FIC: The Fangtasy Lounge (Gregory Goyle/Lavender Brown)
Title: The Fangtasy Lounge
Author/Artist: silvernatasha
Characters: Gregory Goyle/Lavender Brown
Prompt number: #179
Word Count: 4,446
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, vampires
Summary: Since he was turned, Gregory Goyle hasn't gone to many bars like the Fangtasy Lounge.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JKR’s. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my beta for looking over this for me.
The Fangtasy Lounge
A final, strangled gurgle forced its way out of his throat. The flow of blood from the wound on his neck had, like his heart, almost completely stopped. As Gregory Goyle's vision began to dim, all he could see was a pair of smirking, bloodstained lips.
Sluggishly, he thought he should have known that the woman who'd seduced him was too good to be true. Women like that were never interested in him. So here he was, dying in a small, Romanian town he couldn't even pronounce.
She kissed him lightly and laughed as his last breath left his body.
***
On the occasions that Greg had sought out bars like this, when the craving for blood had become too much, the humans that he had come across had been excited, their hearts beating fast and revealing so much more than the skimpy outfits that they wore to tempt. There were a few of those here tonight, but instead it was the steadiest thud what caught his attention. A slow heart beat, calm and relaxed.
There, by the cloakroom, was the source. It was a woman. Even when he'd had a pulse of his own, Greg had never been interested in fashion, but he could tell her attire was of high quality almost solely from the way it clung to her curves. Leather boots caressed her calves, circling her thighs where they ended just before a short skirt and leaving just enough skin on show to tease with the knowledge of the rich source of blood that could be found in the inner thigh. A sturdy corset pinched her waist, creating a classic hourglass silhouette. As she turned to survey the queue, Greg unconsciously bared his fangs as he saw the cleavage the corset created.
He quickly clamped his mouth shut, especially when she stared straight at him. Her eyes were dark, wild in a way that perhaps only a vampire could see. He knew them. He knew that delicate heart-shaped face. But why on earth was perky Lavender Brown standing around this fang club as straight and cool as a vampire's hard on?
Her full lips pursed together and she strode towards him. Greg searched for a word that might have been hello, but she ignored him, brushing him aside with the clipboard that she had clutched in her hand. "Javier," she said sharply, addressing the stringy-haired vampire behind Greg. "You were barred. It's another week before you're welcome here."
Greg turned to look. A smirk twisted the vampire's painted features. "Come on, sugar tits," he purred. "You can just waive that extra week." He flicked his wrist, New Romantic lace trailing from his sleeve. "I know you want to."
Brown raised sculpted eyebrows. "Oh, I most definitely do not, honey bunch. Even if I did, I don't control the wards." She brandished her clipboard towards the main door of the club. "Want to give it a try?" She fixed him with a steady gaze that fascinated Greg.
Javier drew his tongue across his thin lips. "A week?"
"Seven nights," she confirmed. "Now, leave before I throw you out."
The barred vampire narrowed his lined eyes, then turned on his heels and left with an obvious swish of his velvet cloak.
The queue finally shifted and Greg took an automatic step forward. Brown, however, didn't move as she watched Javier stalk from the club and those corseted breasts pressed up against his broad chest. She looked up at him with a lazy roll of her eyes. "Personal space, Goyle. Are you not familiar with the concept?"
"I, er..." Standing this close, the warm scent of her was overwhelming. Coppery and rich, but something else he couldn't name. Not perfume. Something entirely intrinsic to her and unlike any other human he had been acquainted with since his turning.
"As eloquent as ever." She took a step back on her pointed heels, surveying him. She didn't seem surprised to see him here. Not like this. "Have a good evening, Mr Goyle."
A strong, firm message seemed to radiate from her, caught up in that indescribable smell. The message was no, but it made Greg want to say yes. Repeatedly. "What are you?" he asked, consciously trying not to bare his teeth at her.
A surprised laugh bubbled out of her, a sound that conjured memories of simmering potions and girls giggling over their cauldrons while Snape glowered. "An accountant, Mr Goyle. What does it look like?"
She turned, striding to the burly vampire bouncers who were taller than even Greg. As he watched the sway of her hips, he thought she looked like a lot of things but an accountant really wasn't on the list. Not even close. She passed one of them the clipboard she was holding and was promptly swallowed up by the lights and music of the Fangtasy Lounge.
Greg ran his tongue over his teeth, the scratch of his sharp canines keeping him focused. His thirst for blood was something he'd been unable to ignore for the last few weeks, but a different sort of hunger rose up now, vicious and desperate. It was something he hadn't felt for some time.
After the scrutiny of the bouncers, stepping into the club was an assault of colours and sounds and smells. The club was full of patrons, some trying to meld into dark corners and others making a spectacle on the dance floor as lights pulsed over their pale skin. Mirrors on the walls painted a different picture. Very few people cast a reflection and the club looked sparse, almost empty. One of the dancers writhed and pressed against an invisible partner in an erotic solo show.
Mirrors always gave Greg pause. He didn't remember the last time he had seen his own reflection. He never would again. A vampire's image could be captured on film, yet a photograph wasn't the same as actually seeing yourself. Scanning the reflections, he found Brown near the bar. Her honey-coloured hair was piled up on top of her head, almost luminescent under the overhead light. She was talking to the barman, a tall black vampire whose hair had probably been styled the same way since the Seventies. As she leaned forward across the bar, Greg could see the way her breasts pressed against her corset, nearly spilling over.
