(no subject)
Because no one else dares write it.
Who: Derek, Rip, America
Rating: NSFW TO THE MAX. But seriously, PG-13 to R is the general idea.
Summary: A vampire, a Martian, and a German vampire. Jesus H. Christ, why did it have to be me?
Dreaming of Mars in his new bed in a new apartment, Derek Rayne is suddenly awoken by a pull on his left wrist. He bolts up in a start - or tries to, anyway. Opening his eyes, he finds himself in the distressing situation of being tied to his own bed.
"Oh, fuck me." He groans, and twists his head to look over and see just who's managed to tie him down.
Surprise, surprise: there's Rip, tightening the ropes and looking both pleased and in deep thought.
"Guten tag." Rip greets pleasantly, and reaches out to stroke Rayne's head. He moves away from her hand, at once - it's not that he isn't happy to see her; it's just that he's not too happy about being around someone who frequently, almost blithely lists off the ways one can kill a person. And who seems to have trouble asking permission to enter his room.
"Rip," Rayne exhales, dropping his head back in frustration. "What the hell."
"Shhh." Another tug at the rope by his left leg, and Rayne hisses in discomfort. He closes his eyes, fighting to ignore the sudden rush of excitement of being at the mercy of an unpredictable, homicidal Nazi.
Speaking of unpredictable..
"I don't see why I have to be here." comes a third voice, from the other side of the bed. Paranoid, Rayne looks over as best he can to spot a very unhappy, sulking America, standing by the bed corner with his arms crossed.
Turning to give Rip an exasperated look, Rayne felt his insides shrink within him. It was one thing to be played with by his crazy girlfriend, but quite another when she was bringing along an audience.
"Yeah, I'm with him." he snapped. "Seriously, what's he doing here?" It wasn't that he minded America, it's just...
...well, he was in a rather private, compromising position.
Rip bent down, caressing the side of Rayne's face, hushing his indignant complaints.
"I zhought it vould be good for him to get out," she breathes, and crawls up onto the bed next to Rayne, snuggling close to him. "My fledgling needs to learn how to feed, Derek. You are a teacher, zo..teach." She digs her fingernails sharply into Rayne's chest, causing him to yelp involuntarily. And America, still in the corner, looks on with disgust.
"I don't want....that." the country mutters, swallowing the urge to vomit. He hated what that bitch had turned him into, hated feeling like a monster, hated everything about it-
...Except his eyes were lighting up now, as Rip carefully drew blood from the chest of her shallowly breathing lover. Rayne, panting, dropped his head back with a wince as a tiny trickle of blood dripped down his side. Beckoning America over, Rip lowered her head down to Rayne's chest, lapping at the wound.
And the smell was driving America nuts.
Fighting against instinct was getting him nowhere, and watching Rip feed when he was starving was just making the hunger grow worse. With a resigned, angry groan, America stumbled over to the bed on the other side of Rayne, seaching hungrily for the shallow cut. Before he could dig in, however, Rip's hand rose up to touch his forehead, preventing him from reaching.
"No biting." she warns, her expression one of deadly seriousness.
"Yeah, no biting!" reinforces Rayne, who was seriously contemplating how much he hated his life.
Backing off, America balled up his fists, annoyed. "Hey!" he shouted. "Unlike some other people, I don't go around biting the first people I see!" Despite being put off by Rip's look of amusement - not anger, for once? - America wasted no time in being drawn to the cut, lapping at it and taking to Rayne's blood like a kitten might to fresh, cold milk.
Chuckling, Rip reached out, stroking America's blond locks.
"Good boy." she murmurs, and, making her own cut on the other side of Rayne, proceeds to feed from his left side, while America stays positioned at right.
Rayne shuts his eyes, attempting to ignore the seriously weird feelings of two tongues licking him on both sides, a little creeped out....but a little turned on. Having drunk her fill quickly, Rip plants a kiss on the spot where she drew from, and doesn't stop there. Moving up bit by bit, she eventually finds her way to Rayne's lips, and locks her mouth on his, greedily and noisily kissing him, in her typical possessive way.
As Rayne kisses back, America looks up, licking blood from around his mouth, to give the couple a very disturbed look.
"Trying to eat here." he complains, but is cut off with an "oomph" as Rip, tired of the American's voice, seeks to silence him by grabbing his coat and pulling him into her.
"Oh, now that isn't fair." mutters Rayne, looking up at the two people kissing over his bound body. "At least let me get loose before you two start-and this is my room, too!"
"Shut up" advises the female vampire, releasing America to reach over and shut off the light. In the darkness, Rayne can feel two sets of hands creeping over his body, and he stiffens, letting out a needy groan. Before the fun really started to begin, he heard a faint, German-accented voice whisper in his ear;
"Zer safety vord is 'cheeseburger'."
