End of the World

by Melissa Treglia

The relief was overwhelming when he crashed through the window and tackled the vampire she'd foolishly led home. She watched as he fought for her, bringing to bear the power allotted through centuries of experience. It was terrifying and, ludicrously, it was also incredibly sexy. The younger vampire had the strength that came with his newness, but lacked the finesse that came with the using of it. That was ultimately his undoing.

All that power, all that strength Nick used to defend not just her honour but her very life. She knew in that moment all she needed to know. He would always defend her. Whether he thought they were just friends or not was immaterial; her mortal life was precious to him.

At the same time, she couldn't help but feel rejected. She had pleaded with him to bring her across when the news of the asteroid had been revealed to them. He had refused, and it had stung.

"It was a hoax, Nat," he said softly as she stared at the now dead fledgling vampire decomposing on her bed.

"What?" Her head was swimming. Damn, how much had she actually had? She couldn't remember much after the fifth drink.

"It was a hoax," he repeated. His tone was still gentle, but a little firmer and clearer. The effect on her was like ice-water. "The world isn't going to end."

"A hoax," she repeated dumbly. "How... did you know?"

"I suspected," he admitted. "But my suspicions weren't confirmed until I discovered the whos, hows and whys." He then sighed. "Enough shop talk. I'll tell you all about it later, when your head is clearer."

Her stomach was roiling from the combination of nerves and way too much alcohol for someone her size. "God, I'm gonna throw up." She bolted into the bathroom, having just enough time to flip the seat up on the commode before she began to retch.

Nick had followed her. His hands tenderly combed through her hair, pulling the strands back as the mostly liquid contents of her stomach emptied into the toilet. She was suddenly very embarrassed and ashamed of herself. She'd begged him to bring her across like some idiot teenager trying to get pregnant to make her boyfriend stay and, when he refused her, got drunk and sought the company of a vampire she didn't know.

A vampire who would have killed her without a second thought.

When the lurching of her stomach subsided, she moaned, "God, I'm an idiot." Her body began to shudder; it was cold in her bathroom, in her apartment. Probably because of the now broken window in her bedroom and the current of air beginning to flow through the rest of her home, she reasoned.

"No, Natalie, you're not," he replied tenderly. "You were scared. Everyone was."

"You weren't." She dimly realized her tone sounded accusing.

"Yes, I was," he replied firmly. "I was afraid for you."

She fully expected him to then scold her, asking her what the hell she was thinking in taking a strange vampire home, and was surprised when he didn't. He said nothing more; instead, he quickly stripped her of her clothes and placed her in the shower, bodily holding her underneath the cool stream of water.

The only item of clothing he'd removed from his own person was his duster. He was still wearing the t-shirt and jeans he'd put on earlier that evening, and they were now getting soaked under the spray, the thin t-shirt especially clinging to the hard planes of his chest. She couldn't really see that because he was standing behind her, but she could feel the result as her back pressed up to his chest.

The cold water, while it helped sober her up some, didn't exactly put her libido on ice. Her hand began to stray towards the fly of his jeans, and was rewarded with the feel of his wet-jeans-encased erection. It was bigger and weightier than she'd imagined. She began to wonder what it'd feel like to have that in her, and her knees began to buckle. His arms tightened around her; likely to keep her from cracking her skull open in the tub, but her liquor-marinated brain insinuated otherwise.

"Nat, you're drunk." His voice was raspy. He was attempting to regain control of the situation and failing miserably. Then again, she did quite literally have him by the balls at this point.

She giggled in response, realizing it was a more air-headed and flirty sound than she ever uttered. She'd never been so forward or aggressive before, had derided the girls in college who acted in the same way she was behaving now - drunk and wanton. Maybe she'd envied those girls a little for their carefree lifestyle; she'd never had the time to party in college or med school, because she'd sacrificed her social life at the altar of her career.

Maybe they'd had the right idea; life was too short to worry about a tomorrow that might never come.

It had taken the threat of Armageddon to have her put her priorities in order. Priority number one: getting Nick to admit he wanted her and, hopefully, to sleep with her. She wanted him, could feel his body's response to her. So, why the hell not?

"You know you want me," she crooned, her head tilted upward so the bridge of her nose brushed against his jaw. An affectionate nuzzle, of sorts. Her grip on that telltale bulge in his pants tightened, and then began to knead. She felt him shudder at that manipulation.

Vampire or not, he was still 100% male. And what guy could possibly resist a very naked, wet and definitely intoxicated girl coming on to him? Not him - that was made clear when his lips crashed against hers, his groan of wont muffled by the reckless and sudden kiss.

One of his hands - she'd always admired those large hands with long tapered fingers, had watched with fascination when those fingers danced over piano keys or held a paint brush over a canvas - slid up her torso to cup her breast, the other muscular arm secure around her waist. His touch was as delicate as if she were his baby grand, teasing touches and long circular strokes bringing out the beginnings of a melody from the depths of her, made up of deep breathing and soft moans.