Perhaps more interesting than her lush curves was the collar that wound itself around her neck. It would offer no real protection against a hungry vampire, but unlike the other humans who were sipping drinks laced with iron replenishing potions she seemed unaware of the glances that she was getting from the undead. He could recognise the looks of hunger in their eyes as easily as he could feel it in himself.
A curvy brunette with massive tits and old puncture marks on her neck curled her hand around his bicep. "Well, hello, big boy." She smiled widely at him; the tilt of her head that made her hair fall away from her neck was far from accidental.
Greg clenched his teeth for the second time since entering the Fangtasy Lounge. He knew what she wanted. It was the same thing the primal part of him wanted. To open a vein and drink the blood that flowed until the pulse started to slow, taking just enough to feed but not cause any lasting harm.
Fangtasy Lounge rule number one. Don't kill the humans. More people needed to live by that rule whether they were in the club or not. The thought of feeding off people still made Greg's skin crawl, but he couldn't resist forever. A vampire couldn't starve to death, but they could damn well look like a walking corpse. His reluctance to feed had certainly had its effect on his own body, the bulk of his living years pared down to his current form. He was still taller and more muscular than most men living or dead, but it didn't put off women like the brunette, women who would bare their neck for any vampire who would look at them. If anything, it encouraged them.
He didn't want women throwing themselves at him. If he could bypass this whole process, he would. Inside, that human teenage part of him yelled in frustration as he removed her hand from his arm. "Not interested," he told her gruffly.
She pouted at him with blood red lips. "Are you sure, gorgeous?" Reaching up, her fingers trailed along the sharp angles of his jaw. "I have a completely organic diet. Low salt. No preservatives." She purred the word as though it was the more erotic thing in the world. Perhaps to some of his kind, those older ones who liked the good old days when the blood was as clean as the air.
"Then I'm sure you'll make someone very happy." He brushed her hand away, careful to be gentle. His strength still surprised him sometimes. "Now go away."
With his imposing frame, a path cleared easily for him as he made his way to the bar. Brown turned to look at him before he even attempted to address her. As she narrowed her eyes at him, Greg wondered what he would even have said to her. He didn't know why he was here, standing mutely behind her. All he knew was that the scent of her was intoxicating. "What are you?" he asked once more.
If he could breathe, Greg would have held his breath. He kept deathly still, watching as her nostrils flared.
The barman put a glass of something clear down beside her, but Brown kept her gaze on him. To his surprise, she laughed. Not the high, girlish giggle that he recalled from their schooldays, but a throaty chuckle. "What do you want, Goyle?"
Every word seemed to stir something in him, provoking his growing hunger. He knew he had to make the answer good, but the way her eyes were dilating and that unfamiliar scent distracted him. Composing himself, he glanced at the thick collar that encircled her neck. He wanted to rip it off her, breathe her in. Greg met her eyes again. "You."
"I don't need a little puppy following me around." Brown licked her lips and reached behind her for her drink. "Now, I'm working, Goyle. If you have anything more interesting than monosyllables to say..." She waved her free hand.
"You work here?"
"Monosyllables," she repeated. "And I told you I'm an accountant. I manage the bar during the day."
"It's night."
She raised her eyebrows and a flush would have come to Greg's cheeks if he'd been able. "Funny that. Wouldn't have guessed." Brown sipped her drink and Greg found himself riveted as a drop of condensation rolled down the side of the glass, the clink of the ice cubes cutting through the bar's music. "Do yourself a favour. Find someone else. You can't have me. Not the way you want."
Greg pressed his tongue against his teeth, just enough to draw a little blood and fill his mouth with the taste. He wanted her, true, but it wasn't the desire to feed that was gripping him. His fingers curled into a tight ball as he tried to temper those feelings, but it didn't work. He unconsciously took a step forward, invading her personal space. Eyes dark and wild, Brown pressed the tip of her slim wand to his thick neck before Greg could react, her quick movement catching him off guard. Normal wizards rarely moved quite that fast.
"You can't have me." She glanced over him, amusement written on her features now. "And it would be a really bad idea to try."
Out of the corner of his eye, Greg noticed the barman watching them as he shook up a cocktail for one of the human patrons. Brown trailed her wand along the strong, square lines of his jaw, bringing his attention back to her. "I don't want to feed," he told her quietly.
Brown licked her lips, her glare remaining steady despite the shiver that went through her. "Your lot always want to feed."
"Not all of us."
"It would be a really bad idea to try."
"You said that," he pointed out, amusement tugging at him as he started to see her cool demeanour crack. As her wand pressed up against his Adam's apple, he reached out a couple of thick fingers. The shining clasp of her collar burnt his fingers like lemon juice on a paper cut, but he still flicked it open, feeling her heart speed for the first time. Her wand slipped a little as he tugged it away, revealing deep scars that marred the pale skin.
She swallowed, her jaw clenching. The collar hung from his fingertips. Though he had rarely left scars on those he fed on, he could tell instantly that those had not been left by a vampire. His fingers brushed the scars and he concentrated on every little detail of her. "Werewolf," he murmured.
