you hungry?”

She gave him a thoughtful look. The thought of feeding should have disgusted her, but it didn’t. The possibility of her hunting and sating her hunger with Damon, having him share his knowledge with her, his life, made her stomach twist in excitement and her mouth water in anticipation.

“A little,” she said shyly, wrapping her arms around herself. As much as she wanted it, she was still new to this.

In one graceful movement, he was off the bed, his arms embracing her. “You’ll get used to it in time/rossa,/” he soothed. It was amazing, how well he understood her. “You’ve just got to figure out your way.”

She shivered. “I think I might have already,” she murmured. At his questioning look, she elaborated, “at the Morgue. Marking my victims.”

“Whatever you want,” he sighed, looking at her as if she were insane.

She pouted at him. “Why not? Is it so wrong that I want to be special. Seeming as, technically, I am the mother of all vampires. I want my prey and my fledglings to be distinguishable.”

“And what am I?” he said, feigning offense.

“Well, it does take two to make a baby...”

“And technically you were that baby,” he rationalized, smiling slightly.

“Doesn’t this all remind you of some sort of trailer trash bit?” she asked, smiling herself.

“Maybe just a little.”

“Then maybe we should just-”

“Shut up?” At her nod, he added wickedly, “and find something more fun to do with our mouths...?”

Hannah’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “But I’m hungry,” she mock-whined.

He shrugged. “What are you hungry for?” he said seriously.

The smile she sent him was purely feline. “I’m thinking something... Italian,” she drawled.

/She learns fast/, Damon thought with pride as she pressed him down onto the bed and straddled him.

She sighed, melting into his arms as his kiss exploded across her senses. Great Moon, he was magnificent. No doubt centuries of practice only helped to refine his natural talent. He turned them over so that he was laying on top of her between her thighs and slowly ran his hand up under her shirt. Her nipples beaded beneath his palm, causing her to sigh and arch beneath him.

She sat up slightly so he could pull her shirt off over her head and then fell back onto the bed when he confidently found one breast and then the other with his mouth, expertly stroking her with his tongue. She clutched his head to her breast, savoring the feel of his body against hers. And to think, she’d have an eternity to memorize all the curves of his body.

When Damon sat back, she let out a sound of protest. He placed a quieting finger over her lips, smiling slightly. She nipped at it.

“Shh,” he soothed. “I’m just taking my clothes off.”

She eagerly sat up to watch. Noticing her fascination, his mouth quirked in a sly grin. Slowly he began to unbutton his shirt, revealing, bit by bit, smooth tantalizing skin. Finally he parted the lapels of his shirt and she was greeted with perfectly , his muscled biceps and washboard abs. He moved to the fly of his pants, his fingers moving over the button and to the zipper. He unzipped it slowly./ Click. Click. Click./ The sound of metal on metal was more felt than heard.

He turned his back to her, smiling back at her over his shoulder as he murmured, “No peeking,” before inching those impossibly tight pants down past firm, round bottom and long, toned legs.

When he faced her yet again, she moaned. Even though she had seen him before, it seemed as if she had really been paying attention, and the sight set her body on fire. She looked down and nearly gasped. /How is that supposed to fit?!/

As if sensing her thoughts, he moved forward, lithe as a panther stalking its prey. Before she knew it, her jeans were on the floor and she was pressed flat into the mattress beneath him, bare flesh to bare flesh. Her fingers gripped at his biceps. Her thighs clenched around his hips in anticipation. She bit her lip, waiting. But he just lay there, looking down on her.

She looked up into his fathomless eyes in curiosity and saw that they were filled with strange lights. She felt as if she could fall into their depths and just keep on falling forever. Entranced, she began to relax, and then melted when he lowered his lips in a sweet, comforting kiss.

She didn’t know when he entered her; there was no pain. But when he finally pulled his mouth from hers and began to thrust, she felt his cock stretching her, filling her deliciously. Pleasure erupted within her, making her squirm and moan in delight. Stars were flashing before her eyes. She was in bliss.

The only problem was: he was moving too slow. Slowly rocking in… then out… in… out… in…

She slid her hands to his hips, demanding he move faster. He ignored her, face taut with control, and kissed her neck.

“Damon,” she hissed.

His teeth grazed across her nipple before taking it deep in his mouth.

She moaned and slapped him sharply across the bottom. “Faster,” she insisted.

“Patience is a virtue/bella/,” he groaned, her slap having pushed him deeper.

“Yeah, well you can take your virtue and shove it up your ass.” she said through clenched teeth. “Harder.”

With a grin, he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head in one of his hands. “You want it hard?” he challenged huskily.

Hannah’s heart thudded in her chest. “Yes.”

He thrust into her hard to the hilt. Once. Her breath hitched in her throat. He withdrew, her muscles clenching at the loss. And then he thrust again. Harder.

Her head thrashed against the pillow in wanton desire. “Faster,” she moaned.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely, teeth bared, eyes burning.

And then his control broke loose, and with a possessive, hissing-out of breath, he pounded into her, hips pistoning recklessly. This time she screamed. Behind her, the headboard collided with the wall. Her legs became tangled with the sheets. Damon’s teeth were on her throat, bruising her. She wanted so desperately to touch him, to run her hands down his sweat-slicked back, kiss him as he was kissing her. But he still restrained her hands above her.