Who: Derek, Rip, America
Rating: NSFW TO THE MAX. But seriously, PG-13 to R is the general idea.
Summary: A vampire, a Martian, and a German vampire. Jesus H. Christ, why did it have to be me?
Dreaming of Mars in his new bed in a new apartment, Derek Rayne is suddenly awoken by a pull on his left wrist. He bolts up in a start - or tries to, anyway. Opening his eyes, he finds himself in the distressing situation of being tied to his own bed.
"Oh, fuck me." He groans, and twists his head to look over and see just who's managed to tie him down.
Surprise, surprise: there's Rip, tightening the ropes and looking both pleased and in deep thought.
"Guten tag." Rip greets pleasantly, and reaches out to stroke Rayne's head. He moves away from her hand, at once - it's not that he isn't happy to see her; it's just that he's not too happy about being around someone who frequently, almost blithely lists off the ways one can kill a person. And who seems to have trouble asking permission to enter his room.
"Rip," Rayne exhales, dropping his head back in frustration. "What the hell."
"Shhh." Another tug at the rope by his left leg, and Rayne hisses in discomfort. He closes his eyes, fighting to ignore the sudden rush of excitement of being at the mercy of an unpredictable, homicidal Nazi.
Speaking of unpredictable..
"I don't see why I have to be here." comes a third voice, from the other side of the bed. Paranoid, Rayne looks over as best he can to spot a very unhappy, sulking America, standing by the bed corner with his arms crossed.
Turning to give Rip an exasperated look, Rayne felt his insides shrink within him. It was one thing to be played with by his crazy girlfriend, but quite another when she was bringing along an audience.
"Yeah, I'm with him." he snapped. "Seriously, what's he doing here?" It wasn't that he minded America, it's just...
...well, he was in a rather private, compromising position.
Rip bent down, caressing the side of Rayne's face, hushing his indignant complaints.
"I zhought it vould be good for him to get out," she breathes, and crawls up onto the bed next to Rayne, snuggling close to him. "My fledgling needs to learn how to feed, Derek. You are a teacher, zo..teach." She digs her fingernails sharply into Rayne's chest, causing him to yelp involuntarily. And America, still in the corner, looks on with disgust.
"I don't want....that." the country mutters, swallowing the urge to vomit. He hated what that bitch had turned him into, hated feeling like a monster, hated everything about it-
...Except his eyes were lighting up now, as Rip carefully drew blood from the chest of her shallowly breathing lover. Rayne, panting, dropped his head back with a wince as a tiny trickle of blood dripped down his side. Beckoning America over, Rip lowered her head down to Rayne's chest, lapping at the wound.
And the smell was driving America nuts.
Fighting against instinct was getting him nowhere, and watching Rip feed when he was starving was just making the hunger grow worse. With a resigned, angry groan, America stumbled over to the bed on the other side of Rayne, seaching hungrily for the shallow cut. Before he could dig in, however, Rip's hand rose up to touch his forehead, preventing him from reaching.
"No biting." she warns, her expression one of deadly seriousness.
"Yeah, no biting!" reinforces Rayne, who was seriously contemplating how much he hated his life.
Backing off, America balled up his fists, annoyed. "Hey!" he shouted. "Unlike some other people, I don't go around biting the first people I see!" Despite being put off by Rip's look of amusement - not anger, for once? - America wasted no time in being drawn to the cut, lapping at it and taking to Rayne's blood like a kitten might to fresh, cold milk.
Chuckling, Rip reached out, stroking America's blond locks.
"Good boy." she murmurs, and, making her own cut on the other side of Rayne, proceeds to feed from his left side, while America stays positioned at right.
Rayne shuts his eyes, attempting to ignore the seriously weird feelings of two tongues licking him on both sides, a little creeped out....but a little turned on. Having drunk her fill quickly, Rip plants a kiss on the spot where she drew from, and doesn't stop there. Moving up bit by bit, she eventually finds her way to Rayne's lips, and locks her mouth on his, greedily and noisily kissing him, in her typical possessive way.
As Rayne kisses back, America looks up, licking blood from around his mouth, to give the couple a very disturbed look.
"Trying to eat here." he complains, but is cut off with an "oomph" as Rip, tired of the American's voice, seeks to silence him by grabbing his coat and pulling him into her.
"Oh, now that isn't fair." mutters Rayne, looking up at the two people kissing over his bound body. "At least let me get loose before you two start-and this is my room, too!"
"Shut up" advises the female vampire, releasing America to reach over and shut off the light. In the darkness, Rayne can feel two sets of hands creeping over his body, and he stiffens, letting out a needy groan. Before the fun really started to begin, he heard a faint, German-accented voice whisper in his ear;
"Zer safety vord is 'cheeseburger'."