Brown let out a soft sigh and lowered her wand. "Not quite. Only a little bit."
He could feel her pulse thrumming under his touch. A cruel trick of nature. Werewolf blood was intoxicating, so much so that it would easily lure in any vampire who didn't have their wits about them, but it was also deadly. Anyone foolhardy enough to drink from a werewolf would find that pleasure quickly turned to pain as a lethal poison took hold. "You're a fang tease."
"One of the many exceptional qualities that got my my job." He saw an almost imperceptible tremor in her jaw. Her fingers curled around his wrist and drew his hand away from her neck. She plucked the collar from his grasp. "Seen enough?"
This time, Greg didn't bother to hide his teeth. "Not even a little bit." This slim little witch was more dangerous than most of the vampires in this bar, the mixed messages of death and pleasure that ran in her blood all too familiar to Greg. It was the same war he felt every night when he awoke.
Greg ventured a look down, breaking his eye contact with her. With cleavage like that, he didn't know how he was supposed to resist. "What do you want?" he asked, turning her earlier question back on her. No one worked with vampires if they didn't appreciate the danger associated with them. He could feel that excitement start to radiate from her as he leant forward, but she drew that icy look back across her fair features, sipping at her drink to create just the smallest barrier between them.
"Well, I suppose you don't have to be able to string a sentence together to fuck me," she said quietly, danger pricking at her every word. Beneath her ice, a fire burned.
"Be doing it wrong if I could."
Greg could count on one hand the number of women he had been with and only one had been before his change. None of those women had held quite the same allure that this one did. The taint in her blood called to him, begged him to feed and take her completely.
Her fingers drummed once against her glass, a flash of crimson-painted nails that caught his attention. Hypnotised by her slim fingers, he watched the sway of the glass as she set it down on the dark bar, not noticing her other hand until she had already stretched and flipped up the hidden panel. It only took a slight tip of her head for him to follow at her heels as she plunged straight through the door marked Employees Only.
The corridor beyond was white and stark, almost hospital-like. Even under the bright overhead lights, none of her appeal vanished. Heels clipping sharply on the floor, she glanced back over her shoulder at him. Her full lips curled into a smirk for just a moment before she picked up the pace and began to run. Appreciative of the chase, Greg nearly missed the turn up to the stairs.
Light on his feet, he caught her at the top. His fingers curled into the laces of her corset, pulling her back towards him until he could turn the breathless witch in his arms and crash his mouth down onto hers. His lips were cool and smooth and beneath them hers were scalding, giggling at him. Her back hit the wall with a thud that made the lamp fixture above them tremble and he could scarcely imagine what the rest of her body would feel like.
His lips tore from hers, hungrily seeking her neck. He had just enough control to keep them sealed, pressing closed-mouth kisses to her throat and feeling her pulse beating eagerly.
"Not out here," she gasped, fingers clasping his forearms and alternately trying to pull him closer and push him away. Greg broke from her with a curl of his tongue against a spot on her neck that made her shiver.
The nearest door opened with a soft metallic click, the room completely dark. Brown lit a lamp and his pupils contracted for a brief moment before he adjusted. In contrast to the leather and dark colours that seemed to be almost mandatory at any vampire bar, her office was pale and neat. A peaceful seascape hung on the wall. Above the fireplace was a large mirror in a silver frame. Files and books were crammed into bookshelves behind the tidy desk and on the other side of the room beside the fireplace was a low cream leather sofa. The cushions on the sofa were set at jaunty diagonal angles in shades of pale blue that matched the rug.
Greg shut the door behind him, but when he turned to Brown she launched herself at him, pouncing for a kiss with her arms wrapped around his thick neck. His arms enveloped her, hands grasping at her pert backside and pressing her firmly against his growing arousal. Vampires were predators of pleasure, their deep desires for blood and sex completely entwined with their own unique magic.
Hips rolling teasingly against his, she nipped at his lower lip and one leg began to curl up around him. Sliding his hands lower, he lifted her just enough for her to wrap him between her firm thighs. Even if he had not been too caught up in the kiss to notice, her weight was of no concern. One hand crept up her back, strumming over the lacing. He had no idea how to get it off her without looking, so he turned him attention instead to the fastening of her short skirt.
Brown growled against his lips, parting from him so that he could see those dark, wild eyes again. Her pupils were dilated enough to make them look almost black. "Down," she whispered, barely able to get the word out. As soon as her feet touched the floor, her fingers went straight to her skirt. She shoved it down, kicking it off where it pooled around her ankles.
He licked his lips. The idea to take her while still wearing the boots blossomed fully in his mind's eye, and not just because it would be more convenient than unlacing them.
As he tried to reach for her, to feel more of that achingly hot skin, she turned her back on him. She created a mouthwatering silhouette with her slim waist and heart-shaped arse. Greg's hand smoothed over the curve of it and he heard the pleased noise that she made. He wondered how many delights of her body he would be able to experience, then felt her wand poke at his stomach.