There was a semibreve rest; he turned the water off, and laid a towel down on the floor. His movements were so fast, however, she scarcely had time to miss his touch. Then his arms were around her again, the suddenly very small world they existed in tilting until she was lying on her back on the floor, the towel soaking up most of the water.

It was very cold now, being out from under the water. But she didn't care. His hands were on her again, stroking, gently probing, coaxing a keening whimper from her. Then his lips joined his hands in the composing of the erotic sonata and ohgodohgodohgodyes, it was good, right, absolutely perfect. Her moans became his music, as his skill brought the intimacy to an artform; he was both rockstar and artiste extraordinaire, and she one very happy, swooning groupie.

She wanted to be furious with him for making her wait for so long, but she had to admit it was more than worth it. And the impromptu concert wasn't over yet; they still had the finale to play. The last bit of semi-intellectual thought in her brain crashed the moment she heard him unzip his jeans, and peel them down far enough to not interfere. She couldn't think of anything but similes that sounded like they belonged in one of those ridiculous trashy dimestore romance novels that had long been her guilty pleasure. On the bright side, she finally understood what they really meant by "burning loins." Definitely not a health issue thing; more like an "I desperately need to be fucked right now" thing.

When the cool solid length of him finally slid into her, she thought she would die from the sheer pleasure. Her mind was spinning on its own rollercoaster ride, her body trembling from the excitement. He felt big inside of her; not painfully so, but comforting, filling, comfortable, a perfect fit.

She hadn't had many experiences to compare it to. There were a few awkward gropes in the backseat of a boyfriend's car in high school and college, some painfully brief and less than stellar one night stands a few years back, before she became increasingly "married" to her career. Those prior experiences left her wanting, wondering what all the fuss was about. Now she knew; THIS was what good sex felt like. All she could think was how perfect and right this felt, and how Nick officially had ruined her for anyone else.

Ohgodohgodohgod he was actually beginning to thrust now. Smooth, deep strokes that sent her brain into a tailspin. All thought dissipated instantly, as her raging hormones took over. Instinctively, she began to counter his thrusts, and ohsweetjesusdon'tyoudarestop...

Her body tensed as she actually screamed with the force of her orgasm. That sure as hell never happened before, but she was busy enjoying the lightshow behind her closed eyelids and the feeling of complete bonelessness that set in when he finally withdrew. There were no thoughts in her mind but those of satiation and a need for rest.

She knew she was beginning to nod off, and realized she might have actually fallen asleep right there on the damp floor for a minute or two, despite the cold. Then, he was lifting her again into his arms and carrying her to her bedroom. Her brain, fuzzy from the alcohol still in her system and the Grade-A fucking she'd gotten, only momentarily registered that all hints that the fight between Nick and the fledgling vampire were cleaned up. There were new sheets on her bed, her window was boarded up, and the books that had fallen to the floor were back on the bookshelf. All the remaining debris had been cleared away.

She clung to him as he placed her into her bed. "Stay," she murmured.

"I can't," he replied, with genuine regret. "Not today." Then the tone of his voice altered, as if somehow augmented. "Sleep."

Sleep, yes... sleep was a good idea... very good...

The next night, it was back to work, business as usual for the precinct. Even as the rest of the world was recovering from the reality that they had all been deceived, with the startling realization that the world wasn't going to end. So, why did she feel like everything in her own little corner of the world had come to an end?

"Did you sleep well?" Nick voice was concerned, but something about him was more distant. Had she just dreamed it all, last night?

"For awhile. When did you leave?" The hurt surfaced again; she was positive he was rejecting her again. She'd made a fool of herself last night, that much she could be sure of.

"I stayed for as long as I could." He was sidestepping the question.

"I thought maybe you'd... ah... close the curtains and spend the day." It sounded stupid to her ears the moment she uttered it.

"I didn't think you wanted me to," he replied. Then he added delicately, "Not after what happened." Then she knew - it had been real, all of it. He had probably attempted to save her the embarassment of her ill-thought-out advances. He was probably also beating himself up for taking advantage of her... or some such nonsense. When really, the only thing the liquor did was remove the failsafe of her own inhibitions.

Nonetheless, for whatever reason he was doing this, it felt like he was rejecting her again. Was that one night all there was, and all that would ever be? It hurt to think about it.

"I don't know what I want." Her tone was half petulant and half defeated. She knew what she wanted; whether it was meant for her to keep was another matter entirely.

"Oh, Nat." He uttered it as a sigh. His cool fingers grasped hers, and she was briefly blindsided by the recall of how that very hand had touched her the night before.

"You were right not to bring me across." She was willing to admit that much; she would take back nothing else about that night. Before he could reply, she added quickly, "I gotta go. I've got a lot of work to do." And she left, as casually and as quickly as possible, so he wouldn't see the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes.

She would try to ignore that her world had gotten darker and colder for it.

*Fin*