anita_blake | (no subject)

(no subject)

Her feet move slowly as she walks through the lower areas of the Circus, heading towards Jean-Claude's room. She's hoping to catch him before he makes the rounds tonight, doing whatever it was he did when he wasn't dealing with her shit. Anita takes a deep breath when she reaches Jean-Claude's door and lets herself in. It shuts quietly behind her, and she leans against it, her eyes falling on Jean-Claude's half-clothed figure.

"I need to talk with you," she says softly, "and I can't do that when you're only half-dressed." Anita smiles. "I tend to get distracted."

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Anita cries out softly against his throat, her hands skating down his sides, nails lightly scratching. She leaves his neck for his lips again, careful not to scratch herself on his fangs. While she may be careful, she certainly withholds none of her passion, her body moving against his sinfully.

His hands slip around to the front of her pants, emerging only long enough to undo the clasp and push the jeans past her hips. He breaks from her lips and trails kisses down to the hollow of her throat, while his hand moves inside her panties once again and slides to the growing wetness between her legs.

Anita cries out, her hands tightening on his shoulders as she pushes down against his fingers. She opens her eyes to stare down at him, her lust shining in her own eyes, the love and want for him pouring down the marks.

"Jean-Claude," she pants, arousal dripping from her voice.

Jean-Claude takes his time with her, rubbing and stroking the tender flesh while his lips and tongue move along her throat, tracing the line of her pulse. He nips and sucks at her neck, keeping his fangs carefully away from her skin, drawing out the moment almost teasingly.

Anita's head is tilted back as she concentrates on everything she feels. His lips and tongue against her throat, his hand on her hip, his fingers circling her intimately. Her breath catches several times, cutting off various gasps and moans. Jean-Claude knows her body, and he knows how to work it to his advantage, and Anita has never been happier to let him as heat builds in a perfect rhythm within her.

He can feel it before it happens, the rush of heat to her groin, the clenching of muscles around his fingers, the flush that spreads across her skin. He holds back to the last moment, until her body teeters on the precipice above her release and just begins to tip over the edge. Only then do his fingers push inside her depths, while at the same time, his fangs scrape across her throat and plunge inside as well, penetrating her from above and below at once.

With the marks open, her willing, and her body already trembling with physical climax, it seems easy for Jean-Claude's power to wash through her mind. They'd not know if he could roll her, but with his increase in power -- and her willingness -- it seems they had their answer.

There is no pain in his bite, only the waves of pleasure as his fingers move inside her. Her climax is drawn out, her scream choked as he feeds from her, and Anita gives herself up to the moment without a thought of fear or regret. It's the closest she's ever been to Jean-Claude, and she revels in it as she trembles atop him.

Jean-Claude drinks deeply, more than he would for a normal feeding from Jason. The ardeur feeds as well, soaking up the energy from her climax as it washes through him. Anita's blood is everything he had imagined it to be, strong and rich, with an earthiness like mushrooms which he suspects stems from her necromancy.

There is, as always, the desire to drink beyond satiation, to let her blood pour from his mouth and cover his skin, but Jean-Claude is well-accustomed to fighting back that part of his beast. He draws back, both his mouth and his hand, and cradles Anita against his chest until her trembling slows and her breathing calms.

Resting against him, she hears the rhythm of his heartbeat, showing that he had drunk his fill, and maybe just a little more. Her head is light, swimming in the lingering pleasure of her orgasm and his power, the loss of blood adding to the sensation.

Anita, though, doesn't pull back from him, doesn't become angry or feel any shame. She rests against him and smiles.

"I love you," she breathes.

The power flowing inside him is a little intoxicating. If Jason's blood were a glass of wine, Anita's would be a fifth of bourbon. Not impairing, but enough to send a pleasant warmth throughout his entire body.

"And I love you, ma petite," he answers, kissing the top of her head.

"That was..."

Far better than she'd ever imagined, and she certainly hadn't felt like food to him.

"Yes?" he asks curiously, and with a hint of nervousness. This would be the test, of course, that would determine if she would ever allow this again.

Anita can feel that small kernel of uncertainty, and she lifts her head to look at him with a smile.

"It was amazing," she assures him. "I felt..." Anita ducks her head, feeling horribly corny. "I felt close to you. Really close. It's so much different when I do it because I want to, not because I have to or in the heat of some lustful moment."

He smiles back, and the tension leaves him in a rush. "I am glad to hear that. It was amazing for me as well. I have never fed from someone with whom I have shared marks before. The sensations were much more intense than I had expected."

Anita's fingers trace along Jean-Claude's chest, even over the cross-like scar.

"I would like to do it again," she says, answering a question she knows he has. "With you."

Her finger circles his nipple.

With blood in his system, his body reacts as a man's would. The nipple beneath her finger tightens, and his sex twitches and begins to expand.

"My cup runneth over," he murmurs breathlessly at her assurances.

"Not quite yet," she says, shifting against him. Anita replaces her finger with her mouth, laving his nipple with her tongue while her hands skate down his sides.

Jean-Claude stretches like a cat under her attentions, his fingertips ghosting patterns along her shoulders. There's no need for further words at this moment; at their best, they've never needed many.

Anita nips at the nipple, her head no longer floating like it was, and slowly sits up. She knows from experience to take things a little slower after donating. Her fingers dance down his stomach as she stands up, thankful she'd worn sneakers and not heels, and yanks on his trousers.

"Bed," she orders. "Now. And lose the pants."

She kicks off her sneakers as she backs towards the bed, and when she reaches it, she's also dropped her jeans and panties.

He follows her, amused, shedding clothes as instructed and standing naked before her. "Feeding and lovemaking? What have I done to deserve such a bounty?" he asks, eyes twinkling.

Anita drops her socks to the floor and scoots up onto the middle of the bed.

"If you'd rather not..." she says, smiling at him.

He chuckles as he crawls up after her. "Yes, quite. Gift horses, and all that." He settles his weight onto her, pushing her down into the pillows and the plush comforter. He leans in as if for another kiss, but ducks away at the last moment and instead captures her earlobe lightly between his teeth.

Anita moans softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and combing her fingers through his hair. She tilts her head, presenting ear and throat to him, as her body rubs against his. It always makes her feel powerful in a primal way in these moments, when Jean-Claude is ruled by desire and physical want.

Jean-Claude sighs into her ear as her movements against him coax his erection into full bloom. A small shift of his hips is all that is required for him to enter her. She is still wet enough from her earlier orgasm that he slides inside easily and in a single stroke. One hand moves down her body and draws her hip up, pulling them even closer together as Jean-Claude pushes himself fully into her.

Anita tosses her head back, crying out as they settle perfectly against one another. There is something incredibly erotic to her about the fact that it's her blood that gives them this, that warms his skin and makes him hard. As Jean-Claude pushes into her again, Anita arches up, meeting the movement eagerly. She rights her head and draws him into another passionate kiss, tasting the lingering flavor of blood on his tongue.