Stepping back, surprised, he watched in wonder as she smirked over her shoulder at him. Just the slightest flick of her wand set the laces loosening until he could pull it from her body barely half a minute later. He tossed the stiffly-boned garment over to her discarded skirt and grasped her hips, pulling her towards him. Her back pressed against his chest and she turned her head, trying to look up at him.
One hand slid across her flat stomach, his fingers cool. Lowering his lips to her neck once more, this time suckling gently at her scars, he could feel her breath hitch as his fingers skated close to the top of her scandalously small knickers. Changing direction, both hands cupped her full breasts, his icy touch making her gasp. Her nipples were already hard, but he played with them, stroking and pinching until she was whimpering and grinding her arse against his cock. The smell of her arousal flooded the air, growing stronger.
Greg loved breasts. He wanted to see hers properly and though the noise she made when he removed his hands from her made him growl in frustration, the sight of the lush curves that were exposed to his view was worth it. The dark, erect nipples were too much for his hunger and his mouth claimed one fiercely, making her cry out in pleasure. She mewled like a needy puppy, staggering backwards. Greg followed, his large hands keeping her upright as his cool mouth worked at her breast.
Her fingers raked through his hair, tugging him away. "Which one of us is the fang tease?"
He grinned toothily at her, fangs fully on display. His fingers curled around the skimpy edges of her knickers and all it took was a strong tug for them to rip apart. They clung at the juncture of her thighs as he pulled them away a little more gently.
Brown looked down at herself. "Want me like this, do you?" she asked, tone breathless. She licked her lips and pounced for another kiss, her hands everywhere as she helped divest him.
Her tempestuous gaze shone with excitement as she tipped her head to look up at him, her nails trailing down the muscled planes of his torso. "Like what you see?" he ground out. Her touch burned across his cold skin, dangerously hot as her fingertips swept up the length of his cock.
She growled under her breath. "You'll do," she teased, a shard of her ice cutting through.
A shiver went through her as he caressed her soft thighs, murmuring in her ear to turn around and bend over the couch.
Rocking on the spiked heels of her boots with her arse in the air, she gripped the arm of the couch. Greg pressed his foot against hers and nudged her legs further apart still, his cool erection pressing against the cleft of her arse. She wiggled and he held her hips to keep her still so he could find his mark. As she let out another growl, this time one of frustration, he thrust forward, burying himself in the heat of her cunt.
Greg felt the heat of her radiate out and up through his body. His fangs slid out longer in response as he barely held onto his control; her pulse thrummed tantalisingly. The couch shifted several inches as he shifted his concentration to her cunt and not the delicious curve of her neck. Her body took in every inch of him, slick and tight and so, so hot. Brown pressed back on her heels, taking every thrust as deep as she could.
Holding her tightly, he leant forward, body following the curve of hers until his face pressed against the crook of her neck. Here, he could breathe in the scent of her and it made his head spin. Beneath them, the couch moved again under the faster propulsion of his hips.
As he adjusted his stance, he happened to glance up. "Look," he purred, hand on her neck and making her look up. Her gaze found the mirror above the fireplace and the guttural moan she gave seemed to ripple down his cock. There, she was alone, writhing and moaning as she was fucked by an invisible lover. The pleasurable assault made her breasts sway with thrust and the sight of herself made Brown clench around him even tighter than before.
From this position, Greg could watch her as she watched herself. Her skin grew more and more flushed, moans and growls pouring from her throat, which trembled under his cool lips.
His fangs scratched against her neck. On the few occasions he had done this, the line between his hungers had blurred until it was all but indistinguishable. Knowing that he had someone willing to give themselves completely, he had found utter satiation. This was different, nearly exotic. She was giving him everything she could and he could take nothing more than what she gave him. It would take just the smallest of movements to pierce her delicate skin, but he couldn't. Wouldn't.
Shouldn't.
"Goyle," she demanded. "Goyle."
She rolled her hips against and he slid in to the hilt, her heat squeezing him tighter still and a tremble spreading through her body. His thrusts began to lose their rhythm, fucking her harder as she begged him. His gaze dropped from the mirror to the warm body in front of him, the curve of her shoulder and the way her hair was working loose, tendrils clinging to her glistening skin.
He lasted barely a thrust longer than her. It was hard to keep any control when her whole body seemed to ripple and contract, drawing him right along with her until he was crushing her into the couch, their bodies pressed so close that Greg thought he might very well be stuck to her.
Greg closed his eyes. Her heart fluttered fast in the wake of her climax and, for a moment, he could almost imagine that it was his heart beating too.
Finally, he pulled out, unsticking himself from her and awkwardly glancing to see where his clothes were. This wasn't, he realised belatedly, why he had come to the Fangtasy Lounge tonight.
Behind him, Brown huffed and twisted in an ungainly fashion on the couch. She crossed her legs at the knees, boots clattering, and fixed him with a glare. "Where are you going, Goyle?"
"Don't cuddle," he said, avoiding her gaze and snatching up his underwear.
She sighed and propped herself up. "Was I asking you to?"
He frowned. "No."
Gesturing at the clock on her wall, she said, "It's hours until sunrise."
It took a moment, but the knut dropped. "Oh."
Brown raised her eyebrows. "I want to see if some of those things they say about vampires are true."
He dropped his boxers. "What things?"