She was so close to the edge now, twisting and shaking and screaming her voice hoarse. Damon could tell. He himself didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. He’d meant for her first time to be gentle, but that was a lost cause. They needed a release. Now. He slid his hand down her quivering belly to stroke the tiny, hidden nub just above where he thrust into her. She cried out.

Beneath him, her body tightened, and for a second, her movements stopped, only to be replaced by violent tremors that shook her body, the bed, and him. He continued to thrust for another long moment, before his own body exploded in an ecstasy so sweet, it was beyond words, drawing from him a wave of heat and completion.

He groaned, a low rumble deep within his chest. Hannah was limp beneath him, gasping for breath. He looked down at her reflexively and his heart muscles clenched painfully. God, she was beautiful. Not because of the change- though that was amazing too- but because of something inside of her. Something that he knew only he could bring out. Her eyes shone with passion, intensely blue with love. Her skin, flushed pink and cover with the soft sheen of sweat, glowed from a fire within. She looked vulnerable and delicate and fierce as a lioness and he had never seen anything more breathtaking this girl- no, woman- after making love to her. And it made him swell with pride and possessiveness to know that he had been the one to do that to her.

“Damon,” she sighed, looking back at him with glazed eyes.

Her parted lips, swollen and red as holly berries from his kisses, drew his gaze. Mercy, help him. He wanted her again. But she was too wrung out, he knew that.

He moved away, his body nearly spasming at the loss and ran a hand through his hair. Hannah frowned at Damon. She forced herself into a sitting position and propped her chin sleepily on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against his back.

Damon chuckled and placed his hands over hers. “You said earlier you were hungry,” he said lowly. His voice still had the lingering traces of sex.

She realized now what the heavy, throbbing feeling in her mouth was. She pressed the tip of her tongue to one elongated fang and felt her stomach tighten. She was starving. And while sex with Damon had sated one hunger- kind of- it had only increased another unbearably.

She bit into his shoulder lightly. “Mmm, definitely,” she murmured, ignoring her bloodlust for the moment so she could tease.

She ran her hand down his stomach so that she could cup him in her palm. He was hard again. She smiled against his back, flicking her thumb against the tip of his cock.

He growled. “That’s not what I meant,” he said tightly.

She giggled. “I know,” she said, pulling away. “I just love to torture you.”

She stood and began to put her clothes back on. Damon lay back on the bed, erection standing at attention.

“I can see that,” he muttered moodily.

She fought the urge to pounce on him, take his cock into her mouth and… She shook her head slightly and pulled on her shirt. Fully dressed, she turned to him and said seriously, “I’m starving. Where do you want to go hunting?”

He smiled at her, a mischievous lilt to his dark eyes and glanced at the open window. Sometime during their lovemaking it had turned to night. He decided that would be best for her first night of hunting.

He held out his hand to her. “I think it’s time I teach you how to hunt.”

------------------

The club was one she had never been to, even though it was one of the most popular in town. Half-naked women and horny men filled the darkened dance floor end to end.

“I love it!” she yelled to Damon over the loud music and thrumming bass.

He draped an arm over her shoulders. “Pick a victim, any victim,” he said, as if this were all a game, and one he enjoyed very much.

“Umm…” She inspected the crowd thoroughly, feeling picky. She spotted a dark-haired, 20-something that caught her eye. She smiled brightly. “I pick that one,” she said, eyeing the specimen hungrily.

“Not a bad choice. Here’s what you need to… “ He trailed off as he looked to his side. She had disappeared. “Well,” he huffed, offended.

She had already stricken up a conversation with the boy. He felt a wave of irritation at her independence, but quickly stifled it. That didn’t mean she’d leave him so soon, not when he was just becoming so attached to her.

An insistent tap on his arm drew him away from his depressing thoughts. He looked down into a face with too much makeup and a body with too little clothing. He fought the urge to grimace; she was still food.

“Hey there, handsome,” the blonde said, batting fake eyelashes. “Would you like to dance?”

He shrugged slightly. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said.

He took her willing hand and led her out back into an alleyway. Hannah was already there, her victim dead on the ground. Damon passed a look to her, silently telling her to stay back. The girl beside him opened her mouth to scream, but he pounced forward, graceful and precise, burying his fangs deep into her neck. And then there was only the sound of drinking.

Hannah watched him in fascination. The way he moved to take his prey was pure art. And he was so beautiful, even when he dropped the nameless girl to the ground, his blazingly white fangs glittering in the darkness, his mouth stained with blood. She felt a surge of affection for him, her hunting partner.

This was her life now, and she would not want to share it with anyone else.

“You missed a spot,” she said softly, moving over to him..

Slowly, she traced her thumb across his lips, wiping the blood away. His mouth parted and he drew his tongue across the pad of her thumb. His eyes, growing heavy-lidded, were on hers. He wrapped long, slender fingers around her wrist and kissed her palm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, lips brushing against her wrist.

She shivered and leaned into his chest. “Yes, let’s go home,” she whispered.

Home. She’d found a home at last.

“And then we need to talk,” he went on, hugging her closer to him. “Come on.”

As they left, he absentmindedly glanced at her prey. His eyes were open, lifeless and staring off into space. And on his chest, where his shirt lay open, was her symbol carved deeply into the muscle.

Damon groaned inwardly. This was her choice, t that didn’t make it any less stupid. One day she would be traced- whether by the police, townsfolk or hunters, it didn’t matter. They would kill her, and he might not be able to save her.

Hannah’s impatient tugging drew him from his worries, and he could not disobey the demands of his body any longer. He needed her again.
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Bring Your Own Blood