A/N: I've noticed when I'm gaming more, I tend to write my fanfics less. I think it's there's only room for so many personalities in my head at a time. L Anyway, since I've been writing some stuff for the game I play, I thought I'd put it up here. It's purposefully vague and I removed the names to make it non-identifiable. There might be additions from time to time, as I decide I feel like writing.
The stuff from VtM belongs to White Wolf. The other characters belong to the person who created them. "She" belongs to me.
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She paced around anxiously, wringing her hands slightly. It was stupid, she knew it was stupid. She knew she would be berated for it, if he ever found out she was acting like this. But she couldn't help it. She didn't know what was going on, and she found herself obsessing about it, in the rare moments now that she had alone.
She couldn't say she was upset, the sex was great, and frequent. Hell, it was beyond great. His strength was overpowering at times, but the resilience she developed as a Kindred meant he couldn't really hurt her. And that was hot. She was surprised they weren't breaking things more; walls, beds, counters. She definitely wasn't upset about the sex.
But, the reasons behind the sex bothered her more in the moments that she was by herself; when he was gone doing whatever it was he did when he was alone. She had been a little bit in love with him ever since he made her, and part of her knew that it came from his blood that he gave her upon Embrace. But, he was going to die trying to save the world, he was a hero, a tragic hero; there was something attractive about that. She had to admit it to herself that she had been a little bit in love with him, even before he made her, that maybe that had been part of the reason why she accepted his offer to become Kindred so easily.
She had never mentioned it to him – it would have just complicated matters. And now things were officially complicated. She wanted to blame him. He had started it, she felt. He had to have guessed how she felt, and that night, that night he gave her the massage. God, it was so hard for her to resist doing anything grossly inappropriate that night, especially when he asked her to stay the night. Thank God for the sleep of the dead (or was it undead now?) The coming dawn pulled her into quick unconsciousness and him into even it even faster, so the few moments she may have inappropriately touched him while they were in bed, the few stolen kisses, they were never noticed.
And then came the "infection", the "lust". Now it wasn't just psychological, it was truly physical and she was aching inside for him. She couldn't tell him about that either; she had screwed up feeding. It just affected her, so he didn't have to know. Every time he touched her though, no matter how minor, she wanted more. The anticipation had been making it worse, just thinking about what it would be like to have him kissing her or inside of her. God. She had to stop thinking about it that much, she was not going to solve anything by getting herself so worked up that she jumped him the moment he walked back in the door. Though, honestly, it probably would happen anyway, or he would jump her.
She admonished herself to stop thinking about sex. She wasn't seventeen anymore. Hell, she wasn't even alive anymore. But the way it felt when his lips were on her neck…! She shuddered involuntarily and resisted the urge to phone him and ask him when he would be back. Dead puppies and nuns, dead puppies and nuns.
So now she was fucking him, was kinda in love with him, and all he knew is that she was fucking him. This could really screw with her head in the long run. She should tell him. But she wouldn't, at least, not yet.
She reminded herself that he had responded to that first kiss she gave him, and she was pretty sure he wasn't infected when he did that. When they first screwed, she was feeling it, but he wasn't. But he did it anyway. Why did he do it? Was he indulging her, like he did on so many things? Or, perhaps, did he have feelings for her too? Maybe that had helped set her apart from the others in the world that he didn't embrace. Maybe that's why he said she was going to be his only childe.
She thought about that more. She knew that part of him wanted to create an army to fight with him, and that was his final intention, but he did tell her that she was his first and only. She couldn't imagine that held true for all ways, but there was a special relationship between sire and childe. Despite what others may assert, it wasn't really like a father/daughter relationship. There may be some aspects in it, but she never had feelings about her real father like this. And you don't get to choose your children. And you certainly don't have sex with them.
Sex, fucking, screwing. That was all they had been doing. She supposed that was her answer to her question. They weren't "making love" as the flowery girls like to call it. There was no love in what they were doing, no tenderness and caring, just raw passion and animal lust. It felt good, but it wasn't love.
Sinking back down into the couch, she knew what she needed to know. This was a fun pastime for him. When the infection was cured, it would be over. They would go back to their platonic relationship. Well, platonic on his side. She supposed he was with her because he felt she was safe to share his haven with. She was convenient. She was there.
She needed to focus on the fact that this was meaningless sex, and not ruin it by assigning emotions to it that he didn't feel. She got up to work on her computer and start trying to take her mind off of it by working on her assignment for the Prince. She could quietly ignore the little part inside of her chest that wanted to cry. There was no time or patience for tears.