She smirked, uncrossing her legs; her dark eyes gleamed. "Come back here and I'll tell you."
Author/Artist: silvernatasha
Characters: Gregory Goyle/Lavender Brown
Prompt number: #179
Word Count: 4,446
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, vampires
Summary: Since he was turned, Gregory Goyle hasn't gone to many bars like the Fangtasy Lounge.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JKR’s. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my beta for looking over this for me.
The Fangtasy Lounge
A final, strangled gurgle forced its way out of his throat. The flow of blood from the wound on his neck had, like his heart, almost completely stopped. As Gregory Goyle's vision began to dim, all he could see was a pair of smirking, bloodstained lips.
Sluggishly, he thought he should have known that the woman who'd seduced him was too good to be true. Women like that were never interested in him. So here he was, dying in a small, Romanian town he couldn't even pronounce.
She kissed him lightly and laughed as his last breath left his body.
***
On the occasions that Greg had sought out bars like this, when the craving for blood had become too much, the humans that he had come across had been excited, their hearts beating fast and revealing so much more than the skimpy outfits that they wore to tempt. There were a few of those here tonight, but instead it was the steadiest thud what caught his attention. A slow heart beat, calm and relaxed.
There, by the cloakroom, was the source. It was a woman. Even when he'd had a pulse of his own, Greg had never been interested in fashion, but he could tell her attire was of high quality almost solely from the way it clung to her curves. Leather boots caressed her calves, circling her thighs where they ended just before a short skirt and leaving just enough skin on show to tease with the knowledge of the rich source of blood that could be found in the inner thigh. A sturdy corset pinched her waist, creating a classic hourglass silhouette. As she turned to survey the queue, Greg unconsciously bared his fangs as he saw the cleavage the corset created.
He quickly clamped his mouth shut, especially when she stared straight at him. Her eyes were dark, wild in a way that perhaps only a vampire could see. He knew them. He knew that delicate heart-shaped face. But why on earth was perky Lavender Brown standing around this fang club as straight and cool as a vampire's hard on?
Her full lips pursed together and she strode towards him. Greg searched for a word that might have been hello, but she ignored him, brushing him aside with the clipboard that she had clutched in her hand. "Javier," she said sharply, addressing the stringy-haired vampire behind Greg. "You were barred. It's another week before you're welcome here."
Greg turned to look. A smirk twisted the vampire's painted features. "Come on, sugar tits," he purred. "You can just waive that extra week." He flicked his wrist, New Romantic lace trailing from his sleeve. "I know you want to."
Brown raised sculpted eyebrows. "Oh, I most definitely do not, honey bunch. Even if I did, I don't control the wards." She brandished her clipboard towards the main door of the club. "Want to give it a try?" She fixed him with a steady gaze that fascinated Greg.
Javier drew his tongue across his thin lips. "A week?"
"Seven nights," she confirmed. "Now, leave before I throw you out."
The barred vampire narrowed his lined eyes, then turned on his heels and left with an obvious swish of his velvet cloak.
The queue finally shifted and Greg took an automatic step forward. Brown, however, didn't move as she watched Javier stalk from the club and those corseted breasts pressed up against his broad chest. She looked up at him with a lazy roll of her eyes. "Personal space, Goyle. Are you not familiar with the concept?"
"I, er..." Standing this close, the warm scent of her was overwhelming. Coppery and rich, but something else he couldn't name. Not perfume. Something entirely intrinsic to her and unlike any other human he had been acquainted with since his turning.
"As eloquent as ever." She took a step back on her pointed heels, surveying him. She didn't seem surprised to see him here. Not like this. "Have a good evening, Mr Goyle."
A strong, firm message seemed to radiate from her, caught up in that indescribable smell. The message was no, but it made Greg want to say yes. Repeatedly. "What are you?" he asked, consciously trying not to bare his teeth at her.
A surprised laugh bubbled out of her, a sound that conjured memories of simmering potions and girls giggling over their cauldrons while Snape glowered. "An accountant, Mr Goyle. What does it look like?"
She turned, striding to the burly vampire bouncers who were taller than even Greg. As he watched the sway of her hips, he thought she looked like a lot of things but an accountant really wasn't on the list. Not even close. She passed one of them the clipboard she was holding and was promptly swallowed up by the lights and music of the Fangtasy Lounge.
Greg ran his tongue over his teeth, the scratch of his sharp canines keeping him focused. His thirst for blood was something he'd been unable to ignore for the last few weeks, but a different sort of hunger rose up now, vicious and desperate. It was something he hadn't felt for some time.
After the scrutiny of the bouncers, stepping into the club was an assault of colours and sounds and smells. The club was full of patrons, some trying to meld into dark corners and others making a spectacle on the dance floor as lights pulsed over their pale skin. Mirrors on the walls painted a different picture. Very few people cast a reflection and the club looked sparse, almost empty. One of the dancers writhed and pressed against an invisible partner in an erotic solo show.
Mirrors always gave Greg pause. He didn't remember the last time he had seen his own reflection. He never would again. A vampire's image could be captured on film, yet a photograph wasn't the same as actually seeing yourself. Scanning the reflections, he found Brown near the bar. Her honey-coloured hair was piled up on top of her head, almost luminescent under the overhead light. She was talking to the barman, a tall black vampire whose hair had probably been styled the same way since the Seventies. As she leaned forward across the bar, Greg could see the way her breasts pressed against her corset, nearly spilling over.
Perhaps more interesting than her lush curves was the collar that wound itself around her neck. It would offer no real protection against a hungry vampire, but unlike the other humans who were sipping drinks laced with iron replenishing potions she seemed unaware of the glances that she was getting from the undead. He could recognise the looks of hunger in their eyes as easily as he could feel it in himself.
A curvy brunette with massive tits and old puncture marks on her neck curled her hand around his bicep. "Well, hello, big boy." She smiled widely at him; the tilt of her head that made her hair fall away from her neck was far from accidental.
Greg clenched his teeth for the second time since entering the Fangtasy Lounge. He knew what she wanted. It was the same thing the primal part of him wanted. To open a vein and drink the blood that flowed until the pulse started to slow, taking just enough to feed but not cause any lasting harm.
Fangtasy Lounge rule number one. Don't kill the humans. More people needed to live by that rule whether they were in the club or not. The thought of feeding off people still made Greg's skin crawl, but he couldn't resist forever. A vampire couldn't starve to death, but they could damn well look like a walking corpse. His reluctance to feed had certainly had its effect on his own body, the bulk of his living years pared down to his current form. He was still taller and more muscular than most men living or dead, but it didn't put off women like the brunette, women who would bare their neck for any vampire who would look at them. If anything, it encouraged them.
He didn't want women throwing themselves at him. If he could bypass this whole process, he would. Inside, that human teenage part of him yelled in frustration as he removed her hand from his arm. "Not interested," he told her gruffly.
She pouted at him with blood red lips. "Are you sure, gorgeous?" Reaching up, her fingers trailed along the sharp angles of his jaw. "I have a completely organic diet. Low salt. No preservatives." She purred the word as though it was the more erotic thing in the world. Perhaps to some of his kind, those older ones who liked the good old days when the blood was as clean as the air.
"Then I'm sure you'll make someone very happy." He brushed her hand away, careful to be gentle. His strength still surprised him sometimes. "Now go away."
With his imposing frame, a path cleared easily for him as he made his way to the bar. Brown turned to look at him before he even attempted to address her. As she narrowed her eyes at him, Greg wondered what he would even have said to her. He didn't know why he was here, standing mutely behind her. All he knew was that the scent of her was intoxicating. "What are you?" he asked once more.
If he could breathe, Greg would have held his breath. He kept deathly still, watching as her nostrils flared.
The barman put a glass of something clear down beside her, but Brown kept her gaze on him. To his surprise, she laughed. Not the high, girlish giggle that he recalled from their schooldays, but a throaty chuckle. "What do you want, Goyle?"
Every word seemed to stir something in him, provoking his growing hunger. He knew he had to make the answer good, but the way her eyes were dilating and that unfamiliar scent distracted him. Composing himself, he glanced at the thick collar that encircled her neck. He wanted to rip it off her, breathe her in. Greg met her eyes again. "You."
"I don't need a little puppy following me around." Brown licked her lips and reached behind her for her drink. "Now, I'm working, Goyle. If you have anything more interesting than monosyllables to say..." She waved her free hand.
"You work here?"
"Monosyllables," she repeated. "And I told you I'm an accountant. I manage the bar during the day."
"It's night."
She raised her eyebrows and a flush would have come to Greg's cheeks if he'd been able. "Funny that. Wouldn't have guessed." Brown sipped her drink and Greg found himself riveted as a drop of condensation rolled down the side of the glass, the clink of the ice cubes cutting through the bar's music. "Do yourself a favour. Find someone else. You can't have me. Not the way you want."
Greg pressed his tongue against his teeth, just enough to draw a little blood and fill his mouth with the taste. He wanted her, true, but it wasn't the desire to feed that was gripping him. His fingers curled into a tight ball as he tried to temper those feelings, but it didn't work. He unconsciously took a step forward, invading her personal space. Eyes dark and wild, Brown pressed the tip of her slim wand to his thick neck before Greg could react, her quick movement catching him off guard. Normal wizards rarely moved quite that fast.
"You can't have me." She glanced over him, amusement written on her features now. "And it would be a really bad idea to try."
Out of the corner of his eye, Greg noticed the barman watching them as he shook up a cocktail for one of the human patrons. Brown trailed her wand along the strong, square lines of his jaw, bringing his attention back to her. "I don't want to feed," he told her quietly.
Brown licked her lips, her glare remaining steady despite the shiver that went through her. "Your lot always want to feed."
"Not all of us."
"It would be a really bad idea to try."
"You said that," he pointed out, amusement tugging at him as he started to see her cool demeanour crack. As her wand pressed up against his Adam's apple, he reached out a couple of thick fingers. The shining clasp of her collar burnt his fingers like lemon juice on a paper cut, but he still flicked it open, feeling her heart speed for the first time. Her wand slipped a little as he tugged it away, revealing deep scars that marred the pale skin.
She swallowed, her jaw clenching. The collar hung from his fingertips. Though he had rarely left scars on those he fed on, he could tell instantly that those had not been left by a vampire. His fingers brushed the scars and he concentrated on every little detail of her. "Werewolf," he murmured.
Brown let out a soft sigh and lowered her wand. "Not quite. Only a little bit."
He could feel her pulse thrumming under his touch. A cruel trick of nature. Werewolf blood was intoxicating, so much so that it would easily lure in any vampire who didn't have their wits about them, but it was also deadly. Anyone foolhardy enough to drink from a werewolf would find that pleasure quickly turned to pain as a lethal poison took hold. "You're a fang tease."
"One of the many exceptional qualities that got my my job." He saw an almost imperceptible tremor in her jaw. Her fingers curled around his wrist and drew his hand away from her neck. She plucked the collar from his grasp. "Seen enough?"
This time, Greg didn't bother to hide his teeth. "Not even a little bit." This slim little witch was more dangerous than most of the vampires in this bar, the mixed messages of death and pleasure that ran in her blood all too familiar to Greg. It was the same war he felt every night when he awoke.
Greg ventured a look down, breaking his eye contact with her. With cleavage like that, he didn't know how he was supposed to resist. "What do you want?" he asked, turning her earlier question back on her. No one worked with vampires if they didn't appreciate the danger associated with them. He could feel that excitement start to radiate from her as he leant forward, but she drew that icy look back across her fair features, sipping at her drink to create just the smallest barrier between them.
"Well, I suppose you don't have to be able to string a sentence together to fuck me," she said quietly, danger pricking at her every word. Beneath her ice, a fire burned.
"Be doing it wrong if I could."
Greg could count on one hand the number of women he had been with and only one had been before his change. None of those women had held quite the same allure that this one did. The taint in her blood called to him, begged him to feed and take her completely.
Her fingers drummed once against her glass, a flash of crimson-painted nails that caught his attention. Hypnotised by her slim fingers, he watched the sway of the glass as she set it down on the dark bar, not noticing her other hand until she had already stretched and flipped up the hidden panel. It only took a slight tip of her head for him to follow at her heels as she plunged straight through the door marked Employees Only.
The corridor beyond was white and stark, almost hospital-like. Even under the bright overhead lights, none of her appeal vanished. Heels clipping sharply on the floor, she glanced back over her shoulder at him. Her full lips curled into a smirk for just a moment before she picked up the pace and began to run. Appreciative of the chase, Greg nearly missed the turn up to the stairs.
Light on his feet, he caught her at the top. His fingers curled into the laces of her corset, pulling her back towards him until he could turn the breathless witch in his arms and crash his mouth down onto hers. His lips were cool and smooth and beneath them hers were scalding, giggling at him. Her back hit the wall with a thud that made the lamp fixture above them tremble and he could scarcely imagine what the rest of her body would feel like.
His lips tore from hers, hungrily seeking her neck. He had just enough control to keep them sealed, pressing closed-mouth kisses to her throat and feeling her pulse beating eagerly.
"Not out here," she gasped, fingers clasping his forearms and alternately trying to pull him closer and push him away. Greg broke from her with a curl of his tongue against a spot on her neck that made her shiver.
The nearest door opened with a soft metallic click, the room completely dark. Brown lit a lamp and his pupils contracted for a brief moment before he adjusted. In contrast to the leather and dark colours that seemed to be almost mandatory at any vampire bar, her office was pale and neat. A peaceful seascape hung on the wall. Above the fireplace was a large mirror in a silver frame. Files and books were crammed into bookshelves behind the tidy desk and on the other side of the room beside the fireplace was a low cream leather sofa. The cushions on the sofa were set at jaunty diagonal angles in shades of pale blue that matched the rug.
Greg shut the door behind him, but when he turned to Brown she launched herself at him, pouncing for a kiss with her arms wrapped around his thick neck. His arms enveloped her, hands grasping at her pert backside and pressing her firmly against his growing arousal. Vampires were predators of pleasure, their deep desires for blood and sex completely entwined with their own unique magic.
Hips rolling teasingly against his, she nipped at his lower lip and one leg began to curl up around him. Sliding his hands lower, he lifted her just enough for her to wrap him between her firm thighs. Even if he had not been too caught up in the kiss to notice, her weight was of no concern. One hand crept up her back, strumming over the lacing. He had no idea how to get it off her without looking, so he turned him attention instead to the fastening of her short skirt.
Brown growled against his lips, parting from him so that he could see those dark, wild eyes again. Her pupils were dilated enough to make them look almost black. "Down," she whispered, barely able to get the word out. As soon as her feet touched the floor, her fingers went straight to her skirt. She shoved it down, kicking it off where it pooled around her ankles.
He licked his lips. The idea to take her while still wearing the boots blossomed fully in his mind's eye, and not just because it would be more convenient than unlacing them.
As he tried to reach for her, to feel more of that achingly hot skin, she turned her back on him. She created a mouthwatering silhouette with her slim waist and heart-shaped arse. Greg's hand smoothed over the curve of it and he heard the pleased noise that she made. He wondered how many delights of her body he would be able to experience, then felt her wand poke at his stomach.
Stepping back, surprised, he watched in wonder as she smirked over her shoulder at him. Just the slightest flick of her wand set the laces loosening until he could pull it from her body barely half a minute later. He tossed the stiffly-boned garment over to her discarded skirt and grasped her hips, pulling her towards him. Her back pressed against his chest and she turned her head, trying to look up at him.
One hand slid across her flat stomach, his fingers cool. Lowering his lips to her neck once more, this time suckling gently at her scars, he could feel her breath hitch as his fingers skated close to the top of her scandalously small knickers. Changing direction, both hands cupped her full breasts, his icy touch making her gasp. Her nipples were already hard, but he played with them, stroking and pinching until she was whimpering and grinding her arse against his cock. The smell of her arousal flooded the air, growing stronger.
Greg loved breasts. He wanted to see hers properly and though the noise she made when he removed his hands from her made him growl in frustration, the sight of the lush curves that were exposed to his view was worth it. The dark, erect nipples were too much for his hunger and his mouth claimed one fiercely, making her cry out in pleasure. She mewled like a needy puppy, staggering backwards. Greg followed, his large hands keeping her upright as his cool mouth worked at her breast.
Her fingers raked through his hair, tugging him away. "Which one of us is the fang tease?"
He grinned toothily at her, fangs fully on display. His fingers curled around the skimpy edges of her knickers and all it took was a strong tug for them to rip apart. They clung at the juncture of her thighs as he pulled them away a little more gently.
Brown looked down at herself. "Want me like this, do you?" she asked, tone breathless. She licked her lips and pounced for another kiss, her hands everywhere as she helped divest him.
Her tempestuous gaze shone with excitement as she tipped her head to look up at him, her nails trailing down the muscled planes of his torso. "Like what you see?" he ground out. Her touch burned across his cold skin, dangerously hot as her fingertips swept up the length of his cock.
She growled under her breath. "You'll do," she teased, a shard of her ice cutting through.
A shiver went through her as he caressed her soft thighs, murmuring in her ear to turn around and bend over the couch.
Rocking on the spiked heels of her boots with her arse in the air, she gripped the arm of the couch. Greg pressed his foot against hers and nudged her legs further apart still, his cool erection pressing against the cleft of her arse. She wiggled and he held her hips to keep her still so he could find his mark. As she let out another growl, this time one of frustration, he thrust forward, burying himself in the heat of her cunt.
Greg felt the heat of her radiate out and up through his body. His fangs slid out longer in response as he barely held onto his control; her pulse thrummed tantalisingly. The couch shifted several inches as he shifted his concentration to her cunt and not the delicious curve of her neck. Her body took in every inch of him, slick and tight and so, so hot. Brown pressed back on her heels, taking every thrust as deep as she could.
Holding her tightly, he leant forward, body following the curve of hers until his face pressed against the crook of her neck. Here, he could breathe in the scent of her and it made his head spin. Beneath them, the couch moved again under the faster propulsion of his hips.
As he adjusted his stance, he happened to glance up. "Look," he purred, hand on her neck and making her look up. Her gaze found the mirror above the fireplace and the guttural moan she gave seemed to ripple down his cock. There, she was alone, writhing and moaning as she was fucked by an invisible lover. The pleasurable assault made her breasts sway with thrust and the sight of herself made Brown clench around him even tighter than before.
From this position, Greg could watch her as she watched herself. Her skin grew more and more flushed, moans and growls pouring from her throat, which trembled under his cool lips.
His fangs scratched against her neck. On the few occasions he had done this, the line between his hungers had blurred until it was all but indistinguishable. Knowing that he had someone willing to give themselves completely, he had found utter satiation. This was different, nearly exotic. She was giving him everything she could and he could take nothing more than what she gave him. It would take just the smallest of movements to pierce her delicate skin, but he couldn't. Wouldn't.
Shouldn't.
"Goyle," she demanded. "Goyle."
She rolled her hips against and he slid in to the hilt, her heat squeezing him tighter still and a tremble spreading through her body. His thrusts began to lose their rhythm, fucking her harder as she begged him. His gaze dropped from the mirror to the warm body in front of him, the curve of her shoulder and the way her hair was working loose, tendrils clinging to her glistening skin.
He lasted barely a thrust longer than her. It was hard to keep any control when her whole body seemed to ripple and contract, drawing him right along with her until he was crushing her into the couch, their bodies pressed so close that Greg thought he might very well be stuck to her.
Greg closed his eyes. Her heart fluttered fast in the wake of her climax and, for a moment, he could almost imagine that it was his heart beating too.
Finally, he pulled out, unsticking himself from her and awkwardly glancing to see where his clothes were. This wasn't, he realised belatedly, why he had come to the Fangtasy Lounge tonight.
Behind him, Brown huffed and twisted in an ungainly fashion on the couch. She crossed her legs at the knees, boots clattering, and fixed him with a glare. "Where are you going, Goyle?"
"Don't cuddle," he said, avoiding her gaze and snatching up his underwear.
She sighed and propped herself up. "Was I asking you to?"
He frowned. "No."
Gesturing at the clock on her wall, she said, "It's hours until sunrise."
It took a moment, but the knut dropped. "Oh."
Brown raised her eyebrows. "I want to see if some of those things they say about vampires are true."
He dropped his boxers. "What things?"
She smirked, uncrossing her legs; her dark eyes gleamed. "Come back here and I'll tell you."